#i’m ready but i know my lifting buddy and friends aren’t lmao

[meticulous-tendencies]

spartan race on saturday 😍💀

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part seven

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: hello i apologise in advance. pls dont hurt me!!! i would appreciate your feedback and your theories about where this fic is going! i hope this part isn’t too..... upsetting lmao. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist | please donate to my ko-fi!

masterlist

You believed, until now, that you walked the world seeking out dark corners and underbellies other people didn’t want to touch. That’s your job. The current case you're supposed to be working on involves a man suspected of drugging his girlfriend to take nonconsensual nudes of her and sell them to his friends while she slept. You’re well aware the world is a dangerous place.

But things look different now, in a way you never could have imagined before the Lerna. Those men were dead before you could blink, and you know life is expendable and fragile and so easy to take but it’s another thing to see it taken before your eyes. It’s another thing to take it yourself. And you know, now, why Bucky would only show you parts of his life and himself because this whole truth feels like staring directly into the sun - painfully bright, to the point where it’s all you can see and all the good things are reduced to a spotty, hazy blur.

You’re sitting in your office, at your desk where you’re trying to work but you can’t get the sound of bullet casings hitting the floor and the thunk of a knife in skin out of your head. There, in the centre of your tiny office, was where you sat on Bucky’s lap and kissed him and demanded ‘no secrets.’ Too stubborn to know he was keeping them for a reason, that maybe there are things you don't want to know after all. But you can feel his skin under your fingertips and the brush of his stubble as he kissed you, a memory you can touch, and you can’t help but think it still feels worth it. At the end of it all, if it was a choice of the Lerna happening or never having Bucky at all, you know what you’d chose.

As if he can hear you, your phone buzzes with a text from him. Joey’s at 7?

It’s already 6:30. You’re grabbing your keys and leaving the fear on your desk chair as you text him back. Sounds perfect.

It really is. Joey’s is your favourite bar, and just seeing the grimy neon sign outside makes your heart feel less heavy. This, after everything, remains the same. You still feel giddy jogging down the stairs, ready for the heady bass music to push through your chest and a whiskey apple to numb the wounds. It feels like the beginning, half-nervous half-excited to go find Bucky tucked in a booth at the back, dim purple light chiseling out his cheekbones and catching bright on his sharp smile. Back then it was innocent, if a fuck buddy hook-up could be. Now that you know you would do things for Bucky you’d never do for anyone else, that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to remove his brand from your heart- well. You skip a couple more steps as you head down into Joey’s, only a few minutes late.

You don’t slow down as you enter the bar, weaving through patrons searching for a familiar face. Now that you’re here to the urge to see him, to have him in your arms, is almost unbearable. When you do find Bucky, spinning a glass between his fingers in a nervous habit you’ve noticed he has, he feels your eyes on him immediately. He stands and you crash into him, burying your hands under his leather jacket to feel the warmth of his body against your palms. Bucky hugs you back just as harshly, the force of his embrace lifting your toes off the ground. When he pulls away his runs a hand over your head, down your hair, coming to rest by the side of your neck as if to check your pulse and make sure you’re really there.

“You ok?” he asks, bright blue eyes now dark and hooded as he stares down at you.

You nod, unwilling to let go of your grip on the back of his t-shirt even as he pulls away, and say, “Am now.”

“Need to talk to you, it’s important,” Bucky says. He escapes your grip with ease, because he’s huge and strong and it’s easy to forget that when he softens for you. He sits at the booth and you slide in across him, watching as he downs the rest of the straight whiskey in his glass like its water. That bad feeling is back, like back at Steve’s tattoo shop, but you don’t want it here. You fumble for Bucky’s hand across the table, and he lets you hold it but it doesn’t stop the dread settling heavy in your gut. You squeeze his fingers tighter, just in case.

“Is everything alright?” you ask. “Are we- did the cops find out-“

“No, no,” Bucky says, shaking his head down at the table. His gaze catches on your intwined fingers, the glint of his signet rings in the dim bar light, and says, “The cops aren’t the problem.”

“But there is a problem,” you say, and now Bucky raises his eyes to look at you.

“I need to tell you something, it’s important” Bucky says, again, and the dread rises from your stomach like bile to your throat. “You have to understand this, so you can see that I’m not- that this isn’t just-“

“Bucky.” He lets out a ragged breath as you cut him off mid ramble, scrubs a hand through his hair. You hate the way your voice wobbles when you say, “You’re scaring me.”

You almost make yourself laugh as those words leave your mouth. This scares you? Bucky, frustrated and nervous and clinging to your hand like a lifeline, but when he walked over lifeless bodies he sunk bullets into with a giant rifle on his back - that was just fine.

“You know when we were at Steve’s, and we were talking about Hydra? About Rumlow? Do you remember that?” Bucky asks. He stares at you like he’s imploring you to say it for him, whatever it is he’s struggling to say, but you don’t understand.

You nod slowly and say, “Natasha said Rumlow had it out for you. You said Hydra is your biggest rival.”

“Yes, right,” Bucky says, nodding a bit manically. He’s still gripping your hand tight. “Rumlow hated me, and as far as we can tell - or Nat, I guess, she’s been looking into it - he was acting on his own, to get to me.”

“That’s good, right?” You don’t feel sure, with the way Bucky is acting and looking at you all glassy-eyed. “No big gang war, or whatever.”

“I need you to understand why Rumlow hated me, because it’s not just- it wasn’t just about him, ok?” Bucky says, and now he’s looking around the room like that night in your office. Casing the bar, looking for exits. “He’s dead, but none of this died with him.”

“What is ‘this’?” you ask, and wonder for the first time, do I want to find out?

“The first time I met Rumlow was in the hospital, a couple of days after I got back from Afghanistan,” Bucky says. “I’d been honourably discharged, my arm was all fucked up and fried from a chem bomb and I lost all sensation in it so they sent me home. I remember I was lying in the bed looking out the window, and it was snowing. I hadn’t been anywhere but a desert in so long and I was like, what do I do know? I don’t own a coat anymore. I’m a black ops sniper, that’s not exactly a transferrable skill - can’t even put it on a resume because it’s classified. My arm’s fried and ugly lookin’. I’m fucked.”

“You must’ve been so scared,” you say. Bucky meets your eyes, and you can see it haunting him in the back of them - so much heat and fire and pain left behind, so much cold and unknown and pain lying in front. Your dad has told you a similar story, when he came back from Iraq, and he had the same look in his eyes Bucky does right now.

“I was,” he says, and you squeeze his fingers. He looks towards your hands again and says, “I was, and they knew it.”

“Hydra,” you say, and you know you’re right. Bucky nods anyway.

“Rumlow came into my hospital room and told me, Hydra helps guys like me. They helped him and look - he’s got a job and money and friends and a team again. A purpose. But I said no. I’m black ops, I know shady guys when I seem ‘em and Rumlow reeked of it. Just, Hydra doesn’t like being told no.”

“They target vulnerable, traumatised vets in hospitals?” you ask, disgusted. You can taste the hate that boils up, and that ugly, angry part picturing Bucky lying in a bed so alone and afraid and imagining someone like Rumlow trying to take advantage of him like that - that ugly part says I’m glad he’s dead.

“They’re highly trained and easily moulded,” Bucky says in way of answer, and you shudder at the thought. “But seem Rumlow failed and it was my fault. He failed over and over again every time they sent him to recruit me. So he hated me, and then I started the Commandos with Steve and Sam and Nat to target them. The only way to save the next poor bastard like me from ending up with Hydra is to end them, except there ain't a cop in the city who can touch them.”

“But you can,” you say, and you know it’s stupid but your heart has never been known as terribly smart, so you add, “Bucky, that’s dangerous.”

He smiles, small but it’s there, and he rubs his thumb over your knuckles as he says, “I know, doll. I don’t know if you know this about me, but stupid’s kinda my thing.”

“Very funny,” you say, rolling your eyes at Bucky’s cheeky grin now splitting his face. As quick as it came, though, his smile dies and so does the small spark of hope that maybe this story has a happy ending.

“I’ve made Hydra my enemy and I can’t change that. I don’t want to,” Bucky says, nodding solemnly at his own words and you watch him physically turn cold, stony and distant in the space of a second. “But that means that as long as Hydra is around, they’re going to be coming after me. First Rumlow, but it won’t stop there. They’ll come and keep coming and what if, one time, I don’t get there in time? Or you don’t get to leave your phone on, or even make it to a location before they shoot you in the back of the car?”

“No,” you say. You’re not stupid, you know where this is going and just- no. Bucky is being deliberately harsh, speaking loud and unfiltered to try and make it easier to do what he’s about to do but you won’t let him. That dread turned bile has now turned into straight, acidic fire pumping through veins and it hurts.

Bucky smiles faint and sad, says, “You said it yourself - it’s dangerous no matter what.”

“That's not what I meant,” you say, shaking your head vehemently, wildly, as if you can physically shake Bucky of this stupid idea and the actual pain you’re in just entertaining this conversation. “You know that’s not what I meant, what are- you asked me to stay, Bucky. You asked me, and now you want-“

“I know, I know,” Bucky says,  tugging your hand close to him now but it’s your turn to try and pull away, albeit unsuccessfully. “I know and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you almost died. Do you understand that? They would have killed you, and the only reason is me.”  

“That’s such bullshit,” you say, trying and failing to pull your hand free of his grip but he isn’t letting go now and the death-grip he has on you, tethering you to him even as he pushes you away, makes your eyes sting with ugly tears.

“It’s not,” Bucky says, so sad, and you just want to kiss that guilt away for him even still, even as your heart is breaking under his fist. “You will always be in danger until the day comes where I can’t protect you, and I won’t do that to you. I can’t, I can’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“You can’t protect me if you’re not around,” you say, so soft you can barely be heard over Joey’s house music but honestly, you might as well be completely alone for how little you care about the bar around you.

“The safest place for you is away from me,” Bucky says, and that makes you laugh. Humourless, fucking painfully, but you laugh and Bucky glares so dark you’re reminded of the look in his eyes when he stared down at Rumlow’s body bleeding out on the ground. Through gritted teeth he says, “You think I would do this if there was any other way?”

“There is another way,” you say, glaring right back. “There’s not being a coward about it, Bucky. You lead a dangerous life, I get it. Believe me, I fucking get it, and I chose to stay. Ok? I wanna be here anyway, so why does my choice not matter to you? Is this some stupid excuse to get rid of me?”

“Don’t say that,” Bucky all but growls, and you should be scared. He’s scary, Bucky is dangerous by his own admission but you refuse to be afraid of him. Even when he’s trying to force you to be, holding your hand too tight and dragging you around the booth so he can pin you to the seat and you both know the only way you can move is if he lets you. As if he thinks he can scare you away from him, if he can’t reason you to go.

“I don’t care how dangerous it is,” you say into his seething face, inches from yours, teeth bared in a truly terrifying snarl as he pins you to the leather in a show of strength that will leave bruises tomorrow. “I don’t wanna be away from you.”

For half a moment, you really think Bucky is going to hit you. He moves so fast, and you’ve never seen his face look like that - hurt and angry and upset and half-insane all at once. But he just presses his forehead to yours, closes his eyes and breathes you in, and for another half a moment you get to think, maybe he’ll change his mind.

“You’re all I want,” Bucky breathes, so soft and quiet you almost don’t hear him if it wasn’t said almost directly into your skin. “But that’s selfish.”

“I don’t care,” you say, like a mantra now, or a prayer. Just hoping he’ll hear you, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.”

“You should,” Bucky says, and pulls away from you just as fast as he came in. “I won’t be the reason you end up dead.”

Bucky sits before you like a solid brick wall - unbreakable, immovable, cold and blank. His eyes are shuttered from you and you know there’s no way to get to him now. There’s nothing else you can say. If you aren’t enough for him to push past his fear and love you anyway, nothing you say is going to change his mind. Just because you know it’s true doesn’t mean it hurts any less, though, as you sit there boxed in by this menacing stranger looking at you in a way you never want to be looked at again. Like he already doesn’t know you. Like you’ve already been forgotten.

“This was always gonna happen, wasn’t it?” you ask, more to yourself than to Bucky. You laugh at his silence, the flat set of his mouth and clenched fists on his thighs. Maybe if you never went to that first party at Natasha’s house and remained at arms length, sneaking out his window and never staying the night, then maybe you could’ve had him just a little bit longer. But you didn’t, and now you’re hurt in a way you’ve never been before. Your dad never prepared you to survive a pain like this.

You slide out the other side of the booth, tripping slightly as you climb to unsteady feet. It’s hard to see through unshed tears but you don’t bother looking back at Bucky still sat in the booth. You weave through people just as fast as when you came in, but for the opposite reason now - you can’t leave behind this dim-lit bar painted with the gorey tatters of your heart fast enough.

When you emerge onto the street you know Bucky has followed you, his hulking presence palpable behind you as you stand on the sidewalk and try and calm your rapid heartbeat. You’re surprised its still beating with how much it hurts, especially when Bucky places a hand on your shoulder and cracks your heart neatly in two. He says, softly under New York traffic, “Let me drive you home. Please.”

Instead of asking why, why does he care, why does he want to, if the safest place is away from you then leave me alone, what you say is a mildly whiny, “You don’t know where I live.”

“I’ll put the address in my phone,” Bucky says, calm and low as if to placate you but you’re well past that point now. You’re crying openly on the street like a lunatic as Bucky gently takes your hand and leads you towards his bike, manhandles you onto it, clicks a helmet on over your head. It feels cruel for him to be this soft after so ruthlessly tearing you apart, but you suppose it’s better than being left alone in the street like he never cared at all.

When you pull up to your apartment building Bucky kills the engine and leans in close to you before you have a chance to jump off and run away. You think, surely he’s not about to kiss me right now and you really hate the part of you that hopes he does, but he doesn’t. He just leans in close and whispers into your helmet, “They could be watching your place, after what happened. I’m so sorry.”

You close your eyes. Bucky’s right, this will never stop, but that doesn’t mean you want to face it alone. Your whole life has been carved out for you only, but just once you thought maybe you could live it with someone else. That’s not a life for you to have, it seems, so you take a deep breath through snotty tears and nod, say, “I can handle it,” because you know you can. You’ll have to.

“I think-“ Bucky starts but falters, bites his lip blanched white before continuing, “They might leave you alone if you make it clear I’m not in your life anymore.”

“You can’t ask me to do that,” you say, and all the resolve you just gathered is shattered as instantly as you found it. You’re crying again because fuck, nothing has ever hurt like this has, from the inside where you can’t find it or heal it or stop it so it just sucks the life out of you one painful second at a time.

“You have to, honey,” Bucky says, and you want to punch him for it. The way he talks to you like he loves you, like he cares, but he can’t if he’s making you do this. Break your own heart to save his. “Scream at me, send me away. They won’t need to target you then.”

“You’re cruel,” you say, pulling away from him. You don’t want to touch him anymore, can’t stand to be this close so you trip off the bike and stumble down the street. Bucky stares after you, his own eyes teary and face screwed up in genuine pain. It could never compare to the sick feelings in your stomach as you take a deep breath and scream, “Go away, Bucky. Fucking leave me alone and never come back or I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me? Fuck off, and don’t come back.”

You can’t help the sob that rips from you, threatening to buckle your knees and break you right on the sidewalk. Bucky is looking at you like you’ve just stuck a knife in his chest but he asked you to, he keeps asking and taking and it’s always you that ends up hurt. You leave him on the street, stumble up the stairs to your apartment and sink to the floor as soon as the door clicks shut behind you. It’s dark in your apartment, nothing but streetlights outside casting shadows on furniture he never touched, but it still feels like he’s haunting you just the same.

Bucky’s bike revs to life and he tears away, the sound ripping straight through and down the street. It leaves you hollowed out, a burnt-through husk curled up on your hardwood floor. You know you’ll never hear that sound again.

****

For your entire life it’s always been you against the world. The only person you could ever trust is yourself, the only one who’s going to look out for you is you and you can’t remember a time where you didn’t think this way. Maybe it’s nature, maybe it’s nurture, but it’s how you’ve always seen the world.

However, you’re only now starting to feel what being truly alone is actually like.

Bucky’s contact lies open on your phone, but you don’t press call. You won’t. He pushed you away for your own ‘safety,’ for his own fear, and you’ll have to learn to live with his choice. Even though you still love him and always will, you can’t have him and you’ll just have to be ok with that. So you leave this contact photo up on your phone, resting on your coffee table beside your open laptop. You’ve got the input feed of the bug you planted in your dad’s kitchen open, chunky headphones on, scrolling through the audio from the past few days since you’d last seen him.

Your heart is broken by the first man you’ve ever let into your life and the only other person who knows you and who you trust, you’re currently spying on. Now, for the first time, you truly have no one left.

Focusing on work has always been an escape for you, and even when your life is in pieces around you and your heart looks no different, work still pulls through. Even if that work is your own father and the inane conversations he has with himself about the baseball teams on TV, or the calls he makes to his vet friends, or the late-night renditions of ABBA songs you remember well from your childhood. A file lies open on your coffee table with your father’s name on it and pages of notes you’ve made from nearly one hundred hours of audio recordings. You hope beyond hope that you’re just paranoid, and that this time when you go digging you don’t find anything at all.

The only thing you’ve noticed so far is your dad makes a lot of phone calls. They’re long, with a lot of names thrown around you don’t recognise as being his friends or anyone from work he’s mentioned to you before. You write them all down to look up later, but you’ve got to go meet a client so you shut everything down and collect your notes in the file. You hide them, just in case, and grab your leather jacket before you leave. You still have rent to pay. The world goes on around you despite everything being turned upside down, almost as if Bucky never happened at all.

You leave via the back of the building, to come out onto the street closest to the subway station. Usually smokers hang out around there so you aren’t surprised to see two men leaning against the wall, but you are surprised when they star following you down the alley. At this point you’re an old hand at being followed, and the petty part of you brain thinks in Bucky’s direction, see? Doesn’t matter if you’re here or not, dumbass. You sigh to yourself and plan to give them the run around once you clear the alley, but you don’t get a chance to.

From behind you hear a couple of solid thunks, a groan, a muttered curse from one of the men and then one final thunk before silence. You turn around, half afraid of who you’re going to meet once you do and half annoyed because you think you might know who it is. Sure enough, standing there in her leather jacket and a rusted metal pipe from the dumpster in her grip, is Natasha.

She blows a stray strand of hair out of her face and says, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“So he’ll break up with me but will still have me followed,” you say, folding your arms over your chest. Natasha shrugs and you mutter, “Figures.”

“I am always the first to say James is an idiot,” Natasha says, twirling the pipe like a baton in her delicate hands. She grins at you and says, “James is an idiot.”

“I’m aware,” you grit out, glaring at the red-head. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t end up as Hydra mince-meat,” Natasha says, “What does it look like?”

“Doing whatever Bucky says even when it’s stupid,” you say. Natasha doesn’t like that, her bright grin dropping into a scowl as she steps up to you. Small, but with a clearly lethal weapon in her hands if the unconscious bodies behind her are anything to go by, she jabs the tip of the pipe into your chest and forces you a step backwards.

“James always has good intentions, even if his logic is sometimes flawed.” She drops the pipe, letting it clang to the floor between you as if to punctuate her saying, “Besides, James didn't tell me to do anything. I volunteered.”

“Why?” you ask, sneering slightly. “I think we both know you don’t trust me, or like me, and you make it very hard to like you.”

Natasha smiles at that, and you hate the face she makes every time you say something she ‘approves’ of - condescending, like she doesn’t expect you to have brain cells and is surprised every time you do. She says, very solemn despite the smile in her eyes, “I owe you.”

That makes you pause. Instantly, like you’re right back in that bar. You can see her groaning body struggling to stand after being thrown into a wall. Rumlow pointing a gun at her back, the blood-thirst emanating off him in waves. Your own hand, as if detached from your body, flinging the knife across the room into his neck before he can put a bullet in Natasha’s.

You swallow thickly, shake your head and say, “No you don’t.”

“I do,” she insists. She steps forward with her hand out, beckoning her fingers like she wants you to hand her something. You just stare at her empty palm for a few seconds before she clicks her tongue and says, “Phone.”

You hand it over without thinking, which was definitely stupid. But Natasha just types away quickly before giving it back and you see you have a new contact with her name attached entered into your phone.

“If you ever need anything,” she says, and taps your phone screen with her nail, “call me.”

It was only minutes ago you were sitting on your couch scrolling through audio from your tapped father’s kitchen thinking you’ve never been more alone in your life. Yet here you are, looking at a helping hand outstretched from the last person you expected it to come from. Your fingers shake slightly as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, and Natasha smiles at you like she understands.

“Thank you,” you say, and you hope she knows you genuinely do mean it.

Natasha nods, then says, “Get out of here, alright? I have to clean this up.”

You suppose that’s Natasha speak for ‘your welcome,’ so you leave her to it. The whole client meeting you can’t focus properly, too busy trying to decide if you feel safer or more afraid at having one of the scariest women you know watching your apartment. By the end of the day, your conclusion is that if Natasha is going to be in your life, its probably best she’s on your side rather than against it.

When you get home that afternoon there is no sign of the two guys Natasha knocked out, nor is she anywhere to be seen. You can’t help but feel watched, though, as you enter your building and climb the stairs. She’s a busy woman and you know she can’t be watching you all the time but you still feel her green eyes on the back of your neck - its not an altogether uncomfortable sensation. That’s something to unpack later, you think, as you collapse on the couch.

You try to resist, but as soon as you sit down and close your eyes the urge to forget about the case you’ve just taken on and look into your own hunches grows too strong. You get up again and fish out your dad’s file again from your hiding place, bringing it back to the couch to flip open. The list of names you’ve been compiling is at the top, scribbled in messy handwriting as you listened to your dad’s one-sided conversations. You tallied up how many times the same name had been mentioned and in what context, however it had been hard to decipher what your dad was talking about with only half the story.

You decide to go looking into the most mentioned name - more of a title, really. Somebody your dad calls Chief shows up in almost every single conversation he has over the phone, and when you were going through the audio it dredged up some strange, suppressed childhood memory. You used to hear him talking to guys downstairs when you were doing your homework, and you always thought he called them ‘chief’ as a nickname or weird, macho term of endearment like how kids in your class would call each other ‘bro’.

Maybe, he was only talking to one guy. You were going to find out.

Starting at your dad’s job, you scroll through their website and LinkedIn profiles to find any link to the name ‘Chief.’ He works as a security guard for a chain of clubs in the city so you are doubtful, and sure enough nothing really comes up to peak your interest. Your dad really only has one other major outlet to look into and that’s the VA, so you have to swallow past the dirty feeling of investigating suffering vets and start scrolling through the website for the Brooklyn VA group attached to the medical centre.

It’s all wholesome stuff and nothing of interest to your snooping at all until you get to a photo gallery from four years ago. It’s dedicated to commemorating the Brooklyn VA and New York Police Department workshop day promoting mental health for vets and servicemen. There are a bunch of photos of group activities and the lunch put on by the VA, and you spot your dad in a couple of them. You’re about to click off when you find one where your dad is posed with another vet and a very official, very dressed up cop. Nothing you haven’t seen at least forty of before in this gallery, but it’s the caption which makes you pause.

It reads, Some of the Brooklyn VA’s finest with NY Chief of Police. It has to be a coincidence, the man’s job title and nothing more. He’s tall, broad, with sandy blonde hair turning grey under his police hat. There are more medals than you can count pinned to his uniform and even in this grainy photo you can tell he would squash your dad like an ant if he gave the Chief of Police a reason to. You’ve never paid attention to this before, steering clear of cops whenever you can, but you find yourself googling him as soon as you can pull yourself away from his mile-long stare.

As soon as the NYPD profile on the Chief of Police loads, your blood turns to ice. You want to say you’re crazy, you’re crazy, you’re paranoid, but name one time your paranoia had led you wrong? Two strange coincidences don’t happen back to back, no matter how disconnected they may appear. Two worlds you never thought you would know, let alone be watching them collide, stare up at you from your computer screen. You can hear Steve’s voice like he’s sitting right next to you, saying “It is strange we haven’t heard anything from Pierce,” and right under a professional portrait of the Chief of Police is his name burning into the back of your eyelids - Alexander Pierce.

You shove your laptop onto the coffee table and stand, pacing back and forth in front of your couch. Scraping a hand through your hair and pulling half of it out of your head in the process, you try to reason your way out of connecting these dots. They’re barely dots, their echoes of dots - so your dad took a photo with the Chief of Police four years ago and he refers to someone he knows as ‘Chief’ as a nickname and Steve mentioned Pierce was someone in Hydra and the Chief of Police happened to be named Alexander Pierce. So what, right?

“Ok, ok, ok, ok,” you say to yourself, rushed and manic. You’ll just ask your dad. He’s your dad, he was never supposed to hide anything from you so why would he start now? If you just ask he might-

You don’t get to finish your thought. Three loud knocks ring through your empty apartment, your doorbell chiming impatiently straight afterwards. You stare at the door with your heart in your throat, long enough for them to ring the doorbell again and a loud, male voice to call out your full name. Someone you don’t recognise, yet they know where you live. You approach the door on silent feet and look through the peephole, reaching for the baseball bat you keep behind a pot plant as you do.

Standing outside are two men in suits, one of whom is looming at the peephole and making stupid faces while his college rolls his eyes and attempts to hold him back. Through the door, you ask, “Who is it? What department are you with?”

“I’m Special Detective James Rhodes and this is my partner, Special Detective Tony Stark,” the unimpressed cop says, elbowing his colleague out of the way who is still trying to look through the wrong side of the peephole. Holding up a badge and gesturing for his partner to do the same, Detective Rhodes says, “We’re with the FBI, ma’am.”

“Shit,” you say, before realising you said that out loud. Your hand feels numb where you grip your baseball bat tightly, and you decide in that moment you have to be dreaming. No way has the events of the past fifteen minutes taken place.

The guy who must be Detective Stark laughs and says, “Shit is right. Let us in, ma’am, we need to ask you some questions.”

You look back at the coffee table laden with copious notes on your father and your open laptop, Chief of Police Alexander Pierce’s face staring back at you. An omen, you think, but it would be even more suspicious if you asked them to wait to clean everything up. Your heart-stopping, life-changing, maybe-discovery will have to wait.

You slide off the chain and unlock your deadbolt, opening the door for the two FBI agents. They walk in without another word, and it really hits you then. It doesn’t matter what Bucky does now, if he leaves you and never comes back or if he never left at all - you’re in this, now. And now you’ll pay the price.

[stitch1830]

63- “it’s not what it looks like” Taang 💛

I think I’m just gonna bombard Tumblr with fluffy Taang before Taangst Week. Let’s fill up our hearts before we completely break them lmao.

......

Taang - #63 - “It’s not what it looks like”

Aang let out a sigh of relief when he arrived home. He spent the entire day entertaining his older children, taking them to different activities, friend’s houses, the works. What should have been a short trip to a handful of different locations, it took almost 2 hours to get the kiddos settled for their activities for the day. It was rather exhausting to deal with three energetic children, but he lost a bet with Toph (like he almost always did) and he had to take care of all the kids for the day.

Well, most of them.

Kenji was being a bit of a brat and screamed bloody murder when Toph let him go, so she begrudgingly approved of the adjustment. To say that Aang was relieved would be an understatement.

He walked through the home and found it silent. But as he approached the backyard, he heard exclamations of laughter coming from outside.

When he saw the wreckage in his backyard, Aang wilted a bit. It seemed as if Toph and little Kenji thought that making their yard a pile of mud was a good use of their time. There was a literal pool of mud where there used to be grass, and in the center of it was the Avatar’s wife and son, and they were rolling around in the dirt. Aang just knew he’d be the one cleaning it up, and his patience was running a little thin.

“Twinkletoes!” Toph noticed his presence and called him out while she tried to get a hold of the wiggly baby.

“Toph…” Aang began. “What happened here, dearest?”

“Okay,” she started, pausing to gather up Kenji in her arms. “Now I don’t really know what you’re seeing, but I can tell you right now, it’s not what it looks like.”

“So, what it looks like is a mud bath in our backyard, and that our baby is covered in dirt and so are you. That’s not what this is?”

Toph stifled a laugh as she replied, “Alright, maybe it’s sort of what it looks like.”

“Care to explain?”

His wife shrugged while she situated Kenji on her lap. “Kenji wanted to perfect the mud crawl.”

“Oh, and are you gonna give him a bath after??”

“Don’t get your sash in a twist, Twinkles, I’ll just bend the mud off him!”

“But what if he ate the dirt?!”

“Aang, all of our kids have eaten dirt. On multiple occasions. Pretty sure Geo chewed on some of Appa’s feeding hay, too! It builds the immune system.”

“Toph,” Aang groaned, “It doesn’t mean we should encourage it!”

“Okay okay, no more mud baths, but you have to tell me…” Toph picked up Kenji and lifted him up so Aang could see him clearly. “How happy does he look? Because his heart is going crazy. He’s been excited all day.”

Aang paused. He was ready to continue berating his wife, especially after the long day he had. But she asked about Kenji’s facial expressions, and he always responded sincerely when she asked. Always.

So, Aang let out a loving sigh, approached the duo, and sat down next to Toph. He spent the next few minutes describing in great detail the sparkle in Kenji’s big green eyes and how he wrinkled his nose when he laughed. “I’ve never seen his smile this big before,” he commented, grinning as he ruffled Kenji’s hair. “You guys must’ve had a lot of fun together.”

Toph’s smile grew wide and the corners of her eyes crinkled, a look of pure joy etched on her face. “Yeah,” she began casually, “he’s my mud buddy now, aren’t ya, squirt?” She rested Kenji on her propped up legs and gently bent the mud off Kenji's face and her hands. Toph ran her fingers over Kenji’s little facial features, and he laughed and giggled at the sensation. “A Little Badgermole if I ever met one!” she commented.

“I would agree,” he replied, grinning.

Toph was still tracing Kenji’s features when she turned her head toward Aang. She gave him the warmest smile, a smile reserved just for him. Even after 20 years of being with her, Aang’s heart still fluttered.

Spirits, he could never stay mad at the woman for long.

“I’ll clean up the mess,” she promised.

Aang shook his head lightly, then kissed her. “Don’t even worry about it. After all, my badgermoles needed their mud bath.”

......

Send me a prompt and a ship to write about! (For ATLA).

Or just send me asks lol.

[vventure]

Kiss it Better

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader

Characters are aged to 20+

Warnings: SMUT [biting kink, unprotected sex], jealousy angst, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I need to work on my smut, but I was listening to kind of angsty songs after work and this popped into my head and I couldn’t not do it. It’s based on Kiss it Better by Rihanna. Sorry if it’s shit, literally no one asked for my work addled brain to do this. Also, way too afraid to tag anyone in this lmao

Been waiting on that sunshine boy, I think I need that back

Can't do it like that

No one else gonna get it like that

The alcohol was making her head feel like air as she stepped out onto the dark dance floor. Green and purple lights shot around the club, their beams illuminated by the smoke that was filling the confined room. Bodies writhed together to an R&B song, and [y/n] was glad she chose this club in particular; nothing could make her feel sensual and ready to dance quite like the music she was hearing now. 

Worming her way through the packed crowd, she found her friends and swayed her hips back and forth to the rhythm, allowing her body to dip during the middle of the swing, accentuating her ass she hoped. Her girlfriends laughed and grabbed her hands so they could mimic each other’s movements. It wasn’t long before a pair of hands settled on [y/n]’s hips, guiding her to turn around to face a very handsome man dressed in a black v-neck and dark jeans, his grey eyes sparkling in the neon lights. Her friends giggled behind her as they continued dancing.

Wrapping her arms around her new dancing partner’s neck, she ground her pelvis into his, and he had to grip her tighter to keep her on her drunk feet. She giggled into his chest as he held her close, swaying her hips back and forth much like she had been before. This seemed fun in her slightly tipsy state, but the little voice at the back of her mind whispered about how stupid she looked and how wanton she seemed with a stranger; the voice was quickly tamped down as the stranger lifted her chin to look at him. He pressed his forehead to hers, allowing their noses to touch and their lips to be separated only by a breath. 

At that moment, a strong hand gripped her arm, the other going to sock the man in the face. She whirled on the intruder, coming face-to-face with none other than her fuck buddy pro-hero Red Riot, Eijirou Kirishima. He looked livid as he pulled her from the club, waving a curt goodbye to her friends, and pushed her into the passenger seat of his black sports car.

So I argue, you yell

The night air did wonders to sober her up a bit more as she walked up to her apartment with Kirishima close on her heels. She slipped in and tried to slam the door in his face but his foot was able to wedge into the frame in time for him to stop her. Following her inside, he slammed it behind him, making the pictures on her walls shake with the force of it.

“I can’t believe I let you manhandle me like that, Eijirou,” she spat as she retreated to her kitchen to grab a glass of cold water. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I could ask you the same fucking question, [y/n]. Why didn’t you just tell me you had a new fuck buddy?”

“You are not talking about that guy at the club.” Kirishima didn’t have an answer for her so she pressed on. “He was a stranger! And why were you there anyway?”

“Pretty damn close for a stranger,” he shouted, his sharp teeth gnashing over every word. “And it’s none of your business, you’re not my fucking keeper.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who literally kidnapped me from a club just to scream at me in my own home.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking whore I wouldn’t have to do shit like this!”

Before her brain could stop her, she threw the semi-filled glass of water straight at the raging redhead, who used his quirk to swat it against the wall where it shattered into a million glittering pieces. A low growl left his mouth as his eyes bored into her soul.

“You are not my father, or my boyfriend, or even my friend, Eijirou!” Tears pricked at her eyes from the words he’d used against her. The man had never even degraded her during sex but apparently all bets were off when fighting. A lone tear ran down her face as she stared at him from across the room. “You aren’t allowed to be jealous!”

In the blink of an eye Kirishima closed the distance between them, gripping her cheeks as he crashed his lips to hers.

But you take me back

Who cares when it feels like crack?

Boy you know that you always do it right

Kirishima easily lifted her off the ground and slammed her back against the nearest wall, almost knocking all the air out of her as he kept his lips on hers. He moved his mouth away to bite down on her neck, making her gasp out a moan and wrap her legs around his back. Her nails dug into his biceps as he continued to leave large bite marks along her supple skin which he barely stopped to lick at before moving to an unmarked area. 

“Eiji--” Her words came out in a moan urging the pro-hero to rut his hips up into her crotch. His hardened member was evident as she tried to grind down to meet it, but his hands were bruisingly gripping her hips.

“You’ll get that when I decide you’ll get that,” he growled against her skin sending delicious vibrations through her chest. Kirishima unceremoniously ripped her cheap dress from her body, freeing her black lace bra holding his favorite part of hers from its confines. His hands gripped at the top of the cup, the lace soft against his palm.

“Don’t you dare, Eijirou,” she warned. But he was punishing her for making him jealous and so he pulled the bra from her body roughly, tearing the cup and rendering the clasps at the back useless. Before she could protest further, he sucked her right nipple into his mouth and she groaned at the contact. His tongue ran circles around the hardening bud before he bit down on it with his sharp teeth eliciting a scream of pain and pleasure from her as her fingers wove into his styled hair. She gave his short locks a tug, causing him to switch to her other nipple, giving it similar treatment, but this time he sucked marks into the area surrounding it. Her moans were amplified as he reached around her thigh to paw at her soaked panties.

“Does me getting pissed excite you, babygirl?” He asked, trailing bites down the valley of her breasts as his fingers stroked up and down her clothed slit. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Man, fuck your pride

Just take it on back, boy take it on back boy

Take it back all night

Just take it on back, take it on back

Kirishima flung her down onto her couch, tearing away the rest of her dress to reveal a pair of black panties, the dark material growing ever darker in the crotch.

“So you were planning on getting fucked tonight,” he growled, his eyes narrowing at her as she clamped her legs together to try to get some friction on her aching clit. “You’re gonna find out that no one can fuck you like I can.”

Kneeling between her legs at the edge of the couch, Kirishima bit into the thin material covering her core, sucking the juices into his mouth which he savored while destroying her underwear. His tongue shot out to give a tentative lick to her folds, circling lithely around her hole before traveling teasingly slowly up to the bundle of nerves he knew so well.

“God--fuck--Ei--” He pulled from her as he sucked harshly on the little button, her legs began to quake. She could feel her stomach tightening as he pushed her toward her release so quickly. His teeth grazed against her clit and her back arched off the sofa as she came into his mouth. Delving his tongue into her core, he collected the fluids there and gulped them down like he hadn’t drank anything all day making her moan and grip at the fabric of her furniture.

Kirishima slipped one of his fingers into her tight cunt, pistoning it in and out slowly, making sure to hit her g-spot occasionally; he wanted to bring her to another release but wanted to drag it out as much as possible for his own enjoyment. His crimson eyes glared up at her from between her thighs as he inserted a second finger, still going painfully slowly in and out of her sore cunt as his tongue lashed against her clit.

“Please--please Eiji fast-ah-faster,” she yelped, her head slamming back as his fingers pressed harshly against the spongy spot inside her before pulling out again.

“You’re so wet, [y/n] you taste so good sweetheart,” he cooed, his mouth covered in your release. “One more before you get this cock.”

She groaned at his filthy words, her hips bucking up into his hands causing him to press down on her stomach to keep her still as he ran his tongue up and down her slit. Feeling her stomach tighten, she reached down to hold Kirishima’s face against her heat, practically suffocating him in her folds as he continued fingering and licking her. The sensation of having to pee hit her right before he fingered her g-spot, making her see white. When she’d come down from the second orgasm, she saw that liquid was dripping from his face and he had a cocky smile.

“That’s fucking right. Who else is gonna make you squirt, baby?”

Mmm, do what you gotta do, keep me up all night

Hurting vibe, man, and it hurts inside when I look you in your eye

“Please, Eiji. I need you right now,” she pled with her lover as he lazily looked over the mess he’d made of her. A fierce blush was coating her body, sweat dripping on her forehead and her own arousal slipping between her legs. He could look at this scene all day, but his cock was starting to throb with neglect. Placing her foot against the straining bulge in his pants, she snapped him out of his stupor, letting out a low growl and slapping her foot away.

“Have some fucking patience, [y/n].”

“I think I’ve waited long enough, Eijirou. Are you just going to tease me all night?”

“You’re such a brat,” he said, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants sag to the floor. She was shocked at just how wet he’d made his boxers with his precum while he was ravishing her with his mouth and hands. Hissing as he did so, he pulled down the boxers, his cock slapping against his abdomen and leaking precum along his black happy trail; she bit her lip at the sight.

Lining himself up with her sopping core he pressed into her to the hilt, her ample juices allowing for easy access to the back of her cunt. He groaned as she forced her aching core to clench down on his massive cock, then started yet another slow pace with his thrusts.

“You’re fucking killing me tonight, Red Riot.”

“You needed a lesson--hah--” He started, his sentence cut off by a sharp clenching of her walls around him. “So I’m giving you a lesson.”

She whined in response, wrapping her legs around his hips and locking them into place so his thrusts would be shallower, allowing the veins along his engorged member to caress her walls with each short stroke. This was the only way that she’d get any semblance of control, and she wanted to show that she wasn’t done being annoyed with his antics. In response, he pulled her legs from behind him and placed them over his shoulders, his cock hitting ever deeper inside of her, making her groan as her eyes rolled back. Leaning down, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips as he started to play with her nipples, pulling and pinching them with his free hands as his cock stroked in and out of her puffy cunt.

“I know every inch of this body,” he said, thrusting into her harshly to punctuate his words, his hands moving to anchor himself on her breasts and they bounced with each thrust. “I fucking love you, [y/n].”

What are you willing to do

Oh tell me what you're willing to do? (Kiss it, kiss it better, baby)

Oh what are you willing to do?

Oh, tell me what you're willing to do?

Snapping her eyes open at his words, she took in his blissed out face and assumed that he hadn’t meant what he’d just said. That hope was dashed as he opened his mouth and his thrusts stopped.

“I--” he stuttered.

“I love you too, you fucking idiot,” she spat, grinding her hips against his. “But now is not the time to discuss this, can you please fuck me!?”

Those words made him pound into her, his hands moving to run circles against her clit as he stared at her in awe. Her walls clenched as her release hit her, trying to suck every last drop of his release up for herself. He toppled over the edge, releasing his seed into her cunt before collapsing on top of her, kissing her deeply. As she recovered from her third orgasm of the night, he kissed every one of the bite marks he’d left.

Kiss it, kiss it better, baby

[taptroupe]

evergrace chapter 11 FINALLY LET’S GO LET’S GO

This would happen if darius did not push the two out of the way in the first four lines of this chapter. yes. lmao. 

WILL DARIUS AND CO MAKE IT OUT OF THIS BATTLE ALIVE?! READ MORE NOW. LOTS OF FUNNY ART WITHIN

they’re teleported into the lab, which has a dome like ceiling, very spacious, and with markings engraved into the walls. the light of the magic circle fades away, and....

Immediately, Darius pushes the two out of the circle. Right in front of his eyes, a roaring flame crashes into the floor, making a wave of red. The fire dies down, revealing who other than that small child... Trandin. 

And behind him, standing on a shadowy pillar was... ooohooo.... The Morpheus.... or something like that

“Hyohyohyo, you’re here, you’re here. I’ve been waiting...”

“Give Sharline back, now!”

“Hyohyo, seems like that little missus is very important to you, isn’t she?”

Morpheus pointed a skinny finger to a corner of the room. [i swear the lab is circular]

Against the walls of the circular lab, several enclaves sealed off with green glass. In one of them, a small, enclosed room where Sharline was held. Turning to face Darius, she seemed to be shouting something with all her might as she hit the green wall of the room over and over.

“Indeed, the Cycle was a big help, a great lab rat to aid in freeing this country from its binds. To let go of such a test subject, never!”

Sharline pointed to another room beside her. There was another woman, the same person who kidnapped her back at the Human Research Lab. The woman who saved Sharline’s life - it must’ve been Sienna.

From behind Darius, Orladin and Ralbadora jumped forward. [there’s a metaphor here for jumping as fast as rabbits, please imagine they wavedashed] Trandin’s eyes seemed to dart from left to right, confronted by these two -

“DON’T LOOK AT THEM BUDDY. I’M DARIUS AND I’M GONNA FIGHT A CHILD WHO IS YOU. MEET YOUR NEW BULLY”

Darius readied his spear, forming a ball of ice palmira at its tip. Blasting it off, a countless number of shards were aimed at the young boy. But, a wall of light appeared, and it probably melted those shards or threw it back at darius, whatever works. Trandin, weakened temporarily by his epic flex of power, floats to Morpheus’s side.

“How, Trandin, how can you already be at your limit? I gave you the ultimate weapon, the Alcrest! Did my readings on the Cycle go wrong somewhere.... Useless!”

Morpheus waved his cane, and ORLADIN JUST GETS HIT WITH A BLAST OF THUNDER. MAN WAS JUST STANDING THERE 

“Prince Orladin, it’s an honour that you came all this way. These two men are here to save these two ladies, but you’re here for Princess Lismur, aren’t you? How about you look through this door, then?

Hyohyo, what a nice man I am, aren’t I? However, you’re the one who left the princess behind in the castle - she must be in so much pain, don’t you think? I’ll let you meet her again.”

“WHAT?!”

Morpheus, standing atop his shadowy pillar thing, raises a hand. A certain green wall in the back disappears, and out comes black, black ivy... Ivy that entwined the princess, slithering out...

“Orladin?”

An overflowing wave of black seemed to approach Orladin, who was standing with sword gripped tightly. Watching the whole spectacle, Morpheus simply laughed to himself full of satisfaction, as if dancing.

[the descrption of lismur comes from the rieubane castle chapter. blonde long hair, blue eyes, a red dress. . ...................... i had to make her naked here at least i wouldn’t be reminded of katia and get too horny to translate more LOL DON’T READ THIS DON’T READ THIS PART]

Suddenly ralbadora tries to hit morpheus while he’s laughing, but the man in black armor is deflected by a shimmering wall as usual. An assortment of blades, all engraved with dragons, all trying to break through that protecting light wall. But only sparks of beautiful green light came out.

“You! There was another Palmira soldier you had at your disposal?”

Waving a cane, Morpheus launches a purple ball of energy as Ralbadora, but he’s cool and just jumps backwards before opening his mouth to speak (coolly).

“I have neither the Crest nor the Alcrest. The Palmira soldier you (derogatory) speak of, it is not I (politely)”

“What? So you’re another one graced by the Cycle?”

[note the usage of grace. heh. lol. yeah when they say evergrace the grace bit is meant to refer to “being chosen” or “favoured”]

“My power comes from The Mother of All Things. I do not know anything regarding this Cycle you speak of. For your senior of your age, I suggest you get off that platform for your own safety.”

“Hyo, say that again! The one backing off will be you lot!”

From the ground underneath Morpheus, a ring of light appeared, hitting Ralbadora’s feet. Well, obviously it’s gonna hit his feet, right? From his platform, Morpheus raised a shaky finger.

“Hyohyo, now look well. To the little miss you call Sharline, keep your eyes glued!”

Darius was in the midst of the battle with Trandin, when suddenly a groan reverberating through the air made his body freeze up.

From beyond the green glass wall, Sharline was grasping her head, body hunched over in pain.

From atop this black platform, Morpheus raised a finger, and suddenly Sharline’s body lifted from the floor - with the floor below her crumbling.

[you can probably guess the floor below her is probably you know, air]

“Don’t move! If you do, this girl will...”

“Morpheus, you motherfu - URGH” 

Trandin’s ball of light hit Darius’s chest, blasting him away. probably sending him flying, can never tell with tobasu

Orladin, who had given up cutting the ivy intertwining around him, seemed to be entranced into the pale arms of the princess.

Ralbadora, at least, could slowly approach Morpheus, letting out a weakened voice.

“That girl is important to us... As she is to your research, isn’t it?”

“A good assumption, but no. I don’t have any sentimentality for the little missus. Sure, Trandin wasn’t the right research sample at all, but the use for that is all over now.”

As Morpheus’s finger danced, so did.... i’m sorry sharline..... So did Sharline’s body, violently shaken around in midair. Ralbadora could only look on in anger, as Morpheus laughed loudly.

“And now, you can’t even run away. Only pitting three people against me? Just foolish! For believing you could even try to oppose me, I suppose I’ll just turn this girl into Palmira.”

OY WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO!? SAY THAT AGAIN

SHARLINE IS NOT JUST SOME KIND OF FERTILZER FOR YOU BASTARD. SHE IS A CURED DELI MEAT - I MEAN SHE IS MY FRIEND

“TURN INTO PALMIRA?!” Darius groaned.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Whether it be Billiana fruit or a human, both can be transformed into Palmira. If we’d known this sooner, there sure would’ve been a lot less waste.”

The three could only watch as the cheerful Morpheus continued his monologue.

“Hyohyo, Trandin, fetch the Crest if you could please.”

Trandin floated over to where Darius was, and landed in front of him. Extending his small hands out, Darius tried to shield himself with his own arms.

“Hyohyo, a tug of war, is it?”

“Trandin, stop it!”

A spiral of yellow light appeared before Darius, unfurling itself to be none other than Krisalis. She fluttered noisily at Trandin’s emotionless face.

“Trandin, can you hear what I’m saying? It’s me. Please, stop this.”

“What in the.. You’re... No, it couldn’t be...?!”

Upon realizing Krisalis’s appearance, Morpheus turned his head towards Sienna. Beyond the wall, her head was slightly lowered, with her hands resting on her chest, unmoving.

“So if that’s how you’re going to be, one ridiculous thing after another... Then you’re next!”

Morpheus raised his hand, and suddenly Sienna’s body................. BENT BACKWARDS?! JISHO!?!?

Krisalis let out a wail of pain.

“.....Tr... an..... din.....!”

The bird-like shape disappeared, leaving nothing but a spiral of yellow light left in front of the boy’s eyes.

But, slowly, his eyes grew wide.

“Mom..... my?”

no agetec, not mom, my. mommy

As the yellow light gently embraced the boy, he turned around and looked at Morpheus. And he flew to him, as if an arrow flying from its bow.

Of course, the reflective wall around Morpheus repelled the boy, but only for a moment. In a flash of light, the wall came crashing down.

Morpheus, still focused on Sienna, was knocked down from his platform. As he tried to get up, a short sword swung by Ralbadora struck him.

“Trandin?! Wait, no, how, impossible..!”

A green, glowing sword with a polished tip plunged deep into the robes that Morpheus wore. His body leaned uncomfortably backwards, cane on the ground. This is basically old man dying i’m skipping this tiny portion.

The blood stained the robes black. Painful breaths, veiny arms, clawing over to Sienna’s wall.

“Why... Now... You’re going to destroy it all... Your very purpose.... Your reason to live.... Destruction...

Truly, you both are... A demon...”

A shaky finger pointed at Sienna, who kneeled down in her cell. She had a face of sadness, listening to Morpheus’s groans of pain, she tried to say something with nothing coming out. 

With great effort, Morpheus raised his finger once more.

“Why.... Does this world.... have something.... like you.... a demon... exist? Everyone..... was..... alive......”

“I’m sorry..... Even I...... Couldn’t do anything.... Not a single........”

Sienna turned away.

“My..... To Medina, I..........................................”

With that final word, Morpheus’s arm dropped to the ground. 

And that was the last of Morpheus’s strength.

[themilky-way]

paris {s.r}

gif credit: sincerelycalum on tumblr

pairing: spencer reid x female! reader

summary: while working on a case in paris, you and spencer realize that there may be more to your friendship than you think. how long until the city of love casts a spell on you? based on this song.

warnings: none i think it’s just fluff  (like everything I write lol)

author’s note:  this long af bc this was supposed to be a series and this would’ve been the second part but the first one i posted didn’t do well lmao. so instead, just enjoy this one shot and maybe i’ll post the first one again if u guys want but idk. also we a lil bold in this fic bc we love confident queens

grabbing your go bag and cell phone from the charging port, you quickly made your way to the jet that was already waiting for departure. the team was ready to make their way to paris, france on a case for a serial killer that migrated from california. it had been difficult for everyone, considering the unsub wasn’t leaving much evidence. 

despite it being for work, you and the team were excited to explore one of the most beautiful cities in the world. if you thought about it, it was kind of like killing two birds with one stone: the opportunity to finally catch a gruesome killer and a vacation. morgan was practically shaking with anticipation as he kept getting up from his seat and bothering garcia every five minutes and then going back. 

“just think about it, baby, all the smokin’ hot people we’re gonna meet. I mean, it’s called the “city of love” for a reason!” derek rambled to penelope as she typed away rapidly on her computer. 

“this isn’t a vacation, sugar, but yes I’m aware of all the potential babes we might encounter. and for that, I prepared another bag,” she giggled as derek started to laugh along with her. he raised his hand to high five her and she lifted hers too, lightly patting it. 

“oh you’re bad bad aren��t you,” he laughed, and they both continued to talk too rapidly for the others to understand. meanwhile, you had grabbed your seat next to emily and right across from you was spencer. you and emily were talking about god knows what, the range going from guessing the types of desserts paris had to perhaps renting a motorcycle for your stay. the banter between the both of you was endless, and you even started watching a french movie to get some pointers on the language. 

between the jokes and wondering remarks, you didn’t really notice that spencer was observing you the whole time. sure, he could play it off as if he were judging both of his coworkers for their lack of knowledge on french culture and linguistics, but he wasn’t really doing that, was he? no, in fact, he was watching you in such depth, the way he’d look at the pages of a book, and taking in every aspect that you had to present. he was, in the most simplest way it can be described as, mesmerized.

the day spencer realized that he looked at you this way shocked him. to be completely honest, it scared the hell out of him. he never pictured you as anything more than a friend, and he always thought you were too relaxed for a job like this. he told himself that he’d leave the matter alone, that their would be no thinking or second-guessing of any kind. but the second he’d lay his eyes on you, it’s like the rules he made up never quite existed. however, the more he looked back on it, there was one question that urged this matter forward: am I gonna find out why?

he shook out of his deep concentration to look up at the voice that was now speaking to him. his eyes focused again and he stared at you confused.

“reid, you okay? you’re spacing out on me, buddy,” you said, head turned slightly from the position you were seated in. you had shifted in your seat to face emily, your left leg bent on the cushion and your right giving you stability on the ground. 

“sorry, I was busy thinking.”

“well, try not to use that big ol’ brain of yours too much yet, we’re gonna need it when we land,” you said, giving him a small wink. he gave you a small smile while a tiny smear of rose-colored blush crept its way onto his cheeks. it was a friendly gesture; everyone on the team did it so you thought, “why the hell not?”

reid opted to read a little bit while on the plane so that he could get in some new interrogating tactics for when they met the unsub. you and emily continued to watch french movies and spot all of the hot actors and actresses you thought would be fake, penny and morgan, well they were on a whole different level of fun. the only ones quiet and doing some work was hotch, jj, and rossi. 

the plane slowly began to descend, butterflies erupting in your stomach from the fall, before the captain announced, “we are now ready to descend and are getting ready for arrival.”

when the captain finished, hotch began, “alright, listen up, team. the location of this case was by chance and we shouldn’t get distracted by anything or anyone. do your job quickly and efficiently as you’ve always had.” he spoke sternly, his shoulders were straight and his face emotionless and heavy with sleep. to any other person, hotch would be a zombie who helped solve murder cases, but to the bau team, he was their leader and they admired him. 

“oh, come on, hotch! if we work extra hard these few days and have enough time by the end of the wee-” you began before getting cut off. 

“yes, we can stay a while and explore the city. the unsub and the evidence altogether looks promising, so hopefully we can wrap it up quick. but don’t stray from your path in the meantime.”

everybody nodded and “yes, sir’d” before standing up and grabbing their luggage from the compartments at the top of their seats. everyone walked out in pairs and headed for the taxi cars that were waiting for them. you took emily, morgan took reid, jj and penelope partnered up, and of of course rossi and hotchner stuck together. at different paces, the team agreed at a nearby hotel closest to the paris police department that had called them. getting your bags in the car, along with the rest of the girls’, you made your way to the hotel to check in and drop your luggage off.

at first glance, it looked like a simple building; a cream color adorning the walls and some very intricate, sophisticated street lamps aligned on the perimeter of the parking entrance. before entering, there was a sort of roundabout you had to pass in order to reach to valet parking, and in the center of the roundabout, was a water fountain. it was simple, yes, but to parisians only. to outsiders, like the bau, it was already quite elegant. the ladies, including you, pitched in a little to pay for the ride and once you got out, there was a young man who offered to take your bags inside. 

“avez-vous besoin d'aide, madame?” the boy said. all of you looked at each other a little confused because even though you thought it might’ve helped, watching french movies for nine hours with emily wasn’t doing it. 

“he’s asking if you need help with these. here,” penny clarified before putting her tiny hello kitty handbag in yours, “let me handle it.”

she walked up to the somewhat tall boy, looked him over once, and said in the thickest french accent there was, “oui je fais mon doux muffin merci beaucoup.” she did a tiny hair flip to her blonde curls and came back to where the rest of you were standing.

“penny, uh, what exactly did you tell that boy?” emily said, stifling down a small giggle.

“nothing, i just said “yes” that I needed help and “thank you very much.”

“no, no, the other part. there must’ve been another part to it. tell us!” jj said, grabbing penelope by the shoulders and shaking them lightly. 

“what other part?”

“the one where you made a boy dressed in victorian era clothing blush like a maniac over some luggage,” you laughed. to this, garcia started to laugh too and then even harder. you and the rest of the girls had puzzled grins on their faces, but the inkling of seeing your friend laugh so hard was reaching your guys’ throats too. 

when she finally caught a breath to speak, she said, “I called him my sweet muffin!” at this, you and the girls broke into heaves of laughter, and couldn’t stop. you and jj had to bend down and place a hand on your stomachs’ to stop them from hurting a little. after a while, there was no words just the intake of small breaths and exhaling them out for control. when the fun comedy was over, you guys followed the boy and his friend inside the hotel lobby. `you took turns registering, and when you were all done, you saw that the rest of the team had beat you to it. they were sitting down in a cushion area near the front desk and were waiting for you guys. 

“okay, now that the rooms are ready, you all can pick a partner to dorm with. it doesn’t really matter, but just choose wisely. I know some people get too crazy when they’re together,” hotch announced, flashing a look at you and garcia before handing out keys. you and emily teamed up per usual, and the rest pairing up in the same order they had been in before. once everyone was ready, you started to make your way up to your rooms while making small chatter with the rest of the gang. emily inserted the key into the lock of the door, and as soon she opened the door, your eyes’ were met with the most delicate and luxurious room you both have ever encountered. 

on either side of the room were two king sized beds with victorian style bed sheets; the design on them were floral, the pastel shades of the roses tracing the outline of the bed beautifully. the ends of the sheets were long, but shabby, which added a nice, elegant, and almost romantic feel to it. 

in the middle of the two beds was a small isle that allowed one person to walk on it at a time. at the end of it, was the entrance to the balcony, which gave view to the famed Eiffel Tower. the small cities, parks, and lakes, that made up the ground portion of the tower were now completely lit up, giving way to an entire new feeling for you. you set your bags on the bed, pushing the cushion down with your hand to feel the softness of it, and made way to the balcony.

“i’ll be right out here, em, if you need me,” you said, waiting for the small “yup” that came from her before proceeding. as soon as your leg crossed the small threshold to the other side, the fresh, cool breeze of the night flooded your senses. you smiled and took in the emotion it gave you, fully crossing over to stand against the railing now. you took in the sights first. the trees that shaped the parks swiveled against the current of the wind, couples of all ages walking hand in hand, admiring how the moon and the stars matched so well to their love. the lights of the tower gleaming brightly and almost seemingly looking at you, as if they asked you, “don’t you realize, (y/n)? don’t you pay attention?” 

paris, and everything it was offering you at that moment, put you through a trance. one where you began to actually speak to the lights, the very same ones that millions of others had fallen in love under. “realize what? I do pay attention, i always have, but what is it I need to notice?”

you kept staring and looking around, if the lights actually were talking to you and this wasn’t a dream, and that you weren’t crazy. you looked around the balcony and walked on it to spy a tiny clue your instincts informed you about. soon enough, you noticed that the balcony was shared by the room next door. you placed your right hand on the rail to kneel down a bit and see if you could figure out who the room belonged to.  

“maybe it’s penny, oh god please be penny. i’m not in the mood to see rossi in scooby-doo underpants...” you whispered fairly. just when you saw a dainty silhouette about to exit the restroom, you turned around to your end of the balcony. 

“(y/n)? are you spying on- (y/n), we’ve been here one hour! our hot, paris boyfriends can wait until we catch the unsub,” emily, whose head was the only part of her body on the outside of the balcony, whispered. “come on, get changed into some comfy clothes. we can take a look at the victimology together.”

standing up, you made one quick glance at the room and the figure was already gone and so was the light. thanks for that, eiffel tower lights, you thought. you crossed to you room again and took a shower before arranging your clothes according to the days of your stay. you put your pajamas on and climbed onto one side of emily’s bed to wait for her to come out of the restroom, since you guys took turns brushing your teeth. 

after about a half and hour of rearranging victimology statements and connecting photos from the crime scene, the both of you were ready to go to sleep. emily turned off her lights and you took one last glance at the view before doing the same. 

and then you heard footsteps on your balcony. 

----------

“you guys think I can woo a french girl tonight?”

“honey, with those shoes? not a chance,” garcia pointed out. morgan made a pout at her response and then acted as if he was offended. the team laughed and then raised their glass in unison and took a sip. the case, overall, went well. you guys managed to catch the unsub in an isolated tunnel and brought him over to the parisian authorities. you and jj had taken the only victim left alive to the station to make one final statement to the news. the rest of bodies were given proper burial and the families were finally given closure. 

because the team had performed beyond excellent, and there were still a few days left before your departure, the team opted on celebrating on a night out. currently, you and your friends were seated around a small circular table inside a local bar, chatting away at whatever came to mind. 

you chose to only drink mineral water, mostly because you knew that you were technically still at work and you didn’t want to risk being drunk in case of an emergency. reid, in a similar manner, chose a glass of soda to toast with. but while doing so, he found himself looking at you in the same way he did on the plane. he hadn’t been able to take in your features that night, but as everyone was so deeply distracted, he began to notice everything. 

he looked over your outfit for tonight, a red, plaid mini skirt with a black turtleneck. the shirt itself was fitted to your body and allowed your angles and curves to be accentuated perfectly. the skirt permitted your legs to be highlighted in a decent, and elegant manner. your hair was loose tonight, and with every breeze that made its way through the bar windows, it caused small strands to caress your face lightly and some to stick to your lip gloss. the heels, oh god, the heels. it drove him crazy; the delicate way in which they clicked when you walked on the concrete, how they would sometimes cause you discomfort and force you to stop and fix it,  how your gentle hand had grasp his shoulder for balance or else you’d fall. 

everything about you tonight was immaculate. no matter how hard he forced himself to look away from you, to stop thinking of you in any other way than a coworker, and to just drink his soda which was becoming less carbonated with every passing second, he just couldn’t. and it was scaring the hell out of him. 

you on the other hand, were still trying to decipher what the tower lights had asked you. what was there to realize? you were here, in paris, the city where millions of people fall in love, to fight a serial killer. the chances of you finding love, especially on a balcony where you had spied on a stranger, were slim. 

by the time you finished your thought process, you noticed that hotch was looking at you with a puzzled expression. 

“everything alright, (y/n)?” he softly asked you. 

“yes, sir, just thinking. is it okay if I head back to my hotel?”

“yes, of course, you might even catch reid on the way there. he left a couple of minutes ago.”

“thank you, sir. good night,” you spoke and got up from your chair, adjusting your skirt as you did so. huh, he left? weird, you thought. you left a tip for the waiter and bid farewell to the rest of your companions before grabbing your coat and clutch and exiting the bar. 

it was rather close to your hotel, so within a few minutes you had reached your dorm and set your things down. sitting down on the edge of the bed, you bent over slightly to unlatch your heels and slip them off your feet. you set them aside and you laid on your back for a few minutes. the only light in your room was the bathroom’s as you didn’t like strong lights shining during the night, so these dimmed ones would do. 

you closed your eyes for a little while and just let the sounds of the city flow through you. you had one opportunity to experience paris, and you weren’t gonna take it for granted. for a while, only your small inhales and exhales of breath were audible, the aura of the room peaceful. 

it wasn’t until you heard footsteps, the very same ones from that other night, on your balcony. your eyes flew open and you pushed your body upward to look back at your window. this is my shot, my chance, you thought. could it be a super old man who was here on vacation? yes. could it rossi, who might’ve gotten the dorm next to yours? maybe. were the possibilities of who the hell was on your balcony in a parisian hotel endless? again, yes. 

but you had to see for yourself, figure out what exactly the universe, paris, was telling you. so you got up from your bed and creeped quietly to the window and slid it up. you crossed the threshold, and even though your light was limited, you were able to make out a tall, thin figure. you inched a little closer, hands crossed over your chest to appear somewhat like a normal human. you wouldn’t have figured it out until he spoke. 

“(y/n)?”

his voice sent shivers down every inch of your body, and no, it wasn’t the cold air of the city, it was him. it was spencer. it caught you by surprise, the feeling his voice gave you, but you tried to play it off. he never made you feel this way, why now? 

“(y/n)? you okay?” he spoke again. this time you lightly shook your head and walked closer to where he was standing so you could lean on the railing now. his body followed yours, and now you were able to make out the perpexled look on his eyes. 

“hi, yeah, I’m good. just didn’t expect to find you here, that’s all,” you spoke quietly, unsure of yourself. he noticed, obviously he noticed, it’s spencer. 

“yeah, same here. I heard footsteps the other night here but I had just taken a shower so I didn’t come out until later.” you glanced up at him when you realized that he was the figure that was in the restroom you’d seen. the one you had spied on and probably would’ve seen naked if emily hadn’t interrupted. a tiny blush made its way onto your cheeks, and you were quite thankful the dark covered the rosy color a little. 

but spencer wasn’t dumb, much less stupid, and if he noticed every little detail about you tonight, he saw how you became around him. and god, he sure did like it. “oh, well that’s good, i guess,” was all you could mutter. so you turned your body now to face the tower, elbows on the railing and hands folded together. he saw the shift in stance and he followed, so now you were both side by side and looking at a view that somehow resembled your emotions for one another. 

“hey spence?”

“yeah?”

“have you ever fallen in love?”

his voice hitched a little and he felt his throat tighten. he let out a small cough to mask the impact of your question, but he found the strength in his voice to retort.

“what makes you ask?”

“no, no reason, i was just curious, ya know. being in paris and all,” you answered. you began to feel intrusive for asking such a personal question, but it had seemed easy for you to do so because of your friendship. you were looking at him as you replied, but then looked back towards the view again. the both of you stood in silence for a couple minutes, your guilt seeping in more at this point. 

“only once. it didn’t end well for the both of us,” he broke the silence. you turned your head to look at him, and you were about to open your mouth to say something when he spoke again. 

“but it happened a long time ago. i don’t think about her anymore.”

you straightened up a little and you continued to face him, prying a little deeper than you should be. “so who do you think about now?”

he glanced at you, his face quickly returning back to the nature displayed in front of him and then looked back to you. a small grin began tugging at his lips, as if he meant to ask, “is this your way of playing with me?”

you gazed up at him and took this sudden swerve of confidence to glance at his lips, and then back up to him, your own smile forming. 

“she’s standing on a balcony with me in paris.” 

[officheol]

Soonyoung: FWB Gone Right

Drabble Prompts: #96 “Can’t you stay a little longer?” #21 “We’ll figure this out.” 

Pairing: Soonyoung/F!Reader

WC: 1106

Rating: PG

Content: Fluff, Slight angst, College!au, Fwb!au

Requested: Yes!

Requests: Open!

Summary: The second Soonyoung smiles at you, you cave. You find that he feels the same. Though, you should probably work on those communication skills.

Masterlist

A/N: When I say the guilt of not finishing this and not posting has been nipping at me, I mean I was thinking more about this and the Joshua request than I was my assignments lmao. I’m so sorry for how late this is. I wasn’t completely happy with what I wrote the first time and it took me three edits on different days to really like the final piece. I hope you all enjoy it! Bc Soonyoung would be the most affectionate f-buddy and he wouldn’t care that that’s not how it’s supposed to be.

As requested, inspo is from Daniel Caesar’s “Best Part”. Listen while you read!

As you lounge in your living room with Soonyoung, the room quiet besides soft music playing in the background as you each focus on your courses’ assignments, you think of the context of your relationship and how just a couple of hours ago, he had strolled into your apartment and kissed you with fervor, dragging you to your bed as he mumbled something about problems with the choreography he was creating for a project.

Safe to say, the mood is very different now, but you indulge in just having his company, silent or not. He is, and always has been, more than enough.

That’s how you know you’re in too deep.

Soonyoung puts his laptop aside and stretches, yawning loudly as his shirt rises up and you can’t help but glance at his exposed torso. He catches your eye and winks. You really shouldn’t be embarrassed considering all the other activities the two of you get up to, but that doesn’t stop the slight rush of blood to your cheeks.

“It’s so late already and I’m less than halfway done with this damn essay!” he groans, dragging a hand down his face and slumping forward onto the couch.

“That’s why I told you to start it a week ago, but nooo you said you could wing it,” you chide.

The dance major lifts his face slightly and pouts, his cheeks blown out and looking like mochi. “You were right. I was wrong. I’m sorry. Now please help,” he blows a kiss at you as you stare at him, unbudging.

You ask for the time, but immediately regret it when he checks his phone and jumps up, beaming and spurring with newfound energy.

“It’s…” he places an index finger under each eye and chirps, “10:10!”

Trying to convince yourself that this still isn’t one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen, you nod, “Ah, so 10 hours until the essay is due, right?”

Soonyoung’s smile dies and he gulps. “I’ll buy you food for a week.”

Of course, you give in and stay up three hours past your bedtime. And of course, it was not because of the bribe.

It’s the morning after another “stress relieving” session that you find yourself picking at your relationship status again. This time, you’re at his place, and you know you should’ve left as soon as you caught your breath but when Soonyoung had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss behind your ear and whispering, “Can’t you stay a little longer?”, how could you refuse?

As you stir from your slumber, you find that you’re curled into his chest as the sound of rain patters on his window. Soonyoung has one arm resting on you, pressing your bare bodies together under the comforter. Right now, you feel like an actual couple instead of two friends using each other. Your heart aches at the reality. You really don’t want to get consumed with negative thoughts when you should be cherishing each intimate second you get to spend with him, but your worries are winning. The more time you dwell on what once was dismissed as a small crush, the more it hurts, and the more you fall in love. 

Soonyoung wakes up slowly beside you as lets out a long yawn and balls his hands to rub the mucus out of his eyes. You get a slight whiff of morning breath and only recoil slightly because your heart eyes are more focused on the cute, floppy-haired mess before you. When he finally glances your way, his face immediately scrunches up giddily, like he’s so happy that you stayed the night. The hopeless romantic in you that’s fighting for freedom murmurs that he is and that he cares about you just as much as you do him. That Soonyoung shows you affection and attention that he doesn’t just give to anyone else. 

As if to confirm these secret thoughts, Soonyoung purses his lips and kisses your forehead, humming, “Good morning, lovely,” as he intertwines your legs and strokes your back soothingly. 

His sweet actions make you wonder, again, “Why aren’t we dating?” 

It takes you a few seconds to recognize your mistake. And that’s only because Soonyoung stills beside you and stops massaging you, his fingers awkwardly hovering above your skin. Eyes widening, you inhale sharply and sit up straight. The comforter falls to your waist and the cold air punctuates the attack your words just made. You pull your knees up and bury your face into them, hands cupping your cheeks. It’s too late now, but you’re scouring your brain for an escape route to save yourself, or at least, your relationship.

Soonyoung shuffles behind you to sit against the headboard. His gaze is strong and you feel queasy just thinking about the expression on his face when the room is still so silent. A minute passes and the anxiety only gets worse.

“Say something,” you whisper. Please say something.

He clears his throat and breathes out, “I don’t know.”

And you curse the temperature in the room for suddenly being subzero the second his warmth is ripped away from you as you freeze again. Before you can contemplate all the different connotations of his reply, he speaks.

“I thought… I thought it’s what you wanted. To uh, have this kind of a relationship.” You pick your head up with the courage of your hopeless romantic heart and meet his eyes as he continues. “I know you haven’t dated in a while. Thought you weren’t ready for anything serious yet.” Soonyoung leans toward you and takes your hand into his own.

“I get scared easily,” you admit. “I don’t want to be hurt. I assumed you just needed a temporary bed warmer.” He shakes his head in denial. “I didn’t want to get my hopes up and the thought of losing you was too scary. But I wouldn’t… mind taking that risk with you if you feel the same.” The shyness rises to your cheeks but you refuse to look away.

“I do. I definitely do.” Soonyoung grins and the clouds are gone and the sun rays are back, despite the thundering outside. “So let’s try this out. Seriously. We’ll figure this out at our own pace, okay?” 

You nod in delight, tears springing to your eyes as you nearly fling yourself into his embrace, holding tightly as he laughs and buries his face into your hair.

“Now,” He plops back onto his pillow and drags you with him, “Can I go back to sleep? I’d like to cuddle with my girl.”

[jamesdeerest]

jealous, red?

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

request: @jocey-2001 asked “Hey I absolutely loved your cuddle spiders one shot!! I was also wondering if you could possibly write another Nat x Reader story where they are both at a party and the reader is purposely flirting with the guys to see how you will react and it turns out Nat gets really jealous?”

notes: aww thank you so much babe! yes i love nat i will always write for her lmao also requests are open!

warnings: swearing, jealous!nat

word count: 1k

it was rhodey’s birthday, and as per tony stark usual, the man had decided to throw his best friend a party. everyone was invited, because “you need to settle down, platypus! you need to find your life buddy!”, and also because people just turned up anyways. as a close friend of both rhodes and tony, you were automatically invited, and had spent all evening getting dolled up, your present for the colonel in the corner of your designated room of tony’s penthouse.

you were just adding a swipe of red lipstick to finish your look when someone knocked on the door, opening it and whistling at you. “damn, girl. you look hot,” nat smirked, walking up and wrapping her arms around you.

you blushed, rolling your eyes. she got you everytime. “oh shush, romanoff. have you looked in the mirror today? you’re gorgeous, babe.” however, nat ignored your attempt to fluster her and just winked at you in the mirror, squeezing you tighter. “don’t worry, i know.” you groaned as she laughed, untangling yourself from her arms as you picked up the bag with rhodey’s present, and held out a hand. “ready to go, red?” she smirked, linking your fingers. “been ready for hours, honey.”

as soon as you got in the lift, friday took you to the third floor, where the party was happening. “have fun, ladies!” she said as the doors opened to reveal the party already in full swing. “thanks, fri.” you smiled, before going to find rhodey. he was on the sofas, surrounded by a crowd of people, tony leaning on his best friend, but he sprung up as soon as he saw you. “y/n! turning up fashionably late as usual, i see.” he grinned, hugging you. “so good to see you, rhodey. i can’t believe you ditched me for california.” he groaned. “you still banging on about that, huh? i’m back now, aren’t i?” you beamed, hugging him tighter. “yeah you are, and it’s your birthday! happy birthday loser, your present’s awesome, you can thank me later.” you said, handing over the bag. rhodey nodded mockingly, shaking his head as you bounced over to the bar to mingle.

nat sighed, smiling as you hopped up on the bar stool. “she’s something else, isn’t she.” rhodey raised an eyebrow. “that’s one word for it, sure.” he snarked, laughing before wincing as nat hit him.

you had just ordered a piña colada when a man with a metal arm and shoulder-length black hair slid onto the stool next to you, ordering a whiskey. you smiled, getting to know new people at parties was one of your strengths. “hi, i don’t think we’ve met! i’m y/n.” the man smiled tentatively at you. “bucky. bucky barnes. i’m one of steve’s mates, you’re friends with tony and colonel rhodes, right?” you beamed, nodding. “yup! tones and rhodeybear are awesome. i’ve never actually talked to cap, now that i think about it. i kinda feel he’d judge me for something. bucky laughed, shaking his head. “as long as you don’t swear too much, you should be good. he’s from the forties, okay, i don’t think he’s completely adjusted yet. look, i’ll introduce you, he’s over there with birdbrain and shrinky guy.”

you giggled, walking over with him to meet the men. nat, who had been keeping an eye on you all night, furrowed her brows. wanda laughed, resting her head on her shoulder. “nat. she’s not going to run off with cap, alright? she loves you, not those guys.” nat nodded, not taking her eyes off you. “i know, wands. i just… get jealous sometimes, i guess.” peter, who was chatting excitedly to tony, looked over to the two women, his advanced senses picking up the conversation, before looking back to his father figure, muttering something and walking over to you, sam, bucky, steve and scott.

“miss l/n?” he asked, nervously. you smiled, turning to him. “peter, i’ve told you, call me y/n. miss l/n makes me sound ancient.” peter blushed, nodding. “sorry, miss y/n. um- i just wanted to say that miss romanoff’s jealous? of you hanging out with these guys? and i thought maybe you wanted to get her back for pranking you the other week?”

sam whistled, leaning in. “damn, parker. didn’t know you had it in you.” peter stuttered for a moment, but you reassured him. “great idea, pete. thanks, buddy, i’ll see you around, yeah? tony looks lonely without his favourite child.”

peter stuttered again, his eyes going wide. “mr-mr stark’s just my mentor, miss y/n.” you nodded knowingly, giggling as he hurried back to tony, before turning to your group. “now, which one of you wants to be my flirting buddy?”

bucky smirked. “doll, i would, but i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” you smiled gratefully. “yeah, let’s just narrow it down to people who can actually flirt. right, scott and capsicle, you’re out. sam and bucky, rock paper scissors? best of three.” the men grinned, and in about half a minute, bucky laughed, pushing sam. “suck it, pigeon.”

sam rolled his eyes, flipping him off. “shut up, ice cube.” you laughed, standing up with bucky. “guys, i know i’m hot, but don’t fight over me. buck, let’s go get our flirt on.”

you and bucky headed over to the dancefloor, his hands landing on your waist as he danced with you, his body pressed up against yours. “damn, barnes. you’ve got moves.” bucky wiggled his eyebrows, spinning you. “surprised? hasn’t steve told you about the good old days yet? him, taking on all the bad guys, and me, taking on all the ladies… good times.” you snorted, hitting him on the chest. “alright buck. whatever you say.”

suddenly, nat grabbed your arm and led you out of the room, you stumbling backwards, but still managing to wink at bucky. “get it girl,” he mouthed, making you laugh, before nat pulled you into a corridor.

“what the hell was that, y/n?” she growled, her hair framing her face. you stayed calm, brushing her off. “jealous, red?” you said flippantly, before pressing your lips to hers, effectively cutting off her imminent rant. you pulled away a couple minutes later, smirking. “karma’s a bitch, darling.

[verdigrisprowl]

Oct 11 Blurr’s Horror Stream - Friday the 13th

Once again, Bonecrusher showed up. He talked about cannibalism with Blurr, grumbled about how the boss hasn’t been helping the Constructicons move closer to the freedom he promised them, and showed off his new avatar upgrades to Buzzsaw.

Missed the first few lines, nothing of substance had started yet.

boomtank: ((??? B l u r r: [[ okay, so a candy bar is like those things they have at parties that have all kinds of candies on the table and you can make your own combos ]] B l u r r: [ usually got wait. ]] Bonecrusher: ((... sssso just a bunch of candy you can grab?)) B l u r r: [[ like this ]] boomtank: ((oh that is awesome B l u r r: [[ a ton of candy you can make your own combos with . Oh and probably like a chocolate fountain somewhere. But, idk. Chocolate for bots. Oil. Energon. whatever ]] Bonecrusher: ((ooooh)) B l u r r: [[ yes! So, if y'all are interested in some snacks ]] Bevel: ((awesomeness B l u r r: / anyway. He's here. Yanks drape off of the candy table / B l u r r: / Asmall portion is for cannibals. That is over yonder on the side, with a label that says 'Candy Cannibar' / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage immediately heads for that side of the bar while Soundwave shakes his helm and sits down. He'd like to make something himself, but not in front of everyone. One of the twins can-- Starscream changed their nickname to Starscream. Bevel: *will avoid that part of the table later* ItsyBitsySpyers: do it and save it for him for later. Right now, he's going to nonchalantly park himself by Bonecrusher.* B l u r r: / going to reach out and pat Ravage politely. / ItsyBitsySpyers: *And turn his helm to look at him with a greeting glyph on his visor.* B l u r r: / loading up a small tray for himself. / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage bumps Bevel's leg as he trots by and headbutts right up against the hand. Good.* boomtank: ((seriously tempted to switch muses Bonecrusher: *Bonecrusher has just gotten around to surveying the room. Oh hey there's food over— Oh hey it's Soundwave. Haha. Ha. hh.* Bonecrusher: ............... Sup. B l u r r: Want me to make you a tray? / to ravage / Bevel: *Bevel is sporting the same frame as Soundwave's movie night. Hi Ravage, have a small skritch if you're up for it* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave bobs his helm in response and turns back to face the movie, squashing the urge to laugh with a vengeance. In the meantime, Ravage wriggles at the skritch as he passes by--* ItsyBitsySpyers: *And blinks at Blurr.* ItsyBitsySpyers: =...Yes. I will sit.= Bonecrusher: *The second Soundwave looks away from him, he heads the other way. Takes the long way around to the snack table.* B l u r r: / nods and grabs another tray. Starts loading things up/ Bonecrusher: ... Hey, what's this "Cannibar" slag about? *points at the sign.* This for real or you bein' cute? Bevel: *Bevel has been given a gift. She will accept it with only a small squeak of pleasure* B l u r r: ... /glaances at / Ah. You again. /licks denta / Oh no, it's very real. B l u r r: I wouldn't joke about that. Bonecrusher: *Optics light up.* Fraggin' FINALLY. *He grabs a handful from the bar.* Ain't nobody got good taste. B l u r r: Well. I do. B l u r r: Over here is the fear flavor. That's my favorite. Then there's some anger in there. Some condensed whining. / props claw on hip/ Not a bad flavor choice this haul. ItsyBitsySpyers: =Paranoia?= B l u r r: Oooh, that's sprinkled in everywhere! Bonecrusher: Oooh. *Drops the load he'd scooped up and grabs a handful of fear instead.* Bonecrusher: *Snaps back Nova Prime's battlemask and shoves the whole handful in his mouth.* ItsyBitsySpyers: =Hm.= Small nod. Those mixtures should be close enough to the hunt, then. B l u r r: ... Well. At least we know you have an appetite. B l u r r: / walks over to Ravage and sets down the tray for him/ Bonecrusher: *Chews for a moment. Stops chewing. Frowns.* Bevel: *she'll make her way over to the bar and carefully consider the non-cannibal options* Do you make everything yourself, Blurr? Bonecrusher: *Sadly spits it back into his hand.* Forgot I'm a hologram. B l u r r: Yes, I do. /to Bevel/ I make everything myself. B l u r r: / looks to bonecrusher / Pity. Shall I send you some in person? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[No. They do not receive presents from outside.]] Bonecrusher: Yeah! You know where we— Awww! *gives Soundwave the Most Upset look.* B l u r r: What a pity... and here I've found another mech who enjoys my type of appetite. ItsyBitsySpyers: =Ravage looks exceedingly smug as he paws through the contents of his tray.* ItsyBitsySpyers: =More for me.= Bonecrusher: *Gives the wad of half-chewed candy in his hand one last mournful look.* B l u r r: / smirks a little/ I'm sure I could find a way to get them to you. Bonecrusher: *Then sticks it back in the bowl.* ItsyBitsySpyers: =...Disgusting.= B l u r r: Well, better not to waste it. Bonecrusher: Yeah Ravage. Mor fer you, right? ItsyBitsySpyers: =...MORE disgusting.= Gonna just hunch protectively over his tray so nobody can put pre-chewed food in it. B l u r r: / grabs a piece of fear and chews on it, avoiding what's been chewed/ Oberyn will eat it. B l u r r: [[ yall ready?? ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((yep)) boomtank: ((more or less Bonecrusher: *Laughs of obnoxiously and heads for... a couch that ISN'T occupied by Soundwave.* Bonecrusher: ((yep!)) B l u r r: / you can sit with me, sad food buddy / Bonecrusher: ((... "Laughs of Obnoxiously.")) boomtank: ((trying to pick a muse ItsyBitsySpyers: ((all of them)) B l u r r: [[ ... oh. ]] B l u r r: [ uh ill start the movie , but i might have be sparse. ]] B l u r r: [[ for a second ]] Bonecrusher: ((fuse all of your muses into a single muse.)) B l u r r: [[ my poor friend. 8( their parents house is gone. ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave stretches across his whole couch and weaves his feelers over himself as a sort of tarp. Ah.* Bonecrusher: ((oh no. :( the fires?)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((OH NO)) B l u r r: [[ yeah. ]] boomtank: ((do we really want a small Leaguer in here? B l u r r: [[ they said all that's left is the fountain in the front. ]] boomtank: ((and holy ***, is she okay? B l u r r: [[ they're okay. ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: ((that's terrible, i'm sorry for them...)) B l u r r: [[ they evacuated in time. ]] Bonecrusher: ((... hey. hey. if you ever DO wanna start bringing magnum, prowl would be happy to provide him with covert space bridges.)) Bonecrusher: ((come hang out with the giant aliens)) boomtank: ((it is tempting B l u r r: [[ do whatever you want. I've seen the whole series, even if blurr hasnt lmao ]] Bonecrusher: ((he'll be like "rumble come here and meet an Actual Baseball Celebrity From Earth)) B l u r r: / anyway. Settles on a couch with his snacks. He has some space for anybody that wants to join / B l u r r: [[ okay imma start ]] Bonecrusher: *You know what? He IS gonna sit next to Blurr. Maybe the host can protect him from Soundwave's evil ways.* boomtank: ((ah, why not, Blurr, that okay? Bevel: *will settle on the floor by Soundwave and company* B l u r r: [[ yeah ?? You're free to bring whoever you want to, yknow. ]] B l u r r: / glances over at bonecrusher and wiggles claws at / Bonecrusher: ((if u want it to be through prowl it can't be this stream but like, i mean, that's no reason you can't bring him anyway)) Bonecrusher: Sup. B l u r r: [[ i will leave captions for you ]] B l u r r: [[ if you all don't mind ]] boomtank: ((multiverse *** B l u r r: ... You know, I don't think I ever got your name. Bevel: ((i need them myself so yay captions Bonecrusher: *... glances at Soundwave to see if he's watching him.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is looking at Bonecrusher, yes. Mostly because he can see the screen through the feelers.* Bonecrusher: 'M Bonecrusher. ItsyBitsySpyers: *He drops a hand over the side of the couch to pat Bevel. Greetings.* Bonecrusher: *... slouches down to hide behind blurr. this is hard to do as nova prime.* Bevel: *is patted?* Hi! ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Remind him to ask you something later, Bevel.]] B l u r r: / will try to appear larger to hide him ? / Fireball: ((I am gonna see how well I can do this B l u r r: I'm Blurr. Captain of the Emperor- the ship you're on. Bevel: Huh? Ok. Bevel: *tries really hard not to remind him now out of curiosity about what Soundwave wants to ask* Bonecrusher: Yeah, I know. The one with the dead boyfriend. B l u r r: / tilts helm a little / Who told you that? Bonecrusher: Boss did. Bevel: *could appear larger but sitting next to Soundwave probably negates her ability to hide anyone* B l u r r: [[ oh 80s horror ]] Bonecrusher: Well—I mean, he didn't tell us. We saw it from hardlinin' with him. B l u r r: ...Well, your boss is an idiot. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[No, he isn't.]] B l u r r: / lifts two digits / It's not one boyfriend. It's two. Bonecrusher: Nuh-uh! He's the greatest! Ain't NOBODY smarter than him. B l u r r: Technically three, but I lack the frame for one. B l u r r: / rolls optic/ Oh, sure. Bonecrusher: Damn. Whaddaya do, invite 'em home to frag and just—? *pantomimes slasher-style stabbing* B l u r r: ... Oh, no. Those aren't for the boyfriends. B l u r r: That's for when I have an itch i can't scratch. Bonecrusher: ... *Offers fistbump.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Y'know that's what backscratchers is for. Or feelers.// B l u r r: / a fistbump for me? / Bonecrusher: *a fistbump for you!* B l u r r: / fist bumps ? though he isn't sure what for / B l u r r: it's not that kind of itch, mech. It's the kind you can't scratch normally. Bonecrusher: That's how ya do it. Frag 'em then slag 'em. B l u r r: It's that itching desire for something. B l u r r: K-Kyeheheheheh. I don't always frag them. In fact, it's rare that I do. Bonecrusher: Nice. Skip to the fun part. B l u r r: I'm more interested in the way their energon feels all over me. B l u r r: / chews another snack/ Bonecrusher: I just like chewin' 'em. B l u r r: [ my favorite line, tbfh. "Oh shut up, Ralph. " ]] B l u r r: I prefer to play with my food, honestly. Fireball: -don't mind him, he just froze between one step and another. How did he end up here again?- Bevel: *Bevel waves from her spot on the floor to the new person* Bonecrusher: Oh, yeah, heh. Chasin' 'em around the room while they scream's fun. "Help, help, don't eat me, I'll do anything ya want!" Haw! B l u r r: Ahhh. They don't always know I'm going to eat them. Sometimes, I don't. Fireball: -How are they all so hu-oh one's waving- Hello. B l u r r: Sometimes, I send them down to the keg room to become part of the Cannibar on the ship. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave twists one of his feelers around to look at the new being.* [[Designation?]] B l u r r: If you keg fear up, it'll cool and chill perfectly. Bonecrusher: Yeah? Huh. I'll ask Mix about that. B l u r r: / twitches finials and glances at the newcomer / Hnnnh... new metal. B l u r r: ... Well, if you ever want some recipes for good energon. Bonecrusher: Yeah! Send it over. Mix loves that stuff. Fireball: Magnum Ace. I...think something went wrong with my door. B l u r r: I'll organize them and send them. Fireball: ...this is not the workshop B l u r r: You want to give me your comm so I can? B l u r r: Definitely not a workshop. Bonecrusher: Yeah, sure. *pings it over.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You came through a door? Where?]] B l u r r: / twitches claws and sends over a list of five energon recipes/ Bevel: Oh, that happens sometimes. Fireball: Japan. And what happens? B l u r r: ... So. /shifts a little / what do you do for fun in that confinement you're in? Don't you hate being locked up? Bevel: Universes overlapping and stuff. Bonecrusher: Yeah, it fraggin' sucks. B l u r r: Why not break out? Fireball: Universes. Plural. Like...-don't mind him as his mind catches up with the idea- Bevel: Uh-huh. Bonecrusher: *mutters* Boss says no. Bevel: Untold numbers of them. *still trying to find the one where Lord of the Rings is real, she knows it exists* Fireball: O-oh...That's unexpected...untold, huh? Bonecrusher: *mutters more darkly* Startin' to wonder why we're listenin' to him anymore. Starscream: ((sorry about that I'm having technical difficulties, I'm back Bonecrusher: ((which starscream is you)) Fireball: ((welcome back! Starscream: ((thebestdecepticonleader Bevel: That's what I was told, yeah. Bonecrusher: ((o7)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *Takes note of that there mutter.* B l u r r: ... Don't agree with your boss, hn? Fireball: That sounds daunting...um... Starscream: the music is... interesting Bonecrusher: He said if we listened to him he'd get us free again in no time. All legal-like so we wouldn't have to be on the run. Starscream: Okay, how did he do that? Starscream: Do humans have the ability to teleport? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Not usually.]] B l u r r: ... Where's the fun in that? Starscream: Then again, neither do we but Skywarp can Fireball: ...what is your name? B l u r r: Life on the run is much more exciting. Bevel: Bevel! Bonecrusher: Instead he's fraggin' around with an fleshy bug that's gonna kill him, he's turned down an offer that would get us outta prison, he's... Fireball: Hello, Bevel. I'm Magnum Ace. Starscream: So did he pretend to drown so he could... bite her? B l u r r: Hnh... sounds lack luster. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((oh god i forgot about this. no, i'm out for a moment, i can't watch what they do)) Bonecrusher: ... He ain't doin' good. Bevel: Nice to meet you. Do you want to watch the movie with us or see if you can find your way back home? B l u r r: ... / tilts helm/ So why do you listen to him? ItsyBitsySpyers: ((okay back)) Fireball: ((wb! Bonecrusher: ... Cuz he's smarter than the rest of us. *But he doesn't sound convinced.* Fireball: The movie's not long, is it? Bevel: Um, I am not sure. Blurr? B l u r r: I don't think so. B l u r r: [[ wb! ]] B l u r r: / looks back at Bonecrusher/ Well. Let me tell you something about intelligence. Sometimes it's not as perfect as you think. Starscream: wooowooo spoopy Fireball: Okay. Then...I think I can stay a bit. We were settling down for the night anyway. Bonecrusher: His is. We've seen inside his head. We know everything about how he thinks. B l u r r: ... / tilts helm a little / You said your friend was Mixmaster? Fireball: Though I think most of the seating was not made for someone my size. Bonecrusher: Yeah. Teammate. 'Nother Constructicon. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((...oh no how small is mag)) B l u r r: / flickers optic/ With Scrapper? Scavenger? Fireball: (( 6'8 ItsyBitsySpyers: ((OH  NO)) B l u r r: [[ SMOL ]] Bonecrusher: ... Scrap's dead. Fireball: ((he's /tiny/ B l u r r: Well, you can sit wherever / turns to Fireball / Honestly, no one will eat you. Today. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave vents and sits up.* [[If you require assistance getting onto a couch, you may share his.]] B l u r r: ... Yeah? /vents/ I bet yours was better than ours Starscream: Not subtle flirting there Fireball: -well Blurr sounded a bit ominous- Fireball: -and he's glancing around for where the other comment came from, because that was not him- ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Here. In blue.]] Fireball: -curious wave- Hello? You are? Starscream: ugh Bonecrusher: *makes disgusted nova prime noises at the screen* Starscream: Why do human movies have such a fascination with kissing Bonecrusher: Heh. Bet ours was. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Soundwave. You need not be concerned. He is not a mechannibal.]] B l u r r: / frowns/ Our Constructicons were so annoying. Fireball: A /what?/ Starscream: ew ItsyBitsySpyers: [[A cannibal. The others were joking about that.]] Fireball: -Yep. Ominous- B l u r r: Eugh... disgusting. Bonecrusher: Mm? Bonecrusher: *more disgusted noises* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[It is a joke in poor taste.]] He taps his visor. No mouth. Starscream: ew ItsyBitsySpyers: //Ugh. I shoulda listened when Frenzy said it was fulla fleshies interfacin' 'n stayed home.// ItsyBitsySpyers: //Heh, community chest. Sounds like boxy Boss.// B l u r r: Well of course they do. That's all humans every do. B l u r r: *ever Bonecrusher: ((PFFFF)) Fireball: Okay...I would appriciate some help up to a seat. Bonecrusher: ((that was a quality joke)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((bows)) Fireball: ((nice ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave offers the flat of his arm as a sort of elevator up.* Fireball: -he's going to pull himself up onto it- Thanks. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nod. It is not a problem.* B l u r r: Oh, finally. B l u r r: The good part. /shoves a candy in his mouth / B l u r r: Hey, mech, you're sure I can't sneak you some snacks? /glances at Bonecrusher/ I'm not one for rules. Bonecrusher: It'd be better if they got killed WHILE fraggin' instead of after. Starscream: Well then... Bonecrusher: ... Or before. Before's good. Bevel: Before. Then we would not have to watch. B l u r r: Before, after or during. It's all entertaining. Bonecrusher: Yeah. 'Xactly. Fireball: -and he's going to settle where he's been seated- ItsyBitsySpyers: //Ha!// Starscream: yeah but if he had done it during he could get two birds with one stone ItsyBitsySpyers: [[You said you come from an Earth country?]] Bonecrusher: S'not as fun as gettin' to watch 'em die one at a time. B l u r r: True. Starscream: More efficient though Fireball: Yes! I come from Japan. Silver Castle's home is there. B l u r r: ... You know. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Who is Silver Castle?]] B l u r r: I wouldn't stand there and scream if I was about to get attacked. Bonecrusher: ((that was the lamest horror movie scream ever)) Fireball: A soccer team, part of the Iron League Bevel: ((why didn't you put your clothes back on???? ItsyBitsySpyers: //She ain't puttin' her arm-- uh, her clothes back on?// Bonecrusher: ((she high)) Fireball: Well, mainly soccer Bevel: Humans is scary movies are dumb. Bevel: ((in* Fireball: We've played other sports, like baseball and ice hockey ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave hears 'team' and 'league' and looks to Rumble. Rumble looks back and quickly explains over comm. It's an Eject kind of thing.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Hold up, I heard baseball.// Fireball: Yes? ItsyBitsySpyers: //You any good?// Starscream: Humans are dumb in general ItsyBitsySpyers: =Agreed.= B l u r r: humans are incredibly stunted in the intelligence department. Fireball: Well, technically Silver Castle is a soccer team, but I was made for baseball Fireball: I'm their main pitcher Fireball: Though Windy is getting the hang of it. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Yeah? You allowed to throw a couple outside games 'n scrap?// Bevel: *learned new thing about baseball, it involves throwing* Fireball: You...want to see me pitch? ItsyBitsySpyers: //No, no, I - I mean, uh. Yeah, I do. Jus'. Not in here. That guy,// Points to Blurr. //He ain't gonna be happy if we break stuff.// B l u r r: Oh, you can break things... Bonecrusher: ... Oh! Hey. I had somethin' t' show... Almost forgot. B l u r r: but, I /will/ break something on you for everything you break. Bonecrusher: *peeks slyly over at Soundwave. Is he still watching Bonecrusher?* B l u r r: / will block the way as best he can / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Is now.* Fireball: .......-yeah, he's not pitching in here, thanks- Bonecrusher: *gulps. shyly waves at.* Hhhhey. Starscream: Maybe you shouldn't split up Fireball: I think I can get footage, if that'll do? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Hello. Do you require something?]] B l u r r: / tilts helm/ You want a wall between you? /whisper / Bonecrusher: Is, uh. Did Buzzsaw come? ItsyBitsySpyers: //Yeah! Yeah, sure. My brother knows a guy, bet he'd wanna see too. Oh, uh, 'n somebody else.// ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Buzzsaw did not come. He can be here. Unless you want that wall.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Twitch glance to Blurr and back.* Bonecrusher: ... Don't worry 'bout it. *slllllouches back down.* Fireball: -grins at that- Good! That I can do, without the risk of damaging something. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Are you certain...?]] Bevel: Did Buzzsaw stay home? Bonecrusher: *mumblemumble* dunworyboudit. B l u r r: ... /tilts helm. Confused, but. Will continue to sit by Bonecrusher like he's bigger / ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Buzzsaw prefers the clawed human's films. [][][]More creative.[][][] ]] Bevel: Clawed human? ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Yes, the... one with the rhyme, he believes.]] Bevel: Oh. I do not think I have seen those. I only watch horror movies here. B l u r r: Which one with the rhyme? There are many ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Something about never sleeping again.]] Bonecrusher: *dejected slouch. he was excited about showing buzzsaw.* B l u r r: Oh, that's nightmare on elm street. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Yes, that is the one.]] Wing: ((tiny peek in)) Bonecrusher: *and he cAN'T EVEN EAT DEAD PEOPLE.* B l u r r: / poor bonecrusher / B l u r r: / he will find a way to send you snacks / B l u r r: [[ hiii ]] Fireball: -don't tell this one that it wasn't a joke- ItsyBitsySpyers: *Blurr will get those snacks right back with an angry face scrawled on a datapad.* Bonecrusher: *the OLD head of security didn't care about them smuggling things in.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *In the meantime, someone told a little birdy that someone else wanted to see him. Buzzsaw slowly drifts into the room to perch on Bonecrusher's head.* Bonecrusher: *What the—? Looks up.* Bevel: *will wave to Buzzsaw* Bonecrusher: *Looking up doesn't actually work very well when the thing you're looking for is on your head.* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Quit worryin' about the fraggin' door 'n get the windows.// ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw waves a claw at Bevel.* B l u r r: / Blurr will get snacks to his new cannibal friend / ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Hff! Be still.{{ Bonecrusher: Oh! Hey! Ya showed up. Fireball: ... ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave looks to Fireball to see if they're handling the film all right.* Fireball: -Magnum's handling it fine, he's just at a loss on how to comment- ItsyBitsySpyers: }}I did. Did you not expect me?{{ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Chittery chuckling.* Bonecrusher: Naw, didn't think you were comin'. Bonecrusher: Hey! *sits upright.* Hey, check it out, I made upgrades. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}I wasn't.{{ Buzzsaw waves a feeler. }}Have you something for me? I detest these wastes of film.{{ Bonecrusher: *flexes arm.* Look at this. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw floats up again and over to the arm, optic band brightening. What should he be seeing?* Bonecrusher: *Reflecting in the armor over his bicep like a ghost is Senator Ratbat's smug smile.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *BRIGHT* }}Disgusting. Oily as the vorn Primus mistakenly forged him. Beautiful. How? I must know!{{ Bonecrusher: Gets better. I got Proteus on my aft. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Proteus, Proteus...{{ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Nope. No bells.{{ Bonecrusher: Proteus's Promise? Guy who said if a buncha Decepticons registered as a political party we'd get get a senate seat or somethin' but used the list to hunt 'em down instead. Fireball: . . . Bonecrusher: M'gonna render him makin' out with Sentinel. Cuz they'd hate that. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Hisses.* }}A well-deserved resting place.{{ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave huffs softly. All things considered, he can't say he disapproves.* Bonecrusher: Anyway. This. *Points at his bicep.* Takes a lotta memory. First ya gotta render models of the senators. I only made four of 'em and I only did busts. Bevel: *can't argue with Bonecrusher either, that bot sounds like a big jerk* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Aw, c'mon! The endin' was good without 'im.// Bevel: Is this gonna have a bad ending like the other ones? ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Yes? Yes? And then? Reflection versus paint, how?{{ ItsyBitsySpyers: [[The other what, Bevel?]] Bonecrusher: Then you gotta set 'em so they're locked near the places you want them to be reflectin'. I got Ratbat floatin' like, here. *points about six inches over his bicep* Bevel: The other scary movies? Where they defeat the big bad but not really. Bonecrusher: And THEN, you set them so they're invisible and ain't solid. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Probably, cause they made bunches more.// Bevel: Boo. Fireball: -now he gets to worry about how he's getting home- B l u r r: I like when the "big bad" makes it. Bonecrusher: But you tell your armor—there's a subroutine in the reflection program that tells it how to reflect other solid matter, since it don't work like the reflection program that reflects real things. B l u r r: It means the heroes have less of a chance. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Voice those concerns, Fireball. You'll get an answer.* Bevel: *kicks the floor with one her heels in protest of this injustice* Bonecrusher: So you just tell it to treat the invisible slag like it's visible. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}And you discovered this alone?{{ Bonecrusher: Naw. Figured out how to get it work in my sleep. Dunno which one of us did it. B l u r r: ... You'd rather the humans fruitlessly mess around and get people killed? Fireball: -give him a moment. everything, including the company, is daunting- B l u r r: / scratches helm/ Though, I'm more a fan of the monster side of things. Bonecrusher: Bet it was boss, he thinks of clever slag like that. ItsyBitsySpyers: }}I imagine. Still! Execution is as vital as planning.{{ Fireball: -eventually taps on Soundwave's arm- Bonecrusher: Frag yeah. And if you stick a hand through where the invisible holograms are it feels all staticky. Like a data ghost. B l u r r: / glances at this smol. / B l u r r: / would totally harvest it, if he could. But, it's maybe a shotglass worth of energon? / ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Hm?]] Looks down at the smol. [[Yes?]] ItsyBitsySpyers: }}Will it reflect?{{ Bevel: *is gonna leave to sulk about bad movie endings because the mun needs to be up early for work* Fireball: -still weird having another voice up in there- How...exactly do I get home? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave bobs a feeler at Bevel.* Fireball: -waves after Bevel- Goodbye! Bonecrusher: What, the hand? Uh... Bonecrusher: *sticks his other hand through where he hid Ratbat's bust, squints at his bicep armor.* ... Yup. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Do you possess coordinates to your home? Addresses, star charts, time descriptions...]] Bonecrusher: *... Wiggles a finger out of Ratbat's nose.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Buzzsaw squawk-laughs.* B l u r r: / vents and grabs another snack to chew / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Ravage paws at Blurr's foot as he passes* Fireball: -Sondwave. Please don't move. Magnum is currently attempting to use you as a buffer between himself and Blurr- B l u r r: /glances at Ravage/ Yes? ItsyBitsySpyers: =Recurring monsters are good. It is a long hunt.= B l u r r: ... /smirks/ You think so? ItsyBitsySpyers: =Mm.= ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave will be perfectly still.* B l u r r: I rather adore monsters, to be honest. Fireball: I have a star chart. I don't know how accurate, but it got me back to my Earth once. B l u r r: / flexes claws/ I aspire to be like the greatest Fireball: -Thank you- ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Give him that and where you intend to return. He will do what he can.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: =Who?= B l u r r: / still staring at Fireball like he's food. / B l u r r: / smiking/ Hnn? Oh, you know. Just the greatest monsters. Fireball: -Blurr, you're unsettling him- B l u r r: / grINS / ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Desist.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Shields Fireball with an arm.* Fireball: -phew. Thank you Soundwave- B l u r r: / snickering / B l u r r: /flexes claws / Fireball: -and he's pinging over a starchart, mostly centered around Earth, which is the one he's pointed out as where he needs to go- ItsyBitsySpyers: *The mun is tired and needs to drop out of the chat, but Soundwave is still here, so - assume he spends a few minutes examining it with Chimera's help before handing -- ItsyBitsySpyers: over his contact data (just in case) and attempting a bridge.* Fireball: -Well, it was unexpected, the contact data, but he's hoping the bridge works- Fireball: ((and g'night to the mun)) Bonecrusher: ((assume bonecrusher goes home too. probably before soundwave, since soundwave Lurks.)) B l u r r: [[ i have to open so i gotta go ]] Bonecrusher: ((gnight~)) Bonecrusher: ((GO SLEP)) Fireball: ((and whoever's left, because I am out as well)) B l u r r: [[ ni ni! ]] B l u r r: [[ thanks for coming ]] Fireball: ((thanks for the movie!

[jooheonies]

All Yours

Character(s): You X Minhyuk, Yoo Kihyun

Genre: smut, slight?romance?? idk its a relationship and they love each other? i think thats how this works??

Warning(s): orgasm denial/edging, slight!degradation, jealous sex (lmao if that’s a warning), dom!minhyuk, slight?sexual tension, semi-public sex

Length: 5.1k

Summary: In which Lee Minhyuk hates that stupid Yoo Kihyun makes him jealous.

Minhyuk is a little childish sometimes. It’s just part of his personality, he says, he’s just a little insecure, just a little possessive.

He knows that you’re his and that he’s yours, but there’s always a little seed of doubt niggling at the back corners of his mind. He’d never try to control you, though, but you can see it in the little things, like the way he pouts, or the way his lips turn down in a frown when he sees you with someone else, or the way he begins to emphasize how much you mean to him.

And it’s so utterly Minhyuk, to sit there and always cheer on everyone else and praise them to the heavens, but forget about himself. And forget that he’s just as important to you as you are to him.

So the first time it happens, he stays calm. After all, it’s Kihyun. It’s Yoo Kihyun, his best friend of seven years so really, he shouldn't even be upset. Meeting at the mall to hang out after not seeing each other for a couple weeks is bound to make you more clingy than usual. So when you and Kihyun nearly forget about him and walk so far ahead you you look like you don’t even know him, he waves it off. After all, you haven’t seen each other in a while.

But maybe he pouts a little bit every now and then, shrugging in response when you ask him what you want to eat. And maybe he gets just a little childish when you sit down at the booths, sitting on the other side of the seats instead of next to you and avoiding eye contact. Kihyun jogs off to a corner of the food court to grab some food for himself and you stick with Minhyuk to decide what to get to eat.

“So, baby,” you begin, trailing your fingertips down his forearm, “What should we get?”

His arms slide off the table in one swift movement, “I don’t really care, but maybe you’d be more interested in what Kihyun’s getting? Since you forgot that I’m here and all.” He sniffs lightly at the end of his sentence, lifting his hand to inspect his fingernails.

A stunned silence echoes. Had you really left him out that much? Your eyes lock on his searchingly and he turns away, frustration etched onto his features. Minhyuk stares determinedly at the wall before you clear your throat, bringing his gaze back to yours in a flash. He opens his mouth as if to say something when his eyes shift to something behind you, narrowing for a split second—so quick you wouldn’t have realized it if you weren’t staring. His expression shifts quickly, mouth widening into a smile as he brings his hand back up to the table to wrap around your wrist, tugging you up.

“Oh, look, baby,” Minhyuk says, pulling you to his side of the table, “We were so busy talking we forgot to get food and Kihyun got some for us!”

You look up, eyes taking in the sight of a slightly amused Kihyun staring down at you, three cups of ice cream balanced in his hands.

“I figured you’d take years picking something, so I just bought some ice cream for us,” he announces, sitting down across from you and sliding two cups of ice cream in your direction. “I’m just that considerate of a person.”

Minhyuk throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in close and nuzzling into your shoulder. “We just got distracted,” he says, pecking you on the cheek lightly.

Kihyun laughs a little and nods, digging his spoon into the ice cream as you fidget uncomfortably in your seat, playing with the little plastic spoon before Minhyuk’s hand wraps around your wrist. You turn to the side to see Minhyuk holding up a plastic spoon to your lips, smiling much too wide for it to mean anything good.

“Say ahh,” he adds sweetly, bringing the ice cream to your lips.

You flush with embarrassment, flashing Kihyun a glance that doesn’t go unnoticed by Minhyuk, as his eyes narrow and he prods your lips with the spoon.

“Eat.”

Coughing a little, you open your mouth timidly, letting the cool ice cream slip past your lips and into your mouth. Kihyun glances up briefly, eyes locking on yours and he smirks.

“Wow. So cute. I think I’m going to vomit.”

Minhyuk giggles a little, tugging you closer until you’re practically in his lap and nuzzles closer to you.

“I know, isn’t my baby the cutest?” There’s a slight edge to his voice as he stares at Kihyun that’s nearly indecipherable, but you hear it and a slight shiver runs down your spine.

Kihyun nods, mouth full of ice cream and as dense as ever, “Yeah, the cutest. She still looks like a rat, though.”

You bark out a laugh, nudging Minhyuk’s side as you rest your head on his shoulder. He stiffens for a moment before his shoulders relax and he smiles.

“My rat.”

The second time it happens, he doesn’t try to hide anything. Kihyun’s hand grazes yours as you pick up the rifle, readying your aim at the little deer on screen.

“Why won’t you let me play?” Minhyuk whines as he leans against the game machine, arms crossed with a pout on his lips. “I didn’t come to the arcade to watch you two play!’

Kihyun snorts, closing one eye as he aims, “That’s because you can’t play this game for shit, Minhyuk. At least I can.”

You laugh, rolling your shoulders back, “Same. I’m sorry, baby, but you suck at this game.”

Steadying your aim, you pull on the trigger once and cheer when the bullet goes through two deer at once. “What’s that, Kihyun? It sounds like your ass getting beat!” You yell, bringing one hand up to cup your ear.

Kihyun snickers under his breath, pulling on the trigger and firing off a round of shots that knocks nearly half the deer off the screen.

He turns to you, laughing as your mouth hangs open. “You sure it wasn’t the sound of your ass getting beat, buddy?”

“Play me again! That wasn’t fair at all!”

“No, I’m the best at this game, it’s a waste of time for you to try and beat me!”

“Are you sure you’re not just a wimp?”

Kihyun opens his mouth, ready to send off another scalding retort when you hear a smatter of laughter. You both turn your heads to the side in confusion, eyes landing on a group of teenage girls giggling and elbowing each other as they stare at you. Kihyun looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion before looking back at them.

“You guys make a really cute couple!” One girls blurts out, cheeks reddening as her friends giggle even louder.

You and Kihyun look at each other, grimacing in disgust.

“Oh, we’re not togeth—” you begin, smiling weakly at the girls just as Minhyuk sidles up next to you.

“Babe, you’re taking a really long time playing this stupid game with stupid Kihyun,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, his hands playing with the hem of your sweater.

You turn to look at him as his hands slide up, cupping your cheeks and bringing you to his lips. Eyes widening as his fingers graze your jaw and move down to your waist tugging you closer, you stumble closer to him, hands latching onto his shoulders. 

Kissing Minhyuk has always been like this. He leaves you disoriented and dazed and very much wanting. His hands lock around your waist and hold you there as he drags his tongue over the seam of your lips, your mouth opening in a moan. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, hot and heavy, as he presses against you.

Your eyes snap open when you hear someone clearing their throat loudly behind you. Pressing your palms against Minhyuk’s chest, you turn to the side, heaving slightly and locking eyes with a smirking Kihyun.

“We’re in public, guys. Please stop.”

You blush, turning to look at the girls who have stopped giggling to stare at you, faces bright red. Kihyun coughs loudly, leading you and Minhyuk to the door and pushing you out, mumbling something about ‘horny little shits’ under his breath.

Minhyuk just giggles and interlinks his fingers with yours, swinging your laced hands as you walk, humming lightly.

You ask him about it later at home and he just waves it off telling you that you’re looking into things too much, trying to find things that aren’t there. And maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re just overanalyzing everything. Minhyuk just nods and tell you everything is fine, but his eye twitches just a little bit when he says it, and his lips curl down into a frown.

The third time he’s not very discreet at all.

You slide into the passenger seat as Kihyun starts the car, Minhyuk sitting in the back and immediately pulling out his phone.

“Where do you want to go?” Kihyun asks, pulling the car out of the driveway. “I’m guessing either chinese food or italian, but I want italian, mainly because it’s closer.”

“Yeah, I’m fine with whatever,” you tell him, your gaze drifting off of Minhyuk’s hunched form. His eyes are focused on his phone, fingers locked around the frame just a bit too tightly.

You idly talk to Kihyun, your thoughts slowly drifting from Minhyuk and soon, you’ve completely forgotten he’s in the backseat.

“I’m not joking, he actually asked me if I sucked the professor’s dick since I got an A on the final!”

A snort leaves your mouth and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth as Kihyun pulls into a parking spot. “I can’t believe he actually thought that! You’re the biggest prude I’ve ever met!”

Kihyun turns to face you, lips pursed, “I’m sorry that I’ve been saving my purity for the one.” He brings his hand up his chest in mock hurt and hunches his head back to form a double chin.

“Kihyun, your purity has been gone for a long time; you’re just picky as fuck.”

Your laughter stops short when you hear the car door slam shut from the back and turn to find the backseat empty. Minhyuk’s back is turned to you from what you can see through the window and his hands are pushed deep into his pockets.

And maybe he’s being a little sensitive right now, but he can’t help it, because it isn’t like it’s the first time you’ve forgotten about him. And for some godforsaken reason, it’s always whenever Kihyun is around, and Minhyuk hates the his best friend makes him jealous but at the same time, he’s just so fucking pissed that you never fucking remember him.

He turns around when you climb out of the car quietly, gently closing the door behind you.

“Hey, babe. Remember me? Your boyfriend?” He asks sarcastically, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You wince a little, before furrowing your brows, a wave of irritation washing over you.

“If you had a problem,” you hiss, stepping closer to him, “you should’ve said something. Not just sit around in the back pouting and waiting for us to invite you into the conversation.”

“Darling, it didn’t seem like you wanted me in the conversation to begin with.”

And there it is. A shiver runs down your spine and you turn away, bringing your hands up to run at the goosebumps that dot your upper arms. He only ever calls you darling when he’s mad, when a part of him feels scared that you don’t love him as much, when he’s upset or worried or anything in between.

Kihyun steps onto the pavement, stretching his arms above his head and blinking obviously at you.

“Why’re you guys just standing there? I’m hungry and I vote we go in right now.”

You nod, not bothering to look at Minhyuk because you’re not too sure you can handle that right now. Stepping forward to match your footsteps with Kihyun’s, you push open the door, shuddering when a cool blast of air hits your legs. The door swings back into Minhyuk’s face as you release it, not bothering to even hold it for him, a loud oof sounding behind you.

Kihyun speaks to the waiter, giving him the head count and out of your peripheral vision, you see Minhyuk rubbing his nose and flinching slightly as his fingers brush over the reddened flesh with too much force.

Kihyun tugs on your arm, drawing your attention back to him and pulling you as the waiter shows you to the seats. The table is pressed up against an open window, a cold breeze fluttering the curtains. He pushes you into one of the seats, sliding into the chair opposite of you. Minhyuk sits next to you, pulling off his jacket and dropping it gently onto your shoulders. You look up as the heavy fabric falls over you, but Minhyuk’s gaze is set determinedly to the menu.

He coughs lightly into his fist, his other hand coming to rest on you knee, drawing small circles into the skin. You almost snap at him when Kihyun’s voice interrupts you.

“What are you getting? I’m so confused because half of this shit is written in Italian and I’m not sure what the difference is between tagliatelle and penne,” he hisses over the top of his menu, a panicked look in his eyes.

You laugh a little, the sound quickly turning into a choked cough as Minhyuk’s hands graze up the insides of your thighs, his fingers cold and shocking against the warmth of your skin. Your thighs clench together, trying to prevent him from moving more, but it just brings his fingers closer to your core and you nearly whine at the feeling. Minhyuk’s gaze is still locked on his menu, but a smirk graces his lips.

Your mouth opens as you lean forward, ready to tell him off, when Kihyun interrupts you again.

“An answer, maybe?”

You turn to glare at him, relaxing your thighs for a fraction of a second. A second that Minhyuk uses to trail his fingers up so that the tips graze the lace of your panties.

“I think I’m getting the um, ah the um maybe the cannoli?” You try, wriggling around in your seat as Minhyuk’s fingers press against your clit through your panties. He dips the tips of his fingers into the waistband, tugging at the elastic as he slides one finger into you. Biting down on your lip, you try to muffle your moans as his finger languidly dips in and out of you, a nonchalant expression on his face. Minhyuk teases you with his fingers, picking up the pace and then suddenly slowing down, bringing you closer and closer, and then leaving you hanging. The sharp taste of blood fills your mouth and you realize too late that you’ve bitten into your lower lip and torn the skin trying to stay quiet.

Giving up, you fling your napkin down onto the table and announce, “I’m going to the bathroom really quick. I’m just not feeling too great.” The words come out in a rush, but you assume that they heard because Kihyun nods, not even bothering to look up from his menu and Minhyuk—you don’t even bother looking at Minhyuk.

Stumbling away from the table as quickly as you can, you rush to the corner of the restaurant and push open the first door you find, stumbling into a dark room. You slam the door behind you, panting heavily as your eyes take in a mop and bucket and rows of toilet paper and great now you’ve gone and locked yourself into the broom closet. Genius.

Just as your hand moves to twist the knob, the door opens, a bright burst of light entering the small space and you squint as someone  pushes in. Your eyes readjust to the light and Minhyuk’s smirking face enters your vision.

“Hey, sugar,” he says, backing you up against the wall. “Kihyun and I were worried since you left in such a rush, and being the good boyfriend that I am, I wanted to come by and ask you how you were doing.” His mouth splits open into a wide grin as he finishes, eyes glinting with amusement and poorly concealed attitude.

You glare up at him, hands landing on your waist defiantly. “Nope. I’m perfectly fine. Not sure what you mean.”

Minhyuk’s smile only grows as you speak, “Hmm, is that why you locked yourself inside of a storage room, darling? Is that what “perfectly fine” is?”

A hand grazes your thigh again, going up the inside of your short skirt and your resistance falls just a little bit. Minhyuk chuckles darkly, bringing his lips to your neck and nipping softly into the tender skin. A soft moan leaves your mouth as he shifts your bodies to move the broom handle out from behind you as he presses up against you, rolling his hips against yours.

“Not so loud, sugar,” he whispers against the skin. “We don’t want everyone hearing you and the whole restaurant seeing what a pretty slut you are for me, right?”

You scrabble at his shoulders as his length grazes your clit, “Fuck off, Minhyuk.” The words leave your mouth as a snarl and he immediately halts his movements.

“Oh? Alright then, I guess you won’t be needing any hel—”

You press your lips against his, latching onto his biceps desperately. “Okay, I got it, never mind, please keep going,” you tell him in between rushed kisses.

Minhyuk laughs into your mouth, slipping his hands into your hair and pushing down so your your knees onto the floor.

“Pretty baby is so needy,” he says, raking his thin fingers through your hair. “Who’s it for, baby?”

A whine leaves your mouth as he tightens his hold and uses his free hand to unzip his jeans, pulling his length out. Minhyuk drags the tip down the bridge of your nose, smearing precum on your face and your eyes widen in surprise.

“Minhyuk, people will see when I go ou—”

His laugh is deeper this time as he moves his cock to your cheek and rubs it against the soft skin of your cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. They’ll just see how pretty you can look and what a good little slut you are for me.” He drags the tip down to the corner of your lips, hissing when you open your mouth.

Minhyuk is by no means easy to take, but you pace yourself, sucking gently on the head, flicking your tongue lightly against the slit. His other hand slides into your hair as well, tugging your head back so you end up looking straight up at him, mouth hanging open.

“Don’t make any noise, alright? We don’t want everyone to come in and see you being such a pretty little slut, right?” Minhyuk asks, smacking your cheek with his cock, a wet slap echoing in the empty room. “Or does my little girl like it when everyone sees how good she is for me?”

You nod, wincing when his hand holds steady against your hair. His eyes glint a little as he pushes the head back into your mouth.

“Fuck yourself onto your fingers while you suck me off,” he orders, sliding his feet further apart.

All inhibitions leave you when his cock slides all the way into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes water, gag reflex kicking in as you choke.

Minhyuk tuts, clicking his tongue, “I thought you would be able to take it, sugar. You run your mouth all day with Kihyun but when it comes down to being a good little girl, you can’t use it right?”

You whine as he presses back into your mouth, not bothering to wait for a response. One of your hands scrabble down to lift the hem of your skirt, fingers dragging your panties to the side. You slide one digit into yourself, moaning at the feeling. Minhyuk grunts at the vibrations that trail up his cock, hissing when you press the flat of your tongue directly on the underside of the head. You flick at your clit with your thumb, trying to focus on Minhyuk’s length in your mouth, thick and hot.

“Fuck, there you go. Take all of it,” he hisses bucking his hips up into your face, his hand tugging your closer by the strands of your hair.

You pump your fingers quickly, adding a third finger and crying out. The coil building at the pit of your stomach grows and you whine as you mumble a quiet “close, ‘m close”. Your hips begin to buck wildly as you approach your climax, losing control before Minhyuk jerks you back by your hair.

He wraps a hand around his length as your jaw falls open, eyes shut in anticipation. Rough grunts leave his mouth as he jerks himself to completion over your face, your hand still trying to reach inside of you properly from the new angle. Your eyes fly open when your feel warm spurts of come landing inside of your awaiting mouth, long, sticky strands flying onto your face to land across your eyelashes, dripping down your cheeks and mixing with the strings of spit dribbling down your chin.

Minhyuk curses as he gazes down at you, eyes dark, “Fuck, baby, that was so good.”

He tugs you up quickly, turning you around so your hands splay flat against the surface of the wall as you rest your cheek against the cool drywall. You jut your ass back slightly, mewling when his fingers dig into the soft flesh.

“Pl-please, Minhyuk,” you whine as he drags the tip of his finger up and down your folds teasingly.

“Please what, honey? I didn’t quite catch that. I’m pretty sure you know how to use your mouth, right, sugar?”

Nodding, you arch against him as the tip of his finger slides in fleetingly, teasing you. He laughs and presses you flat against the wall.

“Fuck, oh my god, Minhyuk, please do something, anything, please,” you beg, nails digging into the wall as you move onto your tiptoes in an attempt to bring him further inside of you.

“Anything, sweetheart?” Minhyuk quips by your ear, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear. “You sure you won’t regret it?”

The arousal laced in his voice has you nodding feverishly, panting loudly as Minhyuk’s fingers press into you all the way. His fingers are longer and thinner than yours, reaching further into you and you arch at the feeling, clawing at the wall. He presses his lips against your neck and you feel the curve of his lips as he listens to you trying to muffle your moans.

His fingers pump into you faster, curling up and stretching you out as you moan and writhe against him. He sets up a quick rhythm, licking long stripes up the side of your neck and leaving small marks to bloom against the skin. You outright wail when he lifts your leg, bending at the knee and hooking it over his forearm. Almost crying out loud at the new angle, you bring one of your hands off the wall to clamp down on your mouth, worried about how loud you two are being.

“Good?” Minhyuk asks teasingly, slowing his fingers down and grazing his thumb over your clit. You shift against the wall, one foot hanging awkwardly in the air from where he has your leg hoisted.

“Minhyuk,” you pant, voice broken and needy and desperate. “Minhyuk, please.”

He chuckles darkly against your neck, “What is it sweetheart? Tell me.”

“Pl-please, f-fffuck me,” you hiss quietly, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Good girl,” he purrs, running his free hand down your back to rest on your ass. “You’re going to have to be very quiet though, because we might get an audience otherwise, and I don’t want anyone else seeing my baby like this.” His voice turns into a growl as he speaks, shifting your thigh slightly so that the bend of your knee rests in the crook of his elbow.

You gasp loudly when Minhyuk slides into you, stretching your walls.

He chokes, digging his fingers into your waist, “So tight baby. Fuck, you’re so tight.” He spits out the words, voice strained and a swell of pride raises inside of you at having reduced him to this mess.

Minhyuk thrusts into you slowly, hesitation etched onto his features and you didn’t think he would be this gentle—you don’t want him to act this gentle.

“Harder, Minhyuk,” you whisper, spit slathering onto the wall, turning to face him. Your neck hangs at an awkward angle and you can see the pause in his movements, his face reluctant, but he picks up the speed a little bit anyways.

It’s still not enough.

“Please, Minhyuk, fuck me like you mean it,” your voice cracks, drool leaking out of the corner of your mouth as you whine. You can feel the dried cum on your face cracking as your mouth stretches open.

His chest rumbles at that and the dynamics switch so quickly, your head spins. He growls as he fists one of his hands into your hair, snapping your head back and ramming his hips up into your with so much force you wail. The friction of his dress slack, still hung low on his hips, heightens the pleasure and has you mewling.

“You’re so dirty, sugar,” he hisses as his hips snap ruthlessly against yours. “Sitting there all this time ignoring me and talking to Kihyun, but now you’re begging for my cock.”

A broken cry erupts from your lips and he sound of skin against skin and heavy breathing fill the small room. “Y-yyes, ppplease Minhyuk just fuck me.”

He grunts into your neck, biting harshly into the skin and digging his fingers so hard into your waist, you’re pretty sure you’ll have fingerprint-shaped bruise marks tomorrow. You stuff your knuckles into your mouth to muffle your screams as Minhyuk shoves into you, jostling your body up the wall.

Your body feels as though it’s on fire and everything is too much, too good, too intense and it has to peak somewhere. Shuddering as you approach your end, Minhyuk pulls his hand back, a sharp slap resounding in the room as he brings it down onto your rear. You nearly cry as the skin of your ass burns, arousal tripling as Minhyuk rasps into your ear.

“That’s for testing my patience today, sugar.”

And then his hand comes back around to rub at your clit and you howl.

Your end washes over you in intense cascades, a choked off scream erupting from your lips as you bite down on your knuckles. Minhyuk’s thrusts grow erratic, sloppy and uncoordinated as he chases his own release, dropping his head onto your shoulder with a low ‘fuck’ as he comes in thick spurts inside of you for the second time.

He drops your leg, catching you around the waist as your legs nearly give out from under you, laughing with a ‘woah, there’. Minhyuk turn you around gently, holding you up with his arm and leaning forward to give you a lingering kiss, soft and sensual and it makes your toes curl at the touch.

You sigh into the kiss, relaxing into the post-orgasmic haze and toying with the sweaty hairs at the nape of his neck.

Minhyuk pulls away from you, pressing his damp forehead against yours as he sticks a hand into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping at your face and legs. You wince when your feel the dried cum on your face stick to your eyebrow, pulling at the hair when Minhyuk moves to clean it.

“Sorry, love,” he tells you with an apologetic grimace. “I didn’t realize that it would get all over the place like that.”

You rolls your eyes, hissing slightly when the handkerchief lightly grazes over your sensitive folds.

“Stupid, that’s what I told you.” You cross your arms over your chest as you regain control over your legs. “and I’m surprised Kihyun hasn’t come looking, so let’s go now because I don’t need him on my case about this.”

Minhyuk nods, laughing softly as he tucks himself back into his pants with a low hiss and helps you readjust your skirt. He crumples up the handkerchief,spinning around to look for a trashcan when the door slam open and an employee stumbles in, mop in hand.

She stares at you, wide eyed and stutters, “Excuse me, can I help you? This area is for employees only.”

Minhyuk smiles widely, sliding your hand into his grasp, “She wasn’t feeling well and looked for a bathroom and ended up coming in here. I just came by to get her.”

He sidesteps the girl, pulling you out with him with a cheery ‘thank you!’

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He whispers, bending down to give you a panicked look as he holds out the balled up handkerchief.

You shrug, giving him an unsure look as you walk back to the table, a slight limp in your walk. Kihyun glances up from his plate, half a string of spaghetti hanging out of his mouth and smiles teasingly.

“You guys were gone for a while and this hot waiter came by with big arms and I’ve never been so happy at an Italian restaurant in my life.”

Laughing, you push Minhyuk into his seat and follow suit, dropping a clean napkin over your lap to hide any noticeable stains on your skirt.

Minhyuk grimaces, awkwardly twitching his hands on the tabletop, before finally dropping the handkerchief on a corner of the table with stiff movements.

“And you know, I think he was into me, too. His arms were like, so buff, but he had this weird look on his face? Like he was thinking really hard about like, pouring water into my glass? Unsure of what that means,” Kihyun continues, resting an elbow on the table. He leans forward to whisper something when his hand shifts and the plate falls on his lap, spilling spaghetti all over his pants.

“Gross, oh my god, gross, ew,” Kihyun cries, frantically swatting at his sauce-stained crotch. “This is so gross, what the fuck,” he mumbles, as a waiter comes jogging up, white towel slung over a broad, tanned shoulder, and a pitcher of water in one hand.

“Sir, is everything alright?” He asks, whipping his towel off one shoulder and gently pressing it to Kihyun’s thigh.

Kihyun’s face reddens and his mouth gapes open as he frantically reaches across the table for another napkin, snatching the first one his hand lands one.

Everything sort of happens in slow motion after that.

You and Minhyuk look at each other in horror as Kihyun pulls the handkerchief off the table, simultaneously pushing out of your seats to lean across the table and take it back. Kihyun’s blushing face becomes bewildered as a squelch sounds from the cloth, clear liquid beginning to seep between his fingers. A multitude of emotions pass over his face, confusion, shock, horror as he stares at it, eyes flicking from the handkerchief to you to Minhyuk to the hot waiter.

Kihyun screams.

A/N: lol im sorry to the requester who asked for this bc it definitely deviated from the actual prompt buuuuttttt I did have a lot of fun writing the end! 

Masterlist

[elizabethschoices]

The Freshman, Book 4, Chapter Four: My Thoughts

So like, why bring luggage in the place if you were just gonna leave the next day? Seriously, save the arm work and just grab a few clothes to wear to bed and then to get dressed in the next morning. I’m either efficient or lazy.

So we’re going to go to a club, and apparently we gotta get there early because it fills up fast. Chris says we just had lunch, but then James explains that it’s in Manhattan, which is two hours away, more with traffic. Which means we gotta go now.

Someone texted James, and he got all frowny-faced. Who is it? Is it Yasmin? Some other chick? MOFO WE JUST BROKE UP LIKE?!?!

It’s his friend Teddy (Let’s have a game on the Teddy Picker) and apparently ol’ boy is trying to make it big in comedy. He invited James to open mic night. Apparently James has to rain check for poor timing. And I’m sitting here like bruh, fuck the club let’s go have a laugh.

I’m up for some comedy. Aww, Chris mentioned Tyler. I miss him! He’s always been a sweetie and a good friend. I wonder how he and Abbie are? Hopefully the exact opposite of Zack and Brandon.

Yay, we’re gonna go see a show! I’d much rather go to stand-up than some stupid club that’ll be jam-packed with too many people.

🎶ON THE ROAD AGAIN!🎶

By the time we get to Soho, it’s late afternoon and walking through the streets. Judging by how Zig and Zack (lmao alliteration buddies) are talking about how casually everyone is dressed, I sense a premium clothing option coming up. Yaaay.

😒🤑😟

So we get to the club and apparently it’s some kind of secret shit because James knocked and then a god damn eye slit opens up. They want a password.

Hello, The Freshman, allow me to introduce you to some bullshit trope we used in Rules of Engagement.

The password is given and literally WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE POINT?!?! WE WEREN’T EVEN GIVEN THE DAMN PASSWORD.

Whatever. Now we’re in the club and Teddy is on stage now. He was kinda hot until I lifted my iPad up a bit and actually looked at him.

Also, I don’t care what your joke is. If it ends with the punchline being ‘floundered’ then your joke isn’t fucking funny. Oh god is this guy gonna flop? Are we gonna have to act like we think he’s hilarious?

Apparently Teddy is actually pretty funny. I’ll believe it when I see it.

This game stresses me out sometimes. So we ditched a club for a comedy show and missed his show? Or did he finish it out and we got to see the rest? I’m lost and a detail-oriented person, Pixelberry.

Yeah, I’m not a fan of yours, Theodore.

So if we’re good friends of James, what is Teddy? Absolutely none of these options, that’s what. Whatever, I’m single so I’ll flirt. He’s *shudders* easy on the eyes.

Yeah, no, I take it back. He’s not hot and he’s damn sure not funny. His jokes are old and stale, and I can’t actually hear his delivery so it’s technically not applicable, but in my head that sucks too. He’s a god damned Amy Schumer.

I like him more when he’s not trying to be funny. We shake hands and then he squeezes into the booth. Together we all watch other stand-up artists perform, and then the emcee asks if anyone else wants to perform.

MC volunteers Zack (heh puns sort of whatever Tyler would appreciate it) who says he’s not that funny. I think he’s pretty humorous. Zig is probably funnier though, tbh. But Vasquez gets top marks.

(“Top marks for not tryin’!”)

Chris is such a Mary Sue, omg. Knock everyone’s socks off? Who says that? Ngl, probably me at some point.

God dammit MC I can’t be funny on command. I’m just a salty bitch. Oh fuck I brought the joke book no. This dumbass thinks a fucking joke book will woo the crowd who came for funny shit, not stupid, unoriginal stuff THAT SOMEBODY ELSE CAME UP WITH AND EVERYONE ELSE KNOWS. I hate my MC.

Ohh, roasting. My area.

I. Love. Zig.

The group is okay with it so we head onto the stage. Thank fuck she’s not gonna read out jokes from the book. I’d have deleted the app, s2g.

Yet implies we’ll be roasting ourselves. Well that’s no fun, having self-awareness. Breaks up her narrative without actually developing the character!

They say intelligent people have a hard time finding love. They say the same thing about assholes.

We’re gonna roast Zig because I’m sure there won’t be any ties to my failed relationship with James because that’d just be too hard.

Someone should pull MC off the stage because this is not funny at all. Ever noticed that when you try to do humor, you aren’t funny? But when you’re not, you can be hilarious?

Jfc so what you’re the Deborah of the group also what happens if you’ve named your MC Deborah? #NotAllDeborahs

I wear low-riding jeans, thank you very much.

Not funny, 0/10, thumbs down, DO. NOT. RECOMMEND.

Zack decides he’ll get on stage and I hope he’s actually funny. I don’t have high hopes. It’ll probably turn into a meltdown about Brandon and the single life.

FUCKING HELL THIS IS A CURSE NOT A GIFT

Sad music and talk about being single already. Fucking A, man. Hopefully it perks up.

No audience would say 'tell me about it’ about this shit, you cannot fucking play me Pixelberry.

I gotta lay off Louis C.K.

Zack has probably from the minute we met him been all about Brandon. What does he actually like? Idfk. Outside of Brandon, who is he? His entire story arc seems to revolve around crushing on Brandon, being in a relationship with him, struggling with long-distance with him, and then finally missing him post-breakup. I’m ready for a change, Zack.

Also, I came for comedy, not for Slam Poetry.

OH MY GOD THIS JUST TURNED INTO ONE OF THOSE OBVS FAKE TUMBLR POSTS WHERE EVERYONE CLAPS AT THE END

I hate this book.

Can it end? Please?

Do I want to go to Club Fuse? No, I want the chapter to end.

Is Teddy seriously trying to give us tips? Or wanting to collaborate? Or an experienced guy wanting to get some tips from two people who don’t know the field? Idk anymore, man. This has turned into some Full House type shit.

MC spots a red pantsuit and lmao Hillary Clinton, 2k16. Kaitlyn is calling us now. Honestly, despite previously not liking her all that much because of Book 3, I’ve cooled off a bit. She’s pretty cool for the most part. And I think this book would be ten times better with her in it full-time. We’ll see what happens when we get to her.

Again, wtf was the point? We got her approval on the outfit that I’m not going to buy, big fucking whoop. No new information was presented. No drama bombs. Absolutely nothing to forward the story in any way. This is all just filler content. This is just a bullshit story for money and not for the sake of telling a god damned story. I’m legit considering not reading this book any longer. But I need diamonds, so I’ll do it anyway. Doesn’t mean I’ll waste my time reviewing it.

We’re sticking to our old clothes.

I’m ready for this chapter to be over. I’m not even trying anymore. Ugh.

We get to the club and flirt with Teddy a bit, he bullshits with Zack. Asks for roasting tips. Hm. I am pretty fucking good at it.

He leaves. Another pointless conversation. MC says he’s into Zack? Good god shoot me. Teddy was screaming 'fuck me MC’ but nooo, we’re gonna turn it on Zack because why the fuck not, not like my MC is single, right?

I hate, hate, hate this book.

It’s great 'cause he’s fucking friendly, idk.

Also, MC, fuck off. He’s heartbroken still about Brandon so stop pushing him to someone else. He needs to fucking heal and he can’t do that by just “moving on” all of a sudden.

Zack says Teddy is into us. Fucking obviously. And of course this moron is gonna say he’s into both. I truly hate my MC. The boys come back with drinks. Fucking give me twenty, I wanna die.

And now we get the 'Zig is bi’ drop which would be fine if we weren’t talking about Teddy who is not fucking hot.

MC wants to go dance. Fall down and get trampled then, bitch. Ugh. I am so salty right now. Sorrynotsorry.

I am not wasting diamonds on Teddy. Let someone else grab him, idgaf. And great, throw Zig at some one-off character instead of me, someone who is single and also the main character.

Zack starts panicking because there are too many people and didn’t he happily go mosh last book? Whatever. I’m happy we’re out because the club wasn’t our scene.

We eat hot dogs for dinner and chill out. We start singing. Someone throw us a dollar or something. Or shoot us. I’m open to all kinds of things.

End chapter. I’ll consider reviewing the next one tomorrow, since I’m a week behind it but also very much hate this book right now.