#help the way i uploaded one gif twice

[lolabangtan]

sideshow | jjk

You’re a successful cam girl in need of a hot guy with a big cock, and you think you’ve found your match.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: smut, dub-con fantasy.

# cam girl!reader, coffee shop AU, mutual pining, hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), squirting, face sitting, restraints, unprotected sex, face-fucking, dacryphilia, overstimulation and post-orgasm torture, teasing/degradation, cream pie, cum play, recording kink, dub-con role play, they’re so cute *sobs*

A/N: let’s not ask about this and enjoy it without wondering where the inspiration came from.

You’re always staring at him. When you’re in line waiting for your order, chatting with someone else when he’s nearby, or even when you secretly spot him working as you pass by the window – you’re always staring at Jeon Jungkook.

Your friends mock you for it whenever they get the chance. It’s almost as if you, the sexy, mysterious girl who records herself for a living, having such a silly, wholesome crush on someone was the most amusing thing they’ve ever heard. But a guy like him, so kind and hot and funny, is worth it, and you won’t deny it.

But being honest, they’re right by showing their surprise. You just don’t come off as the kind of girl who’d fall for a guy like him.

Apart from being kind, hot, and funny, Jeon Jungkook is also extremely popular while still being down to earth. An endangered specimen – if there’s ever been one before. He’s got his tattoos, and his adorable dog, and his decent schoolwork managing skills, and his outstanding talent at any sport to ever exist. And in the meantime, you sometimes catch him staring back, so your mind has to work twice as much to fish for an excuse. You just think it’ll be better in the long run.

Because honestly, people always talk. They point at you, make comments, or ask creepy questions. Surely Jeon Jungkook, with his brilliant future, doesn’t want that just because his cock might get hard with one of your videos.

In a way – a stupid, pointless way – you’re always staring at each other.

“You could try and talk to him one day, you know. Maybe then you’ll see there’s literally not a single thought behind those silly doe eyes.”

You can’t help laughing at Seokjin’s words, almost choking on your coffee. “Isn’t that a bit mean? I thought you liked him.”

“And I do!”

“Hm, look at the time.” You check your phone before putting it back into your purse. “I’d better hurry if I don’t wanna keep my sister waiting. We’ll talk later, okay? And I will not approach him just because. I really don’t need any gossip about me.”

Well, you’re just stressed. You need some money for your Spring break trip to the beach, but you aren’t exactly thrifty. Actually, you’re quite the opposite.

So, you’ve come up with an idea: charging for requests and uploading them to your website. The answer from your subscribers was immediate and increasingly positive, with only one problem.

The most voted idea was a POV, which sadly required another person to join you. Someone with a big, nice cock if it’s possible. You’d ask Seokjin, but he’d never let his almost little sister-like friend suck his cock and give him four orgasms in a row. And it’s not something you’d do either in a world where you weren’t desperate.

You’re not going to lie, there’s only one person you’d want to do that video with – and he’s walking out into the backbar right now.

The two of you stop at the same time as you walk past each other. Not noticing his presence next to you, you keep looking at the poster with the newest sweet additions to the menu and sigh with satisfaction at the fact that you’ll be able to keep enjoying your good old butter croissants.

Then you turn around.

“Oh, shit— sorry! God, I’m so clumsy! Let me help you.”

You squat down to pick up the broken pieces of glass scattered on the floor. When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a staring Jeon Jungkook bent in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to repeat.

His lips twitch as if he wanted to say something, but the man keeps quiet as you hand him back his stuff. You can’t help looking down at his muscular arms, covered in black ink. Although Jungkook remains impassive and cool, here you are, practically malfunctioning – while he’s probably wondering why the cam girl hasn’t left yet.

“Just— be careful. Don’t cut yourself.”

He does look like a bunny, now that you think of it. A really hot bunny.

Fucking shit, you can’t help it, can you? To stare, to drool, to picture your hands stroking down his chest, kneading the flesh. You love ripped guys, especially when it doesn’t get over their heads. You’d eat him up in a second, pinky promise.

“Sorry,” you say again, standing up. “I wasn’t looking.”

“Y/N! Are you okay?”

Namjoon rushes up to you, breaking the strange silence between you and Jungkook. He sees the mess and starts to pick up the broken pieces, asking you to step back just in case. With a nod, the youngest offers to go and fetch a broom, and Namjoon thanks him.

Your friend lets out a laugh. “Only with my homeboy, huh?”

“Hm?”

“You only get like this with Jungkookie,” he explains. “The rest of the time, you’re a merciless succubus.”

“Shut up, he’s gonna hear you,” you groan.

Namjoon starts wiping the floor, and you help him by picking up the plastic bag.

“Do you think he likes you back?”

You shrug. “I guess he might be attracted to me, but I don’t think he likes me... in that sense. I don’t care, though – it’s not like we’re a match or something. I’m probably just attracted too.”

Jungkook comes back with the broom and cleans the floor while you look around in a poor attempt to avoid his eyes. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, nor the pent-up frustration with which he grips the stick of the broom, his lips twitching again.

“Well, I, uh— I’ll leave you to it. And sorry again, I wasn’t looking.”

With that, you rush out of the coffee shop and run down the street until you reach the number you were looking for. Taking out your keys, you open the door and walk in, going directly to the second floor.

When you get into the flat, the storm unleashes:

“God, I was so worried! You should’ve told me you’d be running late.”

Like always, visiting your older sister comes with a nagging and a steamy cup of coffee. You’re enjoying both of them sitting in her kitchen.

“You’re exaggerating,” you groan.

“Yeah, sure, it’s not like any of your creepy fans could ever doxx you or something and kidnap you.” With a raised eyebrow, you stare at her over the mug. “Hm, okay, just build the habit of telling me if you’re gonna be late, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So” – she turns around with a grin and leaves her mug in front of you – “who is this Jungkook guy and why haven’t you asked him out already?”

Your face turns a bright red. “How do you know about—? Fucking Jin...”

“Come on, you’re usually bolder. You really like him, don’t you?” At your shrugging, your sister chuckles. “You’re entitled to like people, you know that, right? And hit on them, and ask them out. Just because you had a few bad experiences—”

“It’s just not gonna happen,” you blurt out. “You know why? First, because he’s not remotely interested in me. And second, because I know, I just know how this is going to end if I do,” you continue, your face growing warmer. “And I don’t care about all the nice guys out there because, in the end, they’re all the same; dicks with an excuse of a brain.”

“You want to have sex with him, don’t you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

She laughs again. “Then try the opposite! You think he’d only be interested in the shagging? Go shag. And then see if he stays.”

You bury your face in the palms of your hands, thankful for the chilly contact. The skin cools down, and a sigh escapes from your lips.

“What if he says no?”

“Then he doesn’t want to fuck. That’s uncommon for a man so, one point for him.”

Ah, yes, your sister and her logic; it’s utterly stupid and yet, you always fail to rebuke her absurd reasoning. It’s almost a talent, you think. Maybe that’s why she’s a lawyer.

“Well, I do have a plan,” you murmur.

Her eyes brighten immediately. “Then go for it, tiger! He’s super cute, and super hot! Better get your heart broken by a ten if all men suck.”

The coffee shop is almost closing when you arrive; you had asked Namjoon who was closing tonight so, when you heard it’d be him, you rushed out of your sister’s place to get there in time. This is a one-time chance.

You spot him behind the window, wiping a cup.

There’s a sigh coming out from his mouth when the door jingles open. The common frustration of having a last-minute customer.

“Hey.”

“Ah— it’s you,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, and you frown. “I-I mean, I thought you were some annoying random, sorry… I don’t mind making you a coffee.”

Oh, that was nice. Very nice.

You quietly take a seat at the counter. “Thanks.”

“Uh, so…” You’re lucky Jungkook isn’t facing you, turned from you instead as he turns on the coffee machine. Otherwise, he’d notice your red face and the eagerness with which you listen to him as he stutters, “I-it’s pretty late— for a coffee. Do you have to stay up late tonight?”

“Not exactly.”

Finally, Jungkook turns around and hands you the coffee, looking pretty much puzzled.

“I was wondering if you’d like to work with me,” you finally let out, and your chest feels weightless for a second— until you come back to earth and realise that you’ll have to hear an answer.

He’s looking at you in complete silence.

Maybe he really doesn’t know that you’re a cam girl? Maybe he’s just thinking about what your job could be and how could the two of you possibly work together. Or maybe he’s just zooming out, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Do you want me to, uh, e-edit a—?” Jungkook gets cut off by his own coughing as his cheeks turn red. “Sorry, edit a video... for you?”

Ah.

Of course he knows.

He knows, so there’s a chance he might have watched one of them. Maybe all of them. Perhaps Namjoon told him about it, or perhaps he thought you looked familiar and asked him. In his mind – and that’s what makes it awkward, and not the fact that he’s probably watched you naked or touching yourself – he knows what you work for, and every single interaction is stained with that.

“Uh— not... Not really.” You don’t notice, but Jungkook holds his breath, and his heart starts beating faster. “It was more along the lines of making one together.”

Your heart is beating fast too.

“Me?”

Well,  I’ve been told that you’ve got a big cock, oh, and because I have a crush on you.

You shrug. “Thought you could use the money, and you do have a nice body— your face wouldn’t show, though.”

“I, uh...”

“Just asking if you were down!” you blurt out then, stepping back. “Of course, it’s up to you. I understand if you’re not comfortable with us, uh, having—”

“I-I get you,” he laughs. Now his face is as red as a strawberry.

In silence, you stand there, waiting for an answer. However, it seems like neither of you is functioning properly at the time, so you clear your throat with your heart clenching painfully in your chest and let out a shaky laugh:

“Of course, it’s too weird, so, uh— forget I said anything. Thank you for considering it, have a nice day!”

You rush out of the café, but his voice stops you:

“Wait!”

You turn around and look at him; he looks positively embarrassed, even more than you, although it’s understandable – probably due to the circumstances – so, you wait, breath hitching, for him to continue.

Jungkook looks away. “I— I didn’t say no.”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” you rush to clarify. “That’s my number.” You hand him a business card, which he seems too afraid to check. “Call me… if you’re interested. I’ll leave now, thank you for your time. And— uh, nothing. Bye.”

“Bye…”

By the time you leave the coffee shop, your heart is beating so hard that you think it could be a stroke. Your cheeks are boiling hot, and you struggle to walk down to the bus stop while your legs wiggle. You did it, it’d done – you’ve already asked Jeon Jungkook to film an erotic video with you for your page.

You don’t get any signs of life from Jungkook until two days later, at two in the morning.

Namjoon told you that they had met some friends for a drink after closing time, so you’re not surprised that he’s up so late. He also tends to go to bed late when he stays up playing console games.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: Hello, Y/N.

[Saturday, 2:17 AM] Unknown: It’s Jungkook.

[Saturday, 2:18 AM] Unknown: I have been thinking about it and, if the offer still stands, I accept.

Your heart immediately somersaults the glowing letters on your screen. Reality fell on your shoulders, and you finally understood that you would be filming that video with Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you could ask him out on a date later, but it’d be tomorrow’s you’s nuisance to worry about rejection. For the time being, you’re going to get on with the script so that you can send it to him as soon as possible.

[Saturday, 5:43 AM] You: Cool, I’ve attached the script. Just let me know if there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable with or want to change. When are you free?

[Saturday, 5:44 AM] You: Of course, we’ll go through your limits before filming.

Jungkook’s reply doesn’t arrive in time for you to read it; as soon as you’re done with it, you plummet into your bed and fall asleep, totally exhausted.

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: Looking forward to it!

[Saturday, 5:49 AM] Jeon Jungkook: I mean

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

Jeon Jungkook has deleted this message

The bell goes through your head like a nail. Your mouth is dry and your body trembles, but you get up to open the door in the hope that it’s not Jungkook behind it.

After you had sent him the script, it took him a while to answer. Then, after three hours, he only answered ‘okay’ and asked you when you would be meeting. You agreed on the day and time, and here you are, turning the doorknob with your heart beating through your chest.

“Hi, come in.”

You step aside, and Jungkook walks into your small flat; it’s cute and cosy, with the golden light coming in through the windows. His black clothes soak in it as you watch him get comfortable and, for a second, it feels like he’s coming over for a date, just to hang out. It feels nice, that small, minute, short second.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Yes—” Jungkook clears his throat. “Yes, please. Water’s good.”

You come back with two glasses of water and sit in front of him on the couch, determined to calm down your nerves.

“Okay, so, I understand that you read the script, right?” you ask, and he nods instantly, perhaps too quickly. “Uh, so… is there anything you’d like to change? Anything you don’t feel comfortable with?”

Jungkook glances at you only to look away in the blink of an eye. He’s biting his lip again.

“No, hm, everything sounds good so far. I mean— t-there’s nothing I don’t like, like… there’s nothing that turns me… off.” He eventually gets discouraged to keep talking and gulps down the glass of water in front of him. “Sounds good, you know, with the angle you suggested.”

“Nothing at all? Are you sure? I wrote a lot of things.”

He keeps avoiding your eyes. “Yeah, I’m cool with it… And I brought the test results.”

“Good,” you murmur and take the papers as he hands them out to check them. “All clean, that’s good. I’ve got mine too, and I’m on birth control, obviously.”

“Cool.”

“I liked your suggestions for the plot, by the way.” Maybe it’s better to give Jungkook some praise for his effort, that way he will relax a little around you. “A bit wicked— but in a good way. Did you get it from a movie?”

He turns red in a second, and you have to press your thighs together. “N-no, I— it just came to my mind. I can add the effects later.”

You nod slowly and clear your throat.

Once the both of you have gone through every single detail of the script, you’re half turned on, half mortified. It’s almost as if your brain hasn’t fully processed that you will be doing all of this with Jungkook in an hour, or maybe even earlier.

“It’s okay if you’re nervous,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t come off shaky. “And, well, we can stop at any moment, okay? We’ll just stop everything, no hard feelings.”

“Thank you…”

You give him a robe and show him the bathroom, where he gets changed and washes up only to return to your bedroom; that’s where you record everything, but there is a tarpaulin covering the whole wall, including the window. This way, and with a VPN, you make sure you keep your affairs decently hidden.

You’re also wearing a robe when Jungkook walks in, revealing the sight of your cleavage.

You walk up to him. “All good?” you ask. “Do you want anything? A glass of water? Viagra, or an energy bar?”

Jungkook stares at you, a bit surprised, or taken aback by the joke. You turn around in shame, with an apology on your lips, before you notice the way his cheeks turn red and an amused smile creeps to his own.

“A glass of water’d be great, thanks.”

When you return from the kitchen, you’re also bringing along a bunch of papers. “Here are the test results, I’m all clean. Thank you” – Jungkook hands you his own results, and you skim-read them – “I’m also on birth control, in case I didn’t tell you already, so feel free to, uh…”

“O-okay, gotcha.”

Luckily, he doesn’t make any faces as you shut up, discouraged; why are you acting like an idiot who has no idea what she’s doing? He’s probably regretting it already.

You have prepared the props for filming in your room; your bed, which you insisted on buying with a bar headboard, is already set with the ropes, so all that remains is to tie the victim with them. You’ve done the same with the foot of the bed, as well as the POV camera that’s fitted just above his head. He’s wearing a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and you’ve put on a shirt that shows your nipples through and a pair of panties that are a bit too small so that your folds are marked.

What can you say: you consider yourself a meticulous creator.

“Okay, so I think everything’s ready. You can lie down now; I’ll take care of the rest.”

When Jungkook is finally lying on the bed, you straddle him to fasten the ties around his wrists and ankles.

It’s weird to feel his warm body beneath you after pining for him for so long; you can feel his thighs tensing and flexing under your ass, how he shifts on the mattress, looking down at your hands and how they skilfully tie him to the bed headboard. His eyes burn wherever they land, you fear you might be getting a bit of stage fright.

“How are you doing?” Jungkook murmurs a ‘good’, looking up at you. “Cool… Then we can get down to business.”

Holding your breath, you lean into him to turn on the camera and, as soon as the red light appears, you realise you’ve been holding it for too long and let out a deep sigh. Time to get into character. Don’t think about it, Y/N.

You look down at him; Jungkook stares back, waiting for you to get on with the script.

Faking a wicked smile, you bend over him and dive on his neck for a kiss, being as loud as possible, slurping and groaning. He shivers beneath you, and you feel yourself already getting turned on just by having him at your mercy like this. After all, this is supposed to be erotic.

Suddenly, Jungkook fixes your knee on his crotch and moves it a bit to the left, taking you by surprise.

“Are you awake, sweetheart?” you ask, pretending you aren’t surprised.

As you wait for a response, you bend down to leave a trail of pecks down his jaw and neck, peppering kisses on his shoulder now, as Jungkook stirs beneath you again.

“Uh… w-where am I?” he asks as he stares down at you with a pitiful frown. “Who are you?”

You let out a giggle. “I was hoping you’d recognise me, but I guess I need to be humbled… I’m the girl of your wet dreams, baby.”

“I-I don’t know what—”

You attack his lips this time, delving for a deep kiss. Jungkook eventually closes his eyes and gives in to your kiss, uttering a meek whimper against your lips and pulling at the ropes to no avail. When you move away, you sit on his crotch, happily surprised.

“Oh, what do we have here? Someone’s waking up, look.”

Before he can say anything, you pinch his tip over his trousers. He twitches again, leaking precum, as you can tell from the way a wet patch appears in the fabric.

“I’m sure it’s small, so tiny I wouldn’t even feel it,” you snicker, “but I’ll use it anyway, maybe as a plug for my butt.”

Jungkook whines, feeling himself getting even harder. “I-it’s not small—”

Honestly, when you dropped by the coffee shop and asked him to work with you on a video, he couldn’t believe it. It had always remained a fantasy, and he feared for a second that someone had ratted him out about his crush on you. ‘Someone’ as in ‘Kim Namjoon’, of course.

Jungkook has spent many hours thinking of different ways to ask you out on a date. Ever since he met you, he’s grown obsessed with you and your personality, charm, beauty, and confidence. When he started to notice you getting shy around him, a small flame of hope lit up inside of him, but why would you be into a guy like him? Yes, he isn’t bad looking, but surely, you’d be more into big, strong, sexual guys, wouldn’t you? Real men who had lots of experience in bed.

On the other hand, Jungkook becomes such a mess every time he’s around you; he drops things, he’s unable to form a coherent sentence, and you never seem to be too interested in talking to him for more than five seconds.

Now, is Jungkook in love with you? Before, he would have denied it, that this was just another crush. But now that he’s so close to you, that he can feel the sweat on your skin, that he’s one with you, he has to ask you out. Otherwise, he’ll never be happy again.

Especially now that the feeling of you straddling his lap and playing with his cock is ingrained in his memory.

“Let me go,” he barks, suddenly remembering that he has a script to follow. “I— I won’t tell anyone if you let me go now.”

You lean into him and stroke his cheek. “Why would I?”

Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, you silence any possible reply from him and kiss him hard against the mattress. Your ass ruts against his cock mercilessly, almost by instinct, eager to feel his whines die in your mouth.

Your hands find their way beneath his shirt. With eager fingers, you brush his nipples and, hearing him whimper, keep pinching them as he stirs, fleeing your touch but at the same time seeking it. You chuckle and tease him for it, and Jungkook can only close his eyes with the genuine wish that he won’t come too soon, or at least before you get the footage you want.

You keep humping his clothed cock, now visibly hard and standing proudly against the fabric of his sweats. Between kisses, you tell him how well he’s doing.

“Let’s make a deal, shall we?” you suddenly say.

Jungkook struggles to peel his eyes open. “W-what deal?”

“If you manage not to cum before me, I’ll let you go,” you continue. “You will be totally free.”

“And— if I do?”

Shit, you forgot about this part. What happened if he came…? You can think of the paragraph and the page, but you really can’t remember the rest of the lines, shit. You totally suck at this—

“I’ll milk your cock dry until you beg me to stop – and only then will I think about it.”

Jungkook stares at you in shock, and for a second, you fear that your impromptu response has gone too far. But then you feel something hard rubbing against your pussy, and you realise that he is unconsciously humping you, twitching and getting bigger and harder.

“You’re fucking nuts,” he cries out.

But you only giggle in response, shoving your hips together as if you were actually riding him. You let out a loud moan, too exaggerated to be true. The constant pressure of your pussy against his crotch makes him arch his back, desperately trying to hold his own whines and grunts to save you the satisfaction of proving you right.

“Look at you! You poor thing,” you exclaim in laughter. “I’m gonna fuck your virgin cock until you pass out.”

Jungkook goes still.

“Oh, thought I didn’t know?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I—”

You bend down and bite on his neck only to soothe the sting with your tongue. “You thought I didn’t know you’ve never been touched before? You’re popular, but women terrify you, don’t they? You see them and only notice their hard nipples through their shirts and their tight pussies peeking from under their short skirts, and that makes you nervous; if they’re nice to you, you’re not interested. If they’re mean, you spend all day imagining them spanking you or sitting on your face… Don’t lie, you’re a sicko who wants a woman to spit in your mouth and fuck your cute little cock. Do you call them mommy in your fantasies? A mean mommy with a fat ass to hump your pathetic dick and huge tits to suck on.”

“S-shut up,” Jungkook cries out. “Shut up, shut up— you have no fucking idea, y-you don’t know shit—”

“I’d show you my tits and you’d come on the spot,” you laugh.

“S-stop lying!”

“Jesus, you’re gonna burst your pants from how hard you’ve got, sweetheart. And I’m nuts? At least I’m not getting hard just because a girl is making fun of me.”

You start bouncing on his crotch, laughing. The constant pressure of your ass against his cock makes him squirm, spilling out an amusing mixture of insults and plaids for mercy. His cheeks are warm with a blush of embarrassment and arousal.

“No wonder no one has ever touched this cute little cock!” you chirp, finally shoving your hand into his pants. “I bet you spend all day locked in your room, watching porn or hentai or whatever losers like you are into. Fucking into your own hand like a bitch in heat. Thank goodness you live alone, because you would live in constant fear of your mom finding your dirty comics or the huge amount of dry jizz all over your plushies and pillows.”

“I— I always clean up after myself,” he whimpers in the sweetest voice possible, and you wonder if he’s actually being honest.

Time to find out. “Yeah? You don’t fuck into your pillow thinking it’s your crush’s wet pussy and leave it full of your cum with the pathetic feeling that you’re filling her up?” you grunt, getting riled up. The thought of Jungkook wanting to do it to someone else makes your blood boil.

“Y-yes!” Jungkook finally cries out. “Shit, shit— I always fuck my pillow thinking it’s you!”

The woman was too stunned to speak.

“Fuck, it— it always leaks out, I’ve always got so much cum saved up for— for you, mommy. I imagine it’s your pussy I’m filling up, want to milk my cock into your cunt until you’re happy.”

The ache between your legs worsens, and you have to rub your thighs together to ease the pent-up arousal; you’re dripping, could simply sit on his pretty cock and ride him until he’s a crying mess – but this has got way out of hand, you need to get the video back on track.

And you shouldn’t think about why he immediately thought of you when you brought up his crush.

You lean on him and spit on his lips, making him yelp. “Yuck.”

“M-mommy, please—”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Raising your hips off him, you take off your panties; indeed, they are ruined and soaked with your juices. Their only use is to gag Jungkook, and there they go, straight into his mouth.

He has to close his eyes when the scent of your arousal reaches his nose.

It takes him a couple of seconds to process that you’re naked now, at least from the waist down. Only your breasts are covered behind the thin white fabric of your tank top. It’s too small, so the sides of your tits stick out, and the neckline is too wide and barely covers your nipples.

Now, his eyes wander down to your pussy; glistening and dripping wet, Jungkook notices the way you rub your thighs together from time to time.

Kneeling over him, you sit on his chest and lift up your shirt, trying not to care that you’re leaving a trail of your juices across his skin. You’re right on top of the camera, and it really looks like Jungkook’s point of view. So, you grab his head and push it between your tits.

“Slow, dummy babies don’t get to suck on mommy’s boobs, darling. Hurry up.”

His eyes locked with yours, Jungkook opens his mouth to suck on your left nipple as you cradle his head. The contact sends shivers down your spine. Still bound to the bed, he struggles to turn his head and reach closer, eager to flicker his tongue around your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, baby, so good,” you groan.

He shifts to your other breast, and you allow him, too hooked on the pleasure to question his intentions.

Jungkook flicks his tongue with eagerness, hunger, almost desperation. His hips buck into the air, and his restrained cock keeps leaking precum, a wet patch appearing on the fabric. He sucks on your nipple like his life depends on it, unhinging his jaw to reach what he can’t touch.

Shit.

You’ve gone off script enough as it is.

You push him away, and he whimpers. “Well done, sweetheart,” you groan, “but mommy has other plans for you.”

Taking off your shirt, you’re now fully naked on top of him. Jungkook’s eyes roam around your figure and drink it up the sight of your bare body on top of him like it is water and he’s dying of thirst.

It’s time for the good shots, so you turn around so that your dripping folds are right in front of the camara – and right on top of his face, but that’s just a little gift for you. You’re facing his crotch, and with eager hands, you pull down his pants and underwear at the same time, letting his big, red, leaking cock spring up against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, and your mouth waters just at the thought.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been struggling with the tempting sigh of your pussy right above his head. It tickles his tongue, makes his lips twitch; he can only think about ravishing your cunt like a madman.

It’s practically instinctive when his neck is stretched upwards. You said you were okay with oral. In fact, you enjoyed it. The script is just something to guide you as to the plot; the rest, it can go as it comes up. That torture you promised him wasn’t scripted either, but it’s made his cock hard as if he was in heat. And, if you don’t like it, you can use the safeword too.

Just a bit more while you keep playing with his cock in your hands.

His tongue is already out, like a dog. That’s pretty much what he feels like right now, desperate to fuck your pussy with his mouth.

Shit, you’re dripping.

“I wonder if you can get even harder,” he hears you ramble.

As you get comfortable on top of him, your hips are getting closer to his reach. Your ankles rest under his forearms, you didn’t notice he could lick you for at least a few seconds.

Jungkook doesn’t stop to think and delves his tongue into your pussy, proceeding quickly to suck and lap at your clit. Your juices soak his face, but that only makes his erection grow. Your clit reacts instantly, throbbing between his lips.

“What the— s-shit, Jungkook, what are you—” you manage to moan.

Your first instinct is to push your legs away, but Jungkook is pressing down with his forearms and, by the time you think of moving your hips away, you’re already melting with pleasure. His tongue is quick to lick your clit over and over, relentlessly, as you thrust back. Using his forearms again, he pulls you by your legs so that you’re practically sitting on his face, bent over him, grunting his name.

Saliva runs down his chin. Your taste on his tongue has shoved him into a thoughtless state, he’s only thinking about making you come. His tongue parts your lips and fucks into your entrance with wet, sloppy strokes.

Jungkook lets out a whimper. “Fuck, as good as I thought it’d be,” he cries out, his voice muffled by your folds. “Mummy got dripping just from playing with me, so fucking m-mean—”

You arch your back and thrust back against his tongue, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach.

He’s got your ankles well locked, and you’re still torn between control and pleasure, so you simply squirm on top of him while Jungkook keeps ravishing your pussy now that you can’t close your legs – nor do you really want to.

But shit, he’s going to make you come if he keeps this up. And, if you do, the deal is off, and the video is over. You’d love to squirt all over his face and force him to drink it up, but you’ve got other plans for him and for you so, as much as you’re loving getting tongue-fucked by this bratty little shit, it’s time to stop him.

“My baby really wanted to lick mummy’s pussy, didn’t he?” you blurt out with a laugh, and his cock twitches, a drop of precum rolling down from his tip.

“W-what?”

“How was your first cunt, sweetheart?” you continue. “Better than your hand, huh? Better than the sad, pathetic hole you make in your stuffed animals to stick your dick in and think it’s me.”

A tear of embarrassment rolls down his cheek. “T-that’s not—”

“Let me return the favour.”

While Jungkook, in a desperate attempt to make you cum, keeps licking and sucking your pussy, you keep yourself decently composed and let a trickle of saliva drip onto his tip. Before he can say anything else, you’re engulfing his cock until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone.

“F-fuck!”

You try to fight a wicked smile with his cock around your lips.

Jungkook’s hips twitch, but that only makes the tip of his cock bump into your throat, ripping a sob from him.

You start bobbing your head up and down; he pulls at his restraints, his head turning to his sides as two thick tears of pleasure roll down his cheeks. Guess this probably is his first time being deep-throated, so better ruin it for everybody coming after.

Fortunately, his bratty tongue is too busy crying and moaning to pay any attention to your pussy, so you sit on his chest and get momentum.

His cock feels hot in your mouth, leaking precum. It’s salty as it mixes with your own saliva running down his shaft. Jungkook is sweating all over, his head spinning like he’s having a fever; after all, the wet heat of your mouth around his cock is too much to handle. It’s coated in your spit, sending waves of pleasure down his spine, making his toes curl, his throat sore from grunting and sobbing. You hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans only worsening the pleasure pooling in his lower back.

“Fuck!” he cries out again. “Of fuck, p-please—!” Jungkook can’t even properly thrash with his feet as they’re tied to the bed as well. “So good, so fucking good!”

You pull the foreskin back to expose the head and dip your tongue into the slit, savouring the taste of his arousal. For a second, you wonder if he’s never really got proper head or if he’s just very sensitive, but you shove the thought to the back of your head and keep going.

“Got anything to say about that misbehaviour from earlier?” you ask, licking down to the base.

“Dunno—”

“Ah, yes, you do.” Your voice comes out soft, too soft. It sends chills down his back. “You grabbed mommy’s ass and ate her pussy without permission, remember?”

Leaning on his thighs, you manage to turn around to face him. You notice his red face and dilated pupils, and he notices your slick, swollen lips.

To your surprise, Jungkook smirks. “But mommy loved it, didn’t she? I almost made her cum—”

You shut him up by swallowing down his cock again, even if he is right; only a couple of minutes more and you would have come all over his face. But you haven’t, and that’s all that matters. Now you have to make him cum so that you can start torturing his spent cock until he’s crying for you to stop.

Jungkook may be used to keeping it down at his shared flat and know how to be quiet, but you can always tell when a guy is close, and you’re surprised at how much he’s been holding it. From how swollen and purplish his cock looks, how much he’s leaking, and the way it reacts, throbbing and twitching at your touch, he must have been on edge for a while.

“Are you a masochist, perhaps?” you ask, rather to yourself.

Your hands find his base again and start pumping him, both of them. The contact feels kind of dry, though, despite his arousal dripping through your fingers, so you bend down and spit on the head again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, really,” you continue, jerking him off like it’s just one more chore. “A crazy chick ties you to the bed to fuck you and the first thing you do is get a hard-on. No wonder only your plushies are willing to let you hit it— though they can’t really say anything, can they?”

With a shaky gasp, Jungkook bites his lip and closes his eyes; he needs to stop either seeing or hearing you if he wants to hold on any longer, but your breasts are right in front of him, covered in a glistening layer of sweat, your erect nipples that he just had in his mouth, your pussy radiating heat and dripping down your inner thighs. If only you would sit on his cock and ride him until you cum and scream with pleasure, choke him, spit in his mouth, use him like he uses his poor childhood stuffed animals.

Then this torture would be over, he would climax inside you and stuff you with his cum, til it’s dripping. And the next torture would begin.

“Come on, the last test. If you pass it without cumming, I’ll let you go, okay, sweetheart?”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts; suddenly, you’re straddling his lap, the tip of his cock brushing against your folds. The brief pleasure, more like a feeling-induced fantasy turned into a touch, makes him shudder and take a deep breath.

“This” – you yank off his shirt, buttons popping out – “off.”

Raking your nails through his hair, you yank it and force him to look at you in silence. His chest heaves and falls as he stares into your eyes.

Your thumb strokes his bottom lip. “It’s a pity that such a pretty face belongs to a pervert like you.”

“I’m not a pervert!”

“Yadda, yadda,” you mock him, tilting up his chin to get access to his jaw and bite him. “Whatever, I have no interest in your pathetic excuses – if you weren’t a pervert, you wouldn’t be hard right now.”

“I-it’s a biological response!” Jungkook insists.

“Hm, yeah, sure. Then you won’t mind if I don’t fuck you, right—? What’s more, you’ll be glad.”

To add weight to your words – and torture him a little in the process – you start moving your hips up and down against his cock, rubbing him with your folds. He twitches between your inner thighs, and you keep circling and undulating your hips over his tip, every now and then pretending you’re going to finally sit on him. His head penetrates you for a second, and you fuck yourself on it, one, two, three thrusts until you decide to press your ass against it.

“Just imagine if I let you fuck my ass,” you laugh. “Just think about it, sweetheart.”

“It’d be s-so tight,” he blurts out, “around my cock! Shit, I wish I could— I wish I could eat your ass, and then your pussy, and then fuck you open with my cock—”

“Fuck—”

You find yourself grinding on his swollen tip, rubbing your clit against his sensitive skin, too turned on by his words; yeah, you’d like him to eat your ass as well. Jungkook is trying to muffle the whimpers coming through his lips, but the pressure is getting heavier.

Moving in a quick thrust, you sit down on his cock. He works you open as it disappears into your body, a moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dig into his shoulders for leverage, hips setting a pace as you bounce on his cock. It massages your inner walls, with sounds of smacking flesh, working thigh muscles as you melt at the shocking waves of pleasure.

“Ngh—” Jungkook lets out a whimper and pulls at the restraints. “Fuck! Oh, fuck—”

Your skin prickles, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone. It’s dripping, the ache between your thighs expanding while you chase your climax.

Jungkook pants, head bumping against the headboard, victim to the rolls and thrusts of your hips. Your tits are bouncing right in front of him, their round shape and hardened nipples so, so tempting, making his mouth water while his cock throbs and twitches between your walls. You clench around him, and he whines again. His nerves feel on fire, and the sight of your bare figure fucking yourself on his cock only worsens it.

Your hand slithers to pinch one of your nipples. Playing with it, arching your back, you let out a huff and roll your hips in undulating waves, cunt engulfing him over and over and soiling it with your juices.

You feel his tip bumping against your sweet spot when Jungkook suddenly cries; two thick tears roll down his cheeks, and you bend over to kiss them clean.

“Slow, s-slower, please, go—” he sobs, face red. “Shit! I’m— fucking hell, go slow! G-go slow!”

As he pulls at the restraints in pure desperation, his hips buck into you, jerking and trembling like he’s got no control over them. Jungkook is begging you to slow down, but the blazing way he’s fucking up into you, trying to reach your breasts and suck on your nipples again, wanting to get rid of the restraints so that he can grab your ass and pound into your dripping pussy only fuels him.

“Shut up, little bitch,” you grunt.

Before he can say anything else, you shove your nipple into his mouth and hover over him, your core aching at the wet pressure of his tongue around your hardened buds. You pull at his hair, and his eyes suddenly roll back.

He grows harder inside of you. “Oh fuck, oh, n-no, fuck, stop!” he cries out. “Shit, stop! Slow, slow down—!”

Only when you feel him going still on the mattress and the sweet feeling of hot cum filling you up do you understand he just came inside you.

You keep bouncing on his cock, and Jungkook’s seed eventually gets pumped out of your insides by his own cock. It leaks down your inner thighs and pools on his lower stomach, but you only lean onto him to bite on his neck while he sobs at the painful yet glorious feeling of your pussy milking every last drop of his yummy cum.

“Oh, baby,” you coo with amusement, scratching down his chest, “you just made this so much easier.”

Overstimulation kicks in when you resume bouncing on his spent cock, careful not to let him slide out of your cunt; Jungkook sobs and grunts as he writhes on the bed, pulling the restraints.

You grab his chin and spit into his mouth before you kiss him hard. Your teeth leave small bites on his lips and chin, peppering short kisses to swallow his sobs, embracing him to restrict his squirms. He’s crying so prettily into your lips, you want to eat him up.

“Please, p-please—! Hurts!”

Sucking the flesh of his neck, you let the red mark blossom. “A deal is a deal, sweetheart.”

Deal or no deal, you ride him chasing your climax, sweating and melting into him. Your clit rubs against his pubic bone, and the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach tightens. Jungkook writhes beneath you, and his toes curl in a poor attempt to let out a little of the pleasure that pushes him towards another orgasm. The sight of his cum dripping down your legs mesmerises him, your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

Fuck, you look so hot right now; he’s going to explode in a heart-shaped puddle of pleasure, he can’t stop the tears either. It’s torture, the best kind, how you’re touching him, stroking his skin, licking down his lips to his sweaty chest, playing with his hair. There’s almost a certain sense of affection in the ways of your hands.

“Please,” Jungkook cries out.

“Fuck,” you moan, closing your eyes. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come~“

Your words make his heart stop for a second. They fuel a fire in his abdomen and raise goosebumps all over his skin, and Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath as the pain starts to mix with the tortuous pleasure.

You keep bouncing on him, ass striking against his hips at a brutal pace. “God! Shit, shit, baby, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

“Please!” he begs.

The ache between your thighs makes your core tighten, your muscles burn, your sweat is boiling on your skin, dripping down between your breasts.

With one last powerful thrust, the tension snaps, and suddenly you’re bursting out in an explosive orgasm, squirting all over him. You scream out, squishing his cock with your dripping walls, moaning his name and burying your nails in his chest. The shockwaves grip your body, and you ride out your orgasm with slower rolls of your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out in a weak breath, “you made me spill myself all over you.”

When you finally peel your eyes open, you notice Jungkook staring down at the pool of fluid on his lower stomach. His pupils are so dilated that they merge with his irises. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, and his hips are bucking into you subconsciously.

“M-mommy—”

You’re too exhausted to be careful not to drop on top of him and leave a feverish trail of kisses down his neck, holding his face and brushing your lips together, swirling your tongue around his.

“Mommy,” he calls again.

“Yeah…?”

“I’m—” Jungkook lets out a whimper when you shove your hand between his legs. “I’m c-close.”

“Again?” you ask with a hint of mockery in your voice.

He pouts and closes his lips in embarrassment, but the way his cock throbs and twitches as you circle the tip of your index finger on his cock feels too good to stifle his noises. You have such cute hands; he’d die just to see them covered in his cum.

You move down his body in a trail of kisses and nibbles, enjoying the smell of his skin, so warm and intense. The room smells of sex, and it turns you on so much that your mouth salivates.

“Let me take care of you.”

Scooting between his legs, you stroke up and down his Apollo’s belt as he arches his back into the touch, desperate to come. His cock pressed against his tummy, you grab it and spit on it right before dipping your tongue into the slit. Jungkook pants in surprise and squirms and, making eye contact, you part your lips around his cock and swallow around it.

Jungkook whines and tries his best to hold his hips still, but the feeling of being engulfed in your wet heat only engorges the tension in the pit of his stomach. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, not yet, he chants in his head.

Sucking and bobbing your head on his cock, you enjoy how he responds to your touch; Jungkook is burning all over, writhing, twitching between your lips at the suction.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “y-your mouth—”

You don’t bother to reply and simply hum around his cock, and the vibrations send shivers of pleasure down his spine. His eyes stare at your lips, darkened and wet with saliva so, using hands and lips together, you start sucking his tip with sloppy strokes of your tongue and suction from your lips as your hands play with his balls. Jungkook lets out a breath moan, increasingly agitated and desperate.

Then you slide him out of your mouth, and he stares at you a bit confused – until he sees the way you just hover over him with your mouth wide open above his tip and gets it. Shyly, Jungkook bucks his hips into your wet heat, letting out a muffled moan.

“You— you can’t be for real—” he whines.

You tilt your head in silence, waiting for him to shove his cock into your mouth again.

He starts fucking your mouth with desperate thrusts, hitting the back of your throat. Tears make his vision blurry, and a wave of heat spreads under his skin. He’s half ashamed, half turned on just at the very thought of him having to fuck your face to cum while you stay there, hovering over him with your mouth open. The grip of your tongue around his cock is heavy and wet, you’re so mean to him, just letting him jerk his hips like a bitch in heat.

“I’m gonna— fuck!” Jungkook lets out a grunt and a desperate gasp, fighting the restraints and fleeing your mouth; but you grab his ass again and bury his cock into your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pubic bone, and you hollow your cheeks, fucking him between your lips. “C-coming! Slow, s-slow down, I’m— oh fuck, please!” he sobs.

His hips stutter, and suddenly he’s spilling himself into your mouth, dissolving into pleasure with a choked sob and your name on his lips. It’s bitter, but Jungkook’s contracted face, with two thick tears soaking down to the corners of his lips, and red cheeks makes it all worthwhile.

You help him ride out his climax with your hand wrapped around his cum-stained cock, but soon Jungkook is writhing beneath you and bursting out in tears of actual pain, and you let go of him.

Lying eye to eye, he watches you lean onto him and open up your mouth; a pool of cum rests on your tongue, and he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth and lets you kiss it back into the source system, massaging your tongues together and rolling them over each other. A drop of white cum rolls down the corner of his mouth, but you’re both too busy making out naked on top of each other to care about it.

“We’re gonna have so much fun tonight, sweetheart,” you whisper.

After a pause, you get up and reach the camera to turn it off; suddenly Jungkook snaps out of something like a dream, and he remembers that you’re actually working. A feeling of shame and sadness washes over him, and he's so exhausted both mentally and physically that he feels the urge to cry.

“Okay, I turned it off.” You rush to undo the restraints on his wrists and massage the red marks with your thumbs to get the blood circulating again. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you something for the marks.”

In a thoughtful silence, he shakes his head.

“Good.”

You turn around and lean on his legs to undo the knots of his ankles as well, and Jungkook closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His heart is still trying to burst his ribcage open and get out of his chest, and now that the frenzy of the video is over, a dread falls over him; what is he going to do about you now?

“Uh, Y/N?” he asks, unsure.

Smiling, you look up at him with the rope in your hands. “Yes?”

Courage.

“Can I… take you out to dinner some day?”

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaim, laughing. With a napkin, you wipe away the milkshake foam that stains your chin and the corners of your lips. “It’s not funny, you should have told me earlier. I’m sure everyone has noticed.”

The terrace where you are sitting is practically deserted except for a few tourists and a couple of birds circling over your food. With the sun shining brightly above you, you prop yourself up on your elbows as your tummy aches from laughing so hard, and Jungkook glances at the menu with a growing smile.

“I didn’t know you cared so much about the opinion of three people and seven birds,” he jokes.

“Hey, it’s eight birds, sweetheart. And the tourists are carrying a camera,” you insist, grabbing the menu from him with a playful frown, “what if I come out in the background looking like Father Christmas? I’d never get over it.”

“Then Father Christmas had a glow-up – when he was a kid, he’d just eat the biscuits and leave. Anyway, should we order to share or is it every man for himself?”

“We’d better share, I want to try it all,” you murmur as you take a sip from your drink.

Jungkook frowns. “You’ll get a tummy ache like last time.”

“You don’t have to remind me!” With a giggle, he takes the menu again. “It was so embarrassing, on our first date on top of that.”

He scoops to the other side of the table and steals a kiss from you, letting you cup his face and deepen the contact. “Okay, just order anything you want,” he says, sliding the menu back to you. “I’ll eat what you can’t fit in your tummy.”

You thank him with a short peck on the lips, and Jungkook returns to his seat.

“Oh, by the way,” you say casually, stirring your milkshake with your straw, “I have some good news and some bad news, which one do you want first?”

He frowns. “Well... The bad one, I guess?”

“The bad news is that I can’t use the video we made because you can hear us saying each other’s names. The good news is that it means we can make it again.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“Sideshow” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

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[bigassmoonchild]

Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Simons body was back, but he wasn't really Simon. No, it was Ghost inhabiting the shell of Simons body, but even Ghost seemed to recognize you. Either way, there were days left of him being able to come back, and you didn't want to grieve your mate twice.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Made Up Medical Shit ab Omegaverse, Not Quite Simon, Ghost and Simon are different people, Mentions of Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm spoiling y'all again with more uploads <3. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Fun fact, these take me about two hours to write, but they're not beta-read or edited. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"What are some probable ways we bring people out of ferality?" You asked the squad standing around you. They were a few days out from graduating and at this point you were just filling time. None of them said anything, lookin around at each other. You sighed deeply.

Trip raised her hand and you stared at her. "Scents?" You blinked slowly, waiting for her to elaborate. "If we can get him a fresh scent of some packmate or a person he's especially close to then it can get him a focus point," she explained. You hummed.

Turning to look at the whiteboard you'd started with different plans to get Simon back, there were a few options you had. "The only problem with that, Trip, is that it could cause death," you whispered. The whiteboard had streaks where you'd erased and rewritten things.

Scent. Medications. Time. Death.

You sighed deeply, still thinking over anything else you could do. If you forced suppressants into his body, it would decrease the hormones in his body but the question was focusing on how to get them in him.

There weren't aerosol sedatives, he had ripped off the bindings that they had used to get him in the cell in the first place. 'What's wrong with him?' Price had asked. All you could do was shake your head, not legally able to explain anything. Fuck HIPAA.

Doctors, civilian doctors, had come in and started to try and take over. Even the doctors above you were fighting, because he wasn't a civilian. All they wanted was to use him and figure out how to bring a person out of ferality. Especially an Alpha.

"There are several ways we can fight ferality, but none of which have proven to do them well," you explained, looking around at everyone. There was nothing you could feasibly do, you knew. Similar to rabies, it wasn't something that anyone really came back from.

You sighed deeply. "Attempts have been made, but none of them came through. With too much time in ferality, a persons brain begins to shut down. We don't entirely know why, it hasn't been able to be studied, but there is very little we can do," you had to look away. "Either way, you work your hardest to ensure comfort," you had decided to add that at the end.

All you knew was that you needed to make sure he was comfortable. You knew your mate, you knew he deserved that at the very least. A knock on the conference door brought everyones attention as one of the civvy doctors walked in.

"You'll need to go in there," he told you. Shaking your head in confusion, you looked at him. "If he can recognize your scent, you'll be able to get sedatives in him. You'll be able to help us make him the first survivor," he whispered. Excusing yourself, the two of you moved quickly through the halls to make it to his cell area.

Standing in front of it, watching him stare at everyone through the balaclava, you felt your heart breaking. This wasn't Simon. It was Ghost. Blinking slowly, you listened to the hustle and bustle around you. It was like looking at him for the first time again. A man you didn't know, but was intrinsically connected to you.

With a deep sigh, you looked around at the doctors around you. "I may be his mate, but he won't recognize my scent," you whispered. "I'm pregnant, and we all know that changes someone scent," a few murmurs came from some of the doctors.

Looking away, you glanced at Ghost once more.

"I'll do it," you added.

They had you change into clothes he interacted with you the most in. So you wore your sleep clothes, just something you'd been wearing the night before. With the sedative slipped up your sleeve, the door outside the cell was unlocked.

"You know what to do," they told you. The plan wasn't all that concrete, just get in there and stab him. Very good plan, one of the best you'd ever seen. God, you wished Price had been allowed to format the whole thing. He might have a backup in case things went south.

Stepping through the now unlocked cell door, you took a quick glance back at the doors blocking your escape. Looking through the cell, Ghosts eyes were on you. Unblinking, the eyes you knew were gone. Blacked out, his pupil dilated so wide.

You didn't make eye contact with him other than the quick glance, keeping your head bowed down to try and remain as small as possible. If you weren't seen as a danger, he might not attack you. Might.

Movement brought your eyes up, seeing him standing to his full height and move to you. Slow but still graceful. You could see his face twitching, watched his chest heave with each breath he took. He was scenting you and you allowed it.

Closer, he grew closer and leaned his head close, you could hear the heaving pants as he drew your scent into him. Ghosts head dropped against your neck, pushing your head to force you to bare it to him. You could feel his nose nudging against you, feel his hands grasp at your arms and tug you closer.

You could almost feel tears filling your eyes, thinking back to the past two or so months filled with grief and eventual relief. A huffing grunt came from Ghost, almost displeasure at your scent changing. He tugged you with him, dragging you over to where he'd been sitting for the last few days.

Pushing you to sit, he stood over you. Your eyes opened, looking up at him and feeling the tears finally fall. A groaning whine came from him, his wide eyes glancing around to find something to cheer you up. You knew his thought process, you'd seen ferality in people before.

Only once had you seen it in him.

Ghost dropped next to you, tugging you into his lap and holding you close. He began huffing at your neck, pressing his scent out around you to try and soothe you. It seemed your scent was almost soothing him as well, allowing him a reprieve of the stress and fear over the last however long he'd been away.

God, how much you had missed this. The two of you didn't talk much, but you soaked this in as much as you could. His scent swirling around you, the feeling of his hands and arms wrapped tightly around you. You could feel yourself relaxing, felt the press of his head against yours.

Deep breaths brought his scent into you, albeit not being strong from where you were pressed into his chest. You could hear his heart thumping strongly against his chest, a true showing of his survival.

Pushing your hands to the back of his neck and shifting, just a little, you felt your throat choking around sobs. "'m so sorry," you whispered to him and he made another grunting whine at you.

You pressed the syringe in his neck and he jerked, but you were able to push the plunger all the way down. He whined against you, grabbing you tighter. Over the next few minutes, his grip slowly waned.

His body relaxed fully under you and you could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks begin to pick up. Stuffing your head into his neck, you inhaled deeply. Leather, tobacco and little hints of his own musk. God, you missed it, but the civilian doctors were flooding the room. Pulling you away and injecting him with different suppressants.

They dragged him away, forcing him out of your line of sight. You felt similar to how you'd initially felt when receiving his tags. Numb, like you were watching everything happening over a television.

Alpha is back.

You found Price waiting for you, just outside the medical center the doctors had dragged Ghost to. "How are you, Doc?" You fought the tears, feeling little hiccups coming from your chest.

"I don't know," you looked up at him. "I never thought I'd be able to see him again, but it's not him," you whispered. "That's not my Simon, that's Ghost,"

You knew when Ghost woke up, hearing the snarling roars coming from his chest. The suppressants hadn't worked, but he was still set to be pumped full of more in the next few days. The doctors found you sitting at the front desk, rubbing your face.

"Come with us," they said and dragged you to Ghosts room, where his snarls and roars quieted down to growls. As you sat beside him, placing your hands on whatever you could reach his growls quieted into little huffs and grunts.

You pressed yourself as close as they would allow you to him. "I missed you so much," you whispered and his head whipped around to look at you. His pupils were still so dilated, but you could make out his eye color just barely.

His eyes were always so pretty. You sighed and dropped your head to look down at the ground.

"It's been so long," you choked out. "So, so long," he looked at you, nearly blankly. God, you hoped that somewhere in that stupid head of his he could hear you. "Been almost two months, you wanna know something?" You asked, lifting your head to give him a weak smile.

All Ghost did was blink at you, slowly. Almost like he was listening, you noticed. His heartrate was dropping closer to normal rates, blood pressure dropping little by little as the minutes wore on.

"I'm pregnant," you gave a wet laugh. "I found out not too long after you left for your mission, and y'know what?" He didn't respond, but you could see the dilation of his eyes shifting just barely.

Looking away and swallowing thickly, all you could do was give little sobs.

"God, I missed you so much," you sobbed out. "When they gave me your dog tags that one morning, I didn't know what to think. I was so numb for so long but Price knocked sense into me," you choked another wet laugh. "Just like how he would do with you," you whispered.

"Pups," he whispered, staring at you. Your mouth gaped open, staring at him. His voice was rough, gravelly. It sounded like he either hadn't talked in months or had been screaming his voice out. "Pups," he whispered again, hand moving before getting caught by the handcuffs.

"Oh my god," you whispered. You lunged to get closer to him and heard scrambling at the door. People surrounded you and tugged you away, dragging you out of the door but you could hear it. His heartrate increased severely, and you could assume his blood pressure was skyrocketing again. "Stop!" You shouted, writhing against the people dragging you away.

There was a large snarl from Ghost, you could just see over everyone his writhing form as needles were stabbed into him. The door closed just as his head shot up and you could catch one last look of the fear filling his eyes. Hands tugged you away, pulling you from the area.

"No!" You still were screaming, not even realizing what you were doing. "Please, I need to be there!" You fought against the hands that pulled you further and further from the room.

"You can't," it was Price. "You can't be there, they need to be able to work on him without people in the way," he whispered to you.

"I was getting through to him, Price," he shook his head. "He spoke to me," you whispered, tugging him closer to you. "All he said was 'pups' before they dragged me out," Price looked away.

He sighed deeply. "We know," he said. "We were listening in, but you need to understand something," he made you look at him. "That isn't your mate anymore," he whispered. "He's been feral for too long,"

"No," you shook your head. "No, it's going to be okay," you whispered. "They still have a few days," you looked away. "They can't give up on him,"

Price looked away. "They're giving one more push of suppressants," he told you. "Giving them a few days, they're going to use you to help bring him out but if this doesn't work they'll need to keep him comfortable until the end," you couldn't look at him.

You weren't going to look at any of these people, how dare they give up on him so quickly? For minutes on end, you sat near Price, just waiting. For what, you didn't know, but Price wasn't allowing you to leave.

Minutes dragged into hours. Just like the hours that stole your last moments with Simon before he came back as Ghost. Minutes that you could've been in there with Ghost, comforting him as they did things to him.

He wouldn't know what was happening, his mind was too preoccupied with survival. You couldn't stop hearing his one word replaying in your mind, the recognition you now could see in his eyes. The door opened but you didn't look up, doctors came out slowly but surely.

Feet stopped in front of you, where you'd been staring at the ground. "Ma'am?" The voice whispered above you and you finally looked up. "You can go back in, now," he whispered. You knew that in the few lucid minutes a feral person had were the few minutes when more medicine should be pumped into them.

You had never expected the fear that would fill the lovers when this type of thing happened. When you were still training, you had never expected fear to be combined into others. You had no words for what you felt as you walked back in the room and saw Ghost snarl at you, his eyes no longer filled with recognition.

Sitting where you had been, you gazed over the Alpha. Blinking slowly, you moved your hands to where they had once been sitting, not so many hours ago.

"I miss you," you whispered to the Alpha. "God, I missed you so much," you could see his chest heaving with breaths, nearly see his mouth dropping open under the balaclava to allow more of your scent in. You sighed deeply.

Looking around you, the room was so bare. Something you would only use to describe hospital rooms. It hurt, knowing your Alpha was stuck here. Somewhere you weren't allowed to help.

"The rest of the pack have been helping me out, y'know," you smiled softly. Make this as normal as possible, you told yourself. "Soap's been joining me at my appointments," you looked down at Ghost. "Gaz has been making sure I take care of myself, and Price is doing his best to help during the night," you choked out a laugh.

You hear a soft little hum come from Ghost. His eyes were filling with recognition, little by little. Leaning towards him, you tried to catch his eye. They were dilating, his heartrate slowed.

He hummed again and you looked away. "I need you to come back, Simon," you whispered to him. You looked up at him, gazing over what you could see. His eyes, moving quickly around the room and grazing over you before moving away.

A deep sigh came from you and you sat there with him, watching the clock slowly tick as time carried on. Neither of you said anything and you watched as his eyes slowly drifted shut. You could feel the exhaustion slowly settling into your body, from the different emotions you'd been sent through over the last few days.

Standing up quietly, you let yourself out of the room. With one more look back, you watched the Alpha breathe slowly in his sleep. Closing the door behind you, you found Price.

Gesturing for him to follow you, the two of you slowly made your way to your office. When you unlocked the door, you sat yourself down in your chair and watched as Price closed the door behind him. He sat in front of you, lighting a cigar.

Quiet. For a few minutes, it was just quiet outside of the drag of his cigar and the soft breathing between the two of you. "He's home, Doc," he whispered. "Simons home,"

"It's not Simon," you looked at him. "That's Ghost. My Simon is not sitting in that bed, it may be his body but it's not him," you responded sharply. He looked away from you, sucking at his teeth. You blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of them.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your hands over your face as you looked around the office. The one place where you and Simon had grown so close, the one place where the two of you had found peace.

"I've spent the last however many months grieving," you said. "I've grieved the life of my mate, and now he's back but it isn't him. That isn't my mate," you whispered, giving a short pause. "I can't grieve him again, Price, it'll destroy me," he reached over and rested his hand against yours.

He gave a little smile. "You won't have to grieve him again," he said. "The way he's progressing is making the doctors very happy," you gave a short laugh. "He could be the first case of survival through ferality, and you were the key to it," he told you.

For another few moments there was silence. Neither of you spoke, but you could see the pity in his eyes. Closing your eyes, you just breathed, still faintly able to smell Ghost albeit the scent becoming stale.

"I just need my Alpha," you whispered. "I need him back. I don't care if it means I fight an entire group of Doctors, they can't just kill him, Price," you opened your eyes and looked at him. "They can't just kill him," he didn't meet your eye.

"It's getting late," Price told you. "I think you need to go back to your room and sleep. Now," you didn't look at him, allowing him to guide you to your room. When you entered, he gave you a grim little smile before closing the door behind you.

Now that you were alone, you had no idea what to do. Your Alpha was just a few minutes walk away from you, but you wouldn't be able to enter that room again. They'd close down the medical center from visitors, even with your access as a doctor they wouldn't allow you to enter the room.

Crawling into your cold nest, you laid there. Shirt pressed to your face from where you could still faintly smell Ghost when he'd held you. Closing your eyes, you could almost feel his arms wrapping around you. You could almost smell him right there, right next to you.

And that's how you felt asleep, dreaming of your Alpha wrapping himself around you and making sure you knew everything would be okay. Even you didn't believe it.

Next

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[vclvetfleur]

Freak Show Chapter 5

Buggy x fem!reader

Summary: You make a plan to escape the marine base with your new savior and your continuous savior, your right-hand man. You sent them off to escape themselves while you and Buggy search for your stuff back

TW: Murder, possessive Buggy

WC: 2.6K

Notes; Two days in a row! I'm proud of myself for actually uploading less than a day of each other. I had the most fun writing this chapter. I think i'm finally getting in the mood of writing this fan fic. Please let me know any suggestions or if you're even enjoying this.

Chapter 5: Click Once Click Twice

The alarms blared loudly throughout the entire building. You sighed in exhaustion. This couldn’t be any worse. You opened the door and looked around before disappearing.

You and your crew have been in situations like this before. There was always a way out. You kept a lookout for Marines as you peered through every corner. You made a click sound to let Vivienne know the room was clear to go. She followed the noise and soon Cabaji and Buggy had to follow too. If they were going to leave they had to follow you and Vivienne’s lead.

One-click for go. Two clicks for enemy nearby. And if there were too many, you’d just retreat back to the crew.

You continued to look around, finding a Marine with a weapon in hand. You could easily take him out. You snuck up behind him, kicking your legs under his, sweeping him down on the ground. You covered his mouth before he could scream for help. You grabbed his sword before making the decision to give him a few hits to the head until he became unconscious. You couldn’t have blood on the floor. You would only be found out quicker. You dragged him into a room before shutting it behind you. You let out a click and had them follow right behind you once again. You now had a weapon. But it wasn’t yours. You needed to find your stuff. You came to Vivienne before reappearing, making Cabaji jump at the suddenness of your appearance.

“I need to get my shit. Can I trust you to get Cabaji and Buggy out here safely?” You whispered. “Why the fuck would she need to keep me safe?” Buggy loudly interrupted. You smothered him with your hand, kicking him in the shin.  “You fucking moron, there’s Marines all over the place. Do you wanna get caught?” You whispered at him, but in a tone that you were practically yelling at him.

You get go of his mouth. He seemed annoyed at the way you judged his competence. He’s been doing this far longer than you have been, yet you treated him like a weakling. Some new member of your crew. You practically forgotten the fact he was Captain of his own ship. He had over a hundred men following everything he said to them.

“I’m going with you. I don’t trust you to actually get any of my stuff.” He made a point. Realistically you probably wouldn’t. It had no value to you. And you had no loyalty to him to get his belongings back to him.

“Fine. Just- Vivienne get Cabaji out of here safely. If you need me,uhh fuck- Buggy give them your ear.” You thought quickly. “What?” Buggy said in disgust.

“Give them your fucking ear. You used it to spy on us. So it shouldn’t be a problem now. Now give her your ear or I’ll cut it off you.” You threatened him, raising your new acquired sword to his ear. You didn’t have time to be arguing. A marine could be turning a corner right now. He hesitated before flying his ear off his head and into Vivienne’s pocket. She squirmed at the strange exchange before taking a deep breath to relax her nerves. “Meet me at Port 249.” Vivienne ordered. Before she could run off with Cabaji, you left her with the sword. You could protect yourself just fine. But you weren’t sure if she could with minimal weapons.

You grabbed Buggy by the end of his shirt and pulled him off the side. “Now- listen to me. You’re gonna do this my way. I’ll keep look out. One-click.” You demonstrated the click. “That means clear… Two clicks means danger. If there are multiple, you attack. I’ll be right there. Got it?” You instructed him carefully. “Why two? Wouldn’t they hear you genius?” Buggy criticizes your plan. “Clicking twice for every hallway hurts after a while.” You shrugged. You disappeared once again, turning right. You clicked to let Buggy know your location. It wasn’t too long before you had spotted a few Marines looking out for you.

You let out two clicks. You snuck up behind one, watching as one of Buggy’s hands flew across one of the Marine's face. You grabbed another, pulling him away. He had no clue where you were once you threw him on the floor. He swung his sword around frantically as he watched his crew getting knocked out by Buggy’s flying limps. You stood above the soldier before taking your heel to his forehead. You stole his sword and grabbed whatever would be useful to him. A key. Perfect.

You hid it in your corset before taking loud steps for Buggy to hear where you were. It was difficult with one ear. Your steps grew softer once you could note that Buggy had an idea of where you were heading to. Every Marine you crossed was met with a guerilla attack and was robbed or left dead. No witnesses now that they had their sights on Buggy. There could be no risks.

You spotted a room familiar to you. It was the room you were taken to before being shoved into a cell. It’s where all your belongings were taken. You tried to unlock the door but to no avail. “Buggy.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear you. It was no use. You reappeared, waving him down. “Is there any way you can get the door open?” You asked.

Buggy investigated it before coming to his conclusion. “No.” He shrugged. “Let’s just find one of the fucks who put us there.” He seemed as though it was easy. You huffed, pulling out keys that you collected, and trying each one. But to no avail. None of them opened the door. “There was one I saw a while back. Fuck. We have to go back.” You admitted.

Buggy rolled his eyes and had no choice, but to agree. “I’ll go. You stay here.” You ordered.

“No way sweetheart. You aren’t getting me killed. No goddamn way. You’re gonna stay visible and I am following.” Buggy ranted, but you didn’t need more of a risk on your hands. You disappeared and made a run for it. You stopped in place, looking down to see one of Buggy’s hands holding your skirt to keep you from running. You stopped and attempted to kick him off of you. He just followed. He was way too damn persistent.

“Buggy, I’ve spent too much time with you already. I cannot do this now.” You groaned.

You felt a strike against your ass causing you to jolt up. “I think you liked our time together. Seemed like you did.” Buggy teased, his smirk coming across his red-painted lips.

“That was a fuck up and a moment I rather not relive.” You denied all feelings you had about the situation. It was for the best that you and Buggy never did anything like that again. If you had it your way, you’d never see him again. In all honesty, if you kept running into him like you seemed to constantly do, you weren’t sure if you’d deny him the same access you granted him just a mere moment ago.

“Oh really? Cause I didn’t really hear that come from you. What did you exactly say again, babe? Oh, fuck me, please. Please. I need you.” His voice becoming high pitched to mock you. You threw a balled-up fist into his stomach as you continued to walk in the direction you had spotted the first marine you knocked out. You should’ve killed him.

“Don’t call me that.” You warned him.

“Oh, what should I call you then? I think you fairly liked being called a slut earlier.” Buggy giggled at his own jokes. If there was one thing about Buggy, he always knew how to entertain himself. You wish you knew how to make yourself laugh at the most idiotic shit.

“You’re insufferable.” You mumbled under your breath. You kept watch out, making sure no Marines were in your way. You headed back to the room you locked the Marine in safe enough. Thankfully you seemed to clear out most of that hallway. You opened the door, knocking onto the floor as the previously knocked-out marine pounced on you. His hands gripped your throat, pressing his thumbs into the middle of your throat. You smacked his arm, attempting to pull him off. You felt an instant release, turning to your side as you tried to catch your breath. Your throat felt rasp as you tried to cough quietly, but there was no use in being quiet. You heard cries of agony and pleading. You turned your head and watched Buggy stand over the man, slamming him against the floor, while throwing a punch whenever he felt the opportunity to do so. It was as if watching a lion completely devour a giselle in the wild. You got up, grabbing his shoulder and arm in an attempt to pull him away. “Stop. You’re causing too much noise.” You lied. You just couldn’t watch a man get beaten alive. You’ve seen it plenty of times before, but this felt wrong. Almost territorial. “Just-grab-uh- grab his shit and let’s go.” You found an excuse.

“Not till I’m done.” Buggy warned you before throwing the man back into the room.  He smacked his boot into the unconscious man, blood spilling out his mouth.

“Buggy! Enough!” You screamed. This all caught the commotion of a few Marines. You heard a gang of footsteps hurling your way. “Fuck-“You whined. You quickly pickpocketed everything from the possibly dead man and disappeared. “Let’s go!” You directed Buggy. You grabbed his arm, dragging him away. You didn’t trust him not to continue to beat a corpse. You watched as marines swarmed the hallway.

You watched Buggy’s fists flying through people as you grabbed one of the knocked-down marine’s swords, throwing it in Buggy’s hand's direction. He grabbed the sword and sliced through a Marine in front of you. They pulled their swords out in difference. This was exactly what you needed. Weapons out and they could not see or hear you. You rushed over, throwing a kick into a marine’s ribs. You caught him completely off guard. You unarmed him and took him out with his own weapon. You sliced through unexpected marines one by one before clearing the room out.

Buggy reattached his hands and ran after you once making yourself visible to him. You quickly made it to the door, watching a marine guard it. You held no mercy and attacked as soon as you could. You grabbed the keys you stole from the now-dead marine in the storage closet and unlocked the door. You shut the door behind you once Buggy stepped inside with you. You made sure to keep a door at the handle, locking the door and barricading it incase more marines showed. You went through boxes before finding your stuff.

You squealed out of complete joy, holding your beloved sword close to your chest. You reattached your holster to your waist before sliding your sword in. You watched Buggy recollect his large brownish-orange penny lane coat, sliding it over his arms before putting all his daggers back in place.

Your eyes met and for a moment, just a moment, you felt slightly proud. You and Buggy were a pretty good team. You set every distain you both had and just completely whipped out rows of marines in your way. But Buggy took your look of proudness in endearment. He rushed to you, gripped your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in for a kiss. For a split second, you let yourself lean into the kiss before pulling away in an act of disgust. “No- never again Buggy.” You pointed a finger in his face like a dog.

“So, why’d you kiss me back?” His voice in a hushed tone, attempting to get you to recreate the kiss once again. You almost fooled yourself before shaking your head.

“No.” You told him once again. But Buggy would never take that as an answer. His finger lifted your chin up for your gaze to leave the floor and at him.

“Oh- don’t play hard to get darling.” He stepped closer to you, your back against a filing cabinet. Your breathing quickened, allowing yourself to feed into his demands. His lips pressed against yours, his stubble rubbing against your chin. His hands snaked around your waist, keeping your bodies close to one another.

“If we had enough time, I’d take you right here on this table.” Buggy broke the kiss. “What was that about never again?” Buggy joked before removing the chair from the door and unlocking it. He left you there speechless. You were fully at his will. He attempted to get what he wanted.

You quickly got yourself together, gathering all your daggers, along with a few stolen heirlooms of other prisoners before making a run for it to catch up to Buggy. You just now needed to get to an exit. But of course, it was heavily guarded with marines. You just wondered how Vivienne was able to escape in time. She never spoke into Buggy’s ear. Nothing. It seemed radio silent.

“Round three?” Buggy asked. You nodded, disappearing once more. With your weapons back, you both were unstoppable. You disabled each and every one of them within just a few minutes. You opened the door and made a run for the port. You saw Vivienne and Cabaji sitting at the deck, waiting patiently.

“Vivienne!” You called out to her. She stood up quickly and opened her arms to you. You grabbed her and held her as tight as possible. You never wanted to be away from her like that again. Buggy watched you two, slowly making his way to Cabaji. “God alright already! Enough with the reunion.” Buggy gagged at the willing affection you were so willing to give Vivienne.

“Get the fuck outta here before I shove you off the port.” You snapped back at him.

“Give me my ear back. I’m tired of listening to the two of you make small talk. It’s disgusting.” Buggy held his hand out as his ear flew out of Vivienne’s pocket and back onto the side of his head. The four of you went quiet. There was a sense of uncertainty in the air.

“I recommend you both leave. I’ll see you both again. Buggy- you’re still dead to me.” You continued the act. You weren’t going to stop hunting him down. He was the reason you were in this mess in the first place. You weren’t going to let that fact go easily.

Buggy gave you a nod of understanding before heading back onto his ship while you retreated onto yours. The differences of your arrivals were astounding. You hear Buggy’s crew cheer as they were beginning a celebration while you were swarmed with concerned, nearly sobbing questions. You let your crew know you were fine.

“What’s that mark?” One of your crew pointed out. Your neck was filled with love marks. You shielded your neck with your chin as your hand covered the other side. “Just some marine trying to choke me out.” You lied.

“HEY!” You heard shouting as your sail was setting sail. You looked over to Buggy’s ship, watching Buggy leaning over the deck. His hand waved at you to say goodbye, at least for now. But a sudden thud it the side of your head, noticing Buggy’s other hand fly over to throw a punch your way.

What a fucking dick…

Notes: I really hope you guys are genuinely liking the story :)

[fandom-junkie2020]

I Believe You

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Dustin recrutes Eddie’s girlfriend to help find him. Eddie, although relieved to see his girl, is still rattled from the strange events that unraveled.

WARNINGS: drug mentions, violence, regular stranger things stuff

Date Uploaded: 6/18/22

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Requests are open! Here are some prompts and a characters list!

“Steve, what are you–Steve could you just lift the tarp up?.” 

“Why don’t you lift the tarp if you’re so brave,” he jabbed back. 

Everyone had been looking for Eddie Munson. After the horrible events that took place at his trailer, the entire town had turned on him–rightfully so. From an outside perspective, from those who had been oblivious to Hawkins’ true terrors, it seemed as if Eddie Munson had committed the most violent murder the small town ever seen. Soon, Eddie Munson would be captured and taken into police custody. Well, that was the best case scenario if someone were to find him. There were plenty of ruthless townsfolk that weren’t just looking for Eddie. They were hunting him. Many seeked him out in hopes of taking down the man seemingly responsible for the way that Chrissy’s bones were crushed inside her body. Everyone in town was against him, except the ones who seeked out the truth. 

Y/N hadn’t been there that night. She wished she could have been there so she could have prevented this from happening. Not like she would've done anything anyways. There wasn't anything anyone could have done. At least, not in Chrissy’s case. For Chrissy, her fate was inevitable. Vecna had decided. No one could have possibly foresaw her death. For others, though, it was possible. Y/N just needed to help Dustin and his friends find Eddie.

Dustin had sought Y/N out, being Eddie’s girlfriend and all, but she was unaware of his whereabouts. She wasn’t even aware Eddie was in trouble. Despite the news stories, suspects had yet to be released. Eddie’s name was seeping into households but hadn’t yet made local news. The minute Y/N was made aware that Eddie was hiding from the whole town, she helped narrow down Eddie’s whereabouts. Eventually leading them to Reefer Rick’s. Y/N hadn’t been there often, once or twice when Eddie needed to pick up some ‘supplies’. 

“Hey, look over here,” in front of Max were dozens of candy wrappers, soda cans, and beer bottles. 

Robin peeked over her shoulder, “Maybe he heard us, got spooked, and ran.” 

“Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar!”

“I know you think you’re funny but considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times,” Steve continued thrusting the oar into the contents under the tarp, “personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight–” 

Before Steve could continue his dispute with Dustin, a figure shot out from under the tarp and lunged toward him. Dustin and Y/N stumbled backwards and nearly tripped over each other while Steve was pushed against the wall, broken beer bottle now centimeters from cutting into him. 

“Wait! Wait! Wait!”

“Eddie! Eddie!”

“Eddie, stop!”

Eddie had this look about him. His body language was defensive and his eyes were drilling into Steve’s skull. 

“Eddie, please!” Y/N pleaded. The second Eddie heard her voice his head snapped in her direction. Even so, he was still on the defensive. His frantic eyes whipped back to Steve then to Y/N again. “It’s me, baby. It’s Y/N,” she held her hands up as she moved slowly toward Eddie and Steve. Steve’s eyes were panicked as he looked at Eddie. The entire town was convinced he viciously murdered Chrissy and now here he was with a broken beer bottle to the neck. “That’s Steve, he isn’t going to hurt you, right, Steve?” Y/N’s voice was quiet and calming but it was noticeable that anxiety was coursing through her body. 

“Right, yeah,” Steve’s voice was much shakier.

There was a slight quiver in Y/N’s voice as she continued, “Steve, don’t you think you should drop the oar?”

The minute Steve released the oar it dropped to the floor knocking over various objects that were crammed into the shed. Eddie stiffeded and held onto Steve tighter, still not releasing him.

“He’s cool! He’s cool!” Dustin yelled.

“I’m cool, man. I’m cool.” 

Eddie’s face scrunched up, “What are you doing here?”

Y/N continued moving toward her boyfriend, “We were looking for you, Eddie. We want to help you.” 

He looked toward Y/N, his grip on Steve loosened slightly. He looked at her unsure. The two had been through so much together, yet the events of the night had proven to him that anything can happen. The impossible can become possible. Maybe once he told her the truth about what happened they could figure it out–move on. Now, it was just as probable that she would turn her back on him and he would remain broken. 

“You know Dustin, right? These are his friends. They asked me to help look for you.”

“You know Robin,” Dustin interjected, “from band. This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D.”

“Eddie, please,” Y/N spoke softly. She was almost close enough to touch him. Her arm was still reaching outward, a desperate attempt to calm him. “We’re on your side, baby. We swear.” 

“Yup we swear!.”

“Swear!”

“Swear, swear, swear!”

Eddie's face stiffened as he contemplated what his next steps were going to be.

Y/N had finally gotten close enough to touch his arm. The second she made contact, Eddie snapped away from Steve and settled himself against the same wall he’d pinned Steve to. He slowly sank down to the floor where he could sit. His eyes and expression were blank. Y/N had never seen him like this. All the life and happiness that always radiated from Eddie was now gone. She knelt down to him, placing a hand on his knee. He briefly glanced toward her then looked back to the floor. Y/N looked sadly at him then down to the broken bottle in his hand. She slowly and gently grabbed the bottle from his hand and set in on the ground. Eddie’s entire body was shaking and his now empty fists were clenched together. 

“Honey, we just wanna talk, okay? We just wanna know what happened.”

Eddie sniffled as he looked toward Y/N, who was now surrounded by Dustin and Robin, “You won’t believe me.”

“Try us,” Max said. 

He glanced at Max then back to Y/N. He was still hesitant.

Y/N reached to put a hand on his knee and started rubbing her thumb back and forth in an attempt to comfort him, “I’ll believe you.”

“She wanted something stronger than what I usually hand out. I don’t bring that stuff to school so I brought her over to my place. I went into my room to get it and when I went back into the living room she had this look on her face–this blank stare. Her eyes were glossed over and almost white. I just kept shaking her to try and get her to wake up but she didn’t. Then she just lifted up into the air and she just, like, hung there, in the air, and her bones,” Eddie struggled to continue, “uh, she–her bones started to snap. Her eyes, man, it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling. I-I didn’t know what to do, so I ran away. I left her there.” He looked around the room at everyones expressions. Out of everyone, Y/N looked the most surprised and scared. She wasn’t aware of everything that had happened at Hawkins. She didn’t know the truth. To her, this was crazy. It almost sounded made up. There was no way this was real, except the expression on Eddie’s face told a different story. The expressions and the way his voice pinched told the truth. Genuine fear was radiating through him.

“No we don’t think you’re crazy,” Dustin reassured Eddie. 

“Don’t bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds!”

“We aren’t bullshitting you.”

“We believe you.”

Y/N still hadn’t said she’d believed him. How could she? This was crazy–truly crazy. 

“Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little difficult to take,” Y/N and Eddie, both their faces covered with confusion. 

“Okay.”

“You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They’re not way off. There’s another world, a world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes, it bleeds into ours.”

“Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asks.

“There are some things worse than ghosts.”

Now things were officially off the rails. Eddie and Y/N sat next to each other in the shed while the others stepped outside. They knew that something was off about Hawkins, but they never could have imagined that things were this bad. But now, they knew the truth. Everything about last summer at the mall and Will’s disappearance, all of it was laid out in front of them. To Y/N, it was still insane. There was no way that any of this was still happening. To Eddie, it was a confirmation that everything he’d seen was real. 

The two sat together, shoulders touching. Their breaths were heavy. Eddie's eyes were swollen and drooping from the lack of sleep. Y/N’s heart raced as she thought about their future. 

“I believe you,” she said, eyes not diverting from their gaze. “I never told you that.”

Eddie looked over at her. Even though she hadn’t really seen anything, it looked like she’d spent hours running just like he had. Her hair was starting to get frizzy and the makeup was starting to rub off her face. She was blinking slowly, almost as if she was trying to keep from falling asleep. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to you,” Eddie apologized.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Y/N moved her body to face him. She reached her hands up to connect with Eddie’s face. “I love you and we’re going to get through this,” she placed her forehead against his.

He let out a sigh of relief, “God, I love you so much.”

“What do you say we go catch some monsters, Eddie The Banished?”

“I’d say that if you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

[lilpunkrock]

where you go (i will go) — iii

Summary: The Dream Lord receives a lesson in love (and your reliance on caffeinated beverages).

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!reader

Words: 5.9k+

AN: Originally posted on my main account, @alittlepunkrock, I'm now uploading to my second blog because my main is having issues. RIP. We're looking at a good 15-20 parter, so I hope you'll all come along on this journey with me! I hope you enjoy!

series masterlist // mood board // ao3

. . . 

“Running like a river trying to find the ocean,

flowers in the concrete;

Climbing over fences, blooming in the shadows,

Places that you can’t see;

Combing through the melody when the night bird sings,

Love is a wild thing.”

-       Love is a Wild Thing, Kacey Musgraves

. . .  

Part iii.

Dirt digs under your fingernails as you crawl towards the hearth. Your fingertips brush the metal rod of the fire iron. You swear you laugh with relief, though all that reaches your ears is a broken croak. Your fingers tighten around the rod. Maker, that burning in your chest is all consuming–

A bright burst of pain explodes in the side of your head. You feel your grip on the rod slip. The room spins as your thoughts tumble and turn, incoherent. You’re a bird with a clipped wing, an acrobat in freefall. Where the ceiling of your hut once was, a sky full of stars now glistens. Dazed and confused, you slowly blink them away.

When the room rights itself, you find yourself on your back, your face mere inches from the flickering hearth. There’s a crushing weight in your chest as your love climbs atop you once more. Any residual air that might have been left in your lungs deflates at the pressure. Your spirit slips away with it.

He holds the fire iron in his hands now. His face is impassive and hollow, a mere husk of the man you know. The man you love. Looming above you, his eyes seem dark as night. Gripping the fire iron tightly on either end, he brings it to your throat and presses down. The agony is bright and burning at first. Then the numbness starts to creep in.

Your eyes sting with hot tears. Please, you mouth silently. What are you supposed to do when the person you desperately want to rescue you is the one inflicting the pain?

“You are bringing this upon yourself,” he whispers. His voice sends a chill up your spine. You remember the stories and sweet adorations that voice once whispered to you. Now it is cold, impassive, devoid of feeling. “Why can’t you just let me go? Let go.”

. . .

The soft sounds of morning birds and passing cars slowly coax you back into consciousness. Though you know you’ve just gotten a full night’s rest, you can’t help but groan at the emptiness you feel. It grows so tiresome to wake up this way. Always recharged, but never feeling rested. True rest aches within the back of your mind like a phantom limb, something that has been cruelly robbed from you. Though you haven’t slept or dreamt in ages, you still long for it. You suppose old habits die hard.

As your mind fully returns to itself, you do register one other sound. The fluttering of pages. It sounds so close–

You sit up swiftly. Of all the things you could have possibly seen, you definitely did not expect to find your gaze settling on the face of a certain Endless.

“For the love of– Dream Lord?” You’re dumbfounded. You blink, rub the residual grog from your eyes, and blink again, sure that your brain must be malfunctioning. No, he’s still there. “Why do you Endless insist on popping up in my bedroom unannounced?”

Dream of the Endless cocks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, the movement so subtle you nearly mistake it for a twitch. He continues to thumb through the fantasy novel at your bedside, pages fluttering between his fingers. “Is this a frequent occurrence of yours?”

Realizing how that sounds, you shake your head hastily. “I– No– Yes– Maybe? I mean, if I had a nickel for every time an Endless showed up in my bedroom unannounced, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened twice in the past two weeks.” The Dream Lord gives no apparent reaction to your attempt at an icebreaker. Tough crowd. You take a deep breath, grounding yourself. “What are you doing here?” you ask.

“Were you dreaming just now?” he deflects.

The question takes you aback. You eye him carefully. “No, of course not. Deities don’t dream. I should think you would know all about that.”

“I am well aware of the limitations on the resting capabilities of divine beings. You are also the first deity I have encountered who was once mortal. I only wondered if the case might be different for you.” You swear that pensive gaze could pin you straight to your headboard.

“You could have just gone into my head to find out,” you point out. Though you’re glad he didn’t.

From beneath his tousled black hair, the Dream Lord’s blue eyes appraise you thoughtfully.  “I considered as much, then came to the conclusion that it might be viewed as intrusive of me to do so if we are to be considering a collaboration.”

You almost laugh at that, then think better of it. Well, he has morals, at least. Shaking your head incredulously, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Dream Lord?”

“I seem to recall you extending an invitation for me to observe your function in the Realm of Attachment.” Your fantasy novel makes a quiet thud as he closes it swiftly, laying it back on your nightstand. “That invitation will be coming to fruition today.”

. . .

“Is this your messenger or emissary?”

Your eyes fix on the Dream Lord as you walk into your living room, fully dressed with daily assignments in hand. He stands by the front door with his hands in his coat pockets, staring down at Theo, who sits proudly at his feet.

“Uh, neither. And he’s not my royal librarian, either. He’s my foster dog.” You dip to rub Theo between the ears. “I don’t have assistants. I typically work alone. Though I’m hoping that’s about to change.” You offer him a small smile.

The Dream Lord gives only a low hum in response. His gaze slowly sweeps across the rest of your home. It’s certainly no palace with towers and spires. You can’t help but feel like he’s not really looking at your decor, though, but rather trying to read you. Acutely self-conscious, you change the subject. “Speaking of work, what were you hoping to observe today? I’m not sure how much time you have…”

“You are seeking my blessing to form a collaboration with you in which I will be interfering with the machinations of my mischievous sibling,” he replies, eyes continuing to study your humble townhome. His blue gaze finally comes to land on you. “I would suggest you give me the full breadth of experience, Deity of Love.”

Your heart stutters with a mix of nerves and excitement. Intrigued to let someone else have a small glimpse into your world, to actually share with someone for once. But terrified that it won’t be enough. Not just enough to get him to help you, but that the first person you truly open up to won’t see your work the way you do.

You swallow, pushing away those anxious thoughts. “Well, I suppose we’ll just start from the beginning. Each day starts with checking my list of assignments.” You extend the stack of papers to him, watch as his eyes flicker over the names there. “My daily assignments come from the Fates, who in turn base their assignments on information from your brother, Destiny.”

“Destiny,” Dream of the Endless breathes. His cool gaze settles on you. “My brother has never spoken of you before.”

You’re not sure if that should offend you or not. You decide to let it roll off. “That doesn’t surprise me. We’ve never actually met in person. And I don’t do much associating with other deities or Endless. I tend to keep to myself.” As you fish for your house keys in your pocket, you guide the Dream Lord out the front door. “So, that’s step one: Check my list for the day.”

“And what is next?”

You grin at him as the front door lock slides into place. “I get coffee.”

The Dream Lord’s face draws a blank. “Coffee,” he echoes back to you, clearly trying to connect the dots on how this is relevant.

“Indeed, Dream Lord. You said you wanted the full ‘Deity of Love experience,’ didn’t you?” The sidewalk is quiet and mostly empty this morning as you begin walking toward Cliff’s coffee shop. The golden autumn sunlight seems to endow his pale skin with a slightly warmer glow. You suddenly realize that he’s swapped his regal floor-length cloak for a more casual knee-length wool coat in an attempt to look more human. Something about that thought sticks out to you. You smile, slipping that thought in your pocket for another time.

As you approach the coffee shop, you turn to him and say, “Thank you again for accepting my invitation to come here. For giving my proposition a chance. I truly can’t tell you what it means to me.”

The Dream Lord glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his face stony and serious. “There was a time when I would have banished you to the Darkness for pulling such a stunt in my throne room. Deity or not.” He holds your gaze sternly for several seconds, then looks away. “But recent events have made me more….amiable.” He swallows, pink lips pursing. “Lucienne and I have discussed trying to be a more…adept listener.”

You gulp. If his reaction from the other day was his definition of “amiable,” you shudder to think of how he might have reacted before “recent events.” You had heard whispers of the Dream Lord throughout the ages, tales of a cruel prince who would unmake dreams and nightmares without a second thought, who sent a lover to rot in hell for breaking his heart, who doomed mortals to nightmare realms from which they’d never wake up. Keeping to yourself as you did, you’d never been able to judge the truth of those whispers, and you’d never felt comfortable asking Death about them. While the Endless beside you now would not be considered friendly, he seemed to be more reserved than unfeeling. Closed-off, rather than devoid.

“Well, I think being an amiable listener is something that each of us can always grow more adept at,” you concede. You pull open the coffee shop door with a wide grin. “Hey, Cliff!” you call as you enter, your broody guest trailing behind you. “I’m here for the usual.”

“Of course, Miss Love.” He’s already slipping the coffee into your hand as he speaks. Cliff affixes you with a tender smile, then eyes the Dream Lord with something toeing the line between intrigue and confusion. “And this is your…friend?”

“Ah, yes.” You turn to the tall, dark Endless at your side, who gazes at Cliff with interest. “This is my friend…”

“Morpheus,” the Dream Lord answers, giving the shop owner a polite nod. Not the most incongruous of names, you supposed, but it worked.

“Ah,” Cliff says, unsure of how to respond to that. “And your friend would like…?”

You expect him to decline or ask for something tall, black, and bitter, which is why you’re all the more pleasantly surprised when he rasps, “Earl grey.” Your hand finds the change in your pocket as Cliff prepares the blend and hands it to Morpheus. “Have a good one, Cliff,” you smile as the two of you turn and head back toward the door.

“You do realize that Endless and deities do not require food or drink, don’t you?” he mumbles lowly as you walk out the door.

“I do. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t still enjoy them, does it?” you offer with a smile. He doesn’t return it. Maker, it was going to be hard to open him up. You pause on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. “Anyway, our next step is to go to the Realm of Attachment itself.” You look around for a mortal to pass through. With it being a weekend, the streets are much less crowded than normal. However, just a block away, you do spot a small flower stand with a few patrons milling about. You beckon Morpheus in that direction. As you walk, he takes a tentative sip from his to-go cup. A small, human-like gesture. If it weren’t for his wild mop of hair and the strange air about him, a mortal almost wouldn’t pay him a second glance. Almost.

As you draw near the flower stand, you lean toward him slightly. “I’ve never actually taken someone with me before, but based on the laws as I know them, I think we’ll need to be touching.” You offer him your elbow politely. His gaze flickers from your outstretched arm, to your face, then back to your elbow. Finally, his long fingers wrap lightly around your forearm. “Are you ready?” you ask him.

“I am.”

“Alright. Here we go, then,” you breathe. Slowing your pace, you guide your paths to pass behind an elderly couple looking at several pots of colorful mums. As the wife comes within reach, you gently touch your fingers to the back of her lightweight jacket. You close your eyes, reaching out to her heart, reaching through to the other side. Your muscles tense under Morpheus’s fingers. An autumn breeze kisses your cheeks. Your body hums, calling to the land itself like an old friend, and the land answers. You’ve made it.

You had never brought anyone to the Realm of Attachment before. You were largely a solitary being, and there had simply been no need to share this part of yourself with another before. When you turn to look at Morpheus, you do so tentatively, nervous to see his reaction.

While the street is largely empty, the flower shop patrons provide plenty of attachments for him to view up close in a variety of colors. Each thread is strong and radiating and alive. His blue eyes drink them in intently, a new, unfamiliar enigma for him to study. His gaze gradually glides to the buildings around you. Though no mortals are visible to your eyes, those residing inside send thousands upon thousands of threads bursting forth from the buildings in all directions. Some travel a block, some a mile, some a hundred miles, some more. His eyes slide up higher, roving over the sky above you. Unlike the Dreaming, there is no blue sky above. Instead, trillions of attachments blanket the heavens, every color of the rainbow intermingling and intertwining to form a radiant tapestry. His lips part ever so slightly at the sight.

It’s not much of a crack in his armor, but it is something. You know that he has seen and created countless fantastical realms as the Dream Lord. You can’t help but feel a little proud that your Realm seems to offer him something he hasn’t encountered before. “Welcome, Lord Morpheus,” you say quietly as you gauge his expression. “You’ve reached the Realm of Attachment.”

The Dream Lord is silent for several more moments. Finally, he murmurs, “It is…quite spectacular.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes follow his, drinking in the colorful heavens above you. “Sometimes it feels like I’m living in a ball of rainbow yarn,” you admit, only half joking.

You almost think you spot the Dream Lord’s lips twitch out of the corner of your eye. Almost. But when you turn your gaze to him, his expression hasn’t changed. “What are they?” he asks, eyes still trained above.

You smile. “These are my attachments.” One of your hands instinctively moves to graze the snow white thread connecting the elderly man and woman beside you. Morpheus’s eyes follow your movement. “These are the bonds of love that tie all of humanity together. This is my function.”

When Morpheus locks eyes with you next, you feel as if something subtle has shifted within them. Or maybe you’re imagining things. What you do know is that when he says, “Go on,” you feel as if he is expressing genuine interest for the first time since asking you about your sleep earlier this morning. It dawns upon you that in spite of the walls he seems to keep around him, he still harbors a desire for knowledge, to learn something new after eons of existence.  Appealing to his curiosity may be an effective way to get him to open up.

“Well, let’s start with the colors. Each color represents a different type of attachment.” You beckon him to turn in a circle, pointing out attachments as you go. “First, we have the red thread; that is eros, or romantic, passionate love. A classic, of course. But I take care of much more than just romantic love. Here we have purple, or erotoropia, which is playful and flirtatious.” Your eye spots a family of three up ahead. “See that family in the store over there? Their bonds are green; storge, or unconditional, familial love. The orange bond between the mother and father is pragma; companionate love that includes common long-term interests. Next, we have blue, which is philautia – compassionate self-love.” You spot a church ahead to your left, radiating a particularly impressive amount of yellow threads. “The yellow attachments are agape. That’s universal, empathetic, selfless love. It encompasses faith-based love, as well. And the white thread connecting this couple? This is philia – an intimate, authentic bond. That’s a soul tie. It doesn’t just have to be romantic, though. They can be platonic, too.”

“How do you distinguish what is romantic from what is platonic?” he asks. His pale hand reaches out to touch the radiant white thread between the elderly couple beside you. His dark eyebrows furrow when his fingers merely pass through it.

“You’re not far off,” you encourage him. Your own fingers move to hold the white thread gently. In your grip, it pulses and thrums like a heartbeat. “All I have to do is hold it to determine if the bond is romantic or not. The attachments speak to me, and I speak to them. If I call upon them, they’ll tell me what I want to know.”

For the second time today, Morpheus gives a contemplative hum in response. His eyes sweep over the street, turning to the mortals farther up the block. His gaze suddenly pauses, his hand lifting to outstretch a finger. “And that one?” he asks. You follow his inclination to find yourself staring at a black thread connecting a young man to his phone screen. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

“That is why we’re here. Why I’ve come to you for help.” Your feet instinctively lead you toward the black thread, and Morpheus follows. As you draw closer to the young man, you see that he is swiping through hookup apps on his phone. A pale red thread trails from his heart down the street, terminating somewhere out of sight. As your fingers grip the thread lightly, you take a deep breath and say, “You’ll find her through the app. Once you meet, you’ll both delete it.” Reinvigorated, the red thread solidifies. It glows brilliant crimson as if to say thank you.

Your eyes turn to Morpheus. His eyes are trained on your hands, watching them intently. “Black attachments are Desire’s handiwork. They’re a deviation in the plan, an interference with the love bonds between mortals. Desire will happily interfere with any attachment of mine, but they’ve been targeting my eros, pragma, and philia ties the most. As you saw.”

The Dream Lord’s clear eyes rise to yours. You can see the gears churning in his mind in the way he works his jaw, the intent with which he looks at you. “I should think that you and my sibling might collaborate at times. You do have similar functions.”

Your lips purse into a hard line. His assumption is good, one that you yourself had often thought in your early days of divinity. Before you were given a rude awakening. “I suppose you could say we walk a fine line. There have been times throughout history where we have worked together. After all, desire is often a part of love.” You pause, mulling over your next words, choosing them carefully. “But love is meant to be selfless. Something which Desire, in my personal experience, is not. They are ambitious, as well. That combination of selfishness and ambition has led to some…conflicts.” You swallow thickly, choking down a million words left unsaid.

The intensity of Morpheus’s gaze leaves you feeling like a riddle he’s trying to solve, a puzzle piece he’s studying the edges of. For the first time, it occurs to you that perhaps you are not the only one who feels they are in the presence of an enigma that needs solving. For a moment, you’re certain he’s noticed your difficulty speaking, certain he’ll inquire about all the words you didn’t say. Then, the moment fades. “I am still uncertain as to why you need my assistance with this matter.” He turns his gaze to your hands, to the red attachment that still thrums in them. “It appears you have already found a solution.”

“You make a good point. I am able to combat them. But there’s only so much I can do. Once the thread of desire has manifested, it often regains strength. I simply don’t have enough time to continually repair the bonds while also keeping up with my other attachments. Plus, as Desire grows more greedy, they create more and more ties. Look around you.” Morpheus mirrors you as you turn in a slow circle. A young couple with a white philia bond walks past you, the attachment dimming as a black thread snakes from the man to a woman across the street. Looking at the scene around you with new eyes, Desire’s dark bonds stand out starkly against the bright backdrop of your Realm, dark roots taking hold in a thriving ecosystem.

“I’ve been trying and trying. Not just recently, but for centuries. I simply can’t keep up. That’s why I came to you.” You turn to face the Dream Lord. You force yourself to display confidence, to raise your chin and hold his gaze. “I need your help.”

Dream of the Endless watches you for a long time. The sounds of the street dim to nothing in your ears, the kaleidoscope of colorful attachments blurring behind him. Again you feel the sensation that you are being read like a book, but this time you don’t fight it. You let him read you, see the determination in the set of your jaw, the earnesty in your eyes. You will him to see just how much this means. To feel it.

Finally, Morpheus raises his chin at you slightly. “Where are we to go next?” he murmurs.

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, then turn your attention to the list of names in your hand. You feel an all-encompassing warmth alight in your chest, like a fire taking spark in kindling. Your power. It calls out to the names on the papers. The colorful glows surrounding each one brighten in response. You lock eyes with the Dream Lord and smile. “Let’s get to work.”

…

Dream of the Endless had requested you give him “the full breadth of experience,” and you fully intended to give him the full breadth of experience. By the time you’d finished your coffee, you had enforced a storge attachment in a new single mother, strengthened the agape attachment in a persecuted evangelist, nurtured the pragma bonds of several young couples, and instilled philautia in an eating disorder treatment facility, to name a few. Not to mention the numerous eros and philia attachments you had fostered. You’d traveled halfway around the world, to boot. At this rate, you’d need another cup of coffee to make it through the day.

Fresh off an eros assignment in Sydney, you open your eyes to find yourself and your guest standing on a cobblestone street in Sicily. The early-autumn sun bakes the cobblestones, their warmth radiating through the soles of your shoes. Swaths of vines adorn the tall stone buildings. Before you stands a simple oak door leading into what appears to be a set of apartments. A pot of flowers overflowing with yellow and pink buds compliments the doorstep. You can sense the attachment you’re seeking within the home, feel it calling out to you.

“Oh, magnifico,” you say with a grin. You gesture for Morpheus to follow as your ethereal form slips through the door entirely.

On the other side is a narrow staircase. As you scale them, Morpheus calls after you, “I must admit, your function is more…involved than I might have presumed.” “Oh?” you call back, feigning surprise. “Did you assume I flew around sticking mortals with heart-tipped arrows all day?”

“That is not what I meant.” You chuckle quietly as you guide the two of you down the hallway at the top of the stairs. Apartment doors line either side, but your eyes are trained on the one at the end. A pause, and then, “Does everything truly come to pass as you say? The events that you dictate when you foster their attachments.”

“Yes, they do.” The two of you have reached the final door at the end of the hall. On the other side, you can feel the thread you’ve come for calling out for help. It’s a powerful call – perhaps more than one thread? You turn to Morpheus. “There are some limitations. Say your sibling Desire decides to meddle, or your sister Death calls them home before my events can transpire, for example. That will override my work. But in general, if I speak it, it will happen. Your brother, Destiny, knows the who and the what of humanity’s love connections. It’s my job to execute them, to make sure that they actually happen. I am the when, where, why, and how.” With that, you proceed through the door.

The room that you step into is quiet and dark. There is a staleness to the air, as if the walls themselves are holding their breath. As you walk forward, you spot dirty dishes on the table, a sink filled with murky water, a considerable stack of mail sitting on the counter. Morpheus spots them, as well; you see his dark form straighten slightly out of the corner of your eye. Your lips tighten.

The call in your veins leads you to a bedroom at the back of the apartment. As you step inside, you peer through the shadows to find a man and woman sleeping on the bed. They are tightly intertwined, their bodies wrapped around one another like armor. Your eye catches on the man’s furrowed brow, on the woman’s red, swollen eyes. Between their hearts are not one, but four threads; red, orange, green, and white. All pale, shuddering, and weary.

You swallow thickly, heart pounding in your ears. You look at Morpheus. Cloaked in the shadows of the room, he almost blends in entirely, save for his bright blue eyes. They watch you intently.

Your hand reaches out, slipping around all four threads at once. A gentle squeeze sends a sharp spear of pain through your gut, one that nearly buckles your knees. Images flash in your mind like an old time film reel: First date– first kiss– the wedding– she was the most radiant thing he’d ever seen– longing for a family– he was her rock– the test– the joy– the blood– so much–

“Are you alright?” Your eyes spring open at Morpheus’s rumbling voice. Though he hasn’t moved, you find that there is something new in his eye, a thinly veiled wariness.

You release the attachments, and with that the pain dissipates. But not the images in your mind. They remain imprinted there, a reel stuck on replay. “Yes, I’m fine,” you say quietly. You breathe in deeply, out slowly, re-centering yourself. As the warmth within your chest hums, the threads between the young couple quiver. I’ll help you, you think solemnly.

Slowly, you reach out your hand. You pluck them one by one, like playing a harp. In response to your touch, they seem to glow and sing. “You won’t give up,” you murmur. Your fingers strum the threads a second time, savoring the hum they echo against your fingertips. “Not on yourselves, not on each other, not on this life you want to build so desperately. Each others’ arms will be your greatest comfort. Each others’ smiles will be your greatest strength. You are each others’ safe haven.” You pause. Hot tears sting your eyes, and you blink them away. “Where you go, she will go; and where you stay, he will stay. Your unconditional love will be rewarded. I believe that.”

The threads in your hand give one final hum, then relax against your fingertips. Once dull and faint, they now shine brightly, illuminating the room. You feel a shift at your side and turn to see Morpheus beside you. He gazes down at the couple silently. Though his face is impassive, something smolders in his eyes. You can’t place what burns within them, but it is undeniably present.

“I know them,” he murmurs after several quiet moments. “I have often gifted them dreams of a contented family. I recall seeing them in the Dreaming not long ago. They were to call her Sofia.” He pauses. “They dream of her, even now.”

You close your eyes slowly, feel the hot tears slip down your cheeks. Standing still in this moment where your function, where your passion, has crossed paths with that of the Endless beside you. When you open your eyes, you look back to the sleeping couple at your side. “Love isn’t always easy, or clean, or beautiful. But each love is powerful and perfect in its own way.” You swallow, outstretching your fingers to strum the threads one final time. “This is humanity, Morpheus. This is what we live to protect.”

. . .

“Do you have time for one last quick stop?”

In spite of the late hour, the Realm of Attachment is colored just as brightly as it had been this morning. The sun never sets here, the land perpetually lit by the glow of your attachments. Morpheus stands beside you on the sidewalk outside your townhome, a dark smear of ink in the midst of so much color. You turn to him, offering him a small smile. “Thank you so much for accompanying me today. I know it’s getting late and that you must return to the Dreaming. A jogger passes by my townhome every evening; she should be here any minute now. Before that, there’s just one last thing I want to show you. It’ll only take a moment.”

Morpheus peers down at you thoughtfully. The rainbow sky swirls like nebulae in his bright eyes. With a dip of his chin, he says, “Did I not request the full breadth of experience?”

Your grin widens. You beckon him to join you by Matt and Ava’s window. Peeking through the open curtains, our eyes settle on the young couple sitting in their dining room. Plates of steaming lasagna and colorful salad sit before them, all but forgotten as they laugh and talk instead. Between their hearts thrum seven strings, one of each color: Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, white.

“Aren’t they amazing?” you breathe. Your eyes hang onto the love in Matt’s eyes, the joy in Ava’s smile, the vulnerability and intimacy that seems to shimmer in the space between them. They are in love. Something ancient aches in your chest at the sight, something you buried long ago. “It’s rare for two mortals to share every form of attachment with another person. Typically you’re missing one or the other. But they have themall.” You smile softly. “I’ve been with them since the beginning. I’m so proud of them.”

Though the Dream Lord says nothing, you can feel his eyes on you. Time seems to pass slowly as you stand on the sidewalk. Only the gradual loudening of quick footsteps pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ah, our ride is here.” You extend your elbow to Morpheus. He takes it without a word. As the jogger runs past, you close your eyes and reach out, fingers brushing over her arm. A cool breeze kisses your face; the light shining against the back of your eyelids dims. When you open your eyes, it’s just you and the Dream Lord on a dark street, standing under a sky full of stars.

“Well, that’s it. That’s a day in the life of Agape, Deity of Love,” you say with a shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. You eye Morpheus curiously, cocking an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Do you have any…questions?”

“I do, in fact. There is much I still wish to know,” he responds, voice crisp and clear in the cool evening air. He pauses, then adds, “But I presume you will have sufficient time to answer my questions at a future date, given that we will be working in tandem now.”

The autumn air seems to suspend itself around you. Your lips part ever so slightly in awe. One beat, two. You’re processing– or, rather, struggling to process what he just said. Did he just say– “Are you serious?” you ask breathlessly.

Morpheus inclines his head slightly. Is that a twinkle in his eye? Or is it the lamplight? You’re not sure. “I have come to the conclusion that a partnership between our realms may be mutually beneficial,” he says matter-of-factly. Spoken with his ancient timber, the statement feels as if it’s been etched into stone, immortalized for all eternity.

A heady, elating mixture of joy, relief, and nervous excitement washes through you. You smile, laugh, riding the emotional high in a daze. “This is incredible. Thank you so much, Morpheus. You have no idea what this means to me. Truly no idea.” You shake your head incredulously. The Deity of Love partnering with Dream of the Endless. Who might’ve guessed? “So, what’s next?” you ask.

“Next, you will observe my function in my Realm. Only after that time will we begin to work.” As the Dream Lord speaks, he tucks his arm into one side of his coat. Within the folds of fabric, you swear you catch a glimpse of a starry night sky as he pulls out a helmet with large glass eyes and a long nose. A strange sense of deja vu settles over you, and then you realize – this is the helm you saw on the Gates of Horn in the Dreaming. Morpheus places the helm on his head slowly, obscuring his blue eyes from view.

“In two days’ time, Matthew will gather you and bring you to the Dreaming,” he instructs. Through the helm, his voice sounds warped and far away. One pale hand dips into his pocket, procuring a palmful of sand. The grains seem to leap to life in his fingers, jumping, swirling, dancing, tumbling. You can already feel the winds picking up around him, forming a new vortex. You take a step back. “We shall see you soon, Love,” he rasps.

And with a tempest of sand, he’s gone.

“See you soon.”

[angelbaby-fics]

Happy Friday!

I have a few announcements for the days ahead!

First of all, I wanna apologize for my absence so far this year!! I got sick not once but TWICE in a row over the first 2 weeks of January and its been very annoying since I've wanted to post but have had just absolutely no energy to do anything but try and recover 💕 But I'm all better now and ready to go!!

Since the start of this month, I've been gradually uploading my fic library to Ao3! I'm excited to bring my fics to a wider audience as well as help build up the agere community on Ao3! Pretty soon I'll have everything published over there as well as here & will keep updating as I keep writing!

Also, this tuesday January 23rd will be the 2nd anniversary of my very first fic & therefore marks 2 years of being on tumblr!! I've been wracking my brain trying to think of an exciting way to celebrate & one idea I've been kinda stuck on is to have a writing contest! I haven't worked out all the details but I think it would be really fun to give you guys an opportunity to try your hand at writing fics the way I decided to give it a try 2 years ago! Let me know if you guys have any ideas as well! I've never hosted a writing contest before so I'm not sure exactly how I'll go about it all but I'm very excited at the concept!! 💕

I love you guys so much & I hope we all have a great weekend!!

[justlydiasworld]

[Part One of Jealous reader and Jealous Robin]

•(gif is not mine)

•before we get onto the good part, I just want to give a heads up to the readers, I am not FULLY experienced on writing and I’m not confident in my works.So that is why I’m doing it for fun, and once I’m more happier with my work, I’ll upload more and take writing more seriously.

• tw; angst, fluff, jealous Reader, jealous Robin.

• Heads Up(again); You and Robin have been dating for a couple of months now and you guys are DEEPLY in love with each other, but lately you guys have been distant towards one another due to work and school, but met again after Vecna’s massive attack on Hawkins.

[The Night The Destruction Occurred]

It was a cold night, just the usual moon being beautifully shown. You were outside at your front yard, just sitting down and admiring the moon like you’ve always have, for the last week. It was all you could’ve down at night, you wanted to call Robin and ask her how she was doing, you just had an urge to. But you knew you couldn’t, you always thought you would be a bother or even a handful, and you didn’t want her to think of you like that at all. So you never called her, but she was always the one calling you.

But it was different this time, she didn’t call you for the last couple of days. Maybe she got tired of me, and you just accepted that fact without thinking twice. Honestly it was hard for you to think that, you needed her but did she ever need you? Questions and doubts fill your head in an instant. Soon,a tear starts to form and rolls down your warm cheek, slowly falling down,and then hit the ground. “God, I hate this feeling so much.” You said while you slowly get up and wipe off any dirt on you. And then you quickly wipe off your tears and slowly make you way back inside until the whole ground was shaking.

“What the hell is going on!” Is what you thought inside your head, you ran inside the house and close it shut but the ground starts to shake even more. And soon it unravels itself and turns into a huge crack in the middle of the road and leads on. It was like a hell hole of some sort and you could feel the heat from MILES away. You just couldn’t help thinking about Robin at that time, if she’s doing alright, or if she didn’t survive and got dragged inside the crack,or how my parents are doing right now too, they might be safe with grandma. Everything started to calm down, and then there weren’t any more earth quakes. But what the hell was that? An eruption? And it was all so sudden too. Luckily everything inside the house was okay except a few broken windows and lights flickering,or so that’s what you could see at the moment. You just broke down crying and saying “why me.” Until you fell asleep on the floor inside your living room.

[Present]

As soon as you woke up, you started to look around you. It was a bigger mess inside the house then you think it would’ve been, it was a disaster.

*Ding Dong,Ding Dong*

You were fully woken up after hearing that door bell ring and quickly made your way to the front door. You try not to step on the window glasses that were laid almost everywhere, finally after a few seconds you open the door and see your neighbor,Hailey.

“Oh Hailey, it’s just you.” I said while squinting my eyes because of the sunlight that hit my face.

“Yeah it’s just me haha” she said back with her hand behind her neck. And car keys dangling with her other hand.

“Is there something you need help with?” I asked, because there’s no way she came over here to just say hi after that whole destruction.

“Actually yeah,I do need a hand.I’m taking all these old clothes from when I was younger to Hawkins High.” She said, and then I noticed a few boxes near her and her car parked in my front yard. And all the other people who live in this neighborhood to leave Hawkins, they seem to be packing up and leaving the town.

“Oh yeah alright, could you give me a few minutes to change? I’ll be right out.” I said with a smile

“Yeah sure! That’s not problem to me, take your time actually. And make sure to heal those cuts on your legs too.” She said back with a warm smile

You smiled back and closed the door gently, and you didn’t hear what she said after the ‘take your time’ part. So you brushed it off and made your way down the hallway and turned a right to get in your room. Everything was off, the picture frames were tilted and the clothes were everywhere. You even see little gifts from Robin on the ground. And you picked them up and landed them on your bed.

After you changed, you made your way back outside. You were wearing shorts and a plain tshirt that had a car that wrote “80’s” written across the shirt. It a pretty colorful tshirt.

“Hey, I’m sorry I took long. My clothes were everywhere.” I said while making my way down to Hailey’s car.

“It’s no big deal, I actually like the outfit you’re wearing!” She said starting the car.

“Thank you, and what happened to the boxes that were near you?” You said with a curious face, quickly starting to buckle up.

“Oh yeah I took care of those and put them inside the trunk while you were away.” She said driving slowly.

The cracks were still there and we had to be cautious of that so we just stayed near the side, and eventually made it to Hawkins High.

Ton of people were there to donate their old clothing or toys. This must’ve affected everybody in the town. Honestly it’s scary to think about. You shook it off and opened the door and went to open the trunk until you heard Dustin’s and Steve’s voice. It was pretty faint though, there’s a lot of people here so I maybe just hallucinating. You shrugged it off and took one box of clothing and Hailey took the last box.

You guys didn’t know where to donate these, Hailey just heard to donate old clothing or toys to Hawkins High but there were various places in Hawkins. So we just followed other people to see where they donated. After a few minutes of walking, you guys finally made it to the cafeteria. Tons of people without houses or destroyed houses were on a bed that the workers have provided. You looked around and saw Dustin talking to an old man, he looks familiar though. But you were shocked to see Dustin, because if Dustin is here then that would mean- no, there’s no way. You took a deep breath and kept moving with Hailey. You laid down the boxes near a table and sat on a chair. “Those boxes were not easy to carry at all.” I said while you close your eyes and chuckle a bit. “Yeah, sorry for taking up your time for something stupid like this.” She said while sitting right beside you with her arms crossed. “Hey, it’s not a big deal,trust me. If you ever need a helping hand, I’m here.” You said again facing her.

“Oh,Robin. What are you doing here?” A very familiar voice said.

I turned around and saw Vickie in a apron talking to, Robin.

You can see how shocked Robin was to see Vickie, and after a couple of seconds they chatted away. Robin didn’t even notice you. Why, it was always her. But you turned around quickly, trying so hard not to cry. You looked up,staring at the ceiling and just begging yourself not to cry. And for a second you forgot that Hailey was right beside you, she didn’t get what was going on but she just changed the topic and asked. “Hey, your cuts are getting a bit worse. Let’s disinfect it, it might sting for a bit.” She said while looking at me. You nodded slowly, making sure these tears don’t fall out of your eyes. Hailey took both of your legs and gently put them on her lap, and put on alcohol on it with a cotton pad,then she put on some bandages on the cuts and it was done. “That’s it, your legs should be fine. If it hurts or stings then that’s probably from the alcohol haha.” She said while putting her chair where it was originally at. “Thank you” I said and again forced your eyes to look at the ceiling. Hailey asked if you were doing okay, and you just nodded. But hell, that one tear just left your eye and slowly made it down your cheek. Damn it,why wouldn’t it stay in your eye. “Hey,everything’s gonna be fine y/n.” She said. You turned your head to face her. “Yeah, definitely.” You said while tears kept rolling down your cheeks. You wanted to break down crying, Hailey hugged you and whispered that everything was gonna be okay. But was it really?

[bylrndgm]

you do edits and gifs right? i am trying to find a good screen recorder (preferably free and without a watermark. kind of a tall order. i know) i just wondered if maybe you knew of one? also curious what programs/process you use to create your gifs and edits if you don't mind sharing ty

Hey! I've been making gifs for the last ten years and I got some tricks up my sleeve. It's going to be such a long post (as I'll discuss my process in detail and depth, explaining all the little things), so if anyone is interested, just read under the cut! (❁´◡`❁)

Step one: finding the video

To make an HQ gif, your video has to be HQ. The best choice is to go on YouTube and download the highest-quality video:

Example -> if there is as quality option 4K, download the video in 4K.

Remember that .mp4 videos have a lower quality, because it's a compressed file.

A better extension is .mkv, which I find preserves the quality better.

If you can't get the video from YouTube, you may still want to have a good quality video -> you can still record your screen and I suggest this open source program: OBS Studio (Win, Mac and Linux!)

Here you can play with the settings -> on the output menu, remember to select the .mkv output! (NOTE: you need to play around with the settings because depending on how powerful your PC is, some will be better than others!)

Now all you have to do is press start recording and once you recorded your video, press stop recording (it's pretty intuitive!!)

Step two: screencapping

It's the slowest way to make gifs, but it helps preserving the quality.

Once you have your video, you need to make the screencaps!

Download KMPlayer

Right click on the middle of the screen > options > preferences

These are my settings:

Open your file (you screen recorded in OBS studio) and put the cursor to the point the scene you want your gif starts

Then right click (on the screen) and select this

Make sure these are your options:

Press start and press play on the player -> now let it play until you finish your scene -> then press stop.

On the folder you chose as destination of the extraction, you should have something like this.

Step three: making the gif

Open Photoshop (I have Photoshop CC - 2018).

Go on File > Scripts > Load files into stack

Click on browse -> select all the screencaps you previously made -> once they're loaded, press on OK

Now, lean back, relax, grab some coffee because it's gonna take a while!

Turn on your timeline (Window > Timeline)

And press on Create frame Animation, there in the middle

Then press on the little burger menu on top right of the timeline and click on Make frames from layers

Click again on that menu and select Reverse frames

Now, select all the frames (the ones you see on the timeline) and right click where you see "0 sec" and choose Other ...

Put 0.04 as delay!

Step four: cropping and sharpening

Select the Crop Tool (shortcut: C) and you should have something like this

Move the handlers like this (don't reduce the image size!)

I just eliminated the black stripes on top and bottom and resized the width

Then confirm

Go to Image > Image Size and these are my settings:

If you want to make a ONE COLUMN gifset -> width has to be 540 px

If you want to make a TWO COLUMN gifset -> width has to be 268 px

Height doesn't matter! Press OK.

Now, back to your Timeline, press that little icon on the bottom left

Now, this is what should happen:

On the layers panel, select all the layers and right click -> Convert to Smart Object

Now, you can use whatever sharpening option you want -> go on Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen.

I usually do that twice:

OPTIONAL -> duplicate the layer and set the opacity to 30% -> add Gaussian Blur (radius 1.5)

Step five: coloring

Now this is the fun part, and it's always different! So, just play around with the adjustments and find what suits the scene the best!

Step six: saving

File > Export > Save for Web

NOTE: .gif files must be under 10MB to be uploaded on Tumblr

REMEMBER TO SET LOOPING TO FOREVER!!!

And that is it!? If you have any questions please DM me, or send in another ask + there is a quicker way to do this, let me know if you are interested in that.

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Baying Dogs (Rewrite); Chapter 6: Choices Have Consequences

This chapter is the heavy one! If you're uncomfortable with the content in this one, please feel free to skip! I'll add the key plot points in the 'replies' bit so you can hop on over to that for what you need to know to read onto the next one when it gets uploaded.

I have done my best to be mature when writing this chapter and I hope that translates- if you haven't clocked it yet, this fic is taking inspiration from werewolf mythology from England and France where lycanthropy (particularly in the middle ages and during the witch trials) was used as a way of representing male violence. Whether that representation was a means for bad men to not take responsibility is kinda up for interpretation, but yeah :D.

Warnings for: Strong language, sexual violence, violence, major character death

Word count: 3, 109

Graves stared at the captain over the brim of his thermos which shook a little in his unsteady grip. 

Price took in a long drag from his cigar. His hat lay beside him, on the ground, its cap sinking slightly.

He didn’t agree with what Graves was going to do.

The captain already had a suspect in mind, and he would be ready to confront him. Graves, on the other hand, thought that was too rash. They needed evidence.

And he would get that evidence.

***

Dougs washed the blood off her hands, watching the reddened water run into the grate underneath the tap. She found it slightly strange that a place with a toilet wouldn’t have a sink but then again, the sink had probably crumbled away decades ago.

Gosh, this place felt haunted.

She wouldn’t be surprised if she met a ghost… seeing as werewolves were a thing now. And to top it all off, one was hunting them.

Speaking of ghosts, that had been awfully nice of Riley. She couldn’t help but let a little smile creep onto her face as she thought about what he had done.

Good on him.

It was kind and she felt that’s what they all needed. A little kindness would go a long way in these conditions. Perhaps that’s why she had let Soap cry into her.

And she’d probably let him do it again.

He was scared and he had every right to be.

But it wasn’t him. That she knew.

Maybe she’d be able to sus out who it was by those missing bandages. Now, that she had seen what happens to a changing man, thanks to Soap’s little ‘claw situation’, maybe someone who had already turned would try and hide the symptoms under the guise of healing injuries.

Not a bad idea.

Although, it did mean snooping around other people’s stuff and everyone’s belongings were in the barracks. That would be difficult.

She sighed, getting the last of the blood off her hands before drying them on her trousers, grabbing her dirty clothes and heading out.

The door creaked open. She peaked her head out and looked to the left.

Then, she looked to her right.

And made direct eye contact with Ghost, pretty much nose-to-nose with him… well, not exactly seeing as he was almost twice her height.

Either way, she screamed.

“Fucking hell!” Dougs clutched her chest, “I almost shat out my spine! What the fuck?!”

“Dougs…” Ghost raised an eyebrow, “I’m just standing.”

“Fucking hell. Yuh almost did gi mi ah haart attack!”

He rolled his eyes, before holding his hand out.

“Need anymore help or are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She replied, “I’ll just go put these in my bag.”

The woman gestured to her dirty clothes.

“Sure. I’ll be outside.”

Dougs nodded and watched him walk down the corridor, passing the barracks and the medical room. She checked she had everything once more before making her own way to the barracks.   Much to her surprise, as she stood at the threshold, she was confronted with an abandoned room. Bags, guns, jackets and helmets were left scattered, having only been recently deserted. The room still looked lived-in. It was strange, being the only one here. She watched the rain trickle down the windows, pooling when they caught on the metal and plaster which held the glass in place.

No one was here.

Perfect.

If there was a time to snoop now would be the time to do it.

She decided it would be best to start with the beds closest to her own and work anticlockwise, which would result in her coming full circle. She made for Soap’s bed first and knelt before his rucksack.

Usual stuff, spare clothes, waterproofs, some stashed food bars and so on. No bandages.

She grumbled and moved onto the bag next to his.

Dougs had figured she’d be here for a while, sorting through various backpacks, pockets in body armour and so on.

However, her rifling had been cut short.

A gleam of white.

Bandages.

They were a lot more ragged than when she last saw them with fraying ends and bits of dried blood. It looked like quite a few stretches had been cut coarsely, most certainly not with scissors but with something a lot bigger and not built for finer, gentler work. Still, whoever had done this must be proficient with sharp tools. Dougs could see they had tried to be as delicate as possible. She almost commended the attempt.

Quickly, she replaced the bandages. There’d be no point in taking them, they were soiled. They’d also be pretty useful evidence and thus, should remain in the perpetrator’s possession.

She needed to be crafty about this and making sure that the killer thought no one was making progress in their endeavour to find him would suit her best. She didn’t need to make herself more of a target.

Now, though, she had a good idea of who that was and that was only solidified when she saw the claw marks on the bed next to the bag.

Dougs shook her head.

She knew, now.

She knew.

And it made sense.

Oh, I pity this fool.

With that, Dougs got up, knowing what she had to do.

She decided it was best to go back to the medical room and log her new discovery and to review everything she had uncovered. The woman left the barracks and turned to head next door, only to find Graves blocking her entrance.

“Sir?” she asked.

Something was off. He didn’t look right.

“Dougs.” He replied.

She nodded and made to enter. He blocked her path.

So, she tried to walk around him. Again, he blocked her.

“Graves, I need to go in there.”

“I know.”

Alarm bells were sounding off in her head. Something definitely wasn’t right.

“What do you want?” She asked.

“Are you on your period?”

“What?”

He’d read the files, hadn’t he? Shit.

“Are you bleeding, Dougs?”

“Uh… I don’t know if I…”

She backed up and found herself hitting the wall behind her. Graves trapped her between his arms. He had a look in his eyes. A look Dougs was familiar with, having seen it in men before him. As she was about to move, he pressed something metal against her neck.

The cold of the blade’s edge threatened to slice her skin should she cross him.

She hadn’t been confronted with this, though, before.

“Answer the question, soldier.”

“I…”

“Are you bleeding? Or have you got something to hide?”

She wanted to do something. Stomp on his foot, headbutt him and break his nose. Anything. She just wanted to render him incapacitated for just long enough so she could get out of there.

However, she couldn’t. He had a knife to her neck.

“Sergeant, answer my question.”

Dougs swallowed hard.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing for myself.”

She felt him begin to tug at her belt.

Dougs grabbed his arm, hard.

Only for him to press the knife down on her.

“Don’t fucking test me.” He growled.

She stared at him defiantly and as he made to grab at her belt once more, she kneed him in the groin.

“You fucking bitch!”

 He stuck his leg out and tripped her up as she tried to make her escape. Then, he grabbed her from behind, pulling her towards him.

Dougs kicked and shoved.

Soon, Graves was on top of her.

One hand was firmly on her belt, in the process of undoing it, while the other held the knife above her, threatening to have it come crashing down like a guillotine.

She remained still, eyes fixed on the knife as Graves unbuckled her trousers.

Dougs bit down on her instinct to run, knowing that any slight movement would result in severe injury at best.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Heavy boots came into Dougs’ view as she lay her head on the ground. They stopped. Then, she watched them take a few steps back.

“Graves, what the fuck?!”

She let out a sigh of relief as she heard that Scottish accent.

Then, another set of shoes came into view.

“Oh my God…”

That was Ghost.

Graves looked up at both of them.

Soap immediately made to shove Graves off, only for the man to point the knife squarely at him.

“This isn’t what you think!” He announced, “I’m doing this for the benefit of us!”

“What do you mean this doesn’t look like what we think it does? Get the fuck off of her!” MacTavish yelled.

Dougs took Graves’ distraction as opportunity and punched him.

She had thought that would do it, and he’d release her.

Instead, he held her by the throat and slammed her back onto the ground.

“Graves!”   

Soap again made for him.

Graves again thrusted the knife towards Soap, almost catching him this time. Both MacTavish and Riley staggered back.

“Don’t! Don’t do that.” He snarled, “No one needs to get hurt here. I just need my evidence and I’ll be done with this.”

“Are you really threatening us?” Ghost asked.

“Them files say that if you’ve got an infected on your hands- i.e. a killer who has been slaughtering his own- it’ll show up in a woman if she’s bleeding.” Graves explained.

Dougs felt his weight press down on her. He was trying to secure her in place on the ground.

Soap looked to Ghost, not sure of what he meant by that.

“Bleeding?” Soap asked, “I’m not following-”

“Files said if she’s on her period, we’ve got a werewolf on our hands! Now, I know for a fact at least one of you motherfuckers is infected and she’s gonna prove it.”

“You read the files?” Ghost asked, “You read them?”

Graves scoffed.

“Don’t act so high and mighty. We’ve all probably fuckin’ read them. You know how I know?”

He reached into his jacket and procured a small notebook.

Dougs’ eyes widened.

“Looks like our little medic here has been recordin’ everything.”

He pulled it out of reach as she raised her arm to get it.

“That’s very much illegal, Dougs, copying down sensitive information which has no place outside of government knowledge.”

Ghost looked at her and then back at Graves.

“Price and I have read the files. Now, he doesn’t agree with me doing this but…” Graves sighed as he chucked the book to the side, “Frankly, I don’t care. We’ve got two dead and only five of us left. I don’t like those numbers. Either one of you starts confessing or I’ll do it.”

Graves tugged at her trousers.

Soap and Ghost were silent.

Soap didn’t know what to do. Was… was Graves threatening to… in front of them… He gulped. Dougs had said it couldn’t be him. He wanted to say it was him for Dougs but at the same time, it would do little to amend the situation in the long run.

Price entered from the courtyard, rounding the corner to find the scene.

He gasped.

“Graves. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Okay, great. Now, we have everyone here.”

He made to address all of them.

“Who murdered Weir and Garrick? Confess or I’ll see if she’s bleeding and who was with her when it started.”

“This is wrong… Graves… this is fucked up.” Soap looked to Ghost, as if for confirmation that this indeed was not right.

Ghost seemed stunned.

Price was too, like he was processing what he was seeing.

“No? Really? No one?”

Graves looked down at Dougs.

She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. Then, she looked back at her teammates.

Wouldn’t they do something?! Would someone do something?!

They wouldn’t. They were too busy trying to understand what exactly was going on. And that it was real.

Graves could feel her squirm. He leaned in.

As he did so, she placed her hands on his chest.

Then, she dropped him.

And as he fell, she brought her elbow to strike him right across the face.

It happened in a flash.

Before the boys could do anything, Dougs managed to loosen herself just enough to get her foot on his hip and kick him off. Then, as he tried to grab her again, she kicked him in the chest.

The wind was knocked out of Graves, and he fell backwards, gasping for air.

She snatched her notebook and made to get onto her feet. Only for Graves to grab her once more and drag her.

“Get off of me!”

Soap ran to her and began to pull her away.

However, that was a mistake.

Why?

MacTavish revealed his clawed hand.

Price’s eyes widened.

“You…”

Oh no…

He lunged at Soap, tearing him off of Dougs and pinning him to the wall.

“It was you!” He roared into Soap’s face, “I fucking knew it! I saw those claw marks under your bed! I should have known! I should have fucking known!”

Ghost grabbed Price, only to get knocked back.

“Captain! Don’t!”

“Get back!” Price shouted at the lieutenant.

Dougs screamed for help as Graves was still dragging her back under him.

This was complete chaos.

Complete and utter chaos.

Price locked eyes with Soap, baring his teeth as he pushed down on Soap’s neck with his forearm.

“Why’d you do it?!” He hissed, “WHY?!”

Soap wheezed.

“ANSWER, SOLDIER!”

Dougs writhed and kicked about but Graves overpowered her. She tried to push him upwards by his chin, but he shoved her hands off of him, bringing his face low, snarling.

“STOP! STOP!”

He held her down.

“STOP IT! GET OFF!”

Ghost looked back and forth between these two fights.

Price slammed Soap into the wall with a loud thud.

“WHY DID YOU KILL GAZ?! DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE WAS TO ME?! YOU FUCKING-“

“GRAVES! GET OFF! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?! GET OFF!”

Riley needed to be quick and efficient.

He looked to Johnny, who nodded.

Ghost grabbed hold of Graves and wrangled him to the ground. Both men ended up in a struggle. Graves was freakishly stronger than he looked. It was a flurry on the floor. Dougs wriggled out of there, catching her breath. She ran straight into the barracks.

Graves growled and snapped at Simon as the man did his best to restrain him. It was like he was in a frenzy of sorts, not even articulating his anger at this point, just making noises of strain and frustration as he tried to shove the lieutenant off of him. Riley was surprised he hadn’t stabbed him yet.

Knife…

Where’s the knife?!

He hunted around for the blade on the ground, only to realise it wasn’t in sight.

Shit…

A crescendo of footsteps sounded behind Ghost, from the barracks.

Dougs leapt onto Graves and latched onto his face with a talon-like grip.

Smoke erupted from the man, and he howled in agony, mustering just enough strength and fear to throw Dougs off of him. She slammed into the wall, letting out a small yelp as her body hit the brickwork.

They all stopped.

Graves gripped his face, smoke still emanating from it.

Dougs panted, fiddling with Graves’ silver wedding ring on her thumb.

Ghost’s eyes were as wide as saucers, almost taking up the holes in his mask.

Phillip groaned and then let out a moan which didn’t sound human.

Price had long since let go of Soap, staring with all of them as Graves drew in a shaky breath.

The commotion had died down and now they were all silent.

The four standing had all huddled together, subconsciously, not sure what to do as Graves’ breathing became more and more unsteady. Soap clocked the silver ring on Dougs’ finger, feeling a primal sense of disgust as he lay eyes upon it. His body tensed, like something deep within him was repulsed by the sight of the thing. It was almost as if he could smell the metal.

Ring… toxic. Poisonous.

Stay away from ring.

Soap looked away, his hairs standing on end.

Price had his eyes fixed on Graves, chewing the inside of his cheek.

He’s done for.

“We got two options…” Price whispered, “Either we kill him, or we chuck him into the woods and hope he doesn’t come back.”

His blue eyes fell onto the ring.

“You gave him a right bollocking with that.” He whispered to Dougs, “Take him out.”

She turned to him.

“WHAT?!”

“Either you do it, or I do.”

He held his hand out for the wedding band.

Reluctantly, she gave it to him.

***

“This is Bravo 6 to Gold Eagle Actual. Over.”

The radio crackled once more.

“Bravo 6?” Came the voice of Shepherd.

“Phillip Graves has been killed.”

“Another murder?” Asked the general, seemingly unbothered judging by his tone.

“Not quite, sir. Graves was killed by us. He attacked Sergeant Burman-Douglas and we reacted.”

“I see. How did he die?”

“Stabbed to death, sir.”

Shepherd leaned back in his seat, putting his mug of coffee back on its coaster. He ran his tongue over his teeth, before letting out a sigh.

“I’m assuming that’s by you?”

“Lieutenant Riley and myself, sir.”

Shepherd huffed. He had paid Graves good money. He supposed there was a silver lining to this, however. The man would no longer have to share the spoils of this venture with Shadow Company.

“Alright. Well, due to the… unique circumstances of this situation, this won’t be too much of a problem for you. Can’t say the same for Graves’ widow but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. How many of you are left?”

“Four, sir.”

“Dwindling numbers, huh?”

“Shepherd, I know you’ve set us up.”

The general wasn’t bothered in the slightest, letting Price’s string of obscenities fall into white noise. He’d let the man have his temper tantrum on the other end of the radio, making his empty threats and whatnot, it didn’t matter; once they fell into the hands of the British government, they’d no longer be his problem.

“Well, I thank you for the update, Price. Transport is coming soon.”

“When I get to Northolt, I swear I’m going to-”

“Gold Eagle Actual out.”

Price just stared at the radio as silence befell him. All he could hear now was the static. He dropped the radio, just before he knew he’d lose it and crush it in his grip.

Price held his head in his hands.

“It’s still someone here, isn’t it?” He whispered, hoping to find comfort in his own embrace as he wrapped his arms around himself. Are you asking or telling me?

[voilentdreamwitch]

I almost lost you

(Gif not mine)

Authors Note, this is my first fic and I dont write alot, its not proof read so enjoy. I don't consent to my stuff being re-uploaded

Warnings:Mentions of death,sad Tony

The mission was a very standard one, you and your fiance Tony were that only one sent on it.

  "I'm in" you said as you slipped into the control room of the enemy compound, as you plugged a hard drive into a large computer and began to download the information inside you heard footsteps behind you. A hand came up to your waist and another to your shoulder moving the hair off your neck. You felt what you thought to be Tony's lips press against the back of your neck.

   "Okay, I just cleared the west wing, im on my way" you heard Tony say through coms and you froze, if Tony was on the other side of the compound who was behind you? You quickly reached down to grab a dagger from your suit but stopped when the hand that moved your hair had grabbed it at the roots pulling you backwards. You gasped in pain and went to fight back, you drove your elbow backwards and hit the figure standing behind you giving you a moment to turn and draw a knife.

    "I thought you were supposed to be smart" said a familiar man said drawing a gun from its holster.

   "Rumlow" you said in a low voice, the man infont of you was Brock Rumlow.

   "What about him?" you heard Tony ask over coms,

"Y/n, you okay, whats going on!?" Tony asked panicked when you didn't answer. A fight broke out between you and Brock, you had the upper hand for about two seconds when the fight first started but you were quickly pushed down when two super soldiers came from behind Rumlow and helped him in the fight. You were knocked in the head and fell quickly to the floor, in a daze you saw Brock approach you and point his gun he drew earlier at you.

   "You put up a good fight, but this is goodbye" Rumlow said with a smirk on his scarred face, as he be pulled the trigger he was hit from behind and the bullet entered your chest instead of your head. Everything became blurry as you saw a large red and yellow blob hover above you, you could hear speaking but couldn't quite understand it, like a radio station polluted with static. And everything went dark and all feeling left you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      You feel tired as you wake, as if you never slept at all. You pry your eyes heavy eyes open, you glance around the white hospital room. Pain shoots through you as you breathe normally, you become aware of the machinery hooked up to you, an annoying beeping sound rings through the room. You move your arm to help you sit up but stop when a sharp pain shoots through your body, you yelp and fall back down onto the bed.

  "Stay still, or your gonna reopen your wounds"you hear a voice to your right say. You turn your head and see your fiance, he looked tired, there were dark circles under his eyes, they were darker than normal. He looked like he hadn't shaven for a few days and he had some small nearly healed wounds on his face, his hair unkempt.

  "Good idea" you said attempting a laugh but quickly stopped for it was too painful,

"How long was I out for?" You ask more seriously.

   "Almost two weeks, twelve days to be exact. How are you feeling?" Tony asks, you reach for his hand which he quickly gives you.

   "Like I've been hit by a bus, then a train, then shot" you answer truthfully, cracking a small smile at how Tony rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb.

   "How are you feeling" you ask, tears threatens to spill down Tony's eyes as he answers.

   "So much better, now knowing I'm not going to have to say goodbye", as the words leave Tony's mouth you become confused.

  "Why would you have to say goodbye, im not going anywhere" you say a bit louder,

   "You died twice on the operating table, and after they still couldn't garentee your survival" Tony said tears now running down his face.

   "I thought I would lose you" Tony said his voice cracking,

    "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon" you say, you feel Tony's lips on your bruised cheek.

    "I love you" Tony says quietly,

    "I know" you say jokingly receiving a chuckle from Tony

    "I love you too Tony"

[justalildumpling]

I posted 311 times in 2022

That's 282 more posts than 2021!

245 posts created (79%)

66 posts reblogged (21%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@justalildumpling

@dat-town

@chenleyah

@cloudykyu

@sungbeam

I tagged 292 of my posts in 2022

Only 6% of my posts had no tags

#dumpling answers🐳 - 133 posts

#nct dream - 69 posts

#nct - 68 posts

#nct dream scenarios - 68 posts

#nct x you - 67 posts

#nct x reader - 67 posts

#nct dream imagines - 67 posts

#nct dream x you - 66 posts

#nct dream x reader - 66 posts

#dear mr cupid✨ - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 105 characters

#help i need to finish this in like 2 months which realistically is a while away but like also notaoeunorg

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

profiles 1/2: y/n’s protection squad

See the full post

225 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

#4

⇢ the waiting game

synopsis: chenle had always described his life as a game with multiple chapters and characters, with you being a discontinued part of the franchise that he had always hoped would be renewed. but who knew that one drunken phone call would be the story arc that brought you back?

pairing: chenle x reader genre: ex best friends to ???, angst, fluff word count: 1.4k warnings: mentions of alcohol/drunkenness, the word “ass” was used once note: wrote this ages ago to fuel my angsty writing mood after listening taylor swift too much but wanted to finish writing it to upload it for chenle’s bday🥳🥳(also the way this was meant to be <200 words…)

See the full post

237 notes - Posted November 22, 2022

#3

⇢ jaemin as your boyfriend

See the full post

302 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

#2

⇢ dear mr. cupid

synopsis: it’s no lie that haechan only started his college matchmaking business due to his nosy personality. it’s also no lie that he was a little jealous of everyone he had helped out as he had no love life of his own. well, that was until his childhood friend moved back and mysterious love notes started appearing in his matchmaking inbox… addressed to HIM?!

pairing: haechan x fem! reader genre: social media au, college au, fluff, crack, one sided pining, best friends to lovers warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, jokes about murder and drugs (tba as the story progresses) status: ongoing started: 1st September 2022 ended: tba update schedule: twice a week (mostly mon & thur) taglist: open! feel free to send an ask or comment to be added :))

note: this is a spin-off for “you can’t have me… unless?” however it can be a standalone fic! (i was gonna wait later to post the masterlist but i got impatient and too excited lmao)

See the full post

746 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

⇢ you can’t have me... unless?

synopsis: after getting ghosted by your crush in high school, you swore off dating at university, earning yourself the title of ‘the unattainable’. after 3 years you were convinced that there would be no way the two of you would ever cross paths ever again. well, that was until he announced that he was your boyfriend at a party.

pairing: jaemin x fem! reader genre: social media au, fake dating au, college au, fluff, crack, mutual pining, acquaintances to lovers warnings: swearing, jokes about murder, mentions of alcohol, mildly talking themselves down status: completed!! started: 25th April 2022 ended: 8th August 2022 update schedule: twice a week (mostly mon & thur) taglist: closed🤍!!

note: fun fact, this was actually supposed to be a written fic but it had too much dialogue so i thought it would be better suited as a smau. ALSO this is my first ever smau so i hope you enjoy!! (and im backkk)

See the full post

1,126 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wendart]

Max’s situation ( Part 2 )

Hello again! Sorry if you find a mistakes, I'm up 'round midnight writing these but I do try to do a quick read through in the morning so I can upload it. I don't really have much knowledge of the motor homes, just that they exist so I'm guessing here. Hope you continue to enjoy!

Oh and btw, if ur wondering why im posting so fast the next parts, it's because i worked on more then just one of them.

When Max got back go his motor home, he wanted to go have a shower and sleep. In fact, it took his everything to not just fall asleep then and there on the floor. He felt an ache all over and it was not helping his mood. He'd accepted his place in the race but damn it he wasn't happy.

Max headed into his shower, hoping to be clear of sweat, dirt and the increasing ache in his body. He felt horrible. Washing quickly, he left the shower and got changed into some fresh clothes.

He headed towards the sofa in the living quarter and sat down, grabbing his phone from a table behind. Just as he picked it up, it started to ring and he dropped it in suprise. He reached for where it fell on the floor only to have a sudden dizzy spell take him over and he landed on the floor. Feeling to unwell to move, he allowed the phone to ring out onto voicemail and heard Daniel's message.

He lay on the floor for a while, still too dizzy to move and the aches had multiplied to an unmovable level. He would of slept there if he could but the pain kept him with his eyes wide open.

A knocking on his door registered in his brain, not seeming important as the knocking got more rapid. A faint 'max!' Was heard through the door but it still didn't allow Max to come to understand the worry that was being echoed into his door. He heard his door handle being twisted open, acknowledging that he hadn't locked it, which was probably abdangerous thing to do but he couldn't seem to find a reason to care as it seemed to be such a minor problem to the pain he felt.

Hearing a 'Max!' Being yelled by his teammate, he felt a relief and comfort wash over him. He still felt horrible, but now that Daniel was here, if felt more bearable. However, even though it he felt slightly more settled that his teammate was here to find him, he felt tears sting his eyes, and soon, he was full on sobbing. It was that very moment, a wide eyed Daniel Riccardo came into the room, smile not returning.

When knocking on Max's door and yelling didn't gain Dan a response, he tried the handle, having a small level of surprise pounce upon him at the carelessness of leaving the door open. He came in and started to yell again, frantically turning round in search of his missing teammate.

"Max, where are you?", echoed through the home twice before Daniel had heard a sound. He'd nearly missed it with the sound of pounding in his ears from his panic. Crying. It was unsettling to say the least, knowing that Max wasn't very open about such emotion.

He jogged into the living room, worry lacing his face to keep his world renowned smile off his face and saw a small child lying on his back in the middle of the room. The child was crying its eyes out, mouth open wide, tears falling from it's cheeks and letting anyone in the near vicinity know of it's upset.

Gulping, Daniel neared the child and stood above it. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do, hell, even the most inexperienced person with child rearing knew a crying child wasn't good. It was just how to approach the situation. Leaning over, he picked the child up, supporting the child against his hip as it hurried it's face in his shoulder, grabbing hold of his shirt with both hands, as if he would never let go. Rubbing the child's back, he waited for it to stop crying so much.

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?" Riccardo asked, sitting on the couch behind him and moving to rearrange the child to better sit on his lap, having to bend down slightly as he child refused to part ways with the top of his shirt. Between sobs, he got a reply.

"It-it", sobbing broke him off, 'it hurts, Daniel! It really hu-hurts!"

Confusion swept over Daniel's face at the proclamation, especially on how the child knew his name.

"Uh, do you know where max is so we can help stop it hurting?" Dan asked, hoping to leave the child to his teammate who had obviously left the child unattended but was obviously trusted with it in the first place so must have some clue to what was going wrong.

"Daniel! It is me! I'm max!"

"what? You're called max too?" Riccardo responded with, his face scrunched up in confusion even more so at the new knowledge. The child, letting go of Daniel, thumped his hands against Dan's shoulder in annoyance.

"No! I'm Max verstrappen!" 'Max' struggled over the pronunciation of the last name but Riccardo got the point.

Eyes widening in recognition, he nearly dropped Max as it clicked within his brain.

"Max!"

[commanderquinn]

Good Space Chapter 2: Man On The Moon

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

—

master list / ao3 chapter link

—

warnings: lotta swearing and usual heavy pstd bucky stuff. also!! im giving sam's story a little bit of author bias/culture venting. this wont read like canon FATWS sam, though i am trying to honor their show where i dont hate it. i love sam's journey to cap, even if ken doll was nauseating (whats funny is i didnt know his actor's name is wyatt until halfway through THIS chapter when i googled something. oh well lmao im sure he's a perfectly nice dude. the wyatt in this fic is My Baby) plus the trump era commentary was completely toothless imo. and the fact that james buchanan barnes acknowledged in episODE T H R E E of the series that he'd take the shield before letting it fall???? even through all his self-hatred?????? get the fuck out of here that desTROYED ME i hate this fictional man with a passion

song: this one's by kid cudi!! 🥰

its time for the l o n g i n g to start ❤️ grab tissues!! first biggie angst so i had to put it behind our resident teddy bear's pov 🥺 you KNOOOOW i had to finish up this update in time for stevie’s birthday 🥰

—

October 3rd, 2015

Samuel Wilson was not disillusioned when he walked into his first recruitment office. There were no patriotic stars in his eyes, no lotto number clutched painfully between nervous fingers to drive his feet up to that kiosk. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth to earn career-establishing stripes in a timely fashion. All he had to his name was a high school diploma and twenty-three bucks in his pocket. He didn’t have any big dreams for the desert rocks to tear a hole through. 

Sam was a kid back then. One who wanted to build a life, and the GI Bill offered to make that happen. A solid, steady income with the vision of a college education somewhere on the horizon. Not a lot of other options for someone like him, no matter which familiar corner of the country he looked at.

It took a long time and the right partner for the Air Force to talk him out of his combat objections once the ANG got wind of him. He turned the experimental program down flat twice; Pararescue was his focus for a reason. They had to bribe him with cutting-edge tech and the authority to refuse an assignment just to get him to agree to a first flight. The words never found their way onto an official record, at least none he knows of, but Sam had relentlessly insisted that he wouldn’t be volunteering as the next Indianapolis. Getting pushback on that assertion was when the anger first set in. The first crack in the armor of his career.

There were a lot of better angels within the service; it took most of them to get him home, tape-free, after Riley’s death. By the end of it all, it felt like every last one of them was outnumbered fifty to one. Nothing felt right anymore, including the idea of leaving the family he found in the sand to fend for themselves. The only thing that felt survivable after the world finally stopped tilting was dedicating himself to the VA.

Living for the memory of the ones he lost helped him find other reasons to want to be a person again. From there, it was mostly helping other people find reasons of their own that drove him forward.

It’s why he’s willing to delve into some shithole facility in the middle of nowhere Russia for a guy like Steve Rogers. And, on some levels, he supposes, if he absolutely has to, for a guy like Bucky Barnes. Even if he is the grouchiest motherfucker on the face of the Earth.

The lumbering moron hasn’t said a word all morning, no matter what small talk Steve tries to open with. And he’s tried everything, ever since they landed. Sam’s responded to a few of the openings himself just to try to fill the silence. He hopes it’s helping. It’s been hard to get a detailed read on the other push-pop’s triggers so far. Steve hasn’t signaled for him to stop, so.

“Cryo is through here,” Bucky rumbles under his breath. They’re the first words he’s spoken since the Quinjet.

“How many should we be expecting?” Steve asks almost as quietly.

“How many people am I asking you to put a bullet through, you mean.”

Steve stops halfway through the door Bucky’s directed them to. “We haven’t decided if that’s what we’re going to—”

“Maybe you haven’t decided. I’ll do it if you won’t.” The former sergeant doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking, getting closer to the stocky metal pods.

Sam already hates this. He already hates this a whole fucking lot. Captain America coming to him with a request to take the headcase to Russia was always going to get weird; he knew that. But he’s been very clear on what he’s down for, and now they’re in murder and war crime weird. He’d like to start slowing down the crazy train—

Steve holds up his hand. “Bucky, listen, it doesn’t have to—”

“Fuck off. You have no idea what it’s like to sit in this hell. You two can wait outside if you’re so uncomfortable. I’ve got it from here.”

Mmm. That’s the voice of a guilt-ridden survivor. Sam recognizes it well. At least it’s giving him a bead on where today’s drive is coming from. “You mean the hell we pulled you from?”

Steve’s head whips around, with righteous, territorial anger in his eyes. “You’re right, Buck; we don’t. But—”

“But you don’t know what they want,” Sam forcefully finishes, staring back at Steve. He banks on the fact that, technically, they’re not really disagreeing. Steve’s trying to back him down, too, in his own way. “Taking away their chance at the same new life you’re getting isn’t—”

Bucky’s cybernetic fist comes crashing down on one of the corroded desks, making the rusted metal whine in protest, deforming to the shape of his fingers. “You two don’t fucking get it.” He turns, angrily tugging his hand back to his side. The assassin doesn’t advance, but his posture is more than ready for it as he glares at them with pure contempt. “You think you’re going to find people in those tanks—humans, with hearts and minds and hopes and dreams. There might as well be skeletons getting freezer-burned in those goddamn caskets because that’s the only salvageable thing you’ll find. You fucking—”

He laughs, the sound empty, and turns back around to send his fist into the side of the table, knocking it across the room. He doesn’t face them again. “You fuckers! You take a fucking look at me. Take a good, long look. I am half alive. I had a radiation-free knockoff keeping me upright through their bullshit. You wanna know what they had? Something that might as well have been piss mixed in some fucking snow. Worthless trash those Nazi bastards bottled up and stuck in a needle.”

“Bucky—” Steve tries to calm his best friend as the man’s voice breaks. Sam could tell him from first-hand experience how well that’s going to go over.

There was a lot of screaming in that desert. A lot of grief disguised as anger. A lot of old ideals leaving newly-shattered men one seething tear at a time.

“They were zombies by the time HYDRA was done injecting them. Do you get that? Are you two grasping the concept? They were rabid dogs I trained to respond to whistles. Rotting corpses that I taught how to aim. And that was before their brains shorted out on them. I looked into every single one of their eyes. I saw what looked back. Fuck species—what was in there was not fucking alive. Fuck you—fuck you so fucking much for even fucking suggesting I should leave them like that—like animated fucking cadavers—hooked up to some fucking machine just to breathe—”

“James.”

Bucky’s flood of words finally cuts off, and Sam isn’t sure if it’s because of the use of his first name or the way he swallows as if he’s choking. His flesh hand comes down on the back of the chair that started out tucked under the table. It keeps the guy upright while he pulls in a few breaths that look painful, even through the curtain of dark brown hair.

“Let’s see what’s what first,” Sam suggests as diplomatically as he can manage. He doesn’t take a step forward, mostly because he doesn’t see Steve take one. “Then we go from there.”

“You’re going to hate what you see.” Bucky scoffs bitterly. “You think you know, but you don’t. You’re going to hate me for bringing you here. For the rest of your lives.”

Steve moves forward, finally, but he stays a few feet to Bucky’s seven o’clock. “I’m not dumb enough to make you any promises about not hating what I see here. I haven’t even looked in one, and I already know you’re right on the money when it comes to that. But I can promise that you’ll always be wrong about me hating you for any of this.”

“So can I,” Sam assures. There’s not a doubt in his mind now that he understands where they’re at.

—

Bucky’s up at 0500. 

He hasn’t slept a minute later than that since the first night his body adjusted to New York’s timezone, no matter what hour he falls asleep. He doesn’t attempt more than upright power naps on away missions. They’re the only thing that gets him any rest outside of his room in the tower. 

It’s the same every morning. First, he works on his back, popping away the stiffness one awkward bend of his limbs at a time. From there, the extra thick comforter gets picked up off the floor, then the blanket and the lopsided pillow. They always get tossed on top of the bed he’s never used. Except on Saturdays, when he does his laundry. That’s when they get put in a basket to be taken to Natasha’s room. She won’t let him have his own washing machine until he starts using the bed.

So, every Saturday, he shows up with his little pile at 0800 because Natasha won’t unlock the door until then. A pillowcase. A blanket and matching comforter. Two shirts, usually henleys, five black tanks, and two different tactical pants. One pair of gloves. His singular monkey suit gets taken to the cleaners whenever he’s forced to wear it, which thankfully isn’t often.

His dress uniform hasn’t come out of the box Steve dropped it off in after getting it pulled from the goddamn Smithsonian. Bucky hasn’t laid eyes on it since 1943.

While he’s working his hair up into a serviceable bun, he thinks about Natasha’s recommendation to start braiding it before he sleeps. He doesn’t like the idea of something that tight sitting against his head, especially at night. Maybe if he lets his hair grow out a little more. He wants to keep the shoulder length it’s at now, though. It looks good on him. He wants to know what asking someone to pull on it feels like. Eventually. 

Online dating has been… overwhelming, to say the least.

He’s reaching for the medkit in the drawer under his bathroom sink when the mental image of Ava creeps in. He isn’t trying to blow off the hippie’s orders. Honestly, the thought of their deal hadn’t crossed his mind until he got to this part of his day. Resisting the urge yesterday had been difficult. He knew ahead of time that today was going to be much worse. It means pushing through a repeated break in his pattern.

That voice, the one that insists he should tell Steve to fuck off much more, rears its head. His flesh hand twitches with the reflex to finish his usual routine. To show up late to her office with some blase excuse about doing it out of habit. He could sell the lie without even trying. Entire countries have fallen thanks to his expertise with it. She wouldn’t have a shot in hell at knowing the difference.

He could work his way out of this with ease. Steve already feels guilty about making him pull a hard stop during his first visit, even if he won’t say the words. It’s the perfect opening to establish a line and push it away to give himself some room, one step at a time.

With a decisive flick of his wrist, Bucky shuts the drawer holding his medkit. For the second time since he was allowed to travel without a handler, he walks away from his morning routine without treating the cybernetics on the back of his neck.

It makes his skin feel wrong—off, unsettled—as he gets his standard gear on. He’s still grounded, thanks to Steve, so it’s the version he’s got closest to fatigues. He hopes the doctor doesn’t mind rolling down a polyester turtleneck to get at his brain port. He almost skips going to the gym for his workout, but that would worsen the off feeling. And he’d have to sit around with nothing to do for hours waiting for their first scheduled maintenance. 

He slides his phone into his back pocket, intent on heading to his standard morning haunt. A few hours of going through his paces in the gym will help his nerves. When his mind offers up the suggestion that a workout before seeing the cute doctor could be—advantageous, he tries not to linger in it. 

The idea certainly doesn’t make him feel bad. It’s even sort of... motivating in its own way. It... contributes to his reasons for doing a few extra sets on the bench. And adding a quick rock wall climb. There are others, of course. Being chained to the tower like a toddler in timeout because his best friend is an asshole is certainly one of them. He tacks on more time at the reinforced, Super-Soldier-proof punching bag to ease that particular frustration.

Even with the additions to his cardio, he’s still got an hour to kill before their appointment. He fills it by heading for the roof of the tower. It’s not even 0900, so no one but a few graveyard stragglers are out in the open space. SHIELD agents like him that are married to the job, catching a glimpse of the sun and a few puffs of nicotine before going to crash. Bucky stops to help one of them struggling with her lighter, offering up his spare Bic. The other agent smiles at him in tired appreciation before hovering the end of her cigarette over the flame. He counts it as contributing to his social life. He’ll figure out how to phrase it to get his therapist off his ass later. 

The brain trust’s space is, unsurprisingly, effortless to find. Ava wasn’t kidding; it’s actually tucked away in one corner of the roof, hidden along the wall that extends up to the tower’s executive launch bay. Bucky had expected them to claim a spot overlooking the Avenger’s balcony. Then again, he’s heard she’s pretty close friends with Tony, so maybe he shouldn’t have. She probably knows better by now. 

There’s another collection of gargantuan chairs, this time made out of wicker and upholstery that feels soft when he runs his fingers over it. A tapestry rivaling the paint swatches at Steve’s supply store is mounted to the wall behind them. Two poles hold it at the opposite corners, keeping it blowing slightly in the wind as it hangs over the collected seating. The coffee table in the middle has a lockbox sitting on it, with SHEILDs insignia embossed on the lid. 

He’s got level seven clearance these days. He could still easily get through that lock, even if he didn’t. It’s going to drive him batshit, not knowing what’s in it before she takes him up here herself. 

Bucky turns around and gets halfway back to the door to the stairwell before the buzzing in his neck builds too much for comfort. He grinds his teeth through the sensation. He even manages to force himself another few steps forward. But, ultimately, the buzzing wins out, and he spins again with a vicious curse. 

The confirmation chime of his clearance override feels too loud, even out here in the open. The top of the lockbox rolls back, revealing a set of playing cards, a jumbled collection of stress toys, a SHEILD standard medkit, and some candles. He almost leaves without checking the medkit. He’s so close to being able to stomach the idea. 

Almost. 

There’s nothing sinister to be found in it once it’s open. It’s stock issue. Not one of the item counts is off, but the lot numbers don’t match, meaning she maintains it regularly. Knowing that information feels invasive, despite being convinced she wouldn’t mind how he got it.

This. Isn’t. Siberia. Ava Ryder is not going to put a gun in his hand. She is not a risk to him. 

Bucky leaves the roof, headed for her lab. He’s going to tell her he went snooping. He can do that, at least—a bare minimum level of respect to offer her. 

She’s not in her office when he gets through the painted door at 0857. Only one of the doctors is behind the glass today. It’s the other woman—the American-born German. Hannah. Her head is down, focused on a tablet under her hands, with wireless earbuds peaking out from her dirty blonde hair. A hologram of a brain Bucky doesn’t recognize is running next to her. It’s not his; there’s no spider webbing. One of their other patients then. 

He takes a seat in the same chair he used during his last visit. “JARVIS?”

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI responds with nothing but tranquility. “Something you need?”

“Can you tell the doc I’m ready when she is?”

“Of course. Dr. Ryder has not yet entered the building. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”

Bucky frowns. “Ah—cancel that. Is she—“ Don’t ask him to track her, you dumbfuck. That’s weird. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

This is New York. He’s not even sure what part of the city she lives in. For all he knows, she could be stuck in a cab uptown. He can pull the stick out of his ass long enough to give her room to be human. 

He sits there in silence, sunken into pillows with his leg bouncing rapidly, and talks himself up in his head. He’s not uncomfortable. He’s not going to bullshit his way out of this. This is good; it’s going to help him. Bucky is happy about that. It’s a relief to be facing this after a lifetime of running. 

By 0901, he wants to leave. The urge is nearly overwhelming. He makes it to 0904 before he stands up. It takes until 0906 to convince himself to sit back down. 

“I have an incoming message from Dr. Ryder if you wish to hear it, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS tells him eleven minutes after the appointment was supposed to start. 

Thank god. “Play it.”

“Morning, JAR!” Her voice is muffled in the recording. She’s got something in her mouth. She’s also in the most broken-down piece of shit in the city by the sounds of it, so not a cab. The subway, maybe? It should be a lot louder than that. “Tell Bucky I’m about fifteen minutes behind and that I’m very sorry. Oh—and tell him to pick the candle!”

His eyebrows lift in confused surprise. “I’m picking a candle?”

“Choosing a candle to burn is part of the daily routine of lab 5923. Dr. Ryder and I usually decide on one, but the option is left open for patients. You will find a box behind her desk; there is a wide array to select from.”

“You pick it together?” Bucky prods, the corner of his lips twitching as he gets back up to check for said box. 

“She enjoys having someone to banter with about them. Dr. Schuster doesn’t usually have anything to contribute to the topic. Dr. Combs only has so many opinions on the matter. He is not overly particular about the olfactory state of the lab.”

“Is Ava?” It’s getting easier to refer to her by her first name alone. It helps that it’s made her smile the handful of times he’s done it. 

“Not especially. I would call her enthusiastic. She finds the options comforting, and there are very few that she doesn’t enjoy.”

“No kidding,” Bucky mutters as he pulls open the top of a very large box. He smelled the thing long before he picked it up, and looking at what’s inside confirms everything the AI’s telling him. There are dozens of them in here, and most of them are unburned. Various shapes and gimmicky scent names stare back at him. Not a lot of Bath & Bodyworks, he’s noticing. 

The hippie is a small business aficionado. How utterly shocking. 

He pushes around the amassed jars for a few minutes. His mind files away a few options he wants to try for later if they don’t get used up on the days he won’t be here. Definitely before he finishes talking her out of demanding these appointments. He picks up one that claims to smell like cranberries and peppermint for a test sniff. 

Thanks to the combination, the barest hint of the ghost of a memory comes over him. One that whispers the name of his mother. This happens sometimes. A fragment that’s still hanging on by a thread will float by. They never have much context, not anything he can typically extrapolate on, infuriatingly enough. Just his mind taunting him that something should be there, but it isn’t. 

He picks that candle, and it doesn’t make him sad as he lights it. None of his pieced-together memories of the life he never got to finish do anymore. He takes them in stride and tries to enjoy what he can. 

That’s what Ma would have wanted.

—

Ava hip-checks the door to her office somewhere around 9:30. 

This is already shaping up to be a terrible second impression. All that grief she gave Bucky about leaving things in her capable hands, and now here she is, showing up late and half-showered to the appointment that’s supposed to finish acclimating him. 

“I am so sorry,” she rushes out, dumping her bag on the closest available surface. It ends up being one of the novelty end tables tucked between the consultation chairs. At least she finally took the one shaped like a leg home. “I completely overslept, and then I wanted to grab you something from my favorite bagel place—do you want one, by the way?” She waves a finger at her bag, then at Bucky, who watches her as she walks and talks her way to her desk. “They’re in that side pouch, the ones that have cream cheese are wrapped up separately. I didn’t know if you were a plain butter kind of New Yorker. Anyways, there was this mouth-breathing dickhead who—” 

She stops and takes a deep breath in when her over-taxed mind finally registers the smell around her. 

“Good morning,” he says from the chairs, amusement coloring his tone. 

She spins on her heel, her glasses jostling with the motion, chuckling softly. “Good morning, Sergeant. Sorry. This is what happens when you talk to me before the coffee finishes evening out in my bloodstream. Fantastic choice, by the way. What is that? It’s peppermint—something.”

“Peppermint and cranberries.” His lips pull up into a half-smile that absolutely sells her on the idea of him being a serial heartstopper in the 30s. “Advertised in what looked like a mushroom cloud.”

Ava’s chuckling turns into an outright bark of laughter as she pulls her work tablet from behind her keyboard. “Yeah. That sounds about right. One of the candle makers I buy from is an anarchist working out of a garage. Great stuff, even if you do have to listen to the most ass backwards view of free trade to get the guy to send you his stock. Good morning to you, too, JARVIS, now that I’m not babbling around a mouthful of food.”

“No need to worry; I’ve become very fluent in your language of scarfing,” JARVIS assures. 

“My mother would keel over if she heard you say that.” Ava waddles over to her latest patient, tablet in one hand and medkit in the other. She puts the kit down on the arm of his chair, in the same spot she put the scanner case last time. He looks much less nervous now, and she gives him a warm smile to encourage that. “I know you don’t want me talking your ear off, and the breakfast offer can wait until we’re done, so let’s get down to this.”

Bucky’s mouth opens. There’s a moment of hesitation before he says anything. She doesn’t try to rush him through it. “What’s the plan, doc?”

“Paige won’t be back from the field until later today at the earliest, so I don’t have anything new for you to test. I passed along your request for the field kit dimensions. She says making something that portable shouldn’t be a problem.” Ava taps on the black sleeve of his shirt. “How comfortable are you with the idea of using nanotech?”

“As in the tiny robots Tony’s always testing?”

“Mhmm.”

“For what? My neck?” He raises his hand to the general area of the port, and she hears him scratching at the fabric over it. “I don’t think it’s—I thought this kind of opening couldn’t be—”

“I don’t mean for closing it off,” she corrects quickly, wanting to avoid a misunderstanding that might get his hopes up. “I want to program a batch specifically for daily care of your implants. The port and your shoulder. Something you can keep in safe housing for use in the field. Now—I want to make sure you understand something upfront. This won’t change my professional opinion; you need to have a specialist looking at this on an extremely frequent basis. However, I would prefer it if you had the nanotech as a safety net. The more of this that we can automate for you, the better.”

“I can agree to that. I’m guessing the bug bots don’t come with a manual.”

Ava moves behind him, mostly to hide how the grumpy old man routine is making her grin from ear to ear. “They usually don’t need one. I’ll be making you a checklist to go over if that makes you feel better.”

“You don’t—that’s—” He hesitates again, making her stop before she can make contact with his neck. “You don’t have to keep... doing stuff. Like that. I’m alright with trusting the bug bots.”

Another piece of Ava Ryder’s heart breaks for Bucky Barnes. “That's great to hear. But, just so you know, I’m going to hand you a checklist anyways.”

“Alright.” His head barely nods; she’s guessing because he can feel her fingers hovering. The evaluations of his senses were so off the charts it set a new testing standard for SHIELD. “That’s—appreciated.”

“You don’t have to worry so much about the manners.” Pressing down with a disinfectant, she circles her thumb around the port, wanting to get it done before moving to his shoulder. That’s going to need a shirt removal. She leans down and shifts to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not reporting them back to Steve.”

“Don’t worry; my work wife will come to weasel it out of you or JARVIS all on his own.”

Ava giggles quietly, her eyes honed in on clearing the excess buildup. “You’re not having fun being married to Captain America?”

“Oodles,” he deadpans, making her giggles worsen.

She gives him a break from the small talk while she finishes working on his neck. At some point, she’ll need to put together a specialized blend for loosening up the scar tissue; the skin around it is dried to hell and back from years of sterile wipes. She doubts comfort has been much of a concern, and she’s not about to recommend putting generic lotion over it, but this is ridiculous. There’s no reason for him to live with pain like that.

“I don’t suppose a man from the 30s is going to appreciate being given a moisturizing routine.”

“Nat’s going to be thrilled.”

“She’s your work husband, I’m guessing?”

“She likes to act like it.” Bucky turns his head to glance back for a split second just as she leans forward to swap out for an ointment. The way his head jerks back into place lets her know he got an eyeful of cleavage on the journey. It perfectly mirrors how his eyes snapped up from her chest when he first walked in. She’s not exactly embarrassed about it, but she does feel bad watching him shift around nervously. “But I’m not dumb enough to argue. About that. With her.”

The awkward charm is starting to make her cheeks hurt. “Sounds like a reasonable choice. I hear arguing with Russian women isn’t a smart idea in general.”

“Not if you want to keep your limbs attached.”

“Is it too early for me to start asking for state secrets? Like, say, if the Winter Soldier happened to get his ass handed to him by a former commie?”

“I’m pretty sure she was still a commie the first time.”

“The first time?” Ava asks with excited delight, her hand pausing on his shoulder.

“There were a few run-ins. She’ll remember more of them.” Bucky grimaces with annoyance. “Worse, she’ll be willing to tell them to you.”

“Would you be willing to let me hear them?” she goads.

His shoulders lift with a strained sigh. “Sure, let’s call it willing.”

“You’ll have to remind me if I’m lucky enough to meet her.” She drums her finger on his mechanical shoulder. “Gonna need you to take this shirt off, superstar.”

“Off? Wait, what did you just—” Bucky shakes his head with a quiet huff of laughter. “I’ve got the arm covered.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“Alright, smartass. You know damn well what I meant. I took care of it before I came here; it wasn’t part of our deal.”

“Does gross puss leak out of it?”

She can see his eyes roll, even with his head only partially turned. “You know it does.”

“And is it attached to your brain?”

“Ava—really, I’ve got this.” His head turns all the way, and the smile comes back, in full force this time, and oh. Oh, she can absolutely believe that he broke half the hearts in Brooklyn during his reign of terror.

She leans down into his space, letting her arms rest on the back of his chair. “You know what I’ve got?”

His lips purse in resigned amusement. “Multiple medical degrees?”

“You betcha. They were stupid hard to earn, too, so I’d appreciate it if you could start taking that into account.”

“I’m not trying to dismiss them—”

“Just the expertise that they gave me.” When his smile turns guilty, she shifts her weight as naturally as she can to push her chest against her arms in compensation. She doesn’t miss the way he blinks a split second later. Such a gentleman. It almost makes her feel bad. “I don’t mind you arguing the point of your independence. I’m glad for it, Bucky. It tells me that you really want this to work. I hope you can start trusting that when I suggest against it, I’m doing it with your health in mind. Nothing more. You can tell me what you’re comfortable with from there.”

He stares at her like he’s in pain. For an almost uncomfortably long time. “I broke into your lockbox.”

Ava blinks at the sudden shift. “Okay. Wait—my what? Are you talking about the candle box? That doesn’t even have a lock—”

“Your stuff on the roof. You keep a SHEILD issue safe up there. On the table. I used my override.”

It takes a moment to piece together what he’s getting at. She’s been running late since she woke up on Paige’s couch at 7:50 something. The only thing in her bloodstream right now is caffeine; there was no time for a wake-and-bake. “Oh. Oh, oh, that’s just... it’s not locked locked; we don’t really care if anyone uses the stuff in it. We just needed something to put it in that the weather can’t get to.” She smiles at him as his shoulders relax. “You went to see our little corner?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was around.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure. And bouncing off the walls with Steve’s lockdown, no doubt. The faster you get that shirt off, the faster you and I can iron out a plan to get you back in the field. Work with me here, Barnes.”

Bucky stands up with a sigh, and his hands move to his shirt. He pauses while they cling to the bottom of it, his arms crossed. Once again, she doesn’t push him through his hesitation. “I don’t mind if you talk about things. Steve only said that shit about being direct to keep me from stalling my way out of this.”

Ava’s eyebrows pull in while she thinks over the words. “Is that the only thing he’s lied about? I don’t care if you two keep secrets, but you can’t bullshit about your mental health with me. I need to know what makes you uncomfortable; otherwise, I can’t do my job.”

“That’s all I can think of,” he assures her, and she believes him despite the wording. 

“In that case, you’re kind of stupid, full offense.”

It’s Bucky’s turn with the blinking. “Excuse me?”

“You signed yourself up for morning appointments, and you just gave me permission to talk your ear off. You’re an absolute moron; now take off that shirt so I can make sure your brain doesn’t melt.”

—

She has a pet cat named Oreo, of all fucking things. 

It’s hairless. And dumb as a box of rocks, according to her. The name comes from the huge black spots in its—pattern. He can’t exactly use the word fur. She was highly offended when he called the cat a ballsack while she was showing him her lock screen. He got smacked on the arm for the comment.

It’s not her first pet. She got it partly to mourn the snake she adopted in college, a rosy boa called Sayer that finally died at 32. She used the reptile as companionship and motivation to push through her first PhD. The one letting her work on his brain now. It was named after the lead character from her favorite medical movie, Awakenings. When Bucky mentioned that he’s never seen it, she made him swear up and down that he’ll text her his honest reactions if he ever dares to rip his own heart out with questionable ethics.

So now he’s got her number saved in his phone. It’s the 11th one he’s added. Two of them are therapists. None of the others are people outside of SHIELD. He’s pretty sure one of the therapists is a plant from Natasha, so maybe he should start counting them toward the SHIELD column.

There were only nine others over the course of his online dating attempts. None of them stayed on his phone for more than a month before getting deleted. He wasn’t about to let his therapist catch their names on his contact list.

Bucky switches the grape-flavored lollipop in his mouth over to his right cheek. Ava gave it to him. Bopped him right on the nose with one and then let him pick from an array of five like the blatant bribery it is. The good doctor smiled at him while she did it, too.

May it bring you back in good spirits and better health.

It’s the nicest way he’s ever been told to fuck off for being a grouch. It made him smile. Him. James Buchanan Barnes, in the year of 2018.

She’s.… Christ, calling the woman a handful in this day and age feels insulting. He’s not put off by it. Overwhelmed a little, maybe, but he gets the feeling she’s alright with him taking time to warm up to it. Hell, he gets the feeling that not much bothers her at all. It makes him envious. 

He likes the way she speaks. Not just the crazy and the swearing, though that’s its own comfort. There’s a—it sounds so stupid, but there’s a kind of music to it. She always talks in the same calm rhythm, despite the chaos usually found in her words. He didn’t notice the way it makes his foot stop bouncing until halfway through the appointment.

Bucky scowls. “Davis. Why am I looking at a lost signal?”

The level four analyst Steve’s been telling him to ease up on lately freezes in his swivel chair. His head turns, nervously searching the wall of security feeds. Bucky doesn’t offer up any help. “Sorry, sir, I can’t seem to spot which—”

“Third row from the top, eighth from the left. The one I’m supposed to be monitoring for an illegal exchange of nuclear materials, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Yes, sorry, restoring connection now. Apologies, Sergeant, I’ll—keep a closer eye on it.” The agent starts mumbling the rest of his intended sentence, mostly about how many he’s keeping track of, when he cuts himself off. His shoulders pull in a bit, almost chastised. It always takes people a minute to remember the super hearing.

He could let it hang. The feed is fixed; he can go back to staring at an empty lot without interruption.

“You’re doing fine.” Bucky feels bad because he’s having an unordinarily good day. That’s all it is. Nothing more. “Restructure your feed priorities. You can hand most of these off to JARVIS; that’s what he’s patched in for. Focus on the ones your gut doesn’t like.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll start on that now.” The words don’t even sound spiteful.

Bucky sits back against the executive bench of the Datacrux. The stiff leather creaks with the motion, the rigid frame under it keeping him grounded. He tilts his head from side to side, letting it crack and readjust incrementally. His neck doesn’t feel as tight as it should. When he touched it in Ava’s lab, the skin felt even softer than it did after her first round on him. He’s trying not to touch it now. He doesn’t want to irritate it. This is the best it’s felt in—

He doesn’t have a year, he realizes. He can’t remember the one he woke up to cybernetics in. He has no idea when his first taste of cyborg life was. There’s a vague lead, a number written out on paper to fill in the blanks of what’s been destroyed. An estimation anchored around the last day of his former life. But he doesn’t know.

At least you’re still breathing, the better angel in his mind coaxes.

Switching which leg is balanced on which knee, Bucky settles back into his work. It’s been six months since the last lead on his responsibility. There’s been no chatter from the known HYDRA cells, no underground protection contracts with suspiciously good track records hitting Natasha’s web, no suspicious Black Market transfers that scream safe house establishment, nothing. Wherever the Soldats are, they’re being kept under wraps. 

His hounds wouldn’t be able to be contained for anywhere near this long. They’re dead or sedated, no matter where they were smuggled. Otherwise, they’d have surfaced already.

Bucky tries not to think about what a life of not knowing will feel like. He doesn’t know if that’s worse than the idea of burying them. They’re certainly not staring down the barrel of a happy ending at this point. How do you mourn—a situation like that? He can’t even figure out how the hell he’s supposed to be fixing it.

Somewhere out there are the last ravaged pieces of a serum that never should have been made. It’s floating, cobbled together and left to rot, in the veins of men and women who didn’t know what they were signing up for. He remembers having to hold their shoulders down whenever the survival instinct kicked in during the first few injections. He remembers watching their faces as they screamed for a mercy no one in that facility was ever going to grant them. He remembers carrying the bodies of the ones that died in the night, over and over for months, all the way to the incinerator.

Bucky tosses the tablet in his lap off to a spot next to his leg out of disgust. His eyes shut, and his hands come up to rub them hard enough to hurt. He needs sleep. Good, honest to god, medication-induced sleep. He hates relying on those damn pills—it’s not as if they help the other half of his problem, anyhow. Falling asleep is only the start of it. The real kicker is staying unconscious, and nothing he can find, even behind the counter, is going to work on his system for that long.

He needs it, though. It’s been weeks since he got more than a handful of hours at a time. Months since he slept for longer than eight. Steve always talks about crashing for ten at a time after an extended mission, and it makes him want to punch his best friend’s lights out. He’ll never say that out loud, of course, but god. If fucking only.

None of his anger toward Steve ever feels fair. The guy had the world’s worst life before the serum, and he’ll bare his teeth at anyone who tries guilting the captain out of the notion. None of them understand what kind of fresh hell it was being Steve Rogers, and all his undying spirit, while trapped in a body with ten billion health issues. If ever there was someone who earned the responsibility of that serum, it’s him, and Bucky’s damn proud of him for it. He spends his days trying to live up to it himself.

He looks over at the back of the analyst with a guilty expression. People used to dismiss Steve the same way he dismisses people now, whenever the anger simmers. 

“Davis, pull up your priority flags.”

The level four glances back nervously, then clears his throat and refocuses on his terminal. “It’s alright, sir, I’m working on sorting them now—”

“I know. That’s what we’ll be going over.”

“I—” Davis hesitates for a long moment. Bucky stares at the back of his head. “Sergeant Barnes, I’m very sorry about the—”

“This isn’t a reprimand.” Bucky clears his own throat, trying to knock the aggression out of his tone. It’s. A lot more difficult than he was expecting. “You’re new here, so I’m gonna give you the crash course. I’m in here a lot, at all hours. You won’t get a heads-up about it; I’m just going to show up. When I do, there are certain hotspots I’m going to need you to keep focused on. They’re not going to be tied to any active case. You’re not going to be able to tell which ones I need. I’m going to tell you what’s already on my radar, and you can establish your own categories from there. I’ll tell you what else I need you to add as it comes up.”

“Oh.” A little hope is entering the analyst’s tone. “Yeah, that—you know, that sounds like what I do for Romanoff already.”

Bucky frowns. The hell it does. She has exactly three people on the face of this Earth that she trusts to handle something like this for her. He’s willing to do it for convenience, and because he doesn’t give a shit what SHEILD sees him prioritize. He worked very hard to not give a shit about it, too. But Natasha doesn’t work like that; she’s very particular about her web of information—

His face goes completely slack as the connection finally happens in his mind. He’s going to kill her. No—actually. He’s never going to bring it up, ever, and they’re both going to die before a word ever gets said about it.

That’s just how their brand of family works.

“Yeah. Exactly like how Romanoff has you do it. Pull up her file structure; let’s go over what I’ll need you to change for my end.”

—

“Bitch! It feels like I haven’t hugged you in a year!”

It’s the only warning Ava gets before she’s tackled from behind. She braces her hands on the engineering bench in front of her, barely catching herself from crashing into it. “Two weeks and three days, but who’s counting? How was the flight home, whore?”

Paige leaves a loud, sloppy smooch on her left temple before backing away to let her up from the attack. “That part was fine—it was the team I got paired with, ugh. You’d have hated the guy runnin’ it.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“Eh, your typical good’ ol boy. Mister my way or the highway, with an ego the size’a the fuckin’ Potomac to match. You know the type. Spent the whole mission criticizin’ my tech.”

She looks over at her in surprised confusion. Paige taking shit from other agents is nothing new; that comes with the territory of her personality and most people’s assumptions. Her work is usually the one thing they leave alone. “How critical are we talking?”

“That was the thing—it was the dumb kind. The kind that could’a been avoided if he’d maybe RTFM.”

“And he made it your problem?”

“Over and over. Every ten minutes, it was—” Paige shimmies her upper body dramatically, her voice going low and gravelly. “Why can’t my AIO do this? How do I make it do that? Rogers’ team gets the reliable gear; why are we always stuck with the second rate?”

“He said that to your face?” Ava’s about ready to march through the tower to find the prick herself.

“Not that last one. That was to his buddy when the dipstick thought his comm was off. I got a half-baked publicist apology over it, and I’m pretty sure he only did it to save face in front of the team for leavin’ the mic open.”

“Report his ass.”

Paige waves a hand dismissively, then dumps her go-bag unceremoniously on the workbench. “I ain’t gon’ waste my time. I’ll let him hang his own noose; I’m sure he’ll get around to it with that attitude. Oh! I’ve got a mock-up for your pretty boy.”

Ava smiles, tossing one of her best friend’s rolls of duct tape between her hands. “I didn’t say he was pretty.”

“Puh-lease. You texted about his hair.”

“With the amount of shit man-buns have taken, it was surprising to see on a guy from a less than accepting decade.”

“You only notice stuff like that when you’re lookin’.” Paige tips her head forward, letting her heart-shaped sunglasses fall to the end of her nose. Her eyebrows waggle enthusiastically. “Is he as big as Rogers? I can never tell in the press photos with him always loomin’ like a gargoyle.”

The smile turns deviously smug. “He’s a little smaller than your not-so-secret admirer. You gotta figure that’s expected without the Vita Radiation.”

Paige reaches out to shove at her shoulder. “I don’t think Rogers has really nailed down what modern flirtin’ is yet. Ain’t fair to pin that on the guy. He’s so sweet! And I give him art projects! And anyhow, he rushes outta here like his ass is on fire most of the time—”

“It’s so weird how that happens whenever your dad shows up to hang out.”

She gets a very unimpressed look in response. “You’re readin’ int’a things.”

Leaning in close, Ava squints and whispers, “You’re being oblivious.” She backs up, her smugness returning. “So, I take it our friendship never comes up while you’re giving the captain art projects.”

“I... hmm. Not that I can remember. Why?” Paige looks over suddenly, then back at the bag she’s unloading with more than her usual level of interest. “Did he bring me up durin’ the visit?”

The glitter-sniffing demon not being allowed to communicate with her has been utter hell for two weeks and three days. But it comes with the upside of getting to drop this bomb on her all at once. “No, but I brought you up during Bucky’s first visit. That’s when Rogers realized he’d read your best friend the riot act the week before.”

Paige’s eyes go saucer wide. “You’re kiddin’. You got chewed out by America’s Sweetheart?”

“Funny enough, I called him the same thing while he was huffing and puffing in my office.”

“What the hell happened while I was gone? Did—” Her head swivels around, checking who’s around them. “Did? Y’know?”

Ava shakes her head, then hikes herself up to sit on the workbench next to the bag. “Nothing like that. Turns out he was going for a trial run, trying to see how well I hold up against a bad episode. Stormed into my office, playing up the asshole captain routine just to see what I’d do. Apparently, Tony set him up for it by not telling him about my VA work. He let out the hot air the second I called him on it. He’s pretty cute when he’s blushing, by the way.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Paige mumbles happily, proving the accusation of obliviousness entirely right.

“The blush or the huffing?”

“I already know about the blushin’, even if I am ready to hear it again. But over dinner tonight. What’re we thinkin’?”

“You’re the one who’s been living off MREs for two weeks. What are you in the mood for?”

“Fuck, that’s a great question. Indian, definitely. No—wait! Sc-ratch that! I want Vietnamese. Actually, I want both.”

“Take-out picnic, got it.”

“And Italian donuts.”

“Okay, but I’m bringing half the order to work tomorrow. They’ll get stale if you pull an all-nighter to catch up.”

“Fiiine. Take my victory donuts to the masses, y’dirty Marxist. Lemme show ya what I worked on for Barnes before I forget.”

The field case she’s designed is cylindrical and shorter than the phones SHEILD issues most of their agents. Definitely something he’s going to be able to carry around with ease. The applicators that hook to the interior are simplistic and utilitarian. They’re entirely mechanical, with no chance of an EMP being able to disable them—a request from the Sergeant himself. 

“Tony says I can requisition some nannies whenever—I just gotta get your signature on the form since they’re medical grade.”

Ava tosses an olive from the jar she keeps stashed in Paige’s mini-fridge into the air. She catches it in her mouth on the first try for once. “You have one filled out already? I can sign it now; I know you like putzing around with them for a few days ahead of time.”

“Eh, it’s a standard cleaner tag; I’m not gon’ sweat it. I know you’re all worried about his brainstem and whatnot—”

“That’s usually part of my job description, yeah.”

“—but I feel like sterile’s sterile. Ain’t no way I can make the man cleaner than clean, y’know? Now, if you wanna talk settin’ ’em up for emergency maintenance, that’s a different story—”

“Your not-crush just walked into engineering,” Ava interrupts lowly, wanting to avoid the enhanced hearing even from way the hell over here.

In the most conspicuous way imaginable, Paige whips her head around to stare directly at the bay’s front entrance. In a rival amount of obviousness, Captain Rogers slowly works his way through the amassed benches, his gaze landing everywhere but Paige’s station. 

Ava’s eyes roll so hard it’s physically painful. It’s been one thing hearing Paige talk about getting drop-in visits from the super soldier who just so happens to enjoy the blueprints framed over her workbench. It’s another to see it play out in person. 

“He’s prob’ly here to check on the kit for Barnes,” Paige whispers back, tugging off her novelty shades.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why he won’t look at you right now—”

“He’s takin’ in the work goin’ on. He’s a curious guy, you know that—”

“And why he’s walking slow enough to trip over his own feet.”

“He’s admirin’ the—”

“He’s working up the nerve—”

“If you don’t fuck off with that, you lunatic—”

“Alright, now you’re being hopeless on purpose—”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Findley. I hope the trip was—oh.” Steve stops dead in his tracks, three feet from Paige’s farthest desk, his eyes finally landing on Ava. He smiles sheepishly. “Hi there, Dr. Ryder.”

Her grin feels positively carnivorous. “Hello, Steve. Come to welcome home our resident space cadet?”

“Hiya, Rogers,” Paige responds, turning with a smile almost as bashful as the captains. She spins back around, busying herself with the mess of wiring she’s pulled from her bag. “Don’t pay her any mind; she’s in a mood.”

“Something happen with the appointment today?” The concern that immediately surfaces knocks some of the teasing out of Ava. 

Some.

“No, Bucky played nice, I promise. I even brought him bagels to make up for being a half-hour late. Come to think of it, that’s probably what made me a half-hour late.”

Steve’s eyes go a bit wider, his smile softening. “You two had breakfast together?”

“I ate mine in the car. He took his with him. But I like to think we did so in spirit.” Her head tilts to the side innocently, refusing to let him off the hook. “So. What brings you to engineering?”

His hand comes up to the back of his neck, his expression getting… close to nonchalant. “I had some time on my hands—don’t wanna run off on a mission with Buck being a grump about medical orders; he might sneak out. Take your time with that, by the way. It’s impossible to convince the guy to take a day off. You’d be doing him a favor if you dragged your feet a little more.”

Using a best friend for deflection is a social skill Ava mastered years ago. He’s going to have to try a lot harder. “Who wouldn’t want to kill time in engineering? The wrench monkeys get to have all the fun. Maybe you should bring Bucky next time—”

“Oh, that’s—you know, I don’t think that’d be a real—he’s very particular about where he—I think maybe—”

“I think the sergeant would love to meet you,” Ava tells Paige, who’s biting back a grin with her head pointed firmly down at her workbench. “I was telling him some stories about you this morning. I think he might share a few of his own with some time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Paige offers, still not looking up.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “That’s—yeah, it’d—it could help out with his attempts to be social, and—you know. Hey, how was the mission, by the way? I forgot to finish asking.”

“It went just fine.” Paige shrugs, and that’s when it clicks for Ava why she was willing to jump topics so fast. Agent Dickhead really did hurt her feelings.

“Towanda,” Ava says plainly, calmly.

Her best friend’s eyes lift to hers. They stare at each other for a long moment. Paige goes through a silent argument that it’s not worth it; Ava silently insists that it very much is. It all happens through shifting eyebrows.

After a moment, Paige’s shoulders deflate, and she looks back at her work with a sigh. “You do it.”

Looking back up at a confused Steve, Ava crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve got a real cunt running one of your away teams.”

“Oh, sweet lord,” Paige groans, her head falling into her hands with her elbows braced on the workbench. 

The captain’s eyebrows go for his hairline. “I’m sorry—I have a—I’m going to need a few more details.” He shifts his attention to Paige’s back, and his expression gets worried. “Did something happen? Who was your lead? JARVIS, can you grab me the associated reports on Ms. Findley’s latest away mission—”

“You don’t have’ta do that—“she tries to assure, her head coming up with blazing red cheeks. She hates confrontation. Absolutely despises it. 

Ava used to avoid it. She doesn’t bother much these days. “Actually, your name got thrown into the mix, Captain.” 

“Heeere we go.” Paige takes a deep breath in.

“Thrown into the mix of what?” Steve’s tone is shifting into the sub-zero range. 

“I’m not sure what Agent Fuckwad’s name is, but apparently, the guy thinks it’s not his job to understand his equipment. He also thinks it’s super cool to talk shit about the engineer that designed what he can’t wrap his head around. On an open comm. With her on the other end.”

“I have the mission data ready for transfer to your private feed, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS reports in. Ava doesn’t miss the smugness sitting in his tone, making her smile. She’s betting the AI has been fuming over this in his own way. He’s been protective of Paige ever since her first all-nighters in engineering.

There’s a boiling rage sitting in Steve’s eyes, one that’s rising by the second. When he steps up to tap the side of Paige’s arm with the back of his hand, it’s entirely held back from his voice. “Are you alright with me handling this?”

It’s Ava’s turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Extremely pleasant surprise.

“I—oh, fuck me runnin’.” Paige lifts her hand to scrub at her face. “Look, Rogers, I’m not tryin’ to get anyone in trouble here—”

“There are ways to go about this without leaving you holding the bag from a reputation standpoint. If the guy’s a—a... I tried, I’m sorry, I can’t get the word out—the point is, I can handle this in a way that doesn’t blow back on you.”

“Let him do it for the other people the dickwad is going to end up being a cunt to,” Ava suggests helpfully. 

“Exactly,” Steve agrees easily. 

Paige groans, shifting her weight back and forth. Finally, she nods with an uneasy sigh. “Alright. But—maybe just have it be somethin’ found from the logs? I really don’t wanna write up a—”

“Your name won’t come up. I’ll take care of it.”

Ava smiles, tossing another olive to catch in her mouth.

—

September 20th, 2015

Sam balances the plate of sliced sough dough and fresh fruit on top of a can of grape Fanta. He keeps his eyes locked on the way it wobbles back and forth as he makes his way down the hallway of the rented house. Propping the bundle of still-warm linens on his hip, he shimmies his hand off them enough to grab at the handle to Sergeant Miserable’s room.

The sack of personified despair is exactly where they last left him, hunched in on himself in the corner of the room. The pile of blankets under him used to be on the perfectly nice bed sitting in front of the window. The one with an unbelievable view of Finland’s countryside hidden behind tightly drawn curtains.

Their resident vampire, un-fucking-surprisingly, fled from it as fast as he could. Steve’s been grumbling about stealing the curtains while he’s asleep just to force the guy to look out the window on the way to the john.

Sam’s decided to start handling the food deliveries alone. It’s time to start pushing, even if Steve’s not entirely ready for it.

Bucky watches him move through the room, never saying a word. Not even when the plate of food gets put on the nightstand next to the bed, where they always leave it. He leaves them empty outside the door at night, so they know he’s actually eating. Poor bastard never looks angry, more just anguished. 

Sam sits on the side of the bed slowly, as gently as he can. He keeps his posture relaxed, his expression passive, and looks up at the newly freed prisoner of war. “You and I gotta come to an understanding on somethin’.”

Bucky’s eyes start out mostly hidden, thanks to the angle of his head. The shadows consume them entirely as his eyebrows come down. “What.”

One-word answer. That’s good. It’s a verbal day. “We gotta figure out where we’re at. Steve is too close. You’re gonna need someone pushing you on things he can’t. Things you need help with.” 

It’s not a subject he’s brought up with Steve. Being blunt feels like the better option here. He’s guessing the captain’s appeasement is starting to grate on nerves going through this much culture shock. Plus, there’s no pep-talk like a military pep-talk. 

“Do I strike you as an invalid?”

“You might not wanna—we’ll work on that. Point is, you need to start gettin’ comfortable with the new reality. Suck it up, Buttercup, the sky didn’t actually fall. The world’s still spinnin’. None of the big baddies who still know about you have the juice to catch you—”

“No, they don’t,” he confirms aggressively.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, you’re huge and scary. You’re also an idiot sitting around wasting a full pardon. No one’s expecting you to start doing a press circuit. If you wanna walk off into the sunset and go find a picket fence to park your Transylvania routine behind, we’ll help you pack and send you postcards. If you wanna do what Steve did and pick up a life in SHEILD, let’s get you fitted in some Kevlar and find you a therapist. But let’s get you outta this fuckin’ room.”

Bucky’s eyebrows stay firmly set, keeping his eyes shrouded. “Why.”

“Oh my god, could you be more dramatic? Like, shit, if you really tried?” He stands up from the bed, headed for the door, his eyes rolling again. “You wanna know why? Because that’s what people do, Bucky. They hit the ground, they figure out if they’re still breathing, and then they get back up to fix what broke. You keep going for the ones who didn’t survive the landing; because they’d hate your guts if you laid down and died over them. Your friend Steve can tell you all about that if you ever feel like giving the man the time of day. No one’s asking you to do this alone.” 

Sam stops at the door, raising one finger and pointing it back accusingly. “You know what— I’m asking you to go outside long enough for a beer in three days. Besides that, it’s up to you how slow you wanna take this.”

“What’s in three days?” The comment is thrown out on a grumble, right when Sam’s nearly got the door closed.

“My birthday, asshole. I’d like to spend it somewhere outside of this house. And, believe it or not, I’d like you to be there.”

—author end notes—

idk abt other ppls trauma foods, but man when im Goin Through Shit all i can ever stomach is bread and bubbles so, for sure inflicted that on bucko. plums i feel like are His to pick up, y'know?

im putting the idiots in my own couples counseling since im robbing bucky of his best FATWS moment so far (yes it is the wrong about me line ty for asking). i also want it on record that grammarly tried to get me to change "the 30s" to "his 30s" and i had to be like no actually i just jacked our leading man from the restricted section of the smithsonian, thanks tho babe

and now you've met paige!! the storm in a bottle herself!! she gonna smooch the shit outta stevie. gonna try to do our babe peggy proud and have her knock that dweeb off his toes at every turn (not hard). still no clue if ill do a spin-off series for them since they're just background here, but i do know im doing some kinktober stuff for them. they get 10 of the days so far (yeah. yeah, its gonna be 4some territory in the last few days, but have no fear, the main fic((s? series maybe? look man im makin a plan as we go. all i know right now is good space and kinktober)) will stay monogamy focused). so, fans of super mega dirty steve, might wanna Check Back Later for those posts 🥰

[suga-kookiemonster]

ego 09

summary⇢ what’s a girl to do when her sweet, innocent baby lab partner isn’t quite so sweet and innocent? well, he’s a grown-ass man, and you’re about to learn that the hard way. pairing⇢ jungkook/reader word count⇢ 12.9k ☠️ rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | college!au | fuckboi!au | fratboy!au warnings⇢ sexual content, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, everybody is still pissed tf off and consequently has an attitude, but then also everyone is soft 🥺, drinking/partying, taehyung gets done dirty and also can’t tell his disney princesses apart, seokjin mulls over his many career options

a/n⇢ THE END IS FINALLY HERE 😭😭😭😭 i’m so relieved, but also so, so sad. thank you to everyone who joined me on this long, goofy journey and encouraged me to keep going with all of your wonderful messages and feedback, and thank you to everyone who took the time to welcome my baby into their lives and love her as much as i do! i truly appreciate every single one of you beyond words and i only hope you feel your time spent with me was time well spent. thank you, thank you, thank you 💜💖💞💕💗💝💟💘

this chapter’s mood is this. hope you enjoy!

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

No matter how it seemed to have stopped for you, time ultimately went on, your friends trickling out of the exhibit one by one. Finally, when the clock declared the event to be officially over, you and your classmates were free to leave, your professor promising that grades would be uploaded within the next few days.

But despite stressing over this project all semester, you found yourself no longer caring very much about it, your attention completely stolen by lingering thoughts of what Namjoon had told you. So, gut tightening in knots, you made good on your promise and gave Jungkook a call as you walked out the building, wanting to rip the bandaid right off. Hopefully he was still in the area and you could just get this over with.

The phone rang twice. But then in the middle of the third ring, you were so abruptly sent to voicemail that there was a very high probability that he had rejected your call.

Wow. Wow. You knew for a fact that he didn’t have any more finals that day, so the only logical explanation was that he was ignoring you. Which, fine! He was frustrated. You got it.

Because so were you. Beyond frustrated at the way he had made you offer your heart, completely against your will. Made you feel desired and safe enough to offer your body, against your better judgment. Frustrated at this push and pull, frustrated that he had presumably done it all simply to just prove he could.

Frustrated that Namjoon had alluded that none of that had been the case at all.

But though not in so many words, Jungkook had effectively shown you today that this was his official breaking point—the tension in your relationship so high that any additional push or pull would make it all snap.

There was no other option. It was time to finally lay this all to rest.

You hovered on campus, waiting fifteen more minutes before calling back. Still giving him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had been busy that exact moment you called—maybe he was in the library, or the middle of a conversation, or whatever. It could have been anything. But when you called again, you found yourself shot to voicemail after the very first ring. There was no doubt—he was ignoring you.  

An incredulous laugh fell from your lips at the irony of it all. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Your first stop was his dorm. His roommate, whom you had only met once at a party, was confused to see you at the door but quickly helped you confirm Jungkook was not there. After that, you tried the Beta Tau house, figuring it to be a good bet, considering Jungkook spent most of his downtime there. However, he was nowhere to be found, the only people around the brothers who actually lived there.

Namjoon, ever the good friend, was sympathetic to your plight. “Just give him a little space,” he told you over cup ramen at the kitchen table. Normally, you would refrain from having such a sensitive conversation out in the open like this, but it just so happened that the room was empty save for the two of you and Taehyung, who was busy making himself a sandwich at the counter. Tae so frequently resided in his own little world that you highly doubted he was even paying attention to the ongoing drama that was your life.

“Maybe this is just a bad idea,” you sighed into your noodles. “I pushed him to leave me alone, and now he finally is. Maybe it should just stay this way.”

“And just let this moment linger for the rest of your life?” Joon asked skeptically. “Because that’s what will happen. You’ll always wonder what if.”

“Well, I can just add it to the list then. Right under what would have happened if I hadn’t accidentally swallowed a Barbie shoe when I was three.”

“_____,” he scoffed. “It’s not like he’s going away. He’s in our friend group and you’re gonna see him all the time. Do you really want to leave this unfinished and awkward?”

You grimaced at the reminder, and Namjoon sighed, delivering his next words much more gently.

“Listen, I know it’s scary. Putting yourself out there is always scary. Taking a chance is always scary. But when taking a chance can result in making you happy, isn’t it sometimes worth the risk?” He held your gaze. “And isn’t limbo ultimately worse?”

You paused, biting your lip as you let his words marinate. He wasn’t wrong—the past few weeks had been long and torturous. Things couldn’t really get worse than that.

“Just give him a little space,” Namjoon continued, downing the dregs of his broth. “He’ll have to appear eventually, and you can talk then.”

But by the time eventually rolled around, you would have lost your nerve. You needed to do this now, or not at all. Needed to end this now.

Your nails tapped against the table agitatedly as you thought. “…Actually, you know what? There’s one more place I haven’t tried. I think I know where he is,” you murmured, more to yourself than anything. With a resolute nod, you turned, voice louder. “Tae, can I borrow your car?”

“Huh?” The man in question perked to attention at his name, freezing in his closing of the refrigerator door. His oversized sweatshirt, mussed hair, and prescription glasses clued you in to the fact that he had likely just taken a study break to grab something to eat and had not, in any shape or form, planned to be roped into your drama.

“Do you mind if I borrow your car?” you repeated with what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’ll bring it back in mint condition, I promise.”

Taehyung gave you a nonchalant shrug, taking a large bite of his sandwich and rooting around in his pockets. “Here you go,” he mumbled, mouth full, tossing you the keys.

Namjoon raised a brow. “Where are you going that you need a car?”

But you were already on your feet and looking for where you set your purse. “I’ll call you later—I gotta go. Thanks, Tae!”

An affirmative noise joined the thumbs up Taehyung threw you on his way back to his room. And as soon as you located your purse next to the sink, you were on your way out too.

You were, in general, someone who could only be described as directionally-challenged. Now, however, your brain was somehow easily able to recall exactly where you needed to turn, navigating you down the correct streets. Still, you found yourself much too preoccupied to appreciate this accomplishment, heart thundering in your ears as you turned into the familiar parking lot.

Said parking lot was devoid of all cars, save yours. But you were sure your hunch was right, so the visible lack of evidence that other people were in the area wasn’t enough to dissuade you from getting out and taking the small hike to your final destination. And when you finally made it through the clearing, you were greeted to the familiar back of someone sitting alongside the lake.

Things looked different from the last time you were here. The grass, just starting to regain its vibrant hue, yielded easily to your footsteps instead of crunching in protest, and the water, no longer caught in winter’s clutches, lapped lazily at the shore.

“Jungkook.”

Things looked different, but, from the way Jungkook’s body visibly tensed at the sound of your voice, the way he didn’t even bother turning around…that was probably because they were.

Jungkook didn’t acknowledge your approach right away, attention still firmly on the sketchbook in his lap. It took a few long moments before he bothered to speak. “How’d you find me?” he asked finally, still not looking at you.

“I remembered you saying you like to come here to think.”

A humorless laugh left him. “So you actually do listen to some of what I say.”

Defensiveness had you snapping back before you realized. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

It was then that he finally turned to face you, pencil dropped carelessly into his sketchbook, sketchbook resolutely shut with a muffled thud. His eyes steely and rimmed in red, his mouth tight. “_____, what are you doing here?”

Your stomach twisted at the question. “You…you said you wanted to talk.”

“So now you want to talk?”

“Now that we’re in an appropriate setting that is not my final exam?” you snipped, irritation starting to flare. “Yeah.”

You could practically see his hackles raise at that, and you forced yourself to let out a slow breath. You may be in the right this time, but you certainly hadn’t been all the other times he had tried to approach you. There wasn’t any point in you tracking him down if you weren’t going to try. This wasn’t going to go anywhere unless you lowered your defenses.

You had nothing to lose.

Carefully, as if approaching a dangerous animal that might snap, you lowered yourself down next to him on the grass. Jungkook didn’t snap, but if the clench of his jaw was any indication, he wasn’t exactly pleased by your presence either. The air felt tense between you, the silence thick and heavy, and it was causing a lump in your throat that you were having a hard time breathing around. You tried to swallow it down. “…Yes, I want to talk,” you tried again. “If…If you still want to, that is.”

The ball was in his court—you had extended the olive branch, and it was up to him to decide whether to take it. Jungkook let you stew in the uncomfortable quiet for long enough that you wondered if you should simply take his silence as his answer.

Then, he shifted.

“I just—” A long exhale passed his lips. “If anything else, I thought we were at least friends!”

That threw you for a bit of a loop, stomach dropping. “Jungkook, we are! Of course we are—”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” he demanded hotly. “Why did you…”

You watched as his mouth promptly clacked shut, a tension in his jaw as he seemed to grind his teeth in favor of finishing his sentence.

“What?” you asked hesitantly, voice soft. “Why did I what?”

For a moment, he didn’t react, and you wondered if he had heard you at all. But then, for the first time since you had arrived, he turned to look you dead in the eye. “Why did you leave?” he whispered.

He had given you no context, but he obviously didn’t have to, the question sending icy tendrils of shock throughout your entire body.

Straight to the point. It looked like he was forcing you to get straight to the point, to stop the dance you always did around things that made you uncomfortable. Nothing to lose, you reminded yourself over and over, a mantra. You have nothing to lose.

And so, with a shaky breath, you decided once and for all to put all your cards on the table.

“I was scared,” you admitted quietly, heart pounding. “Scared because I like you. A lot. And I feel like we’re not on the same page and that terrifies me.”

The responding silence stretched between you as Jungkook processed your words, his expression running through several emotions before finally settling on dumbfounded. “What? What do you mean, not on the same page?” He turned away, blinking rapidly at his hands before turning back to you in bewilderment. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” you started, and oh god, you felt it coming. The tidal wave of emotion that was about to pull you under, the bullet train of feelings that was rapidly speeding you towards the point of no return. “That I like you a lot. That I’m always thinking about you. That somehow, over all these months, I’ve realized that I want to be around you all the time, because being around you makes me happy. And I know that these feelings are a lot, I know that, and I’m scared because I know that you don’t feel the same way.”

Jungkook’s eyes had grown wider and wider as you rambled on, but now was when he interrupted you with an indignant scoff. “And how do you know that? Did you even bother to ask me?”

“I didn’t have to ask you!” you snapped. “I’m not stupid. You even told me out of your own mouth that you consider me no different than all other girls. What other way is there to interpret that?”

His jaw dropped slightly, stupefied, eyebrows scrunched in complete consternation. You saw when the lightbulb finally went off. “Is that what this is about?” he asked incredulously. “_____, I didn’t mean it like that, I promise! I was just kidding—”

“Kidding?” you scoffed. “Who in their right mind would joke like that right after having sex?”

“We always joke,” he countered defensively. “I didn’t realize—”

“Jungkook, how can it be a joke when it falls in line with everything else you say? How would that not be taken at face value!?” you demanded. “Please don’t lie to me. I know exactly how this goes. I know exactly how you operate, and, frankly, so does the whole campus. So you can’t fault me for believing you when you show me who you are.”

Jungkook recoiled as if he had been struck, looking everything the kicked puppy. You refused to fall into that trap, swallowing down the bile starting to creep up your throat as the two of you stared at each other in the stretched silence. When he finally replied, his voice was quiet, barely audible over the trickling water nearby. “I won’t deny that that’s what people think about me, because I can’t. But you’re saying all this stuff as if you don’t know me. You know me.” He swallowed. “Or at least, I thought you did.  Do you really not know me at all?”

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s not fair. All of these people can’t be lying on you—we both know you have a reputation for a reason. And you have yet to give me any solid reasons to believe that is no longer the case.”

“See, now you’re the one not being fair. What does that even mean? I thought my intentions have been pretty obvious for a while now.”

You let out a humorless laugh, motioning pointedly between the two of you. “Clearly not.”

Jungkook let out an agitated huff, running a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he started, closing his eyes for a few seconds to gather himself before setting his intense gaze on you again, resolute. “Clearly we communicate in two different ways and we keep missing each other. So I’m just gonna ask you flat out—what exactly is it you need from me for you to finally understand and accept that I want to be with you?”

Your breath caught, completely unprepared for and disbelieving of this turn of events. “W-Well, you’ve never said that before, so this is a start.”

“Never said what? That I want to be with you?” Wow. This man really had the nerve to sit there and look at you like you had said something truly ridiculous and not like he had just tilted your world its axis.

You struggled to voice a reply, head spinning. “Jungkook,” you finally said, taking a few breaths to calm your racing heart. “If you don’t say it, how do you expect me to not just assume that you aren’t just trying to fuck me?”

“Well, in case you forgot, I actually did that already. But I’m still here,” he pointed out, tone light and self-depreciating. “Following you around for weeks like a clown just to get you to talk to me.” You weren’t sure what expression you were now making, but Jungkook’s eyes softened at whatever he saw on your face, a small, shy smile touching his lips. “You haven’t really given me the opportunity to say it. But I do want to be with you, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What do you mean, oh?” His elbow tapped you playfully in the side. “And you call me the cryptic one—that’s all you have to say?”

You looked away, flustered. “I’m processing, okay! Give me a second.”

But Jungkook wasn’t having it, fingers lightly trailing across your chin until he could cup your face properly and guide it back in his direction, eyes carefully roving your expression. “What, do you still not believe me? What do I need to do for you to believe I’m serious?”

“I..” You swallowed, struggling not to look away. The question slid off your tongue before your brain could even process it. “What did you submit for your application?”

Jungkook’s hand dropped, blinking at the sudden change of subject. “What?”

“For your major. You had to submit some of your art, right?”

He didn’t answer right away, seemingly weighing his options in his head. “I submitted a few pieces,” he agreed finally, voice quiet. “I…I’ve actually tried showing you before.”

Your heart clenched, wondering just how many times within the past few weeks he had attempted to share something so personal with you and you had unknowingly brushed him off. You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat. “I didn’t realize,” you admitted. “I wasn’t paying attention then, but I promise you I’m paying attention now. Would you mind showing me now?”

There were a few more moments of deliberation on his end, but they ultimately didn’t last long. Jungkook opened his long-forgotten sketchbook and rifled through to a certain page, handing it over to you.

You peered at the book in your hands curiously, a bit puzzled. It was a sketch of a well-detailed landscape, so uncanny that you could easily recognize the setting as the lake where you were sitting at now, down to a certain tree not too far from you that had a distinguishable crack in its trunk. And while amazing, you weren’t exactly sure why Namjoon had sent you here, what this was supposed to mean to you.

Jungkook must have sensed your confusion, because he simply responded to the light tracing of your fingertips over the page by reaching over and tapping it. “Keep going. There are a couple more.”

Spurred on by his direction, you dutifully turned the page, admiring the lifelike image of a steaming mug on the table of a bustling café, the visible string indicating it to be tea. It was the third drawing that sucked all breath from your body.

Because the sketch was, undoubtedly, of you.

A profile of you, because it you weren’t looking at whosever perspective it was meant to convey (likely his). This drawing was much more detailed than the other two, some faint smudges clueing you in to how much effort he had put into it. In your mind’s eye, you could see him, sketching away while distracted in class, or sprawled out on the grass in the main quad during his breaks, or even at his desk at night, hunched over his sketchbook before he went to bed. Could see him drawing and erasing, over and over, determined to get the amused twist of your lips exactly right, the shading of your hair.

It was absolutely ridiculous to recall how Jungkook had once told you his art was nothing special, amounted to nothing more than doodles. Because what you were looking at now was so much more than that. You could actually feel the care in each stroke of graphite to paper, could feel the tenderness oozing off the page.

You could do nothing but gape at it, at a complete loss for words and trying to silently connect the rapidly-multiplying dots in your mind. Jungkook awkwardly cleared his throat, and you reflexively looked back at him at the sound, dazed.

“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel anything less than you are,” he murmured, the vehemence in his eyes making your heartbeat thrum in your ears. “Because I promise you. I would never in a million years intentionally try to do that. This is how I see you.”

“O-Oh.”

“Again with the oh,” he sighed, but there was no irritation in it, only something you dared to hope was fondness.

“This is…beautiful, Jungkook,” you added timidly.

Jungkook shrugged away the compliment, still not releasing you from his stare. “I draw what I see.”

You could feel your body starting to heat up under his steady gaze, still unsure how to respond. How to move forward from here, now that everything was out in the open. But luckily for you, Jungkook had just as much on his mind, already talking again before you had the chance to find your words.

“You can’t just run away from hard conversations, you know. You can’t brush things under the rug because they’re uncomfortable. That’s not fair.”

“…It’s not,” you admitted, letting out a shuddering breath. “I know it’s not, and I’m sorry. It’s one of my major flaws that I’m fully aware I need to deal with. I’m—I’m a work in progress.”

His lips twitched, fighting amusement. “Don’t worry. Clearly, you’re not the only one.”

And now you were amused too. All of the angst and drama? All of the time wasted? Apparently, those were things that were possible to avoid when people communicated. Who woulda thunk?

“So.” Jungkook shifted just a little, but suddenly, you felt a lot closer, the space between your bodies much smaller than you recall it being. “What I’m hearing is that I want to be with you. And you want to be with me.”

You froze, hyperaware of every breath he took, every blade of grass swaying in the wind, every ripple across the water’s surface.

“I feel like there has to be an easy solution to this problem,” he continued, tone teasing. But also hesitant.

And you suddenly realized that you had done that. That you were not the only one whose world had been tilted by this conversation, rocked by this obvious…thing between you that had bloomed and bloomed as time went on. There was no reason for him to be so cautious in stating the evident—one plus one undoubtedly equaled two, but it was you who had come in and taught him that no, sometimes it equaled three. And while it was always good to question things in life, at the end of the day, sometimes things were simply not that fucking deep.

Jungkook startled a bit at the careful introduction of your hand on his knee, but he didn’t move away when you started to lean in. Didn’t look away. And it was him who diminished the gap in those last few inches, him who leaned down a little so your lips could be properly reintroduced.

And it was a homecoming of sorts, the soft press of his lips against yours a reunion that was long overdue. “I missed you,” he breathed against you, and your stomach immediately exploded in butterflies.

“I missed you too,” you admitted.

You felt how big his responding smile was, broken only to kiss you again, more solidly this time, his body angling more properly towards you so he could slip an arm around your waist. “Did you really?”

“You heard me the first time,” you snorted, folding into him willingly. Allowing him to gently take the sketchbook from you and move it uncaringly out of the way.

Jungkook huffed out a laugh. “God, you’re so irritating.” But from the soft kiss he landed on your forehead, you could tell he didn’t mean a single word.

“You like it.”

“Of course I do. How can I not?”

You paused, still unable to fully give in to the lighthearted mood the conversation was rapidly veering into. Uncertainty refused to let you go, the lingering what ifs a vice on the hesitance you so desperately wanted to set free. You pulled back slightly, far enough to properly see his face, and confusion met you there.

“What?” he asked, a nervous edge to his tone, and it was that clear uncertainty that finally gave you the courage to address your own. The courage to ask what had been plaguing your mind for weeks.

“Do you…really mean that?”

“Do I really mean what? That I like you?” His lips curled, amused. “Yes. I thought we’d already established that.”

“And so at the formal.” You swallowed down your discomfort. Pushed through it. “You got that king room instead of a double. Are you saying that wasn’t part of some scheme to get me to sleep with you?”

As soon as the question left your lips, a number of emotions visibly flashed across Jungkook’s face, too quickly for you to get a full grasp of any them. Still, you recognized the alarm well enough.

“What?”

“Were you trying to trap me?” you repeated, though you knew he had heard you perfectly fine the first time.

Another emotion was starting to stick on his features. “No. No! I just didn’t have enough money.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow in response, not sure what to make of that answer.

“I just—” Jungkook swallowed, suddenly struggling to hold eye contact. And then there it was, clear as day—embarrassment. “The hotel had set aside a block of rooms for our group, and because there were so many of us, we got a discount. All of our reserved rooms had king beds. I tried to call and swap, but they told me the only way they could do it would be if I booked separately from the group. And if I did that, I would no longer qualify for the discount.” He paused. “Which, it turns out, is actually a pretty good one. I see why we go back there every year.”

You were quiet for a few moments, letting it all sink in. “So you didn’t tell me any of this before because…?”

“Because I was afraid you would decide not to come,” he admitted sheepishly. “And that first night, I knew you wouldn’t agree right away. So I figured I’d wait until after dinner to tell you, but we started having fun and I had too much to drink and I just flat out forgot until it was too late.”

That was all…perfectly plausible. Still deceptive, yes, but not in a way that felt slimy to you, just naive. Jungkook clearly hadn’t thought about how his actions could be perceived. “You could have told me,” you sighed. “I woulda called up there and got them to give you that damn discount. And besides that, you weren’t even supposed to pay for it all by yourself anyway! Friends go half, remember?”

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, tongue visibly poking through his cheek. “Doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not my friend.”

Shock raced through you, your stomach immediately dropping at the words. “I’m not?” you asked quietly, despondent now that you were realizing just how much you had truly fucked up.

You tried to back further away, but Jungkook wouldn’t let you, simply tightening the hold he had on your waist to keep you right by his side. “Nope,” he continued breezily. “You’re my girlfriend.”

This motherfucker…

You couldn’t help the way the rush of relief had you sagging slightly against him. Couldn’t help the annoyed, well-deserved smack you landed on his midsection, either. “Really,” you snipped, trying and failing to keep up your charade of annoyance while he snickered at you.

Jungkook simply grinned back, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Really.”

While only seconds ago your stomach had been trying to drop out of your ass, now it was doing happy somersaults. “You seem mighty confident about that, big guy. Shouldn’t we talk about it first?”

He shot you a pointed look. “I feel like we’ve talked plenty, don’t you?” was his wry response, and this time it was you who laughed, your contentment refusing to be restrained any longer.

“You’re the one who wanted to.”

“And now I don’t,” he sassed, dipping back in for another kiss, which you happily gave him. “I feel like there are other things we can do to make better use of that time.”

You smiled against his lips, unable to tamp down your amusement. “Like what?”

His lips traveled across your jaw, breath hot and making you shiver. “Knitting,” he murmured in your ear, and this time you did laugh.

“You do need a new scarf,” you conceded, breath hitching as his lips found their next target, playfully grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. Unconsciously, you angled yourself to give him better access. “That one you used this winter has had it.”

“Or how about…” Another kiss, warm and feather-light. “We do some laundry.”

“While I could definitely stand to do some loads, I don’t find laundry to be a particularly fun activity.”

“What?” he gasped exaggeratedly. “I love doing laundry. On second thought, this thing may not work out.” But the way he still pulled you closer betrayed how he truly felt on the matter. Idly, his pinky tapped against the swell of your ass, and it startled you a bit. Somehow, you hadn’t realized his hand had drifted that low.

From the way Jungkook paused at your reaction, he hadn’t fully realized where his hand had been either. But he didn’t seem to be too mad at it, fingers dipping a bit lower, rubbing slow circles. Testing the waters, waiting to see how you would respond.

But you did nothing but subtly arch into his hand, so he took that as some sort of invitation, kissing you again, more deeply. It was easy to get lost in him, so ridiculously easy to become nothing more than putty beneath his saccharine lips and masterful hands. So easy for your own hands to drift up his nape, for your fingers to wind into the hair curling there, for your mouth to swallow his responding whimper.  

So easy for your relatively innocent canoodling to veer into something much more feverish.

You weren’t sure how long you were kissing for, weren’t sure when it was exactly that you had ended up horizontal on the grass, but when you realized that you were somehow caged in by the warm weight of his  body, all you could do in response was dazedly look the darkening sky around the soft curtain of his hair.

“Really?” you gasped against his lips. “Here?”

“I told you I missed you,” he breathed in response.

“But— ” It was getting hard for you to think clearly with the way his fingertips were teasing the hem of your dress. “What if someone sees?”

He mouthed at your neck, fingers light, light against your panties. You shivered, one of your legs unconsciously curling around his hip to lock him closer to you. He hummed in approval, digits feathering up your covered slit before finding their intended target and pressing down. You gasped, hips jolting slightly and electricity racing up your legs at the meandering—deliberate—circles he was thumbing into your clit.

“Jung…” His name ended in a shuttered breath, thighs widening of their own accord.

He accepted your unspoken invitation, retrieving his hand so he could slot easily into the spot you created for him. His distracted reply came from the back of his throat, mouth too busy lapping persuasion into your skin. “Hmm?”

“Jungkook,” you tried again, determined not to get distracted by the slow roll of his hips. Determined, even if it was all so delicious, your toes were starting to curl.

“No one’s around, baby.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple. “Come on, let me make you feel good.”

He was technically right—the two of you were the only people on your side of the lake. When you had first arrived who even knew how long ago, you had noticed the distant shape of someone on the other side, but you weren’t sure if they were still there now, or even if they would be able to see you properly over the distance and under the rapidly dwindling sunlight. Still, the idea of publicly going at it made you a bit nervous.

“I drove Tae’s car. We can go there.”

That finally made him pause, pulling back from you slightly so you could see the questioning crook of his eyebrow. “Wait, really? What if he finds out? Or we make a mess? I told you before he’s not gonna be lenient with me if I fuck up his car.”

“And I told you I still don’t see what the problem is,” you shot back cheekily.

Jungkook puffed out a laugh in response, leaning back down to drag his tongue across your pulse point. “You know, if you keep saying that, I’m going to have no choice but to believe you mean it.”

“What is it with you and having sex outside? Are you some kind of exhibitionist?” you blurted, for some reason unable to stop talking now that you had started. So much had changed so quickly that your head was spinning, and so your mouth ran, hoping to give your brain the chance to catch up. Luckily, Jungkook seemed nothing but amused by you, if the way he was grinning at you was any indication. “Oh my god, you are, aren’t you?”

“And so are you,” he replied easily. And he wasn’t necessarily wrong, with the way you were rutting against the growing bulge in his pants, your body arching into his. As reluctant as your words claimed you to be, your body clearly did not get the memo.

Still, Jungkook took clear note of your hesitation, pulling back again, expression both amused and perplexed. “Okay, you’re sending me mixed signals again. Do you want me to stop? I’m sorry, I can stop.”

“I didn’t say that,” you hissed, tightening your thighs’ grip on him before he could escape you entirely. “I said we should go somewhere less out in the open. If I get mounted by a bear or something, that’s on you.”

His grin was bright, bright. “Don’t worry babe. Nobody’s doing any mounting but me.”

“…Please do not ever say that again, oh my god.”

“Come on, we can go if you really want to,” he continued, easily breaking free of your hold on him and scrambling off you. You could only blink at the sudden loss of him, amused at how quickly he was already on his feet and brushing stray blades of grass from his pants.

“Jeez, where’s the fire?” you joked, but from the dark look in his eyes, Jungkook didn’t find it particularly funny. He stared down at you, pupils blown, tongue making a quick, distracted swipe across his lips.

“Let’s go,” he repeated, and you reflexively clenched at the bass in his tone, the unexpected intensity of his gaze.

Well shit.

He was not playing with you.

Obediently, you sat up, wordlessly accepting the hand he offered to help you to your feet. You weren’t sure what to expect as you led him through the woods and back to the parking lot, but the way he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you wasn’t particularly a surprise. The way he linked your fingers together, letting your hands sway between you for a minute or so, thumb rubbing silent promises into your knuckles. The way somehow, along the way, that same hand had drifted instead to the small of your back then the swell of your ass, large palm gripping a cheek firmly enough to make sparks run through your veins in anticipation.

The parking lot was just as empty as when you had first arrived, Taehyung’s car seemingly a specter in the dwindling light. As soon as you were close enough, Jungkook crowded you against it, caging you against the cooling metal with his body. His lips found yours again, more insistent this time. Hungrier.

You squirmed a bit under his attention, an amused puff of air leaving your nose. “When I said the car, I didn’t mean on the car.”

Jungkook wasn’t laughing with you though, much too busy giving your ass an impatient squeeze. “Then unlock the door,” he huffed. Pulling you forward by the hips so you would feel the exact source of his frustration.

You fumbled through your pockets for the keys, hitting the unlock button when you finally found what you were looking for. Not wasting any time, Jungkook moved you just enough away that he could yank the door open and scramble into the driver’s seat, looking up at you expectantly.

“Isn’t…” You stood there, still wary of what you were about to do, even with no visible onlookers. “Isn’t there more room in the backseat?”

The corner of his lips slowly rose into something cocky and sinful. He patted his lap, the harmless motion everything but. “There’s plenty of room right here.”

Paranoid, you looked around and still found no one. Not even a passing car to witness your suspect decisions. But at the end of the day, even if you were more cautious than he was, you were no less eager, excitement and adrenaline thrumming through your veins. Fuck it was your last thought before climbing in after him, shutting the door and straddling his thighs. Squeezed between him and the steering wheel, chest to chest, heart to heart.

The quiet in the cabin was comfortable and warm. Jungkook’s arms slipped around your waist as easily as if they were simply returning home, the soft way he was smiling up at you making your breath catch in your throat. “Hi,” he murmured.

Your reply was equally hushed, but strangely more shy. “Hi.”

He didn’t expand on that—just simply continued to stare at you and rub slow circles into your hips with his thumbs. Mere minutes before he had been going eighty miles an hour, but now he was casually cruising at twenty-five and giving you whiplash. His steady attention, no matter how much more subdued it had turned, was only continuing to make your skin prickle in anticipation.

“I thought you told me you missed me,” you prompted pointedly.

His smile took a more wicked edge. “Wow, in some sort of hurry?”

“Well, we are outside and in full view of anyone who decides they wanna walk by, so yeah.”

Jungkook let a out a long sigh, as if burdened by your impatience. But his hands told a different story, eagerly tracing the lines of your body to the hem of your skirt and pushing it further up your hips. You lifted yourself slightly to help him, mindful to avoid hitting your head on the roof of the car. When you felt his fingers press against the damp material of your panties, you shivered, jumpstarted to action and determined to get the ball rolling.

His breath audibly caught when you reached for the zipper of his jeans and cupped him, completely pliant and willing as you leaned forward to lick his mouth open. His fingers continued to rub you, idle but purposeful, and they were in direct contrast to your own hands, whose rising urgency were verging on desperate.

A gasp escaped you when you felt him dip under the edge of your panties, momentarily distracted from your objective by a finger easily slipping inside you. “We don’t have time for that,” you said, voice breathy from the way his digit was lazily curling and exploring.

“Why not?” he asked, tone deceptively innocent for someone who was purposely pumping a little deeper. For someone who was contentedly swallowing your resulting whimpers.

“Jungkook,” you tried to chastise him, but his name left your tongue much more needily than you intended, and paired with the way you bucked into his hand, he only smirked in response. Undeterred, you reached fully down his waistband, and luckily for you, Jungkook was much more interested in where this was headed than teasing you. Obediently, he lifted from the chair just enough to help you maneuver his pants down a bit. Free of its confines, his cock stood at attention, the hard curve of it tapping his clothed stomach.

You spat into your hand, using your newly-slick palm to pump him a few times. Breath shuddering at your touch, Jungkook finally slipped out from the heat of you, though the way he immediately used the same hand to pull your panties to side made it clear your previous protesting had nothing to do with his decision to stop fingering you.

“We don’t have time,” you repeated, angling him towards your entrance and bearing down. There was a twinge when the head breached you, not as slick as you probably should have been. But the forbidden nature of what you were doing had adrenaline pumping through you, so the slight discomfort barely registered. Instead, the only thing you could focus on was Jungkook’s sharp intake of breath. The tic of his jaw. The way the hot grip of you had him clutching your hips, forearms visibly veiny with his restraint. The way he cursed under his breath, watching himself disappear inside you with such an intensity that it only wound you up more.

Moments passed like this, just the two of you, on edge, breathing audible in the silence as you slid your way down his length. It wasn’t until you bottomed out, your pelvises flush, that Jungkook finally released his hold on your skirt, the material slipping down a bit more and impeding his direct view. Still, he didn’t seem particularly  perturbed by that, his focus instead shifting back to your face as he leaned forward and easily negated the remaining space between you, capturing your lips.

You took that as your cue to start moving, using your knees and the grip you had on his seat as leverage to carefully lift yourself up as much as the ceiling would allow and then fall back down, the movement becoming easier as you went along and your body warmed up to the intrusion. Welcomed it even, the telltale squelch of your pussy slowly overtaking the small space the more you pushed yourself down his cock.

And it felt good, so so good, your pleasure only heightened by the heat of Jungkook’s roaming hands and the riskiness of it all. To be honest, the dopamine flooding your system was starting to make a decent case for his sexual preferences that you had previously found insane. So it didn’t take long for your rhythm to accelerate, for the cabin to be filled with an obscene harmony of labored breaths and skin smacking against skin.

It was Jungkook who interrupted your race to the end, a firm grip of your hips breaking your stride.

“Slow down,” he murmured, pulling you forward by the ass and guiding you into more of a slow grind. Like this—lazier, but still persistent and purposeful—your clit was pulled repeatedly across his pubic bone and shot electricity to every single one of your nerve endings. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Shit, that feels good,” you moaned, tempted to give in to his delicious request, but still unable to fully forget yourself. “Wait, wait. Okay. So I know we technically just got together and you wanna be soft and sweet, but this isn’t really the time or place to do that.” That didn’t stop the slow roll of your hips though, the drag of his cock too addicting to stop the movement entirely. “We can totally shelve that for later if you want, but right now we really need wham, bam, thank you ma’am, you feel me?”

Jungkook pouted a little in response, clearly bummed with not getting his way, but he didn’t try to stop you again as you picked the tempo back up. Just hissed through his teeth when you kept riding him hard and fast.

And that was absolutely what you intended to do—ram him deep in your guts again and again and again until you both finally sprinted over the finish line.

But, of course, things didn’t tend to go to plan when it came to you and Jungkook.

The sudden appearance in the back window of approaching headlights sent a shock of alarm through you. “Shit!” Panicked, you lost your rhythm and weren’t prepared for his next thrust, an arm instinctively shooting out for something to help you keep your waning balance. And, when your hand finally found something solid to lean against, that something ended up being the fucking horn.

The noise was long and drawn out and sent your heart shooting up your throat until you had the good sense in your horrified state to yank your hand back. “Shit! Fuck!”

Jungkook only cackled at this chain of events, too busy laughing to properly continue his task of fucking you.

“Shut up,” you hissed, diving forward and leaning your body flush against his, hoping to be out of view from any windows and anyone curious enough to investigate the sound. Your chest against his meant your were fully aware of the laughter erupting from there, even if you could hear him just fine. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s pretty funny,” he pointed out, still giggling.

You smiled against his neck. “It’s not,” you whined, unable to keep the amusement out of your own voice.

Snickering, Jungkook reached for something, and suddenly your seat was moving and leaning backward, giving you both more room and further obscuring the view of you.

Your eyes narrowed, hand reaching up to smack his bicep. “Why the hell didn’t you do that before? Stop laughing!”

He held his breath, valiantly trying to comply to your demands, but the taunting rumbling in his chest gave away that he ultimately found it a difficult feat. You didn’t blame him, not really. It was all pretty fucking funny.

But at the end of the day, you weren’t naturally the exhibitionist type—had never done this before—and the idea of someone watching you get your back blown out made your anxiety rise. “Do you…” You cautiously lifted your head up, trying to assess your surroundings through the lightly fogged windows. “Do you think they saw us?”

Jungkook’s gaze was soft soft, smile fond, fond. “It was just someone driving by. They’re gone now, see?”  

And he was right, the darkness of your surroundings fully restored. No one around except the two of you.

He rubbed reassuring circles into your back, tilting his head as if contemplating something. “You’re cute.”

Your face warmed at the blatant adoration in his expression. And now that you were being honest with yourself, this was how he often looked at you—nothing at all different, and yet this was somehow simultaneously new territory. How had you never noticed before?

But your attention was stolen before you could beat yourself up over your selective blindness. Jungkook resumed movement, rolling his hips with acute precision that had a gasp escaping you at the way the ridges of his cock repeatedly scraped against your g-spot.

“This is what you wanted, right?” A sharp snap of his hips, your resulting whimper. His amused smile quickly slipped away, mouth going slack instead as he grabbed you by the hips and started fucking you in earnest.

It was so good, so overwhelming that you couldn’t help but slump forward again, forehead resting against his. Letting him have full control as he pounded into you from below.

And Jungkook jumped at that opportunity, mouth seeking yours, arms circling your waist in a lover’s embrace. But he also thrived in it, hands drifting lower to grab fistfuls of your ass, to manhandle you into taking his cock the exact way he chose to give it. And the way he gave it bordered on feral, your body completely pliant and receptive to his assault. Your cunt leaking its praises, the resulting sounds of your fucking nothing short of filthy.

“Oh my god—”

“This is what you wanted. Right?” he demanded, somehow increasing his pace even more and making your teeth rattle in your skull. A sex machine dialed up to the next level.

You couldn’t find enough sense in you to answer him. Could only loop your arms around the headrest and hold on. Could only suck on the mole decorating the column of his neck in an effort to ground yourself. But that effort was completely thrown out the window when your body finally decided it had hit its limit, your thighs rippling with the force of the oncoming storm. “Fuckkk! Fuck, fuck, just like that, baby, just like that—”

“Mmm, you like that?” Jungkook goaded, his assault unrelenting, his breathing short and rapid from his efforts. His tongue dirty. “Pretending to be so righteous and pure when all along this pussy is singing for me. Look at you. So needy and messy. You’re just as nasty as I am, isn’t that right, baby?”

You whimpered your agreement, too fucked out to do much else. Everything was tight, tight, your insides and every other muscle in your body wound and ready for the inescapable drop. And fall you did, a long whine forced from the depths of your throat as your pussy finally clamped down on him. Immense pleasure erupted from every nerve ending, an almost distressed noise continuing to escape you as you tried to survive the wave, mindlessly grinding against him, breathing hot against his skin.

Jungkook fucked you through it, in a complete trance. Entirely on autopilot, laser-focused on meeting you at the bottom of the cliff, tongue loose and unfiltered as he babbled. “So soft and wet. Such a nasty girl, getting off in the middle of a parking lot. Cumming all over the seats.”

Barely starting to drift down from your high, you sent a cursory glance down through your damp lashes, dazedly assessing the area where your bodies were still violently connecting. Luckily, while you definitely found a telltale dark spot on the crotch of his jeans, the leather seats of the car still seemed to be unscathed.

The overstimulation was making you start to squirm, but Jungkook’s fingers only dug more determinedly into the meat of you and held you still. “You asked for this.” His reminder was a growl, a hand wedging between your bodies so he could harshly rub the place that had you thrashing within his hold.

“Ungh—please—”

“You can do it, come on,” he cooed, dulcet tone a distinct contrast to the nearly manic way he was pushing your body to its limits. “Nasty girl, be good for me. Don’t you wanna be good for me? Wanna soak my cock? Messy, messy.”

“J-J-Jungkook—”

“You’re almost there baby. You’re doing so good—”

This orgasm was much stronger than the last, wrenched from the deepest and unknown parts of you by his wicked hand. This time, you weren’t sure how long it took for the pleasure to subside, how long it took your consciousness to float back into your body. In a haze, you blinked the dancing spots away, slowly releasing the hold you had apparently taken on Jungkook’s hair in a desperate attempt to tether yourself to reality. The inky strands slipped between your fingers, but Jungkook didn’t seem particularly affected by the alleviation of the strain on his scalp. Instead, he had stopped moving entirely, his chest heaving against yours.

“You should move,” he said tightly, and when you pulled back so you could see his face, you found his teeth clenched and brow twisted.

“What?”

“I need you to get off me,” he tried again, tone a bit higher pitched this time. And that’s when you recognized the source of his tension for what it was—rising distress. “I’m—I’m gonna cum.”

Oh. Obediently, you pulled off him, the action making you both hiss in sensitivity. Jungkook barely waited long enough for you to move to the passenger seat before he was fisting his cock, jerking himself hard and fast. You watched, almost mesmerized, eyes blown and lips parted. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than the whines he was making, breathy and desperate. Couldn’t focus on anything other than the way he shamelessly held your stare, biting his lip to try to curb some of the noise the slick work of his hand was forcing out of him.

It was all so fucking hot. Every whimper that passed his lips shot straight to your core, walls fluttering in interest despite the proper beating it had already taken, and you couldn’t help but reach over, your hand covering his.

Jungkook paused at your touch. You could feel the way he was trembling, body vibrating with such an immense need that it simply could not keep still for even a moment. You answered the question in his eyes by leaning over the center console, your hand tapping his in a gentle request for him to let go. And as soon as he did, it was you who continued his task, easily slipping over him and continuing his previous rhythm. He was hard as stone, the skin of him hot and sticky with various fluids, and as you watched him quickly become undone, you couldn’t help but think the wetter, the better.

You leaned down, enthralled by the way he was rutting so desperately into your hand, the tip of him angry and leaking for you. Enraptured by the slack of his jaw. Captivated by the way his eyes glazed over. Transfixed by the red that bloomed across his cheeks oh so prettily.

You knew the exact moment he realized where you were going with this, because his thighs tensed with excitement, an audible breath being sucked through his teeth. You only looked up at him through your lashes, lips upturned devilishly. “We can’t leave a mess,” you reminded him, tone deceptively innocent. But the way you promptly licked a stripe up him was anything but.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook gasped, throwing his head back against the headrest. Unable to contain his enthusiasm at being graced with the heat of your mouth. At you curling your tongue around his needy head before you promptly swallowed him down, humming your own satisfaction. “Oh my god.”

You could taste yourself on him. But that was only an undercurrent to his own flavor, heady and heavy and getting more intense the longer you sucked him off. This wasn’t going to take very long—you could already tell from the hand he carefully rested on the back of your neck, nonverbally asking you not to stop, to take him deeper, but not forcing you to. You could tell from the way he was literally pulsing on your tongue, aching and ready to burst.

It was with a particularly deep pass, your nose brushing the curly hairs at the base, that he finally did. An expert hollowing of your cheeks did him in, hot, bitter cum shooting down your throat as he moaned and moaned, involuntarily thrusting further into your mouth. And when it was over, you left him with a pop, returning to your side of the car and wiping residual spit and cum from your chin with the back of a hand.

Jungkook looked at you, mouth agape and chest still heaving, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

An incredulous laugh bubbled from your lips. “Oh my god. I can’t believe I just did that.”

He didn’t respond, still too busy staring at you like you had hung the moon in the sky. Like you had sucked his soul from his body. And maybe you had.

“I can’t believe I let you in raw.” Your laugh took on an edge of growing dread. “Oh my god, I let you in raw. Fuck, don’t you have herpes?”

That got his attention. He let out an amused scoff, tiredly tucking himself back into his pants. “I do not have herpes. Why the hell would you think I have herpes? Did somebody tell you that?”

“Chlamydia?” you countered.

His brows pinched. “No, of course not—”

“I can’t believe I really just let you give me the itchies and scratchies, oh my god!”

“_____, I DO NOT HAVE A VENEREAL DISEASE.”

You paused, thrown out of your impeding meltdown by your curiosity. “Venereal.  That’s a big word.”

His chest puffed out. “Yeah, well, I know big words.”

“Like meniscus?”

“I know big words that matter,” he clarified with a grin, much too happy to be bothered by your taunting. “And for the record, you didn’t know that one either.”

Well, he definitely had you there. “Whatever,” you muttered, pretending to busy yourself with straightening the hem of your dress and smoothing down your hair and generally making sure it didn’t look like you had just gotten done fucking in the front seat of a car. Which you had. Holy shit, was that wild.

The two of you sat for a few moments, the quiet between you comfortable, yet timid. This was brand new territory, this shift in your relationship, and both of you seemed hesitant to accidentally fuck it up.

It was Jungkook who took the leap of faith first, smile soft and slightly crooked. (Always Jungkook, fearless and headstrong and finally yours.) “Are you ready to go?” At your careful nod, he held out his hand. “Keys, please.”

It took you a few moments to find where you had put them, tossed uncaringly aside when Jungkook had pulled you onto his lap. Luckily, a cursory sweep beneath your seat uncovered them easily enough, and you dropped them into your boyfriend’s awaiting palm.

Boyfriend. Just thinking the word made you giddy, the whole situation pretty ridiculous and unreal. But you supposed that summed up your relationship pretty accurately.

“Hey,” you said thoughtfully as he carefully backed out of the parking space, a guiding hand behind your headrest. “Can we get a yacht?”

His curious gaze swiftly moved from over his shoulder to you as he put the car in drive. “What?”

“I kinda promised Namjoon’s unborn children that I would be the vodka aunt who yachted the Mediterranean with thotties on the regular,” you explained reasonably. “You can be the thottie if you want, but I’m gonna need a yacht to truly capture the vibe I’m going for.”

Jungkook blinked. “I mean, I make nine-fifty an hour at work study, but yeah.”

You sighed happily. “Congrats. You’ve just earned yourself the title of Head Thottie.”

A puff of laughter, a hand making itself comfortable on your thigh. “I’m truly honored.”

You bit your lip, trying not to get turned on by his one-handed driving or the heat of his palm, because you had places to be and cars to return.

Shit. You had cars to return.

“…Okay, so sidebar, but it definitely smells like sex in here. There’s no way Tae won’t know.”

Jungkook worried his bottom lip. “Do you have any Febreeze or something?”

“Do you really think I just carry a fucking can of Febreeze around with me everywhere?” you scoffed.

“I don’t see how that’s such a crazy assumption when you literally carry seasoned salt around with you everywhere!”

Now, why was he bringing your Lawry’s into this? “You never know when the food will be unseasoned,” you retorted defensively. “And then what am I supposed to do, Jungkook? Eat it anyway? I’m trying to enjoy life. No thanks.”

“Well, if we had just fucked outside like I wanted to,” he snarked back, “we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re really cementing your position as the actual irritating one in this relationship.” But you weren’t truly mad—not really. Not when this irritating dummy was finally your irritating dummy.

“You’re the irritating one,” he singsonged, sending you a purposely irritating wink that had you fighting a smile. He squeezed your thigh. “What if we try driving with all the windows down? Maybe we can air it out.”

“It’s worth a try,” you agreed, but just as you reached over to lower your window, a thought suddenly occurred to you. “Actually, you know what? I have an idea. I think it’ll be fine, we just gotta make a stop.”

Taehyung was understandably wary when the two of you finally darkened his doorway, interrupting his study session. Even though at times he could be a bit of an airhead, he had always been too sharp for his own good when he wanted to be, so it didn’t surprise you that he clocked your nervous energy immediately. “Everything okay?” he asked, looking suspiciously between the two of you.

“Yeah, everything’s great,” you replied, tossing him his keys. Tone much too high for everything to be great.

Tae’s eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on?”

You let out an audible exhale. No use in trying to bullshit him—might as well get it over with. Jungkook handed you the box that would hopefully save your asses and you tilted it in Tae’s direction in offering.

Taehyung looked at you curiously, a finger lifting the lid. His face fell.

Sorry I Had Sex in Your Car, the icing declared boldly. The lady in the bakery section had truly gotten a kick outta that one.

“OH, COME ONNNN,” Tae whined loudly. “Seriously?”

“It has strawberries inside,” you offered sheepishly, pushing the cake into his hands.

He shook his head, lip jutting out in a pout. “Really, _____? Without me?!”

You couldn’t help the snort that left you, all of your previous trepidation gone. That was what he was upset about? Of course that was what he was upset about. You had forgotten who you were talking to. “Sorry, bud,” you soothed, patting him on the shoulder. “Maybe next time.”

“Nope!” Jungkook cut in so sharply that it startled you a bit, somehow having forgotten while dangling your bribe that he was there too, hovering behind you. One of his hands wrapped around your hip possessively and pulled you closer to his body. “Absolutely not. I already moved two bucks into the yacht account—you’re done. Sorry, hyung,” he called over his shoulder belatedly, not sounding the least bit sorry as he led you both towards the doorway.

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute!” he called, tone now even more scandalized. “You—Jungkookie—together? And nobody invited me??”

Finals week ultimately came to an end, and with it the school year, setting everyone free from late night cramming and anxiety-fueled mini-breakdowns (for a few months, at least). As per usual, Beta Tau decided to throw its end of the year rager to celebrate, but the festivities were undoubtedly more bittersweet this year.

Because this year—in a little less than a week, to be exact— Seokjin and Yoongi were graduating. While everyone was set to leave campus for the summer, your oldest friends wouldn’t be coming back to join you in the fall, and it was a sad reality that your friend group had done a good job of ignoring up until the very last second. But your time was officially up, and Namjoon decided the best way to address the elephant in the room by throwing it one last costume party.

Dynamic Duos was the theme, a fitting nod to the two men who had been each other’s best friend, roommate, and wingman for all four years of their college careers. And even though the theme had been chosen pretty last minute, Jungkook had been super excited to brainstorm your outfits, bashfully admitting at your light prodding that he couldn’t wait to debut as a couple and show off your matching ensembles. It was super cute and you were super flattered and super endeared.

Now, however, from the way that even across the room you could see him pouting from beneath his mustache, it was clear this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

“Oh come on!” Seokjin yelled at the sight of you, already intoxicated, even this early in the festivities. (Hey, they were technically his festivities, so he could do whatever he damn well pleased. And what apparently pleased him was dressing up like a cowboy and getting shitfaced.) He gestured wildly at you, exasperated. “Namjoon, when I told you I wanted to come as Mario, you told me that was stupid!”

Namjoon shrugged, taking a sip from his cup. He had played it cheap and safe with a red t-shirt whose logo declared him to be Heinz ketchup. Lisa, sitting next to him in a yellow t-shirt, was his matching mustard. “I told her that too.”

You lifted your own cup in acknowledgment, patting your mustache to ensure it stayed properly in place. “You just gotta stop caring what other people think of you, Seokjin. Live your best life.”

Your group was crowded around a few couches you had claimed as yours, alternating between mingling with the other partygoers and retreating back to your own little circle. The guests of honor were currently gracing you with their presence, though Jin didn’t seem very to happy to see you in his preferred costume choice.

He curled his lip at you, apparently not finding the situation nearly as amusing as you did.

“Oh come on, don’t be mad at me,” you whined. “You’re graduating and I’m sad about it. Who else am I going to gossip with about the faculty’s sex lives?”

Seokjin’s expression softened affectionately before turning appropriately indignant. “Me, obviously! You have my phone number and I expect regular updates. I need to know how Professor Ortiz’s secret new ventures into being a sugar mama ends up. If the job I have lined up doesn’t work out, I might just apply to that one.”

“Honestly, you should probably try that route first,” Yoongi drawled. “But you might as well stop being so pissy. For the record, it didn’t matter how much you begged me—I was not going to be Princess Peach.”

Jin balked, thoroughly offended on the princess’s behalf. “It was a great idea,” he slurred. “Theirs is a love that transcends time. Withstands all obstacles!”

Yoongi merely met him with an unimpressed stare. “She was the goddamn obstacle. All she ever did was get repeatedly kidnapped and expect to be rescued.”

“You didn’t want to be Peach,” you said slowly, thinking out loud. “So instead you agreed to be Buzz Lightyear and encouraged your other half to show up to his going away party looking like a stripper?”

“Hey, Buzz Lightyear is an intergalactic hero and you will respect him as such.” Yoongi pointed a finger at you. “And besides, it’s not Jin-hyung’s fault that the only chaps we could find on such short notice were assless.”

“…Yoongi, Woody doesn’t even wear chaps.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “So what’s the matter with him?” he prompted instead, tilting his head towards where Jungkook was chatting with Taehyung and Jimin not too far away. The two of them had opted to go for rather busted versions of Anna and Elsa. (You wondered if you should alert Tae to the fact that he was actually—and very obviously—wearing a Merida wig. He probably wouldn’t give a shit anyway.)

“You mean Jungkook?” you asked. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just huffy because I reminded him I’m shorter and can probably grow a better mustache than him, so I obviously deserved to be the titular character between us. For realism purposes.”

“You probably shouldn’t be proud of that,” Namjoon pointed out.

You ignored him. “I also offered him the option of sexy Yoshi, but he politely declined.”

“I should have been Mario, if we’re gonna bring up realism,” Seokjin huffed, still clearly salty that someone else had dressed as his beloved character. “Can you even repair a pipe? NO.”

You couldn’t help but be amused by how hard drunk Jin was going in on this. “I’ve literally seen you wash your face with Dial soap before,” you replied cheekily. “The kind with a pump. You can’t tell me shit.”

He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “It worked, didn’t it?” he sniffed.

It had. His complexion was as clear and smooth as a newborn baby’s asscheek. Fucking men.

“I don’t think Mario even knows how to repair a pipe,” Namjoon annoyingly cut in.

“Oh my god, Joonie,” you groaned. “Stop raining on our parade and being so jealous of our creativity! It’s nobody’s fault but yours that you picked something so boring. I told you you should have just leaned into the obvious choice for you and come as Squidward.”

Namjoon leveled you with a look.

“What?! You could have been Handsome Squidward if you wanted. Tae has that whole astronaut suit that Lisa could have borrowed.”

“But Sandy and Squidward aren’t really friends,” Lisa pondered out loud. “So I’d have to be, like, his clarinet or something.”

You nodded agreeably. “You know, I’m pretty sure Tae has one of those too.”

Namjoon took a sip from his cup. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

But before you could retort, the oncoming sound of a familiar snickering made your ears perk up, brought forth the emergence of soft fluttering in your stomach. You turned your head, and there he was, the Luigi to your Mario. Sliding a casual arm around your waist, matching the dumb smile you couldn’t help but send his way.

God, even you could recognize that the two of you were disgusting. But aside from Yoongi raising a pointed eyebrow, no one else commented on this sudden turn of events. Had the two of you ultimately getting together really been that obvious?

“He thinks the sun shines out of your ass,” Joon pointed out, interrupting your increasingly sappy thoughts. “He doesn’t count!”

You cleared your throat, turning away from Jungkook to get back at the matter at hand—teasing Namjoon. “Yikes. Somebody’s panini pressed.”

Lisa, who at this point had become so acclimated to the two of you constantly bickering that she barely reacted to it anymore, finally decided to drop her two cents on the topic. “…Okay, but in all seriousness, Handsome Squidward would have been funny.”

You raised your hand approvingly and she easily met you halfway, palm smacking palm.

“I regret ever introducing you two,” Namjoon deadpanned, but from the way his lips were twitching up, you knew that was a bold-faced lie. Your best friend was the happiest you had seen him in a long time, and he truly deserved it. That knowledge was what made you give his knee a few affectionate pats as you unfolded yourself from the couch, making your way to the kitchen to give your cup another refill.

You didn’t see him right away, the room filled with enough drunken partygoers that your view of him was momentarily blocked. But the closer you got to the counter, the harder it was for you not to see him, busy arranging shot glasses on a tray. He casually looked up, and suddenly it was too late—your eyes had locked. He had seen you too.

Normally, this was the type of moment where you’d play dumb, pretend you hadn’t seen him standing there at all. Maybe use the crowded area to your advantage and just slip away, ducking behind other partygoers and using them as a shield. But you had promised yourself that you weren’t going to run anymore when things got uncomfortable.

You had promised Jungkook.

So, with a grounding breath, you decided not to run.

“Hey Jimin.”

“Hey,” he replied automatically, visibly thrown off by your uncharacteristic directness. Rightfully so, Jimin had probably assumed the two of you were just going to continue to avoid each other—simply waiting for your mutual embarrassment to die down over summer break before approaching each other again. Yet here you were, sending him a timid smile and looking him straight in the eye.

You cleared your throat, gesturing to his tray. “What ya got there?”

“Well, this is supposed to be a celebration, so I figured we should all take some celebration shots.” You wondered where he was able to find an Elsa costume so quickly that was big enough to fit him, but you didn’t doubt Taehyung had something to do with it. He looked a bit silly standing there in a sparkly blue dress and a cheap blond wig, but you were sure you in your overalls and fake mustache didn’t come across any less ridiculous.

“Good idea! I was just coming in here to get another drink.”

“Well, I’ve got cheap vodka and cheap vodka. What flavor are you feeling, whipped cream or strawberry lemonade?”

“Hmm. Last time I had the whipped cream flavor I puked in a bush, so let’s go with strawberry lemonade.”

“Good choice,” he smiled, reaching for the appropriate bottle and starting to fill the shotglasses. There was an extended pause, his smile faltering a bit as he continued, “So you and Jungkook, huh?”

He hadn’t bothered to put his wig on properly, and so his own bangs were what shielded his eyes from you a bit as he kept pouring. You didn’t let yourself look away anyway. “Yeah.”

Another pause, and then he nodded to himself, meeting your eyes again. “Good,” he said softly, and you could tell that he meant it. Could tell that ultimately, the two of you were gonna be okay. “Good for you.”

Your heart warmed, content in the knowledge that with a bit more time, the awkwardness would disappear entirely and your friendship could continue to grow. Finished tray of shots in hand, Jimin followed you back to where your friends were waiting for you. But when you the two of you approached, you found that a few members of your group had rotated. Hoseok had appeared in a Pikachu onesie, the clear partner to your friend Luisa, who was obviously his trainer. Namjoon was gone, and so were Seokjin and Yoongi, though a cursory look around for Yoongi’s brightly-colored hair revealed him to be busy chatting with Mina on the other side of the room. You paused in surprise at how closely they were standing, Mina’s receptive body language a major tell. Huh.

HUH.

…Actually, with Mina’s headstrong personality and Yoongi’s relatively chill one, that might actually work out. You wish your roommate hadn’t waited until he was about to graduate to give him a try, but even if this didn’t morph into anything more, Yoongi was a more reliable booty call than Jackson, at the very least.

Who knew where Jin or Joon had gone, but with Seokjin strutting around in assless chaps, you were sure wherever he was, he was doing just fine.

Jungkook had moved to Yoongi’s vacated spot on the couch, and when he saw you approaching, he reached his hand out. Instinctively, you took it, allowing him to pull you close enough to guide you onto his lap.

You went willingly, quietly observing the overlapping fabric of your matching overalls. “Hey you,” he said softly, and even in the din of a raging party, even as Jimin started handing out shots to everyone, it was really just the two of you. Just you and him, everything else fading out.

“Hey you,” you returned, giving the rim of his green hat a fond tap.

He turned his head at the action, nuzzling affectionately into your jaw. “Our mustaches are touching,” he murmured. “And it feels kinda weird.”

You snorted, letting out a put upon sigh. “Why is everyone at this party so jealous of my superior mustache, oh my god.”

Jungkook just smiled at you, the one with too much teeth that made your heart swell and swell until it felt too large for your ribcage. He didn’t bother answering, choosing instead to pull you down for a kiss. Your mustaches brushed. He was right. It was totally weird.

But that didn’t stop three little words from starting to bubble up your throat, and you hastily swallowed them, your ego not allowing you to be the first to say them.

(In the end, that didn’t turn out to be much of a competition—Jungkook lost spectacularly a few weeks later when, after doing shrooms with Jimin, he called you at 2am to pour his heart out and cry. It would become one of your most treasured memories and you would never let him live it down.)

The sudden sound of an enraged roar emanating from the kitchen had everyone in the immediate vicinity reflexively turning towards the noise. It took you a few moments to recognize that the culprit was Namjoon, hollering expletives like it was his job.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHO THE FUCK KEEPS DOING THIS?!”

You all looked at each other. Jimin chuckled sheepishly, guilt written all over his face.

“Whoops,” he winced, a hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “It was my turn to be guarding that…”

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!”

⇢ previous | series masterlist

[xec]

Hi everyone! This is an updated version of my Gifmaking Tips & Tricks Guide from back in 2019. I’ve learned a lot more and my style also changed, so I felt like an update was due.

As I stated in the first version, this guide won’t be going over gif making basics. There are already so many tutorials out there, I don’t think there’s that much insight to be gleaned from another step-by-step breakdown. I decided to instead make a “general tips” type guide to help up-and-coming creators, or anyone who wants to spice up their style. I’m not a master gif maker by any means, but I’ve been doing this for 9+ years and I’ve learned a few things along the way that I am happy to share with you all!

Please keep in mind: This guide presupposes that you have a basic knowledge of the gif making process, like how to import footage to Photoshop and use the timeline. With that said, let’s get into it.

I. Capture your own footage. I know this option is not realistic for everyone, but if you have the right device, I recommend recording your own footage and using that instead of taking something from Youtube. Not only will the uncompressed material look better, but you also have a lot more control over things like camera placement, mods, skins, settings, etc.

II. Use 60fps footage instead of 30fps. Record in 60fps, or download videos in 60fps when you can. This contributes hugely to making your gifs look smoother. Keep in mind that it also limits how long you can make your gif, since you’ll be using twice the amount of frames for the same scene, making it a larger file size. It’s up to you to decide whether the tradeoff is worth it. I personally find that 30fps looks perfectly fine in gifs where there’s not a lot of movement, but for character/action shots you’ll generally want to use 60fps. Here is a shot with some movement to demonstrate the difference:

III. Use Video Frames to Layers, not Load Files Into Stack. This is a big one. Video players like KM Player and Potplayer extract video frames as still images (pngs, bmps or jpegs) which always results in compression, meaning the images will look more grainy, pixelated, and less colorful than the original footage.

Using Video Frames to Layers eliminates this problem, since Photoshop simply imports the existing footage, which you can then crop and resize to your desired parameters. Your final result will be completely lossless and perfectly crisp. The difference in quality is noticeable, especially with darker gifs that would normally look jagged and grainy. For absolute best results I also recommend using Avisynth (tutorial linked here).

Note how her skin is blotchier on the right, and the details of her clothes and jewelry are less defined.

IV. Adjust your gif speed. I recommend 0.03 seconds for 60fps, and 0.05 seconds for 30/24fps gifs. I do not recommend going below 0.06 seconds - your gif will start to look slow and choppy.

V. Use gradients and light leaks. I do this a lot, especially with scenery gifs. Adding a lighter gradient to the edges will harmonize the gif and make the colors pop more. Simply paint over the sides with a soft brush and a medium-vibrant color, set the blend mode to screen, and ta-da! The difference is subtle, but your gif will look a million times better. Keep in mind though, that this technique will increase your gif size, since you are adding more color to it.

VI. Delete duplicate frames. This will also help you achieve a “smoother” look. Simply go through all your frames one-by-one and make sure there aren’t any that are exactly the same. It will take a minute, but if you skip this step your gifs might look choppy. Deleting extra frames will also save you some file size & upload time. After a few practices, your eyes will naturally catch on duplicate frames and you won’t have to go frame-by-frame anymore.

VII. Layer your gifs. This style is very popular at the moment for a reason - it looks great! All you have to do is convert your gif into a Smart Object, drag it on top of another gif, set the blend mode to Screen and mess around with the placement until you’re satisfied. Check out these amazingly talented people for inspiration: x, x, x

VIII. Add noise. I especially recommend this for black & white gifs to add an extra layer of depth. Be careful not to overdo it though, as using too much will result in your gifs looking low-quality and lossy.

IX. Don’t use the same coloring for all gifs. Not a hard and fast rule, but usually one single PSD will not suit the lighting of every scene. You can always customize your coloring by either making your own, or downloading someone else’s and tweaking it to your liking. Everyone has their own style and you are not obligated to stick to whatever’s popular at the moment - just make sure you are not lightening the skintone of characters with deeper complexions!

Note that the coloring is the same, I just painted a layer mask around her skin, so the brightness adjustment layer doesn’t affect her skintone.

X. And finally… don’t be afraid to experiment! Photoshop has a lot of buttons and gadgets that can be intimidating at first glance, but don’t be afraid to give things a try; you might discover effects you never knew about and end up with a result that you never would’ve expected. My best edits have resulted from me simply messing around with different blend modes and filters.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you learned something new from this post! If you have any questions, my inbox is always open. And if you implement any of these techniques, please feel free to tag me in your beautiful creations!

[novaglenn]

it was always you [caitlyn x reader]

prompt: when an invesgation doesn't go as planned, the Kiramman mansion is the only place you recognise to go to

a/n: so this was originally supposed to be like one long bit but i changed my mind since idk if i can gain enough energy to write this without taking months since i procrastinate too much 😭 so i'm gonna upload these chapters slowly and it might end up being maybe 5 parts? also one of these days i'll actually be able to come up with a title... and i proofread this like twice so there might be mistakes…

[soo…. i lost motivation 🥴 like usual lol so for whoever reads this it’s decided to make this a stand alone instead of a series, but if somehow i get some motivation i’ll probably try to write more]

It had only been a few months since you graduated from the academy and officially became a warden, and with you being at the top of your class there were high expectations from your mentors and seniors. Yet here you were in the aftermath of your own stupid idea, a little more bruised and bloodied than usual but at least you were alive. The plan was do a simple undercover into a gang that began appearing in Piltover more than they should, it just didn’t occur to you that accidentally exposing yourself as a warden was a potential outcome.

The sky was getting darker, and you weren’t sure if you could hold out any longer without passing out from exhaustion. It didn’t help that your apartment was too far, but you also didn’t want to stay on the streets. A beaten-up warden in the middle of an alleyway wasn’t a good look for either you or the force. You finally took in your surroundings; the area wasn’t familiar to you considering the fact that you’re only thought after the fight was to escape and hide.

It couldn’t hurt to asking one of the residents in the area to take you in for the night, but you didn’t want to risk it in case they decide to gossip. It’s only then you notice a large mansion in the distance. The Kiramman mansion. Without a second thought, you muster up as much strength as you could and start to make the journey there.

By the looks of it, the mansion was either empty or everybody had already gone to bed. At least this meant that there was less of a chance of you bumping into the councillor or her husband. Considering your status and occupation, you wouldn’t put it pass Cassandra Kiramman to bring this up to someone higher up. You scan the perimeter, and from what you could see, the fence was surrounding the residence. Even if there was another entrance, you really weren’t in the best shape to go looking around for one. Picking the lock on the gate would have to do.

For a family who lived this well, you would have expected some tight security, yet somehow you managed to break in with ease. You make a note to find a way to bring that up in the future. Piltover has crime like every other city, but you can’t be too sure. You’re stumbling all the way to the side of the mansion, and finally make it to what you hope is an empty room that you can hide in for the night. Lucky for you, the window is slightly open, just enough for you to slide your hand through to pry it wide open so that you can make your way inside.

After what feels like forever, you’re finally inside and hoping to finally get some well-deserved rest. However, your peace is quickly disrupted by the light turning on and one Caitlyn Kiramman aiming her rifle at you. “Can you at least let me rest before you shoot me?” Your tone is joking, it isn’t long before you start coughing. As first impressions go, this was definitely making its way to the top of the ‘what not to say to girl you’ve barely spoken to’ list.

“Y/N, what happened to you?” Caitlyn sets her rifle down before rushing over to your side. Her knowing your name had caught you by surprise. You were both in the same graduating class at the academy, but there was never any indication that she knew you. “Oh, you know, just got into a little fight I guess.” You’re lying before you know it, her finding out that your investigation went south was another big no on a list you have yet to name.

Caitlyn doesn’t reply and judging by the look on her face she knows that you’re not telling the truth, thankful that she doesn’t push any further. You lean your back against the wall, a sigh of relief escaping your lips at finally being able to rest against something that wasn’t damp and uncomfortable. However, Caitlyn has other plans and before you can protest, she wraps her arm around your back and practically lifts you up bridal style.

“W-What are you doing?!” The tips of your ears redden in embarrassment, and you start to struggle to escape, mainly so that you can remove those feelings, but look from Caitlyn has you cowering in defeat.

“I could have walked there myself you know,” your voice is quiet and timid? Of course, Caitlyn Kiramman is the only person that can have you sounding like that. You don’t have to look in her direction to know the expressions that she has on her face. It’s probably that stern one that she on nearly 24/7 and maybe a hint of worry, but only if you squint hard enough.

“I just didn’t want you bleed out on the rug, it cost a lot of money, Caitlyn replies, she sounds like she’s teasing you back, the hint of smile on her lips only adding to it. Now that’s another surprise and you can’t help but return with one of your own. “Oh wow, Caitlyn Kiramman telling a joke? That’ll be on to tell the papers.” She laughs at that and even though that was the first time you’d heard it, you decided that it was your favourite sound.

It’s like the both of you suddenly remember that her parents are still in the mansion, and despite many rooms and floors, for some reason you feel like there’s a slight chance that they could hear you. The silence between you both is comfortable, lasting until Caitlyn finally enters what you assume to her bedroom. Once inside you expect her to settle you done in the chair closest to the door, but she doesn’t.

Instead, you’re nearing the bed and soon enough she’s laying you down gently on the softest bed that you’ve ever felt in your life. The sheets feel smooth against your skin, if it weren’t for your injuries and blood covering, you’re sure you would’ve fallen asleep by now. You would never have thought that the night would end with Caitlyn carrying you to her bed. Now that you think about it, this definitely feels like something a couple would do.

“Aren’t we moving a little too fast, I would’ve liked a date first,” you tease. Caitlyn decides not to respond to your words, only choosing to ignore you, but the faintest blush appearing on her cheeks is already response enough.

“I’m going to get the first aid kit,” she’s running off before you know it, leaving you to think about whatever the hell that was. Is she just shy or is it something else? You decide to figure it out another time, resting was more important now that you finally have place to do so. Caitlyn will probably be back before you even realise, but for now you close your eyes, it won’t hurt to relax before she returns to patch you up.