#it already has its own sticky note color so it gets a tag

[sesamenom]

more of Mae's adventures in Castle Dracula

aka: Maedhros used Punch! It's super effective!

[acerathia]

somebody's watching me || Chapter 6: Betray

Summary:

Meeting him was your fate, your salvation, and you shall do everything to keep things this way.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Getou Suguru / Reader

Tags/CW:

no-curse au, Getou is still a cult-leader, cults, Getou's fake personality, dark content, Major Character Death, Paranoia, schizoid form of anxiety disorder, isolation, overthinking (in connection to the anxiety), some form of descent into madness, violence, stream of consciousness to show the mental state of reader, everything has meaning (dreams, colors, symbols etc.), warped look on reality, dissociation, blind trust, indoctrination, manipulation, mind-altering practices, polarisation of people/society, peer pressure, denial of reality, emotional abuse, body horror, drugs (implied), hallucinations,

Note:

Please be cautious reading this work, as it contains heavy themes, which might affect some people. Minors do not interact!! ignore any editing mistakes, finally, this series is over, have fun with the last chapter

You awoke from your sleep with a gasp when you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was the woman who occupied the bed next to you. She whispered a single sentence to you. It was time. Then she left without further explanation. Hastily you fell out of bed and as fast as you could with your sleepy movements, you put on your shoes to hurry outside as well. With a quick stumble you followed the woman, even though she had put some distance between you.

Outside in a meadow, it seemed as if the whole group was already there, standing in formation.You made your way crouched in place, trying to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Still, you wondered what was happening in the middle of the formation and you stretched slightly to get a better look.

But before you could figure out anything, everyone stretched their arms toward the full moon. A hum flowed through the people and filled all the air. You tried to listen and recognize the melody, but it didn't seem to be a specific song. So you hummed a song of your own to yourself while concentrating on holding up your aching arms. Then you could make out a shadow slowly working its way out from the center of the formation. In the dim light of the moon, you recognized the leaders holding a bowl ringed by two girls. To see what exactly they were doing, you were far too far away. You wondered what was in the bowl?

You couldn't make out what the liquid was, even though they were standing in front of you. The light from the moon wasn't bright enough for that. But you could see the leader dipping his fingers into the dark liquid and stirring something in it. The others beside him seemed to be making random sounds, which you couldn't understand no matter how hard you focused. Then you felt it. The cool liquid on your skin. The pressure of his fingers. You had to pull yourself together not to just stop humming, to not lean closer to his touch. Was that paint? The leader placed his thumb on your cheekbone and drew a vertical line down. The same thing happened to the other side of your face. The liquid dripped hotly down your chin onto her collarbone, forming a small puddle there. Spread over your top like a wound. You felt sticky, but you could see a smile from the leader. That simple gesture alone sparked gratitude in you, desire warm in your blood. 

That you even had the opportunity to be here and stand next to him, to look at him and enjoy his presence. The warmth of your heart contrasted with the chilling mark on your skin. You could barely stifle a smile as the leader then lined up next to you in formation and started another hum. This time, however, everyone else followed their tune. The humming seemed to get louder and louder, penetrating your scalp and pressing on your skull. Your field of vision flickered as if you were standing under a faulty lamp. You didn't know if your head was swaying, or if your vision just didn't want to work with you anymore. Were you tired?

That would explain the heaviness in your arms and the uncertainty in your knees. You tried to pull yourself together, really tried. But your body tipped forward without you being able to do anything about it. All your muscles seemed paralyzed. You could only dully feel your knees hitting the ground; the grass scraped against your calves. Was this happening to everyone? Or just to you? You kept trying to stay upright, but gravity was having a greater effect on you than usually. Suddenly you felt the ground against your forehead, against your cheek. When did the grass get so long? With hazy vision, you still recognized the glances of the leader in front of you. Frowns and anticipation. But of what? Before you could choke out a single syllable, your eyes failed you, and darkness enveloped you like a heavy cloak.

***

Several voices hovered over your head as you slowly regained consciousness. Where were you? This didn't feel like your bed. For a brief moment, you had forgotten where you were.

With a low moan, you tried to sit up, but your head felt like it was stuck in a clamp. Its claws dug firmly into your forehead. Your surroundings became silent and you slowly opened your eyes. From your narrow field of vision, you recognized a glass full of water. How much you wanted to drink this. So you reached out for it, even though it seemed to be shaking.

But you managed a firm grip to get the glass before letting the cool liquid enter your throat in heavy gulps. The cold woke you up a bit and cleared your brain. Then, as you put the empty glass away with an aching stomach, you took time to survey your surroundings. Though your stomach began to rebel and you started to feel nauseous, you did not make a sound. Your eyes roamed over the three people around you. Your eyes lingered on the face of the leader. You quickly avoided his gaze. This was the man who had offered you comfort and peace, and you had disappointed him. You licked your torn lips before an apology slipped heavily over your tongue. You had screwed up. You had ruined the moment. Tainted the tradition. You felt bad, uncomfortable, absolutely miserable. And rightfully so. You didn't deserve to be in this place anymore. Tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and hung your head. You wanted to hide your reaction to what was coming. How your insides were breaking, shattering. You expected a final decision about your expulsion. A painful kick in the butt. Even though you didn't want to hear any of these prompts, you couldn't say anything against it. After all, you deserved it.

But after a moment of waiting, nothing came. You were not insulted or called names. No harsh words which were wrapped in pity. The leader didn't say anything until you lifted your gaze again.

"I told you that you were special, and now it has been shown to all of us under the moon."

Whether there was a deeper meaning to that sentence? You did not know. Still, the weight of these words gave you a warm feeling. If you were special, then you hadn't ruined anything. This chance, the opportunity to continue to stay in this place, meant a lot to you; even more than your own life. I wonder if you could make any difference with this simple statement. Make a better life for the leaders and the whole group? But how could you help?

You didn't really have time to think about it, because a tray was pushed into your lap. Leftovers from the communal breakfast that you must have missed. A memory was hidden in this gesture. Despite the incident, you should still follow the rules. Therefore, you accepted the food, although you were not particularly hungry. You wanted to show your gratitude to the leader.

Still, you hesitated when your eyes landed on the food. Nothing about you had forgotten yesterday's meal. Hopefully, things would go differently this time. Slowly you stretched your fingers so that the trembling would not be noticed and reached for a piece of bread. This you smeared with the purple jam that had been provided. A breath escaped your nose before you took a bite of the crust.

It scratched the roof of your mouth before scraping across your throat. Of course, the food had a normal taste. What had you expected? Probably the whole thing yesterday was just another one of your delusions. Though you still looked skeptically at the fruit, not recognizing it, the rest seemed relatively normal. Even if the milk had a violet glow, which was perhaps just an illusion brought on by the light. You were not worried. What was supposed to be in the food? No one in this group would poison the other or add anything questionable. Everyone was far too cozy with each other for that.

After eating the food with sudden hunger, you noticed that everyone had left the cabin again. Where do you think they were going? You couldn't follow them, even if you wanted to. You didn't know the place well enough for that yet. Should you try anyway?

Before you could make a decision, the door swung open and a bunch of people came in. Without much talk, all these people made their way to their beds to sit cross-legged. Was this a new activity? You weren't sure, but still followed their lead. The last to enter the room was the leader. You made your way to the center to sit on the floor. With your back bent, you waited for his instructions.

The silence seemed charged before the leader finally began to speak.

"Close your eyes and relax... Breathe deeply through your nose, feel it to the last corner of your lungs. 

One, two, three, four. 

Now let it all out of your mouth. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. 

Good, breathe in through your nose again. 

With each breath, continue to release your thoughts, let them out, preferably right out of your lungs. Breathe it all out, freeing yourself from the thoughts.

Good. Now feel your fingertips. How does the skin feel? What does it feel at this moment and how does it affect you? Don't form sentences, just let feelings grow in your chest. Let this work for a moment now....

Now let this concentration run over your arms, over your neck to your ears. What do you hear? How does my voice feel to you? Are there any features or background sounds that attract you? 

These sensations also flow into the chest.

Wonderful. Now you are one with your environment. Now you can let your thoughts come back into your mind. Slowly. The moment you are yourselves again, a better you, you can open your eyes."

You followed the steps and kept your eyes closed. As time passed, your body seemed to relax more and more. Toward the end of the meditation, you had the sensation of feeling, of hearing the heartbeats of others.

Each beat seemed to echo with each other, yet in the same beat. The leader's fingers slid over the top of your head. The other's arms lay heavily across your shoulders; their fingers cool on your throat. A whisper brushed your ears, but you could not make out the words. It was as if they had been submerged by a wave. The water slapped against your skin and hissed as it hit you. Your body seemed to get warmer and warmer, and the water put an extra weight on the back of your neck. All at once you felt a strong pressure on your throat. It cut off your breath and you could no longer breathe. The hands that had been lovingly stroking your skin a moment ago wrapped around your neck and constricted, breaking your windpipe.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as you opened your eyes. But no one was in front of you, behind you. The others still remained in their positions and seemed to be gathering their thoughts. No one had any problem, nor did they seem to notice yours. You felt nauseous. But you did not want to disturb the others in their meditation. So you just took a shaky breath and closed your eyes again. Maybe there was a chance you could get the calmness back. But when you concentrated on breathing, you couldn't. Almost as if oxygen could not enter your lungs.

A hand rested on your shoulder and you opened your eyes, startled. The leader had sat down in front of you and looked you piercingly in the eyes. Then he began to breathe in slowly. His firm eye contact caused you to do the same. As if your body was synchronizing with his. For a moment, you both held your breath. Time between inhaling and exhaling seemed to stand still. As your lungs burned, you exhaled slowly again. After a few breaths, your heart regulated back to its normal beat, but you continued to concentrate hard on breathing; afraid you would suffocate. For a moment, you realized how the other people in the room were also joining in this breathing exercise. Everyone's lungs seemed to be one. And each time you looked around, someone was smiling gently at you, their faces full of understanding and helpfulness. 

For you, it was the first time anyone had managed to put you at ease in this way. For that, you were so grateful to these people; you would give up your life for these people, for him especially. They had helped you without big words, but simply by their calming presence. 

Usually, sentences were just poured into your ears, which then threaded themselves into your swirling thoughts with a tight knot. But it didn't happen without words, and for the first time you didn't feel guilty about needing help at all.

These people had not reacted as if you were a burden. You did not feel ashamed that this had happened at all. You were finally being helped properly and with acceptance. Your chest filled with warm feelings that flooded your thoughts.

With a jerk, you jumped into the leader's arms. Maybe there would be consequences later, but you wanted to express your gratitude. Then you felt more and more people join the embrace. Thus in the midst of these people, you felt more at ease than you had ever felt before in your life. Especially with his arms slung around your midsection in the middle of it.

Only after a while did the embrace dissolve again. Much too soon for your taste. But it was time for the next activity; the highlight of the trip. Unlike the others, you didn't know what it was all about, but you followed them every step of the way anyway. You trusted everyone in this group more than you trusted yourself. Your hand was held by one of the girls, who smiled at you and promised a great time was coming. You trusted her. 

Therefore, without argument, you changed into the robe that was pressed into your hand. The purple fabric flowed down to below your knees. It was pretty. The cut was probably meant to be special, because everyone had the same fabric, but the garments never looked identical.

Prepared, you made your way to the pond, where you sat back down in your seat. Everyone's eyes were on the leader, waiting.

He looked each person in the eye before he began to speak. He opened the Festival of Blood. You became curious as to why it was called that, but you didn't ask any questions. They explained that when the festival began, so did the game. Then they explained the goals and the rules, his tone as if he had repeated those words thousands and thousands of times. Yet he seemed to be looking forward to it.

"The game is simple. Everyone will draw a role to perform. In doing so, there are the 'monsters' that you seek out and kill. To do this, you use a simple, blunt piece of wood. When you press this against a person's chest, they are dead. The hunted should avoid death by pretending to be normal people while getting rid of the normal people. After some time, a meeting is called in which they should discuss various suspects and get rid of them. When night falls, the monsters have a chance to hunt people down and murder them while they sleep. Of course, they can also hunt during the day, but... The monsters will suck the blood of their victims, which is why they don't need a weapon. The goal of both groups is simple: wipe out the other group.

We will now distribute your roles. And keep them to yourselves. If you are killed, you must not reveal by whom, or how, or what you were."

You weren't so lucky with your drawn role. A monster? Right at your first feast?

You didn't really call that a joy. Nevertheless, you had to try. After all, the game depended on everyone doing their best.

Until there was the first sacrifice, other games were available. After all, one should not just sit around and wait, but enjoy the feast. Carefully, you slipped the piece of wood into your pocket before also popping a candy into your mouth. They were the same ones that were on the leader's table, you recalled. As the taste coated your tongue, you stretched a bit. It made you feel much more awake right away. 

Then you made your way to the high jump. Wondering how high you could get. You shook your joints slightly when your turn finally came. It seemed that your anticipation was strong as your head felt lighter than usual. You took a running start before leaping into the air. Your face was turned toward the sky and you felt like you were flying.... You reached out a hand, but before it could touch the soft cotton, your back crashed to the mat. No matter how loudly you hit, though, you were still on the high of the jump and just stared at the sky for a while. But then you straightened up again with a serene giggle, rubbing your neck. Finally, you left the mat and made room for the next jumper.

You heard faint music coming from the direction of the meadow and wanted to make your way there.

On the way, you met the same girl from earlier, who hooked up her arm with yours so you could walk together. But when they were far enough away from the other people, you recognized your chance and stopped. Quietly you apologized to her and put your arms around her. Then you pretended to drink her blood and explained that she had been killed. She dramatically slumped against your body before straightening up after a few seconds. With a giggle, you both continued on your way to the meadow.

Once there, the music was much louder than expected. Still, you enjoyed it and watched as people danced intricate steps. This is what you called a folk dance at a village festival. This didn't really match the situation, but at that moment you didn't care about anything. You let yourself be drawn into the dance, even though you had no idea of the steps. But your head was much too subdued and your body much too light. No real words came out of your mouth, except a boisterous giggle. You let yourself whirl among the people as if you had the ability to fly.

After some time, however, your movements became heavier and sloppier, which is why you bumped into someone more and more often. But that didn't seem to bother anyone. You enjoyed dancing so much. So much so that you no longer noticed who was standing in front of you, or whose hand you were holding.

Your diaphragm stung with every breath, but your joints vibrated so pleasantly that you didn't care. Your vision was blurry and your surroundings moved as if in slow motion. It was a dream.

Suddenly, a shrill scream was heard. The music tore off agonizingly. The trance you were in seemed to be broken, although your thoughts were still heavily clouded. Everyone looked around for the cause of the scream. It was the girl from earlier. 

This one seemed to be shaken by something, because there were tears in her eyes, which flooded her trembling face. Only after a few seconds did you realize that the girl was pointing at you. 

What was going on? You didn't understand what it was about. But it dawned on you when she explained that you had wanted to murder the girl, but had managed to escape before it could happen. 

Was she even allowed to tell the others that? You frowned. Wasn't that the goal of the game? You didn't understand what you had done wrong. The faces of the pack seemed to lie in shadow as their gazes pierced your body. Slowly, everyone gathered around you without saying a word, without hearing a word. Their protests fell on deaf ears. The two people who had held your hand so gently at the dance tightened their grip. Held you captive between them. And no matter how many times you objected, no one would listen. Only you heard their words. Were you even speaking at all, or just thinking?

Without paying attention to you, the two people had dragged you to a clearing. You did not remember this place. Had you ever been here before? Your gaze recognized the leader who was convening a trial. You wet your lips and prepared your defense. After all, you should be allowed to do so. And you were right, the very first thing you were asked to do was to come forward. Even though her arms were still crushed by the people around you. 

You explained that yes, you were a monster, but you had done your job and according to the rules the girl should not have been allowed to testify. Then you asked the group if you had done something wrong, since it was the first time you had ever played this game. But this question also fell on deaf ears. People seemed to be more inclined towards the cheater. Your lungs felt heavier with each passing second and you couldn't get a single word out. The hateful looks of the mob were too much for you. This was all just a game after all. Yes, just an activity, and everyone was playing along. Just a simulation. Still, the whole situation seemed far too real. Even the disappointed looks of the leader, the worst case scenario. Exactly what you had wanted so much to avoid since the beginning. His disappointment had a worse effect on you than you had thought. Would you have any reason to live at all if you lost the favor of this important person?

You had to swallow hard, suppress the tears. You didn't even want to think about that possibility for long. The possibility of losing all this was far too brutal, far too ghastly. No, they wouldn't do that to you, would they?

Your eyes wandered over every single person in your field of vision. Their faces all said the same thing. They would leave you, abandon you, throw you away. You were of no use for them anymore. Maybe... Maybe that was just for this activity. Yes, you were certainly allowed to participate in the other things after that. Everything was fine. You nodded slightly as you struggled to take deep breaths.

Then you were declared guilty. What did that mean? Were you just going to be removed from the game now? Yes, it had to be. As long as you were allowed to stay in this place, you didn't care if you were guilty or not. As long as you were allowed to stay, nothing mattered. Now all that was left was to symbolically press the stake to your chest. Then you would be allowed to be with them again. Then you would be welcome again. 

But no one pulled out their piece of wood. Why not? That was part of the game! Your gaze no longer rested on one person, but looked at everyone, waiting. They should finally finish this! Why didn't anyone do anything?

The two pulled you back to your feet. You hadn't even realized you had fallen to your knees at all. All you wanted was to be with them again. You deserved that!

You needed it. But the others seemed to disagree, because you were simply removed from the clearing, led deeper into the forest. The two people who had grabbed you tightly by the wrists wore the same long robes. This time it seemed to be the clothing of a ceremony. The cut of the fabric looked familiar, far too familiar, and your body reacted to it even though you couldn't remember. You felt worse and worse from the proximity; nausea settled firmly in your throat. And the longer you had to walk through this dark forest, the more your muscles became lame. Something about the whole environment was far too familiar. You wanted to understand why you were reacting, but no matter how much you thought about it, the less you could think of. You felt like you had never experienced anything in your life.

When your legs finally gave way under you, they entered a completely different clearing. With a bleary eye, you looked around and recognized the group in front of you, all wearing the exact same robes. Their faces were hard to make out, but you didn't quite understand why; was it the shadows or the hoods? The sight sent a shiver down your spine, your stomach cramped and you had to pull yourself together not to throw up right away. Every fiber in your body wanted to get away from this place as quickly as possible. But your heart was pounding far too heavily in her chest, so your limbs would no longer obey you. With each step deeper into the clearing, you felt more miserable. A whimper escaped you as you were lifted up and placed on a wooden seat. Still this felt comfortable, gentle. 

But then your joints were bound with a rope on which was branded a sign. You dimly remembered this sign, and these memories formed stones in your lungs. You could no longer breathe. Was this all still part of the game? It couldn't be. Where did this mark come from? You had not described its appearance to anyone. You wanted to ask this question. But your voice failed, as if your vocal cords had been knotted together. Therefore, you waited for a brief moment for several hours.

Then the buzzing started. It penetrated deep into your skull and vibrated your vision. So you could only dimly make out one person detaching themselves from the crowd and walking towards you. The only one you wanted to see right now, was the leader, his name a reverence you finally tried to think of: Getou, Getou Suguru. And he did appear in front of you, his hair swaying softly with each step, and you would have tried to get closer, to touch him, to tell him anything he wanted to hear.

But he only stayed silent and held a wooden stake in his hand. His smile still shining softly, almost reassuring. Unlike the blunt pieces from before, the piece in his hand seemed to be sharpened, filed like a knife. The leader stepped behind you and started to work on something you couldn't see because of your limited movement.

Therefore, you focused on his words as he started talking towards everyone else.

"Dear fellow citizens, we are in a crisis. The world has simply become too threatening, too complex. It hurts our hearts. It hurts our brains. Above all, it hurts our pride.

It will not stand. We must fight the threat through simplicity, and we can defeat it. We can defeat it where it matters most. We can defeat it within ourselves. We can regain our simple, pure certainty, push back the threat of the simple, and restore our absolute confidence.

Even though you may feel lost, all is not lost. There is a solution. We must decide together here today to embrace the only true one and march forward together, our eyes and ears closed, our step firm. You fight for what matters most, your simple, unwavering pride. When we stand united, our proud mouths open, fearful ears and eyes closed, armed and lashing out, we can and will make the world feel real again!

Give up your crippling fairness. You can and will be free! Free from doubt! Free from ever having to learn from your mistakes again. You have nothing to sacrifice but fairness. Be shackled by fairness and all is lost. Unleash yourself and you will be free! Proud and free!"

You didn't understand what you were hearing. Was this still part of the game? No, it seemed far too complicated for that. But then what were these people hoping for? You wanted to protest, to fight back. But your thoughts coiled around your neck like a snake, killing every word on your tongue.

He finally came back around, stepping closer to you with the stake still between his elegant fingers after the speech. So close that you could recognize every facial feature of his and her shoulders became much heavier. Of course. How could you have ever thought that a person could be interested in you? There was a reason for his approach, which was clearly in front of you. You raised your eyes, which were full of disappointment and pain, to look him in the eye. 

The traitor should know what he had done to you and he should feel the guilt for the rest of his life. But he just grinned at you gleefully and raised the stake in the air. A moment before the stake hit your skin, you felt his other hand stroking your cheek. And as you looked up, his lips met yours. For this short time, you forgot everything, everything but the warmth of his soft lips against yours, but the breath against your face. And you thought that maybe, maybe this was something you were supposed to do, for him.

You felt the point enter your left side; felt the warmth of blood escape from you. Pain throbbed between your ribs and flowed through your bones like lightning. A moan escaped your lips before you felt like you were suffocating. As if all the liquid wanted to come out of you. Your throat burned and you felt liquid metal squeeze between your teeth, the taste like a blanket on your tongue. Moments before his tongue swiped over yours, letting your blood coat his mouth as he pulled away. And you were not dead yet. Though perhaps you deserved to die. You would do anything to satisfy him, so you were supposed to die. 

Your heart wasn’t penetrated. You tried to swallow, but the flood was stronger and dripped from your mouth. You could only watch as the red spread over the purple of your dress. Had the pain not spread over your limbs, you would have found the discoloration poetic. But fortunately it would be over in a moment. Then you would have done your service for him.

Then you felt a heat on the soles of your bare feet. A fire was lit beneath you, with the flames initially only licking at your toes. As if they found the taste of skin attractive, they caught at your dress and climbed higher and higher. The fabric clung to you and formed a second skin, melting into your pores. Every nerve in your body began to burn and you had to cough as the smoke tried to choke you. All of this felt a zillion times stronger than you could have ever dreamed. You wanted to breathe, to fill your lungs, but nothing more than a faint gasp and rattle escaped you. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy. Or maybe it was because you had lost too much blood, which was why you head was wrapped in cotton. 

You were almost convinced that you could wake up from this nightmare. But the feeling against your skin was too real to be dreaming. Yet your vision was still clear and you could see that the crowd had changed. They had their hands crossed over their faces, and their knees found the soft ground of the forest.

How had you let it get this far in the first place? A voice inside you whispered that you deserved it, that every single decision had led you to this point. You were not a good person and deserved this end. This was your atonement to everyone, to him.

And all at once you understood his words. Why you were special. But maybe your dreams had simply been given a meaning, which fit the expectations of these people. Maybe you should never have come here. But you couldn't retrace your steps, couldn't undo anything. You could not explain why you had trusted these people so easily. Because it always ended the same way; you trusted a person and you got stabbed. In the past, being impaled had been emotional, but this time it meant your downfall. If only you had listened to your past instead of caring words....

You blinked these thoughts away. There was nothing more noble than to die at his hands, his kiss being your death. This was your destiny, the one he gave to you, the one you would cherish with every last cough of your body.

Your body was slowly going numb, your nerves burned out, and you were getting so, so tired. Your gaze still stroked this man in front of you, you could barely think his name without thinking of your purpose. Yet this was your purpose, Getou, Getou, Getou. 

He was stroking her blood off his lips to lick it off. Yes, you were sure. There would be no awakening this time. But you didn't want that anymore. You wanted him to appreciate you, to remember you, forever and ever. So, the last thing you could do was let these simple-minded words of confession go, as there was nothing more grander than this sacrifice. Your vision blurred, and he was the last thing you saw. As it should be. He was your beginning, and your end.

[wroteclassicaly]

Warnings: Language, NSFW, piss kink, watersports, dom!Eddie, sub!Reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, and MORE!

Summary: You and Eddie try out a kink that you just can’t deny.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: Listen, I already know I’m going to hell, so why not add to it? This is something I’ve been hesitant about, because I know a lot of people don’t like it and will be very judgmental. But I ask that if you don’t like it—KEEP SCROLLING! Eddie with this kink is one of my favorite tropes and I’ve been wanting to write a fic like this for some time. Gotta thank @corrodedhawkins for encouraging me to share this (join me in hell, yeah?), and for listening to my ramblings on the subject.

PLEASE, PLEASE don’t send me nasty anons! I get it if this isn’t your thing, but no one needs to be kink shamed, yeah? Anyways, for those who will read, I hope you enjoy! <3

Side note: I didn’t tag anyone that I didn’t know if they would be reading this or not. I’m sorry, I just don’t want to tag anyone that doesn’t like this kinda content. :(

~*~

You’re splayed out on Eddie’s bed on Saturday night, his next day show looming like the promised hangovers of those who will be his drunken crowd at The Hideout, focusing heavily on making sure those nails have a perfect shining secondary coat. Once finished, you blow on the midnight colored polish, smiling up at your boyfriend as he chews a Marlboro filter between milky white teeth.

“All done, baby?” His questions, a smirk on his features that you love so much.

You nod rather proudly, leaning down to peck his wrist bone with a chaste kiss, sliding back into a cross legged position, confirming. “Good to go, love.”

He admires your handiwork, flexing his fingers, twisting his hands back and forth. “Looks bitchin’.”

You reach back to pick up his vest that you’d been working at prior, helping put your home economics sowing skills to good use, threading on some new patches Eddie had bought for the denim. He winces a little, gripping his crotch and causing your eyes to dart in concern. “You good, Eds?”

“Yeah, just gotta hit the can real quick, babe. You’re doin’ great, by the way. Couldn’t do all this shit without you.” He’s comically hopping around to show his eagerness to find that small bathroom in the trailer’s hallway, making you snort, then he quickly leans in to peck your forehead. Your eyes close in sheer happiness, those butterflies clawing at your insides.

He leaves and you continue your task. That is, until he’s calling for you moments later. “Uh, babe?”

Lifting your head towards the direction he’s calling from, you place the vest off to the side. “Yeah, Eds? Everything okay?”

“Would you… can you give me a hand, please?”

You’re a little concerned, hoping he didn’t trip over his own two feet (as he is prone to do), but he sounds exasperated and winded, so you’re following his voice and heading into the cove of the tiny bathroom, bare feet cool against the peeling linoleum that decorates its floor. “Eddie?”

He’s got his belt halfway undone, shirt bunched above his navel, making your brow raise. “What’s wrong?”

“This’ll teach my dumb ass not to drink so much beer before you come over. I didn’t think.” He wiggles his ringed hands, as if to show you something, his nails still wet and sticky. And it clicks in an instant as to what he’s implying, or rather, requesting.

“Wait, you want me to—“

“Help me piss? Yeah, I know. I’m a grade A asshole for asking.” His cute chocolate eyes do that wide eyed thing and you can’t resist him or his banter.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and step forward, jerking the belt apart and helping him with the button and fly, that zipper a resounding echo in the confined space.

Eddie has to force himself to be a gentleman when your hand slides into his boxers and tugs his soft cock out, cutely looking at him for instruction.

“You just, kinda… aim it?” Eddie directs, making you both laugh at how incredulous it is, and that relaxes you.

His palm lays flat over top your hand that is curled around him, an immediate groan toppling off his lips once you’ve got him where he needs to be as he lets go, his other hand propped on the opposite wall. It’s an everyday thing, but it’s loud. And you’re staring. Confused and ashamed, you force yourself to look away when Eddie brushes your knuckles with his fingertips—a simple intimate action he’s done countless times before. Once he’s finished, you make quick work of helping him tuck himself back in and try to work through no eye contact as you thread his belt together, leaving him alone.

What you didn’t know, is that Eddie saw your wondrous stares and your brief thigh clenching, the words, “Fuck, you’re into this?” Dying on his lips.

~*~

Around midnight, you and Eddie had laid down in a serene calmness that one of Summer’s last remaining storms can bring. And he can’t stop thinking about that glazed look in your dilating pupils, the way you tried to completely ignore helping him in the way that you did. And he’s upset that you are embarrassed, especially with how much his cock has been twitching in his boxers at the entirety of this newfound kink. You’ve been in a committed relationship for years, so why this? You’re still awake—albeit—silent, your neck tucked into the curvature of his jugular, fingers playing with his pick chain.

He pokes your nose with a manicured nail, causing you to peer up, still wide awake. You’ve been frustrated all night, something else that he’s noticing, unbeknownst to you. Eddie isn’t sure how to broach the subject matter, so he goes right in for it, no sugar coating shit. “I love it that you’re so fucking filthy.”

You’re absolutely horrified, tears burning your lash line to the brim. He knows. You let go and automatically turn over, hands wrapping around yourself and tucking beneath your breasts.

His heart constricts painfully, his arm elongated to reach for your waist. “Hey, hey. Baby, c’mon.”

“Eddie, just stop. Forget it, please.”

He can hear the desperation in your voice and it has him scooting impossibly closer, his arm tossing completely over your waist and pulling you back against him, his mouth finding that particular spot on your neck, a hot whisper coming off his mouth. “What if I liked that you liked it?”

“I’m a fucking freak.” You whimper.

Eddie chuckles, a throaty and soft rasp. “Listen, baby. I can assure that, out of the two of us, I’m the only real freak here.” Eddie’s hand splays across your abdomen, drifting, pressing. You squirm and your hips gravitate towards his backside.

He’s getting hard… Fuck.

“But Eddie, what normal girl gets off on seeing her boyfriend piss? Like… I’m fucking disgusting.”

“So you do get off by it, baby?

“I…” You heartbeat pulsates rapidly beneath your breast, feeling as if you’d skipped a step. “That’s not, no I don’t.”

Eddie is amused, not buying it. “You’re tellin’ me that if I checked your panties right now, you wouldn’t be soaking wet? Hmm?”

Your eyelids flutter closed and you take Eddie’s fingers as they press against your now open mouth, sucking them inside. He rocks you back into his cock, rolling his hips so you feel what this is all doing to him.

“Shit. That feels so good.” You hiss around his guitar playing digits.

“Yeah?” He’s nipping at the shell of your ear. “Know what feels even better, Y/N?”

You turn to face him, his fingers falling out with a wet pop, his other hand cradling the nape of your neck. Your voice is trembling when you answer him with a question you already know. “What?“

“Letting go. And I don’t know about you, but I need to.”

Your thighs wrap around the leg he’s slotted between them, tightening. He groans into your flesh, kissing you harshly, tongue finding yours in a wet slope of slippery domination. Moments pass and when you break to breathe, Eddie is pushing down on your abdomen, tone light and airy, yet heated and heavy. “You gotta go, baby?”

Like a true submissive to his gravitational dominance, you incline your head in a confirming nod.

“Yeah? Real bad?”

“I… don’t know.” And it’s a truthful answer. There wasn’t a pressing need on your bladder, but you felt… something. And not just that insane amount of slick coating your swollen cunt now.

“You wanna try for me, sweetheart? Be a real good girl?”

Your irises glistening have Eddie stroking your cheekbone with his thumb pad. “Only if you’re comfortable with it, honey. You know I’d never—“

“Yes, Sir. I wanna be your good girl.”

His cock throbs, his night wear suddenly too confining. He pushes off you and waves his hand towards his bedroom door and the open hall. “Go.”

You clamber out of the bed and down the corridor, with your heartbeat galloping full speed ahead, feeling as if it’s dusting your bones to ash. You aren’t surprised when you pull your pajama shorts and panties down after you get seated, to see that arousal stringing from the crotch to your pussy. A ring covered hand taps idly at the framework of the door, Eddie’s nude form standing in your sights, black polished fingernails at attention, his fingers wrapped around his girth. Your body heats up, eyes trying not to look at his demolished irises. “Look at me, Y/N.”

Fuck.

He’s stepping closer, a command clear. “Scoot back and spread your legs.”

“Eddie…”

“What? I have to go too. And I can’t do it when I’m fuckin’ hard, so you better hurry, because I can see how wet you are, and that’s not doing me any favors right now.”

Kicking off your shorts and underwear, you shift back a little on the seat, widening your legs. That ridiculous ache latches on and punches your insides, helping you let go in front of your boyfriend, who watches with a head tilt, his knees bending to a slight kneel between your open legs, as he too relieves himself. You have nothing to hold onto, so your fingers reach out and rest across the meat of your bare thighs. Eddie finishes before you, his cock swelling in his grip as he watches you, a wild smirk coating his flushed features.

Leaning in, he captures your mouth, his hand sliding down between your legs, two fingers pressing into you with an ease that sucks them inside your sopping wet walls. He’s moving his mouth down your jawline, to your neck, his fingers scissoring inside, thumb finding your clit. You’re reaching for his wrist, crying out, begging… you aren’t quite sure.

“You’re so fucking soaked that you’re dripping, baby. And I’m not just talking about the piss.”

Your toes curl, tipping into a point on the flooring.

“Please, Eddie…”

“Please, what? Maybe, please do… this?” He curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you let out a scream that you didn’t know was in you.

That coil is beginning to tighten inside your stomach and Eddie feels you soaking his wrist with your cream and piss, clenching around his fingers. He pulls them out and orders you to stop, yanking you up and pinning you against the wall, lifting your right leg around his slender waistline, ripping your camisole down the middle to palm your tits. You’re discombobulated.

“Fuck,” You’re caught between a complain and a plea. “I wasn’t finished yet, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna finish on my dick, baby.” He taps his pre-cum slick head into your clit, drawing it down the damp seam of your pussy, before resting his forehead against yours. You slide a hand up his back, his necklace resting over your knuckles, your other hand brushing through his messy curls.

“Think you can do that, princess? Soak my dick before you cum all over it?”

You aren’t able to be vocal, head lolling back, receptive to his kiss as his fat cock parts your drenched folds and sinks inside your cunt, beginning an immediate rhythm. He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, letting you get used to his length as he always does, but then, oh then he is.

“Start going again for me, baby. Show me that you can be good.”

He doesn’t let you hide in his neck this time, tilting your chin in a tip, his eyes on yours. Your lashes are soaked in tears of a desire so high that you won’t come back down for days. And Eddie, his chest is heaving, his chocolate irises gone beneath a murky lake of black, skin sheathed in sprinkles of red flush. He bounces you into a particularly hard thrust, and you clamp down on him, making his swollen lips part. “Fuck, m’ gonna cum for you, baby. I’m right there.”

“Have to. Eddie, please, can I? Just, let me…” Is all your garbled frame of mind can come up with it.

“You wanna cum too, sweet girl? You’ve been the definition of a galactic goddess for me. Fucking do it, Y/N.”

Every cell in your body splits apart, you folding in and imploding, outwardly exploding in screams that dig from the depths of your diaphragm. The last bit comes from you in his plunging thrusts and it’s intensified by your orgasm that causes your vision to white out, your hand to pulling Eddie’s hair down to the roots. He swells inside your cunt, balls heavy and drawn, your arousal and spray soaking him down to his happy trail, and he cums, harder than he’s ever came in his entire twenty years of life, filling you full of him as he holds and helps you both ride it out until it subsides. It’s heavy breathing and holding each other, your leg being stroked softly by Eddie’s fingertips before he releases his grip on it. Your muscles are softly pliant, sated.

You hum with closed eyes, head back against the wall paneling. “Fuck, that was intense.”

Eddie chortles, your eyes opening to see him in time for another passionate kiss. On the saliva-strung break away, he’s checking in with you. “Was that okay, baby? You’re not too overwhelmed from it?”

“Did it feel like I was?” Still shy, but no longer ashamed, you giggle after responding.

Eddie shakes his head fondly, ruffling your hair and looking down at the floor. “We should probably clean this mess up and take a shower before Wayne gets home.”

Though you both know, with shared and agreeing Cheshire grins, that the night has just begun.

~*~

Tagging: @corrodedhawkins @ethereal27cereal @boldlyvoid @chaossmoonlights @prettyboyeddiemunson

[harrywritingsbyme]

Branding

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: So like, I started writing something, but it went to shit so I put it to the side and started on this lil blurb bc I love this concept. It’s hot and stuff with a crappy ending...enjoy🙃

To put it simply, Harry was obsessed with branding you. Whenever he saw you, he wanted to see some type of indication that you were his. He absolutely loved displaying that you were his, not just to everyone around you both, but to himself as well. Yes he was incredibly secure in his relationship with you, and yes he fully recognized and acknowledged that you were your own person. It’s just that Harry couldn’t shake this urge fueled by his possessiveness to brand you. And it didn’t help that you were easily and fully on board with it. You were also very subby which meant that you were always trying to please daddy which meant that you were going to do anything to please daddy, especially if it meant him branding you as his. What was also very unhelpful to the situation was that you carrying around little marks of him was a major turn on. And as a result of branding you as his being such a turn on, Harry was very creative with his methods of branding.

One of his all time favorite methods for branding you would be from the inside. Harry would never get tired of pushing his cock between your delectable walls and fucking into you all the way up to his release. Of course he’d focus in on your pleasure and making sure you fall apart beneath (or above depending on whether or not you were feeling a bit frisky) him. But whenever he got closer and closer to his release an influx of thoughts on where he’d mark you with his cum went through his mind. There were four main spots that never failed to cross his mind in those moments; inside of you and all the way up into your tummy so that you can be filled to the brim with his warm cum, all over your abdomen and thighs or your backside depending on what position he was taking you in so that you can be covered in his sticky cum, all over your face so that he can really make a mess of you, and finally your mouth so that he can watch you swallow every last drop of him. Sometimes he’d venture out into the last three options, but for the most part, Harry stuck to filling you up with his cum. He just couldn’t get enough of filling you all the way up and making the area between your legs a sticky mess. To him, your pussy looked even prettier than it already is when it was dripping and stained with his cum. And on top of that you looked absolutely adorable when you were trying to walk (more like waddle)around trying to keep his cum from pouring down your thighs. This was hands down his favorite way to leave his mark on you.

Another easy and great way Harry’d go about marking you was through your skin. Whenever the two of you would go at it, he’d always make sure to to turn his HS rings inside so that whenever he gripped onto your flesh, he’d leave an indentation of his initials in your skin. He absolutely loved doing this to you. He’d latch onto your thighs, your backside, your throat, your breasts, and any other area of your body. Whenever you were on your back below him and were nearing your release, Harry’d always push his palm down into your lower stomach to intensify your already rumbling release. Not only would this send you into a frenzy, but it would also leave an indentation of his initials right on your stomach which was absolutely perfect to him since he also had a pretty strong breeding kink. He loved doing this so much that he was extremely tempted to go out and buy himself a second set of those rings so that he could leave double the usual amount of his initials all over you.  Besides his rings, Harry also loved going down the route of the classic hickey. Since you bruised easily for the most part, Harry was able to suck the marks into your skin and have them all visible in minuets. Along with marking you up, Harry enjoyed the little game that came along with leaving hicks on you at times. Since he’d leave them mainly around your neck and chest area, you’d always go into a frenzy trying to cover them up if you were supposed to be going out after you guys’ rendevouzs. To which he’d sit back with a smug smirk on his face as he watches you rush to try and cover them. He’d also use the rings in your punishments. If you were being a bad girl, Harry would take you right over his knee hand give your backside a couple firm swats with his initialed rings going in towards his palm. After delivering those swats to your backside, He’d then proceed to massage the warm and stinging flesh while keeping the rings turned inwards to really press those initials into your skin.

Now aside from using his body and rings to mark you, Harry liked to use other accessories to mark you as well.

For starters, you and Harry were obsessed with anal plugs. You had a jeweled plug in just about every color and jewel shape, you had just about every color of the the plugs with the cute little bells on them, and you had just about every color of the fuzzy bunny tail type of plugs. There was even a chain in there if Harry wanted you on your knees for the day. You guys’ collection of princess plugs was so extensive that Harry had to sit you down in his lap and choose which plug you’d wear because you just loved them all. But the one thing you two were missing from your princess plug collection was a monogrammed one. Harry scoured the internet to find the perfect place to make the missing piece of you guys’ collection. He made sure to make the H nice and big so that he could see it simply from lifting up one of those little skirts you were always in. Once he put in the size, color and things of that nature into the form, Harry looks over it once before paying for the custom plug. And for the six or seven weeks weeks, Harry patiently and eagerly awaited the plug. And when it arrived at you guys’ front door, he was quick to undo the package to see it. When he pulls the plug from its packaging, it’s exactly the way he’d hoped. The plug was a cold and shiny with a big H right in the middle of the rounded top. It was absolutely perfect to him, and once you saw it you loved it too. As soon as you saw it, you were already pulling your bottoms down and laying across Harry’s back so that he can insert it into you. Simply watching your tight hole swallow the domed portion of the plug made Harry’s cock stir a bit in his pants. But seeing you plugged up with a big H sticking out was an even bigger turn on. Everything looked perfect. So perfect that Harry couldn’t help but taking you from behind in that moment just to stare at that plug the entire time he rammed himself into you.

Aside from the princess plug, Harry also loved buying custom clothes with his name on them for you. When he saw how good you looked in his shirts that had the embroidered Styles on the lapel, Harry went on a shopping spree. He bought you shirts in your size with the custom Styles embroidery on the lapel, and he bought you some pieces custom lingerie. When he found out that he could have custom pieces made, Harry was right on top of it and he made sure to fuck you in it once the pieces were in his hands. He got designer bras for you with custom Styles tags on the back and his name sewn into the lower band depending on the style, and panties with his first and last name placed right above your cunt. With the lingerie, specifically the panties, it was incredibly hard to not lift your skirts up to sneak a peak at your panties with his name sewn into them. Your pussy was already his, Harry just liked seeing his name on it. He especially loved it when you were a dripping mess in the panties that had his name strewn across the front. His favorite piece of them all was this Gucci thong he’d ordered. He customized everything the way he could’ve possibly wanted. His name was sewn onto the front portion right above your cunt, and there was a tag in the back that had Styles written on it. And when it came to this tag in particular, Harry made sure that it was perfect. Aside from the font and color, Harry made sure to note that he wanted it to be a bit more raised than normal so that after a day of wearing it, you’d have Styles etched into your skin. The first day you wore it, Harry was a complete mess. He was constantly trying to lift your skirt to see how perfect you looked with the itty bitty thong on. He was also getting a good look at his name that was on the material. Harry was beyond excited to see his name etched into your skin later on in the day. And when that time finally rolled around, Harry was a mess. He has you lying flat on the bed with him straddling your thighs from behind.

“Daddy wants to take you from behind do badly darling. Wanna see those pretty new panties I got for you.” He says as he slips his fingers into the tight bands of the thong. From there, he pulls the sliver of fabric that was back there up and as he does, he sees his name in your skin. In that moment, Harry was losing his mind. His cock was going crazy in his pants and he could feel the precum beginning to bead as he stared at the area. He was absolutely in love and made sure to give it to you nice and hard from behind, never once taking his eyes off of you. He even flipped you over to get a better view of his name claiming your cunt as he relentlessly and deliciously fucked into you.

And on that night, and every day and night after it, Harry made sure to fully brand you as his.

Masterlist

[luxekook]

okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong​

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn​

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga​ UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you. 

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity. 

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice. 

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests. 

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote. 

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face. 

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.” 

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”. 

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar. 

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant. 

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it. 

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place. 

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?” 

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—” 

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably. 

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me). 

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside. 

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection. 

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia. 

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”. 

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”. 

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction? 

God, you had prayed it was the last. 

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter. 

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you. 

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly. 

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry. 

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck. 

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains. 

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point. 

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth. 

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people. 

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon. 

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.” 

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance  between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. 

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™. 

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks. 

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with. 

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens. 

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened. 

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours. 

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses. 

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired. 

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)! 

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently. 

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down. 

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?” 

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter. 

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do. 

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care. 

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you). 

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. 

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch. 

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.” 

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.” 

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”. 

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk. 

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between. 

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.” 

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making. 

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day. 

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud. 

“Yoongi.” 

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length. 

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?” 

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels. 

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!” 

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming. 

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now. 

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him. 

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs. 

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly. 

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?” 

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

[sir-gale]

MHA hcs/bullet points for Valentines Day

(Ft. Midoriya, Todoroki and Bakugou)

Not sure how to describe this, but you know how most of the time we have these characters be gentlemen?

What if we did it to them.

That’s the synopsis. 

Warnings: FLUFF, SLIGHT ANGST, SLIGHT SWEARING

Izuku Midoriya

(a.k.a. Deku)

Izuku has always been a very affectionate person

He always wants to spoil you, he cuddles you, he just wants to do this because he’s just as serious about you two as he is with everything else. He doesn’t want you to feel alone even when he’s busy working hard to achieve his dream.

Being the number one hero would lose its meaning without you by his side after all,

Is honestly just the best boyfriend ever. Top tier.

So you two are out on a ~date~

Let’s be honest you can’t go anywhere without seeing all might merch

Especially now that Valentine’s Day is coming around

he’s being super attentive, connecting, just making you feel loved.

And then you two see an all might merch store

You, knowing this is Dekus favorite place to go for his gear, wanna go in and browse

He’s so hesitant about it because he knows how he is (fanboy and all)

“A-are you sure? I can get really get carried away, todays supposed to be about you!”

You WILL drag him in if you have to

Because seeing him looking around with stars in his eyes makes you happy

Of course, he is now invested in a particular item, and you wander off to do some viewing of your own

<And then you see it>

It’s an all might plushy holding/hugging a heart with the sentence ‘You are plus ultra!’

Oh yes. You were going to get this. You didn’t even look at the price tag.

When I say you SNATCHED this mf-

And sure enough your bby was still in his little happy fanboy space (we’ve all been there)

You buy it.

Cashier was a bit scared. Of you, I mean.

You didn’t take the bag. Just hid the plushie behind you, grabbed izuku by the hood, dragged him out

He was really confused and kind of scared, but seeing your detirmined excited face he calmed down

Before he could say anything you revealed the toy and——

He stood there

Your arms stretched out fully extending it towards him

And he just stared so you went

‘For you’ •^•

He cried.

He bawled.

Literal waterfalls.

He’s already hearing wedding bells.

He’s on cloud nine.

He hugs you so hard for like five minutes squeeling and just.. words of appreciation and love and gratitude

~(I don’t feel the need to make a comment that people were staring at the unveiling seen but just letting you know)~

He carries that plush tight against his chest for the rest of the day, your arms hooked together, no matter how uncomfortable it is to walk shoulder to shoulder like that.

He loves you so much. Thank you for doing this.

Shoto Todoroki

(a.k.a icyhot)

Todoroki has always tried to make up for his cold attitude and overall emotional absence with small things

Whether it be something that he bought, quality time, and other small things that wouldn’t mean much if it were anyone else

But you know. And you really appreciate how much he loves you and shows it.

Only problem is, he’s not sure what he’s doing. He knows that you love him, he knows that he loves you, he just wishes he has the courage to back it up with his words

(Little does he know you’ve been preparing a lil something for valentines day >:))

Whether your a perceptive person or not, after being with him you know how to tell it’s been a hard day for him. 

So when he calls you and asks if you want him to take you out, you say ‘no thanks baby’. He really questioned it

“Are you sure? Valentines day is coming up, we haven’t done much for the occasion..”

Once you reassure him, Todoroki is mildly relieved. He loves you, so so much and your presence makes him feel very good, but he just needs today to himself

that didn’t stop the guilt from pouring in. He didn’t want to be neglectful. The fear of that uncertainty in your relationship, he felt bad for doubting you and him. The entire trip home Shoto is in his own head on what couples ‘should’ be like. What a good boyfriend ‘should’ be.

Even though it was him having the bad day, even though you sounded perfectly chipper over the phone, and he was very much deflated, he was considering some sort of grand gesture or expensive gift.

Walking into the house, completely lost in thought, he almost didn’t notice the smooth white box with a note on it

‘Happy Valentines Day!~ You deserve it :)’ Was written on the sticky note

Shoto, now out of his head, opened up the box. Inside was a folded sweater. Before he read what was on it, he set it aside and read the paper at the bottom. 

‘I designed this myself. I hope you like it. I hope you know how much I love you. You are the only one for me, no matter how cheesy that sounds.’

Small smile returning to Todoroki's face, your handwriting always seemed to bless his eyes. Anything that made him feel that you were there made him forget how inadequate he felt.

He then took the sweater and decided to go to a mirror, only then putting it on.

It was a light cream color, easy on the eyes. It was perfectly baggy on him. The soft small text sown into the front read ‘~you have my heart~’ 

Shoto absolutely adored it. If only someone was there to take a picture because this man was smiling like an idiot

He looked down almost bashfully, and then he realized, that with the fabric pooling on his hands, there was something on the sleeves.

Half of a heart on one sleeve, half on the other

Raising his wrists, having them face upwards and connect, it made one whole heart.

His own heart nearly exploded when he realized

Than he literally had your heart in his hands

He loves you so fucking much. Thank you for making this.

Katsuki Bakugou

(a.k.a Kacchan)

Bakugou KNOWS he is an asshole

He doesn’t deny it.

So at the beginning of the relationship, anxious anger issues boom boom boy had been so scared to hurt you with either his words or his quirk

He either goes overboard with treating you in dates or is completely opposed to touching

Sometimes he juggles in both.

“Hey, get anything you want alright? No! I don’t need your hand!”

Whiplash.

Getting you gifts is his way of feeling good enough for you. It obviously really bothers you but you haven’t figured out the right time to bring it up

One day though, you two decided to stay home and relax. This doesn’t happen often, as Bakugou usually doesn’t think it’s good enough for you, but after a lot of convincing he agreed to stay inside. 

(You wanted to do this because you knew it was a bad day for him. He’s really out of it, making mistakes isn’t his thing)

This is a bit of a tricky situation for Katsuki, he realized he couldn’t just have a girlfriend without touching you no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

Okay but let’s be clear

It was VERY OBVIOUS that he wanted to touch you

It’s like he was trying to deny the fact that you had his eyes and ears, and he always fidgeted around

As if he wasn’t hot and sweaty enough -_-

Cut to him ready on the couch, movies almost on, you come out from the kitchen with two chai masala teas (extra spice in bakugou’s)

He doesn’t really know how to react to it. 

“Thanks.”

He wishes he could sound as grateful as he feels.

And then, suddenly, you get on the couch and pull him into your embrace, his head on your chest. 

“I know today sucks. Let me take care of you this time.”

“I love you Katsuki. I don’t need anymore jewlery. I just need your heart.”

He was damn near tears then. He was too tired to fight back and too emotional over his failures, he laid his head on your lap and for the rest of the night he was calmer than ever.

He loves you so much. Thank you.

[rosesisupposes]

Objections, Your Honor

Two lawyers are across the aisle in open court once more. But today something is off, and no one is happy with the result.

read on ao3

characters: mainly Logan & Janus; background Virgil, Patton, Roman, Remus, Remy, and Emile

pairings: soulmate Loceit; QPP Analogical; QPP Moceit; romantic soulmate Royality; romantic soulmate Dukexiety; romantic soulmate Remile

content tags: non-traditional soulmate AU; courtroom drama; arophobia and acephobia; shameless self-pandering with legal arguments about the MCU; gushing about QPPs; couples therapy

reader tags: @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @potestessemagishomosexualitatis  @mariniacipher @vintage-squid

word count: 10,386

⁂

The day it happened was no normal day for Logan. But not, of course, because of that.

He cared because it was a trial day. Months of motions back and forth, weeks and weeks of preparation, and today was oral arguments. He normally avoided open court, particularly against such an opponent, but nothing could be done.

His case files were impeccably arranged in his padfolio, his grocery list of arguments annotated in precise writing, blue ink dotting the page with emphases and connections, his notepad prepared at his left.

He glanced to his right out of the corner of his eye at his opposing counsel. He didn't want them to see him looking. But he sneered internally at the haphazard stacks of papers spreading across the table and the garish gold ink that looped and curved across sticky notes.

The judge finally came out, and Logan stood, crisply buttoning his tailored jacket as he did so. At the signal, he identified himself clearly. "Logan Finch for the appellant, Your Honor." 

And then, from his right: "Janus Alighieri for the appellee, Your Honor."

Logan rolled his eyes internally. Janus was, unfortunately, a very familiar foe at this point. But then, they were two of the most respected lawyers in their state, with opposing specialties and reputations for innovative tactics.

Logan was self-aware. He had another reputation, too: as a black-and-white thinker, unshakable, unalterable. He preferred to think of it as a particularly strong conviction. Versus "The Snake" against him, who coiled and twisted the facts of his cases to benefit his clients.

And of course, that was the issue today - Logan strove to show that his client had a straightforward, airtight argument that should clearly prevail, while Janus found miniscule details that he said should be enough to distinguish the case at hand and make it different from previous decisions, enough so to allow the case to be decided in his favor. He'd charmed the jury at trial, and now argued against Logan's appeal.

Logan prided himself on keeping a cool head, but listening to Janus' speech just got under his skin. His neat handwriting started to get messier and messier as he furiously scribbled notes of counterarguments and responses to his opponent's points. Then Janus turned slightly, just enough to see frustration's color burn in Logan's cheek, and he smirked.

Logan barely heard the gasp from the observers behind the bar, because he'd just snapped his pen in his grip.

He looked straight ahead, somewhere slightly to the left of the judge's head, but he saw very little, his furious thoughts too loud to allow any else to be processed. But the audience was murmuring and talking, far louder than any judge usually allowed - what was going on?

A clerk from behind him hurried up to the judge's dais and whispered urgently in her ear. Logan had yet to look around, but he was slowly coming back to himself, enough to be confused at this disruption in normal procedure. He refused to look over at Janus' probably-still-smirking face.

The judge cleared her throat. "Counselors, we will recess for the day. Please join me in my chambers now."

Logan frowned, but cleaned up the broken pen and gathered his file neatly back into his leather briefcase. He didn't look over, but he heard the flurry and crinkling of papers as Janus threw his notes into his own bag. Without glancing over, Logan followed the judge to the small office at the back of the courtroom.

"Mr. Finch, Mr. Alighieri. I do hope there's a good explanation for this breach in propriety, not to mention the code of conduct," she said sternly as they both stood before her heavy desk.

"Breach, Your Honor?" Janus asked. He sounded just as confused as Logan felt.

"As barred attorneys, you are expected to know the code as well as I," Judge Kasel said severely. "No soulmates may be involved in a trial together, except as co-counsel."

Logan's ears roared. "Your Honor, I apologize, I must have misheard. Soulmates? How is that relevant-"

"Mr. Finch, don't play dumb with me - the entire courtroom saw!"

"Saw what?" Janus asked. His voice was oddly distant and strained from its normal silky tones.

Judge Kasel stared at them in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you both managed to not see that? I'm quite certain the entire county saw the glow just now, through even the back of your suits!"

"Glow?" Logan asked. His chest was suddenly very, very empty, a vacuum of air or substance, and had he not been sitting he was sure he would have fainted.

"Yes, glow, both your marks on your shoulders. Given your mutual surprise, I will assume that this was indeed unknown, and will not declare this case a retroactive mistrial. But you will both need to send in replacements from your firms."

Janus spoke up, his voice tinny. "Replacements, Your Honor? I should think even in light of this- development, only one of us would need to withdraw-"

"Mr. Alighieri, while I appreciate your dedication, I will not delay this trial for the entirety of your bonding. I will give you both 3 days to propose counsel to take over, and scheduling will proceed with them."

Oh fuck. Bonding, Logan thought, unable to speak. That absolutely ridiculous expectation.

The clerk poked her head in. "If they need to speak privately, this side office is empty."

"Yes," Logan responded robotically. "Yes, I believe we need to speak."

They filed into the small room. The clerk closed the door behind her, whispering "Congratulations!" as she disappeared.

Janus sat in one of the chairs heavily. Logan remained standing, staring blankly at the bookshelves built into the wall.

"I can't believe this," Janus said finally. "We've known each other for years, how could we possibly be...?"

"Soulmarks frequently emit a barely visible glow from proximity alone, particularly when located on skin that is generally covered. Heightened emotion or situations with high levels of stress lead to brighter glows that were invisible or unnoticed previously," Logan recited dully.

"Oh yes, how could I forget, I'm talking to Encyclopedia Brown," Janus said, rolling his eyes. "Of course you've memorized that too." He unbuttoned his suit vest dexterously despite his trademark yellow gloves, slumping forward in his chair as he threw his vest over the arm carelessly.

"At least one of us actually has a factual basis for this event, rather than us both being in the dark," Logan snapped back.

"Yeah, your vast knowledge of facts really helped! Did your misguided quest to know everything somehow miss the detail of who's your fucking soulmate?" Janus said, nearly whisper-screaming.

Logan whirled to face him, a fiery reply already on his lips, when he suddenly saw a blue light showing through Janus' white shirt, bright enough to glint off the polished chair back and off the glass of the picture frames on the wall.

He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. "Yes. That was a detail I had not learned. It felt trivial, unable to affect my work. But now that it has, we're better off resolving this."

Janus deflated too. "Yeah. We should. If we can just get through this part, at least we'll stop glowing like horny teenagers."

Logan focused on a tiny flag displayed on the desk as he spoke, not looking over. "I know of a very respectable landlord who rents bonding apartments in the city. Nothing overdone or kitschy, no 'honeymoon' suites, just furnished apartments for indefinite stays."

"Fine. Not like we can't afford it, whatever the price."

"I have some arrangements to make at home-" Logan began

"As do I, unless-"

"Unless what?"

Janus took a breath. "How would you feel about living with a snake?"

"I rather thought that was the entire idea," Logan replied coolly.

Janus shot him a withering glare. "I mean a python, you absolute cotton-headed ninnymuggin."

"Ah, my mistake," Logan said calmly. "That should be fine. A pet, I assume? Or your chosen co-counsel?"

"Let's get one thing straight, Finch," Janus said, rising to his full height, looking down at his infuriating opponent. "I don't like you. I don't expect or particularly want you to like me. We are going to be residing together up until, and only until, our illogical marks have decided in their weird cosmic energy to stop lighting up like neon signs whenever we experience strong emotion in each other's company. I fully expect to be pissed off the entire time, which will make figuring that out easier. But you do not get to speak to me that way, or I'll-"

Logan looked up to meet Janus' eyes. "Or you'll what, Alighieri?"

"I'll report you to the bar for breaking the code, and convince them you already knew," Janus replied smoothly. "And you of all people should know- I am very persuasive."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "Fine. And yes, you may bring your python. I'll be leaving my cat at home, however."

"Fine with me," Janus said curtly, deflating back into his normal slouch.

"I will send you the details of the landlord I mentioned. I can make the arrangements within the hour."

"Sure. Wait-"

"What?"

"How are you going to send me the details?"

Logan paused. Their only real contact over the years had been in person or by professional communications. He could hardly use a process server or subpoena to give Janus his key. "Ah. Right. Your contact information, then?" He pulled out his notepad.

Janus pulled out his gold pen and scribbled his phone number at an angle, entirely crossing the college-ruled lines. Logan cringed but took it.

"I will contact you shortly, then. And I will may sure to look for pet-friendly apartments."

Janus nodded. "Right."

"Right."

They both paused.

"Uh. See you soon, then," Janus said, and left the room abruptly.

⁂

Janus had to hand it to him - the apartment was all Logan had promised. Clean, sleek, and spacious. The landlord had even left a spare heat lamp, so Janus' sweet Monty would be comfortable.

Best of all, there were several separate rooms in the suite - two bed, two bath, and two offices.

The kitchen was also well-furnished, and came stocked with staple foods. Logan had arrived, however, with extra bags of groceries.

"I brought my own additions," he said. "The landlord is a friend, but he doesn't buy from the shops I prefer."

He proceeded to pull out several large jars of kimchi, what looked like at least a gallon of soy sauce, and various bright packages that Janus couldn't read.

Janus resolved to take pictures and look up what these things were later. Not while Logan was standing here, glaring up and over as if daring him to comment.

"I've picked the smaller bedroom," Janus informed the shorter man calmly. "Monty is set up in there, so if you're weird about snakes, just avoid it. Actually, feel free to avoid it anyway. I've got a brief to write."

Logan made a noncommittal sound in response.

Hours later, Janus emerged from his office to eat something. His brief was finished, sent off to his senior partner. He hadn’t yet told the firm about the day’s events- only that the appeal would need to be handled by another partner with his associates’ help, he needed to take emergency leave, and he would let them know soon how long he expected to be unavailable. H

e found evidence in the kitchen that Logan had prepared, eaten, and cleaned up dinner for himself.  That was fine by him. He made his own food, grabbed a bag of candy, and retreated back to his room.

The next morning, he woke up at his normal late time, stretching in the sun. The kitchen once again showed evidence of Logan's presence- particularly the currently-soaking coffee pot.

When the sun started to descend once more and Janus had yet to see his new roommate, he grumbled. Guess he'd have to be the fucking practical one.

He blew Monty a kiss for good luck and stumped down to the rooms Logan had claimed. He rapped on the door. "Finch. We need to talk."

He waited. There was silence, then a slow drag of a chair. The doors cracked open.

"Yes? What about?"

"No. We need to talk. Or, fuck, I don't know. Be in the same room occasionally."

Logan sighed deeply, and opened the door more. "Fine."

Janus went to the living room and sat on one side of the couch. Logan followed him and settled on the chair facing him.

"So." Janus began.

"So what," Logan replied flatly.

"Sew buttons," Janus replied automatically.

"What?"

"Just something one of my friends says," Janus muttered.

"Ah. So what was it you want to discuss?"

"I don't know!" Janus snapped. "But I'd really like to get back to my life, eventually, and that can only happen if we bond." His lip curled.

Logan sighed heavily. "And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Janus fell silent. He had very few ideas. Pop culture made it very clear that bonding was an extremely romantic event. First kisses. Proposals. Or, in the less sappy movies, it seemed to consist purely of falling into bed together. None of which appealed in the least, particularly not with Logan.

Logan stared expectantly. "Nothing? You just pulled me out with no ideas?"

"If you're the fucking brilliant one, you come up with one then!" Janus spat out the suggestion with a glare, but then he saw it - a soft gold glow shining through Logan's tee, reflected in the tasteful mirror behind him.

They both deflated again, glows reducing down to hidden beneath their clothes. 

Logan adjusted his glasses. "I. Ah. Apologize. I realize you are attempting to resolve this issue."

"But you're right. I have no idea how to," Janus admitted.

Logan took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Unfortunately, neither do I. Perhaps just coexisting will be enough."

"How long will that take, though?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

They lapsed into silence.

Finally, Janus suggested, "Maybe we can do our work in the same room. Set up in the dining room with all our stuff. Coexist but in proximity."

Logan glanced over. "That seems relatively painless. Let us make an attempt, then."

⁂

Logan had not had any particular expectations for how well they could share a work space.

And yet, it was still far worse than he'd expected.

Janus talked to himself. As he read, as he wrote, as he researched. Not loud, but a constant stream of soft muttering, disjointed words and full sentences. 

It was the most distracting thing Logan had ever been suffered to experience.

"Will you please be quiet," he said tightly, after an hour passed with no signs of letup. 

"What do you mean?" Janus asked.

"That infernal whispering, please, could you stop?"

Janus looked at him quizzically.

"You're talking under your breath," Logan said. He felt a headache coming on. 

"Oh, am I?" Janus asked. "Sorry. I'll be quiet."

It lasted all of half an hour, and then the muttering started again. "SCOTUS said yes but that was a city sidewalk, 2nd says no but that was Lincoln Center, hm, decoration, use, separation, intent?" 

"You're doing it again!"

Janus looked slightly guilty. "It's barely conscious, it's how I process things. Could you just wear headphones?"

"I need silence."

"Noise-canceling, then?"

"Fine. Do you own a pair?"

But the headphones didn't help. The sensation was too odd, of being closed-in, and he kept bumping then as he went to lean against his hand. Finally, Logan stood. "I'm going back to my office. This experiment has failed."

Janus' eyes narrowed. "Well, thanks for deigning to sit in my presence for a full three hours before giving up."

"I'm not giving up, this is just not tenable!" Logan insisted. 

"Well, you asked for ideas, and I came up with one. If it's not working for you, you come up with a better one. Come find me when you're done thinking, I know it could take you a while."

He stood and grabbed an apartment key, and stalked out to walk off his frustration.

As he walked, he called his best friend.

"Hey Pat, it's me."

"Jan! Hi buddy, how are you?!"

He sighed heavily. "I want to go home."

"But you only just got there?"

"Yeah, and it's going shi- I mean, badly. Really badly."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Patton said confidently. "You're a brilliant and wonderful human, and anyone smart enough to argue against you will be able to see that!"

"Thanks, hun," Janus said. "The fact remains that I also don't like him."

Patton hummed tunelessly. "It doesn't have to be instant, Jan. These things usually take time."

"Unlike you and Ro."

"Well, yes, but that's because we were meant to be!" Patton soft, his voice taking on that soft, besotted tone it always did when he talked about his soulmate.

"Isn't the whole point that all soulmates are meant to be?"

"Well, yes..." Patton faltered. "But it doesn't have to look like us, we're just hopeless romantics!"

"I know. How's wedding planning going?"

"We started watching movies for inspiration and got distracted with a Disney marathon," Patton said fondly. 

"But you had fun?"

"Absolutely!"

"Good," Janus said, meaning it. There were very few people, in his opinion, who deserved happiness the way Patton did.

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Pat- what if it was a mistake? What if we just have defective marks or something?"

"I'm sure that's not true!" Patton insisted.

"It just seems like - I mean, we're not even friends. Most people get to start from strangers at worst, but we've been antagonizing each other for years, what if, I don't know. Neither of us had a soulmate and so they glitched out?"

"You just need to find some common ground," Patton said confidently. "You can't both be so passionate about being lawyers without something more in common. I believe in you, buddy!"

Janus sighed. "Thanks, Pat. Say hi to Roman for me, tell him Monty misses him."

"Will do, nephew! Call any time you need, okay?"

"Love you, Pat."

"Love you tooooo!"

Janus realized he'd circled the block and was back at the apartment entrance. He steeled himself, then went back up. He repressed the petty urge to bang open the door to disturb Logan's quiet as much as possible.

Logan wasn't in the common spaces, but emerged not long after Janus returned.

"I feel I must apologize," he began. "It wasn't my intent to denigrate how you work. It is just clear that sharing a workspace is not going to be preferable for either of us."

"Yes, I'm aware I had a bad idea," Janus said, overly patient. "Kind of an odd apology, but I accept. Can I have lunch now?"

"Yes, of course. May I join you?" Logan asked.

Janus raised a distrusting brow.

"The idea of spending time in the same space was a good one. I thought we might try a context in which we don't need to focus."

"Fine."

They prepared food around each other, both managing to bite their tongues when they needed the same counter space or cooking implements, which Janus was proud of himself for. They ate in silence.

Janus heard Logan sigh in exasperation and braced himself for yet another snippy comment. Instead, he heard an unexpected question.

"Do you enjoy superheroes?"

"To eat? No, they upset my stomach," Janus replied drily.

"I mean to watch. Superhero movies and shows."

"Occasionally, yeah, why?"

"Perhaps we could watch one this evening. At the same time."

"Sure."

And they parted to continue working on their own.

⁂

Logan had been correct that, as far as superhero movies went, the MCU was a safe choice.

In retrospect, though, perhaps Civil War had been... less so.

It had started when Steve first objected to the Sokovia Accord plan- and Logan had scoffed.

Quick as a cat’s pounce, or an adder’s strike, Janus’ head whipped around. 

“You disagree?”

Logan glanced over briefly, screen light blinking off his glasses. “Well, of course. Didn’t New York and Sokovia show that some control is needed? Lawlessness leads to more civilian casualties.”

“And yet, if supers are controlled so much that risk of liability keeps them from acting at all, casualties would be just a tad higher, don’t you think?”

Tony and Steve’s voices raised on the screen as Logan replied, “What would the difference be of the villains and heroes if they all act with complete impunity?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did we lose mens rea when we switched over into Marvel-land?” Janus asked, voice clipped. “Isn’t the entire basis of our modern penal system based on culpability, not just the act or harm done?”

Logan looked down his nose. “Of course culpability matters. But you well know that one of the factors for absolute liability is when an act is inherently and extremely dangerous. Say, for instance, displays of superhuman force in a densely populated area.”

“So you don’t think there can be any space for personal judgment on the heroes’ behalf?” Janus asked incredulously.

“Look what that space did already! Does the name Ultron ring a bell?”

“So of course, the one who made a terrible call is the one who now wants to be restricted? That sounds like asking for the global government to save him from himself instead of taking responsibility.”

“Better that those with actual accountability be the ones bearing the responsibility!”

“Oh, yeah, and we can definitely trust this government’s judgment! A Hydra infestation was all part of the plan!” Janus’ voice was raising, far louder than the movie that still flickered on, ignored.

“There still needs to be rule of law! Steve wants to abandon it all for one person, and a war criminal at that-!”

“And that’s incomprehensible?”

“Of course!”

Janus fixed his supposed soulmate with a glare. “And you mean to tell me that there’s no one, no one, that you would be willing to burn the world down for?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Janus continued quickly before he could. “No one who won’t fight for themselves, because they think they’re not worth it, but you know they’re so worth it that you would be willing to kill for them?”

Logan, about to spit out an impulsive reply, paused, momentarily speechless. As clearly as if they were sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, his best friend from childhood filled his mind. Virgil, who never believed their worth no matter how many times Logan and their soulmate Remus told them so.

Janus saw the pause and continued softly. “I’m not saying rule of law isn’t important. But the trouble with laws is they’re only as tailored as legislators make them. And they’re human, and therefore fallible. We need exceptions, for those situations that they didn’t imagine.”

Logan struggled for moment, then replied, just as quietly, “You’re right.”

Janus’ mouth fell open in shock, but just as he did, the tv’s faint blue glow throughout the room was washed over with two beacons in blue and gold, blazing from their backs.

At the sight, Logan’s face went from contemplative and open to stony. He stood abruptly and stalked off into his room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, and Janus was left staring at the wood in confusion and anger.

⁂

“I just don’t get it!” Janus whisper-screamed into the phone. He was power walking through a nearby park, moving so fast he’d passed a skateboarder and a particularly leisurely biker. “Does he want to keep on glowing forever? What is his problem?!”

Patton made sympathetic noises in response, quite familiar with the sound of Janus in full rant mode. Roman was lying with his head in his lap, listening on speaker, so Patton was settled in to be as receptive to his friend’s complaints as he needed.

“I mean, we finally agreed on something, besides the fact that we want to get this fucking resolved, and then he just, what, shuts me out? Literally and figuratively? I literally can’t even catch him leaving to the kitchen for food now!”

Patton winced. “Not since? But it’s been two days!”

“Two and a half, yeah,” Janus replied. His voice suddenly sounded weary. “I can’t keep doing this. The trial’s going on without us anyway, I might as well just give it up and make sure I never have to argue against him again.”

At that, Roman sat bolt upright. “Janus, my dear esquire! You cannot abandon your quest! This is your soulmate!”

“Yeah, well. Maybe some soulmarks are broken. Or we just met at the wrong time. Maybe if we’d met in law school we would have been a team, but now it’s too late.”

Janus sounded contemptuous, but Patton could hear a distinct note of regret.

“Maybe...” he started, but trailed off, thinking.

“Maybe what, Pat?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve heard of soulmates who, you know, take an abnormally long time to bond, or manage to un-bond after years together, but they can fix it. Do you remember my old roommate?”

Janus wrinkled his nose. “Patton, are you suggesting couple’s therapy? I’m fairly certain that only applies to couples.”

“Well, you’ve kinda been forced to be one, right? At least to figure out bonding? They could probably help, or at least let you know if it’s not worth the effort.”

Janus sighed. “No, you’re right, it’s a good idea. I just have no idea how I’ll get Finch to go along with it.”

“Might I make a suggestion?” Roman asked politely. 

“Sure.”

“Perhaps try calling him ‘Logan.’”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Worth a shot, I guess. Love you both.”

“Love you Jan!”

“Best of luck with the love of your soul!”

 Back in the apartment, Logan was pacing in precise squares in his bedroom. He half-expected the rug to be worn down by the repeated impact at this point. 

“L, I don’t know what to tell you, buddy,” the gravely voice on the phone said. “You really have only two options here: find a way to avoid him forever, which will probably involve having to turn down cases you’d like-“

“I bet he’d stay on them just to force me off,” Logan interrupted, growling. 

“That is a possibility,” Virgil replied, their voice overly patient. “The other option, though, is to work this out,” they continued. 

Logan scoffed.

“Lo, that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta turn into a Hallmark movie! But it’s clear this isn’t just going away, and it’s not like you’ve got nothing in common.”

Logan groaned. “Virge, I don’t-“

“I know, man. I know. But you can’t just hide in your room until he just decides to move out, which means you’re gonna have to talk to him at some point.”

Logan didn’t reply, just continued pacing. 

“You know I’m right, Lo,” Virgil said patiently. “You don’t have to say it, just promise me you’re not going to keep being a hermit, okay?”

Logan sighed. “I promise.”

“There we go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

About to hang up, Logan heard a voice in the background and Virgil asked him to wait.  Then, “Reme wants to say hi.”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh, but he was smiling. “Fine, I’ll allow it-“

“Loooogggyyyyy! How’s the soulmate boning going? Have you figured out that you’re a power bottom yet?”

“Hello, Remus. I take it you’re well.”

“Let’s just say I’m glad you’re my brother-in-law because I may have some need for a lawyer soon.”

Logan couldn’t conceal the grin from his voice as he replied, “As I know you know, I am not a defense attorney, nor would I ever be so unwise as to take you as a client.”

“Aww, you’re such a smart cookie! And by cookie I mean a snack, because mmmm-MMMm you’re a snacc!”

“Always glad to know I’m appreciated,” Logan replied drily. “Goodbye, Virgil. Goodbye, Remus.”

“See ya, L.”

“Byeeeeeeeeeee!”

⁂

When Janus returned, he was a bit taken aback to see Logan sitting in an armchair, reading. At the sound of the door, he looked up. 

“Ah, Alighieri. I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior.”

Janus paused. It was a good sign, but still so unexpected as to be unsettling.

Logan cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have left you in a lurch. You did not cause this situation anymore than did I, and you have not been unkind. I have a suggestion for how we might move forward.”

Janus winced internally, thinking of another disastrous attempt at a movie or workspace. “I actually had a thought on that as well, but um. What was yours?”

Logan cleared his throat again. “Well, since we have been... brought into this situation together, but as a pair are struggling to adjust, it seems logical to consult with an expert, much as we would in our work. Therefore, we should consult a professional on personal relationships.”

“Oh, thank god,” muttered Janus. “Yeah, I was gonna suggest a couples counselor too. I think that would make sense. And I actually have a personal reference to a very experienced therapist.”

That settled, they found the earliest possible appointment, only two days later. 

“I do need to warn you-“ Janus said as they walked up to the office. It was their first time out of the apartment together, and it had been a very quiet walk over. “The methods of this therapist are- unorthodox. But they are highly acclaimed in their field.”

“Oh, are they an enby?” Logan asked. 

“Yes and no,” Janus replied. “You see, there’s two of them.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, they’re a couple therapist that is also a couple.”

“I don’t- well- I mean, that’s odd, right?”

Janus grinned. “Yeah, odd is a common word to describe them. But they’re highly praised and like I said, they were recommended personally.”

“Right,” Logan said, squaring his shoulders. “An open mind is helpful for effective therapy, after all.”

“That’s the spirit! I think,” Janus replied, holding the door open.

A gothy receptionist showed them to a private room with a comfortably large couch. Logan looked around in trepidation and slight alarm at the decorations. There were countless Funko-Pops, posters, stuffed animals, and an alarmingly high number of travel mugs from what looked like every single cartoon that had ever existed.

Janus was slightly more prepared then Logan, but he still jumped out of his skin by the sudden singing coming around the door. A deep voice was booming, “Duhhh duh-duh-duh-duh-da-DUH!” in a building crescendo that went on and on, until both lawyers were staring in a mixture of confusion and irritation.

Then a tall, lanky man slid in the door and lowered his glasses to wink at them both. “Hey babes. Welcome to therapy.” 

The singer followed him through the door, their bright pink hair a sharp contrast to their warm brown skin. “And thank you as always for the intro, honey!”

They smiled, big and toothy. “Welcome indeed! I’m Dr. Emile Picani, pronouns they/them, and this tall drink of coffee is my partner, Dr. Remy Picani, pronouns he/him! And you are Janus and Logan, correct?”

Logan looked a bit stunned still, so Janus took the lead. “Yes, I’m Janus Alighieri and this is Logan Finch, pronouns he/him for both. And I was referred by Patton Corwan-Augustus.” 

Emile smiled even bigger, if that were possible. “Oh Patty! Best roommate ever, I still miss his brownies. It’s lovely to meet you both!”

“Best roommate? What am I, chopped liver?” Remy asked, hand pressed to his chest. 

“Best friend, best coffee-maker, best of men and best of husbands,” Emile replied, and said husband immediately blushed.

Logan coughed politely. “Have you been married long?”

Remy smiled, still pink around the edges. “We’ve actually been married almost 10 years. The minute we graduated university, actually, when we knew our parents had not a shred left of financial control. We went through our PhDs together, which is why, of course, we’re qualified to help out other couples, because let me tell you, would not recommend.”

“Which brings us, of course, to you two!” Emile said brightly. “What is your goal in coming to therapy?”

Janus and Logan both began speaking at once.

“Well, it started in court-“

“It was completely unexpected, we’ve known each other for years-“

“-dreadfully embarrassing, not to mention the professional ramifications-“

“-it just feels like something’s missing-“

“-really want to just sort this out-“

“-just want to figure out the disconnect-“

“-and we can forget about the whole thing.”

“-want to make this work.”

They looked at each other, shocked, as their words both sank in.

Emile was tapping their Powerpuff Girls pencil topper steadily against their lips, eyes wide behind their pink-framed glasses. 

Remy, at their side, leaned back and took a long, loud slurp of his iced coffee, rattling the ice around until the room’s attention was on him. Then he looked up and said, “Hoooo-wheee.”

“So I’m getting a lot of differing goals here,” Emile said delicately. “Let’s start with you, Janus. Can you expand, please?”

Janus tried to speak, but felt like his voice had dropped into the cold pit that was suddenly his stomach. “I, um,” he started with a shaky breath. He barely noticed when Remy pushed a cup of ice water into his hand, but a sip steadied him somewhat.

“You can look just at me, if that helps,” Emile said softly. “Or at my buddy Kaa here.” They gestured to the stuffed snake on the shelf behind them. 

He looked like a fuzzy little Monty. That would do. 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Janus said, acknowledging the water from Remy. “So. We’ve been rival lawyers for years, because we’re both the best at what we do. It was shocking, to suddenly be glowing in open court, but I thought we just needed to find common ground that’s not arguing. That’s why I’m here, at least.”

“And Logan?” Emile asked, still in that kind voice. Logan wouldn’t meet their eyes, though, or anyone’s.

“I thought- we both seemed so upset by the news. Or at least, I was, and perceived you to be as well.” He didn’t look up as he addressed Janus, but his eyes shifted over and took root on Janus’ polished loafers. “My plan was to spend whatever time was needed to stop glowing, then get back to our respective lives.”

“Do either of you have a question you’d like to ask of one another?” Remy asked. “It can be as large or small scale as you’d like, serious or frivolous.”

Both men looked up at the lanky therapist, who’d actually removed his dark glasses, revealing slightly foggy-looking irises. “Logan, it looks like you have one.”

“Oh- yes. So, Alighieri- I mean, Janus. To be clear- you were not upset by the news?”

Janus took a breath. “I mean, I was shocked, and upset to be removed in the middle of a case. But not about the soulmate thing, specifically. And I have a question too?” He looked to the therapists, who both nodded.

Janus looked over, and saw the Logan was watching him in his periphery. “When you say you were upset about the news- was it about the soulmate thing, or about me as your soulmate?”

Logan actually sat up, looking shocked. “Oh, goodness gracious. Absolutely about the concept of ‘soulmate’ in general, not personal in any way. Did I-?”

“Well, yeah, a bit,” Janus said.

“I am- I am so sorry. I would have absolutely have been equally upset, no matter who I found to be an accidental soulmate.”

Janus felt his stomach unclench just a bit.

“Logan, what about soulmates in general upsets you?” Emile asked.

Logan’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and he stayed silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he said curtly, “I never asked for one. And no one asked if I wanted one, either.”

“No one asked if I wanted to be trans, and yet here I am,” Emile said with a cheeky grin. “We don’t always get a say over the circumstances of our birth.”

“But Emmy, you’ve found self-acceptance and happiness deriving from coming out,” Remy put in. “Logan, were you content with life before this reveal?”

Logan nodded. 

“So there was no sense of dysphoria prior, or absence of a euphoria that was gained since.” 

Again, Logan nodded.

“Couldn’t-“ Janus began. His throat felt a bit stuck. “Couldn’t there be something to be gained, though?”

Logan picked up a small figurine of Dexter from the table next to the couch, and fiddled with it in his lap as he spoke. “It’s not impossible, there could certainly be gains from a better acquaintance with you. But that’s not what a soulmate is supposed to be, is it? They’re supposed to complete you,” he said, his voice dripping in disdain. “Because you were incomplete before. Because you weren’t enough, alone, you were just waiting for the One. And of course, you can’t be trusted to find them yourself, some cosmic force determines it for you.”

Remy rested his hand in his hand, elbow propped on his knee. “Spill it, sis.”

Logan stared in confusion. 

Remy smiled. “It means, approximately, ‘continue, you’ve got something good to say’. I’m getting a lot here- but a lot of the frustration seems to be with the idea that forces you can’t control are messing with your life, is that fair?”

Logan shifted. “Well, yeah, but that makes me sound like a control freak.”

“Not at all,” Janus interrupted. “Of course you don’t want something incomprehensible to make decisions for you. That’s not controlling, that’s perfectly understandable and human!”

Logan managed a small smile in response.

Emile beamed. “I couldn’t have said it better myself!”

“But I am def gonna poke some holes in your thought bubble,” Remy said cheerfully. “Starting with this: what do you mean when you say a soulmate is intended to be The One?”

Logan stared in disbelief. “Come on. Really? Look at, I don’t know, any piece of media ever. Or at you two. Or at my- friend and his husband. Or any other pair of soulmates!”

Janus added, “I mean, that’s what’s intended, right? With the whole ‘marked from birth’ thing?”

Emile looked at them both very seriously. “Did you know that Remy isn’t The One for me?”

“But he’s your soulmate?” Janus gasped out.

Emile nodded gravely. “He is my soulmate. But he is not my only soulmate.”

“I was designated female at birth to very traditional parents. They wanted me to marry my soulmate at 18, like they had, and they assumed he’d be a man. But my other soulmate was a girl, and I loved her with all my heart. And when I realized I wasn’t a girl, I thought my parents might accept us more. I was wrong.” They took a breath. “We were separated. I don’t know what happened to her. But it was enough to know that my parents didn’t care about my happiness, soulmate or no.”

“I’m so sorry,” Logan said quietly, and Janus nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. 

“I was lucky, though,” they continued. “I found Remy only two years later. And he accepted me as I am, both my gender and my other soulmate. And the cartoons, of course.”

“I never got to meet her,” Remy said. “So we will never know if she was my soulmate, too. I choose to believe she wasn’t. I think she could have been Emile’s one and only, had they been able to stay together. And that doesn’t make me feel any less lucky to be Emile’s husband, nor any less loved by them.”

“And not to shock you even more, but not all soulmates are romantic,” Emile said. “I know that’s the media portrayal- but well, the media is also pretty straight. And cis. And white. And neurotypical. And-”

“What they’re getting at,” Remy interrupted, “is that common portrayals miss a lot of the variety and complexity of humanity as a whole, let alone the complexity of relationships.”

Logan was sitting very still, and not speaking. Janus was trying to wrap his mind around this, and spoke with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he asked, “So- for instance, um, you could have soulmates who are, uh, queerplatonic partners?”

Logan’s head snapped up, staring at Janus with wide eyes.

Remy grinned. “Yes, of course! I was worried I was going to have to do a vocab lesson, but you both seem to know what that is.”

“But-“ Janus began, brows furrowing.

“But that means-“ Logan muttered to himself.

“Why isn’t he my soulmate?” Janus asked, at the same time Logan asked, “Why aren’t they my soulmate?”

Lit by the twin glows reflecting against the wall, the therapist couple exchanged a pregnant look. Emile reached out and took a hand of each patient. “I know this is a lot to process, but I really want you to keep something in mind: a soulmate is not the only way we can love someone. It’s not the ‘best’ way or only valid way to love someone. The same way the platonic love you clearly both hold for a significant person in your life is no less valid than romantic.”

Remy sat up straight. “I want you both to think about this when you go home. Your love for your QPPs is wonderful, and worth cherishing. And I know you are both lawyers, so here’s a question for you to brief. We cannot know the actual intent of whatever force gave you marks that respond to each other. So I want to you look for what evidence there might be, in each other, for your connection.”

Emile added on, “You have a link, and it’s worth exploring. It doesn’t have to ever be more important, more meaningful than another connection you have. But understanding it is critical to bonding successfully.”

“I think we should wrap there, for this week,” Remy added. “But you can talk about this, of course, without us.”

Janus and Logan nodded, and left. The walk home was as quiet as the walk there had been, but this time the air thrummed with thoughts and ponderings.

⁂

Janus and Logan made dinner with relatively little talk, only quiet asks to pass a spice or a cooking implement. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but one where their minds were far too loud to vocalize just yet.

Janus quietly suggested putting on TV, and picked the game show network as a neutral, unobjectionable option.

They ate as they watched, still burdened with their own thoughts, but slowly started to murmur the correct questions under their breath before the Jeopardy contestants were able to.

Final Jeopardy, as luck would have it, was on Latin - but specifically, Latin as used in law. Both attorneys chuckled at the contestants' answers, some of which weren't even close to correct.

Janus directed a cautious smile in Logan's direction, and found it reciprocated. But as he saw that familiar glow start to reflect off the walls, he tensed, waiting for Logan flee once more.

For the first time, though, he didn't. His eyes widened as he took in the lights, but he didn't move to stand or leave.

"About today-" Logan began. "I don't know that I am quite ready to discuss it all, but I did want to once again apologize for my handling of this situation, and its emotional impact on you. It was entirely unintentional, but I regret causing you distress."

"Thank you," Janus replied softly. "And thank you for being willing and open to go to counseling. I learned a lot today, all of it important."

"I'd like to talk about it tomorrow, if you'd be willing," Logan added. "There are some additional details I need to share, but I don't think I'm able at the present moment."

"Sounds good," Janus nodded. "I'm going to turn in for the night. Sleep well."

"You as well."

But despite feeling tired, Janus found he wasn't at all sleepy. He ended up sitting up until the wee hours of the morning, stroking Monty gently and thinking a great deal.

⁂

The next morning, Janus woke up much earlier than his usual habit, but he needn't have worried - Logan was clearly waiting for him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and idly solving the entire Sunday crossword.

He looked up at the sound of Janus' door, and indicated the mostly-full coffee pot with a nod. Janus gratefully filled a mug for himself and lightened it thoroughly with cream, drinking deep as he stood angled so that he could offer critique and suggestions on the crossword.

"No, shush," Janus said, though Logan had not spoken. "It's gotta be White. Y'know, Betty? C'mon. Most-loved Gold? It's obvious."

Logan just smiled and penned in “White” in the horizontal boxes, immediately able to fill in the Down clues crossing them.

Once the puzzle was complete, Janus refilled his coffee and sat properly at the kitchen island. 

"So, if you're amenable-" Logan began. "I believe I'm prepared to discuss yesterday in more detail."

Janus nodded. "Did you want to start off?"

"Yes, I think I must. Because there was one detail that I wasn't quite prepared to share that I think will be quite helpful in securing a full understanding."

At Janus' encouraging nod, Logan closed his eyes to take a breath, and said, "The truth is, I'm an aromantic asexual. That's why the concept of a soulmate was so upsetting to me, particularly because up until this week I had assumed I didn't have one."

Janus looked down. "I'm ace, too, but not aro, and... yeah, same boat, mostly. I thought I wouldn't have one, but when we started to glow, I assumed it must be romantic. But that must not be the case."

Logan tented his fingers together. "So you're not aro, but you do have a QPP?"

"Yeah - I definitely can experience romantic attraction, but what I feel for Patton has always been stronger, and different."

"I'd like to hear about him, if you'd be willing," Logan said softly, and was rewarded by a smile that seemed about to glow as brightly as his soulmark on Janus' face.

"Oh, he's just the best," Janus gushed. "I met him at the perfect time in my life. I'd just been dumped by an asshole because he couldn't deal with the fact that the asexual part wasn't just me being a tease. I was feeling pretty low, post-college, all alone in a new apartment, and then this beam of sunshine turns out to be the kind of neighbor who brings cookies as a greeting. Even though I wasn't exactly receptive, he just kept coming back, even just to check up on me, and soon I found myself looking forward to it, and then inviting myself over in return."

Logan paused. "Wait, your ex broke up with you because you were ace? Was it a surprise?"

Janus rolled his eyes. "No, not in the least. I'd told him, and reminded him, and he'd just been assuming I would 'get over it,' the fucker. Right after the breakup, there were times I wondered if he was right, if I should have just powered through my repulsion to make him happy. But Patton was amazing about that, too. When he heard what happened - oh my goodness, he was so angry on my behalf, he looked like he was going to Hulk out. And then he made it his mission to make sure I was being validated in my identity and knew that I was eminently lovable both in spite of and because of my aceness."

Logan smiled. "That's wonderful. I can see why you love him so much."

Janus sighed happily. "And it hasn't changed even though he's met his allo soulmate. Roman knows that our bond isn't and will never be a threat to theirs, and he makes Pat so happy. They're planning their wedding right now, but they've already signed all the papers and it'll just be a party where they gush about each other in public."

Janus sat for a moment, basking in the glow of his affection for Patton, before he turned to Logan and asked, “You have a QPP too, right?”

“I do,” Logan said, a smile stretching across his face unconsciously. “Their name is Virgil. And they’re also married to their soulmate.”

“Tell me about them,” Janus said, when Logan fell silent. 

“They’re- they are just amazing. They’re my best friend, have been since about fourth grade. ” Logan’s eyes went a bit misty as he considered his childhood. “We bonded over being surrounded by idiots, after a debate simulation where we were on opposing sides.”

Janus smirked. “You mean I’m not your first? I’m heartbroken.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it had none of true anger’s heat.

“I guess we always had the feeling that we weren’t quite like everyone else. Besides the introverted tendencies, it wasn’t really a shock when they came out as nonbinary. They’d been online, discovering new terms, and in learning about their identity I ran into the aro and ace labels. I felt seen, do you know what I mean? And then Virgil just compounded that feeling by immediately understanding and accepting me. They call me a brother, just to explain that our relationship isn’t “just” friends.”

“What was it like when they met their soulmate?” Janus asked. 

“It wasn’t nearly as smooth as your experience seems to have been,” Logan admitted.

“Their husband is... unique. Prone to rather odd fixations and interests. But he’s also demisexual, and like us, had thought he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And part of his defense mechanism against that kind of rejection was, well. Embracing his off-putting side. Being disgusting for the sake of it. Grossing out others before they could judge him for his orientation.”

Janus grimaced. “I know that feeling, all too well. Donning a mask, so that a rejection won’t be of you, just your persona.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding. “I don’t think it helped that both Virgil’s and Remus’ soulmarks were in their hair. They’d both dyed their hair many times over the years, but it wasn’t enough to hide it. And once they had shown up- there was no more pretending.”

“Was it hard for them?” Janus asked. 

“Accepting it was. But then they started actually talking and then it just- clicked. All those macabre interests that overlapped, the mutual obsession with MCR. They fell in love the minute they both let their walls down. And like you said- it never really changed what I had with Virge. They didn’t meet Reme until college, and didn’t get married until last year. So Virge told Reme that I was here to stay, and part of their life, and he accepted it without a blink. He’s a forensic archeologist now, to Virge’s forensic detective, so they’ve actually both been helpful in cases, too.”

“That’s... kind of adorable, in a weird way,” Janus said, scrunching his nose. 

Logan chuckled. “‘Adorable in a weird way’ is the best possible description for their relationship.”

Janus tapped his finger on the island. “That sounds so familiar, though, and I can’t quite place it.” He closed his eyes, murmuring under his breath. “Wait! Is Virgil’s husband an Augustus?”

“That was his surname, yes, though now it’s Angelico-“

“Oh my god!” Janus burst out. “That’s Patton’s brother-in-law!”

“What?”

“Roman Augustus! That’s his soulmate’s name! And he had a twin, but they had a falling out and haven’t been in contact for a couple of years. But he said he’d been in forensics!”

Logan blinked. “Well, it is certainly a small world. Not that Remus has ever talked about his brother, but I knew he had one.”

“That’s kind of crazy. What are the chances?” Janus asked, laughing. 

Logan looked pointedly over. “Do you really want to know? I could calculate them-“

“Thanks, calculator watch, but I’m good.”

They both chuckled quietly, sitting side by side at the kitchen island. 

“Hey, uh- thank you for trusting me, with the other day, and with this,” Janus said softly. 

“I owe you thanks as well,” Logan replied. “I don’t frequently have the opportunity to talk about Virgil in detail and it’s- it’s nice.”

Janus just beamed, returning the sentiment without words. 

In that moment, the sunlight of the room was tinged with colored light, gold and blue overlapping into rich emerald.

Logan hesitated, seeing it, but after a moment lifted his arm. Janus smiled and leaned in, accepting the offered side-hug.

“Hey Finch- I mean, Logan?”

“Yes Janus?”

“I may not be sure yet why we’re soulmates, but I’m definitely not disappointed that we are.”

A beat.

Then a soft murmur replied, “Neither am I.”

⁂

Later that afternoon, Logan returned from stocking up on more food to find Janus lying upside-down on the couch, lanky legs dangling over the back. His face was red enough to show that he’d been sitting there for a while as the blood rushed downward.

“I cannot imagine that is at all comfortable,” Logan commented drily, neatly putting away the packets of noodles and snacks he’d purchased.

“It helps me think,” Janus replied. “Especially when I’m trying to see something from another perspective.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “This better not have been a set-up just to make that terrible pun.”

Janus looked over, grinning. “It actually started that way, not gonna lie. I’d been venting to Patton about an oral argument simulation in law school and he suggested this as a joke. And then it actually helped.”

Logan huffed in what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh and came to sit more normally in a chair next to the couch. “So what is it that you’re trying to change your perception of so literally?”

“Our case, actually - Gomex.” At Logan’s quizzical look, he replied, “The partners aren’t letting me onto new cases until they know I’ll be back in person. I’m getting bored. So I thought, you know. Why not figure out what I was missing in this one.” He shrugged, an odd contortion for an inverted torso.

“You were missing something? But you won at trial.”

“And I was caught off-guard by your appeal - or at least, the part where it survived my motion to dismiss.”

Logan allowed himself a satisfied smirk. “Surprised you with my impeccable research, did I? All my rock-solid precedent pointing out the clear error in the original jury instruction?”

Janus’ legs kicked idly in the air. “Your research is always impeccable. Of course you were able to find precedent on-point for the general issue, you’re good at this. But the facts of the case are just so different that how could any of those past rulings be definitive?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, tapping the arm pensively. “Wait, so you really believe that? It wasn’t just a tactic to make Gomex feel like they’re getting their money’s worth for your legal fees?”

Janus finally righted himself, sitting upright with a leg balancing on the coffee table. “Well, yeah , of course I do. I don’t take the time and effort to go to trial for bullshit unless the client can’t be talked down from combat mode. Racking up charges for unnecessary trial prep is only fun when they don’t take my advice.” He looked quizzically at Logan. “So you really didn’t see the difference between Gomex and, what, Sourgoutsis?”

“No material difference, no. It’s in the right circuit, it’s recent and binding, and it established a test that clearly applies here.”

“But the test requires knowledge!”

“Knowing includes reckless disregard for the truth, and Gomex had that.”

“Oh, you can hardly say it’s reckless when all the claims were paid without issue for a decade!”

Logan leaned forward, counting off points on his fingers. “The guidance is updated each year. The commentary points out the changes. Gomex has to certify as a company that they accept all current guidance and direction. If they didn’t actually know they were submitting false claims, they should have known, and had a duty to know.”

Janus’ eyes were flashing, but more with excitement than anger. “But even the commentary didn’t clarify that these specific claims would no longer be accepted in the future. Doesn’t the agency have a duty to be clear about changes in accepted policy when the code is so vast and companies used past claims as standards for future approval?”

“But the companies are the experts in their own industries. They should know that these kind of differences are significant and material.”

Janus sat up fully straight, pointing enthusiastically. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“I figured it out! It is a matter of perspective. But not the perspective of side versus side, like I was thinking. It’s time.”

Logan leaned in, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Expand, please.”

Janus nodded, mirroring Logan’s pose even as his hands remained free to gesture. “So you’re looking at this as: company knows their procedures best, they’re the ones making profit off it, so their duty to know details is higher than the public agency. Right?”

Logan nodded.

“Here’s where I’m coming from - it’s not a question of if this company knew or should have known this distinction, or even if this industry has the expertise that the agency lacks. It’s about what this case would do to the Sourgoutsis test for cases in the future. If the agency doesn’t have to clarify a policy change now, why would it ever? If it’s not enough that companies rely on a long history of approval here, when will it ever be? Do you follow, Logan?”

Logan linked his fingers, tapping the tips of his forefingers gently. “So your concern is about using a history of compliance as evidence of good faith?”

“Exactly, yes.”

“But Gomex knew that the change meant the compliant history was no longer relevant.”

“Only because they had insider knowledge of the change process. Not from the public information.”

“Wait, so you agree that Gomex knew?”

Janus grinned sheepishly, baring all his teeth. “Well, we’re both off the case now, so- yeah. They knew or should have known their claims would get rejected and banked on the agency not noticing for just long enough.”

Logan gasped. “But you still went into court and got the jury to agree with you that they didn’t!?”

Janus shrugged pragmatically. “It’s not about Gomex, it’s about the precedent this will set. I’d rather one bad actor get away with it now than have who-knows-how-many claims get screwed in the future for a good-faith misunderstanding.”

“Especially if that bad actor is paying you millions to help them get away with it?” Logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

Janus raised one of his own. “So you’d rather let a bad test become binding because the agency is paying you millions to get it set in stone?”

Logan, about to respond hotly, paused. “I suppose that’s a fair assessment. I didn’t think it was that bad a test until now - I assumed the insider knowledge would be baked into the standard.”

“You gotta think cynically, Mr. Finch,” Janus said with a chuckle. “Picture the worst-faith application and work backwards from there, cause you know it’ll end up happening.”

“Hmm,” Logan said with a quiet laugh. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

Janus fluttered his lashes. “The great Logan Finch thinks I’m right about something. My life’s goal is achieved.”

“Hey, I think you’re correct quite a lot!” Logan objected. “Infuriatingly precise and pedantic, sure, but ultimately right. There’s a reason my firm sends me against you - no one else wants to fight what’ll be a losing battle half the time.”

“Only half?”

“Even you must admit I’ve been correct on more than one occasion,” Logan said with a smile.

“That is true,” Janus admitted. “Knowing that you’re going to be the opposing counsel always makes me up my game.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Logan said wryly. “I’d never admit it to the other partners, but you make me a better lawyer, Janus.”

The flattered glow of Janus’ grin was immediately dwarfed by two other, brighter bursts of light. Gold and blue pulsed from their backs in a flash, then settled into steady light. The colors lit the stylish room, blending to emerald as they pulsed in time with each man’s heartbeat. Logan looked at the glow reflected on the white couch cushions with wonder as he realized that Janus’ back  was no longer shining blue, but green. He caught his eyes and realized his own glow must have changed colors as well.

The lights pulsed more and more gently until they dimmed and went out, leaving Janus and Logan sitting across from one another just as the last of the sunlight fell below the horizon and the room went dark. 

The silence stretched for several moments, until Janus finally broke it with a bemused, “Huh.”

“So that was-”

“I think so.

“So now we’re-”

“Bonded, yeah. I think.”

“That would be a logical assumption.”

The silence returned, each man lost in his own thoughts. When they spoke again, it was at once.

“Maybe we should-”

“Perhaps we could still-”

“-make sure it’s permanent?

“-take a few days more?”

They shared a grin.

“A couple more days couldn’t hurt,” Janus said. “After all, it could be a fluke. We wouldn’t want to set a standard from a mere fluke.”

“Oh, of course not,” Logan responded with the same tone of amusement. “We want to confirm the integrity of the test.”

Janus stood to flick on a light, then turned as a thought occurred. 

“Wait, Logan - even once we go back, we won’t be able to be opposing counsel anymore. The soulmate code will still be applied, even though we’re not romantic or QP soulmates.”

Logan’s face fell for a moment, then lit up once more as he stood. “Well, we’ve got a couple days at least. I think the two best lawyers in the state might be able to argue that every precedent has an exception, don’t you, Mr. Alighieri?”

Janus’ smile mirrored Logan’s own as he replied, “Why yes, Mr. Finch, I think we might.”

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,540 Words

Summary: Bakusquad’s day out.

Warnings: Food Mention, Child Abuse Mention, Forced Eating Disorder Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Notes: Touya’s clothes include links to what they look like.

Hair Dye Buddies: Chapter 4

Once in the mall, Mina dragged him along to a store with bright colors and neon and he was so overjoyed to be able to pick a few pastel things, mainly purple, including a long sweater with purple and black stripes and rips strategically placed on it.

Mina's venture in the neon store took a while but everyone let her go about her business, leaving Kaminari with her as he picked up a few yellow shirts and Touya smiled as Bakugou totally didn't sneak a black shirt with orange flames on it into his pile of very purple clothing.

Once they paid at the neon store, Bakugou dragged him more forcefully toward a store with more baggy clothing and stuff he knew he'd see Bakugou wearing. Stuff he was, in fact, wearing as well. He picked out more pants here than anything but black and dark purple and even a couple of pink shirts ended up in his pile.

Mina and Kirishima ended up throwing a few other things in his pile like the black pair of boots they found that were similar to the ones he wore but with chains on them, the many masks Sero and Kaminari picked out for him, and the socks Bakugou smacked him lightly with when he told him he forgot to ask for socks.

The next store was much more his style, black everywhere, some white and colors mixed in but he felt like this place was definitely his favorite. It seemed Kaminari came here a lot because he was already around the store twice while Touya was still looking at the shirts in the front.

"Found some shoes you'll like. They're made for water based quirk combat, ice and snow slip resistant and all." He hummed at them. They actually looked good and even his style with the chains on them and the thick chunky heel with the the slip resistant grip on the bottom.

"Try 'em on, Touya." Mina insisted, forcefully seating him on the benches. He obliged and tried them on for her.

"They're comfortable." Touya realized as he tapped his foot against the ground.

"Yeah, man, this place makes a lot of its stuff usable for quirk combat. A lot of heroes frequent this place for additions to their hero outfits and stuff they can use on the daily if they don't have access to their costume." Kirishima told him.

"My boots are from here. Mine are a lot like yours but shorter and orange soles." Bakugou told him.

"You just like the color orange." Touya told him.

"I won't deny that." Bakugou smirked at him. "Stand up in 'em, Cotton Candy." He obliged and had to hold onto Kirishima for a minute to balance himself in just the one boot.

"Oh wow, I'm tall now. I'm tall, everyone. I'm now a giraffe." He laughed.

"Never been tall, I guess?" Sero asked.

"No, I'm short. I'll bet I won't even get taller during my growth spurt." Touya joked, sitting back down.

"Like em, though?" Mina asked.

"I love them." Touya beamed. The rest of the clothes shopping went well. Then they moved onto grocery shopping in a store within the mall. Mina leading by example and picking out plenty of fruit and some snacks.

"Hey, Space Invaders, we still need to grab dinner, slow down." Bakugou reminded her.

"What do you like eating, Touya?" Kaminari asked.

"I don't know?" He told them unsurely.

"You don't know? You never had a favorite food growing up, man?" Sero asked.

"My father always had a lock on the fridge to keep us all eating properly but then he'd only make what he liked." He admitted quietly.

"Shoto better let others join that Enji Hate Squad." Bakugou mumbled.

"Well, pick out some things you think you'll like. Bakugou here's practically a chef. He'll make it taste good anyway." Kaminari joked.

"Shut your mouth, Dunce Face!" Bakugou threatened and Touya smiled behind his mask.

"So I'm allowed to pick whatever I want." Touya more so was assuring himself he didn't have to pick up food his father would force down his throat.

"Yeah, man, just pick out whatever you think you'll want. We have Sero here, that guy's like a human trash bin. He'll eat anything you hand him." Kirishima assured him.

He went about picking up a few things he thought he'd like, some lotus root, enoki, eggplant, cheese, eggs, and tofu. He also grabbed a few things he had to look at the names of like yuzu, a few noodle bowls, spam, sausages, and he hesitantly picked up chocolate, melon ice cream, and coffee jelly.

Bakugou had disappeared at one point and came back with his own basket full of, assumedly, dinner makings. He sort of understood what he was making, maybe curry but with noodles? Touya couldn't tell since he'd never been allowed to make his own food.

"Alright, if you're happy with what you got, we'll check out and head home." Bakugou told him.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't even know if I'll like some of this stuff." Touya mumbled.

"Human vaccuum, right here." Sero gestured to himself.

When they got home, it was about 6 at night and Bakugou began cooking for dinner. Something that Mina called Jjajjangmyeon. His foods went into one of the communal fridges with his name stuck to them with sticky notes.

"You want anything made special, Cotton Candy?" Bakugou asked as he opened the freezer back up to get the melon ice cream.

"Um, I was just gonna try the ice cream." He felt like he was being caught doing something bad. Maybe, in his head, he thought he was in trouble but he still got his melon ice cream and a spoon out and hesitantly tried it. It was actually amazing.

"Like it, man?" Sero asked.

"This is really good." He admitted.

"Our boy likes melon ice cream!" Mina exclaimed happily from the living room.

"Have you even had ice cream before, Touya?" Kirishima asked.

"Not really. I mean, Dad let us have frozen berries and called that ice cream." He muttered softly, eating more of his ice cream.

"I hate that man." Bakugou muttered, continuing to cook.

"Yeah, all of us siblings do too. Or at least we all did five years ago." He frowned a bit. Dinner was amazing. Touya even had seconds with everyone else. The usual banter around the table was so fun.

"I'm probably gonna bother Mr. Aizawa to train my quirk a little more. I don't wanna fall behind you all, especially when Mr. Aizawa is going to put me in with the provisional licensing exam." Touya told them, sighing as he got himself up to his room, counting as he went to make sure he was going to the right room.

He put on his new quirk-resistant boots in his room and clothing that wasn't Bakugou's. He ultimately decided on a black short sleeve shirt with fishnet sleeves to his wrists attached and black jeans with a lot of metal attached Mina had picked out for him.

Touya was happy looking himself over, his father would never approve but he felt happy in his skin now, which was no longer getting scarred by the quirk too ill-made for him. He realized he had no clue where Aizawa was by the time he left his room, to which Shoto was about to knock.

"Oh, hi." Shoto greeted his rather sudden appearance. "Where are you going?" Shoto asked.

"I was about to go find Mr. Aizawa and ask him if I could train my quirk but I just figured out I don't know where he is." Touya laughed to himself a little.

"Mr. Aizawa's sleeping in the living room downstairs. But Mr. Yamada is around. I can bring you to him and he can watch over your training." Shoto offered.

"Thank you, that would be awesome." Touya smiled. "What did you come here for?" Touya asked on their way down.

"I wanted to make sure you didn't lose the card." He handed it back immediately. "I wanted to make sure you ate."

"Bakugou made jjajjangmyeon so I ate with him and his friends. He and his friends also took me out to buy some food and clothes for myself as well." He told his brother.

"That's good." Shoto was quiet.

"What did you eat?" Touya asked.

"Iida ordered pizza for our friend group. I had mainly Hokkaido cheese pizza but Midoriya made me try some of his Genovese pizza and it wasn't that bad." Touya smiled. "Oh, and how has your day been?" Shoto asked.

"It's okay. I mean, everyone's so nice. besides that little grape gremlin earlier." Shoto stifled a laugh and smiled.

"Yeah, Mineta's like that a lot. I'm sure everyone's just hoping he'll drop out if he doesn't get his provisional license."

"Well, I'm already here taking his spot."

"And you're doing an amazing job with the title so far, Touya. Bring honor to the 19th seat in class. That grape sure doesn't." Touya smiled at his brother and they were out the door after waving to the two friend groups in the kitchen, Sero sneaking pieces of pizza leftover and Kaminari and Midoriya talking about their quirks.

Taglist: @lgbtforeverything @rin-tanaka @everythingisstardust 

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

flaneur

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags: prince!haechan, baker!reader

Warnings: nothing severe, just jealous haechannie, unedited

day 29 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which the youngest prince hates his older brothers, his responsibilities, his title... everything except his late night chats with you. 

// only the best things define what you mean to me // (x)

--

[22:23]

“I hate Jeno. Like, Mark is okay and Taeyong’s okay, too… But it’s Jeno that I really can’t stand,” the youngest of the four princes in your kingdom groaned, pausing in his chewing to stuff another piece of some of your freshly baked bread into his mouth. “God, how is your bread so good?” An amused smirk quirked up on your lips when he released a satisfied groan. “I’m serious, Y/N. Why don’t you work in the palace? This is so much better than the stale buns they serve with every meal.” 

Crimson flames reached higher in the furnace behind you, casting a fiery color all over the walls, effectively hiding your rose colored cheeks. Every time since the first time he showed, Donghyuck never failed to compliment your baked creations. And every time since the first time, his compliments never failed to send your heartbeat racing towards the same unwarranted speed. “I’m flattered you think so,” came quietly from your lips as you pulled the dough out of the rising bowl. 

“No, I know so, Y/N. You have got to be the best baker in the kingdom.” A heavy set of dark brown eyes settled over your figure as you worked, punching the excess air out of the sticky mixture. While most times, you weren’t one to enjoy people’s gaze on you while you worked, the young prince was different. There was a strange glint of excitement in his deep irises, fascinated with the way your hands went about forming what was soon to be a loaf of bread. The self conscious smile on your lips grew. 

“But anyways, Jeno.” A terrifying scowl marred his previously pouting lips and the way the youngest prince said his brother’s name, so heavy with bitterness and distaste… it almost made you want to dislike the male as well. You shook the thoughts out of your mind and refocused back on the task at hand. You didn’t even know the guy. “My gosh, he’s the only thing I ever hear my parents talking about. At every social event it will always be, ‘ooh, duchess of x, y, and z, count of pizza or something... may I introduce you to my son, Prince Jeno? Yes, yes, he’s awfully handsome with his stupid, perfect hair and his stupid, straight nose that never broke in a riding accident-” 

“A riding accident?” A startled gasp left your lips and you nearly dropped the piece of dough you had been rolling out. “Are you alright? Was that why I didn’t see you for a fortnight last month?” 

For a brief moment, all the disgust covering his face melted into embarrassment when the nobleman realized his slip up. “N-not important,” he stuttered, waving the topic away just like that. You narrowed your eyes at your friend, taking note of the light dusting of pink covering his cheeks. 

“A-anyways,” he cleared his throat, swallowing another bite of bread. “Back to Jeno - oh man, this bread is beyond heavenly. I should really bring some home and make like a secret stash somewhere in my wing - all I’ll ever hear at any meal, at every meeting, every passing within a good 10 feet within my parents is, ‘Jeno won that fencing tournament’ or ‘Jeno has been learning Latin and French. Won’t you say something for us, darling? With that annoying accent you make’... it’s always ‘Jeno this’, ‘Jeno that’, and the occasional ‘Prince Donghyuck, why can’t you do the things your older brother does? That would improve your public image, don’t you think?” The rage in his eyes burned brighter than the fire in the oven and Donghyuck chomped down unnecessarily hard on the last bit of bread in front of him. 

You knew the life of a prince was nowhere near perfect. From what you had heard from the youngest prince, it was anything but. As a civilian, at least you were allowed your privacy. Donghyuck didn’t even have that. That was the reason, he admitted within the first month he began to confide in you, that he snuck out of the palace to visit you so often. That and that fact he appreciated the way you looked, concentrated, at peace, and breathtaking the way you sat and listened without any judgement. With your lips locked and dough rounded into rolls, you set them aside to rise again as you took a seat across from your regular visitor. 

“Like okay,” Donghyuck sighed, resting his chin in his hands. “Taeyong’s married and out in his wife’s kingdom most of the year and we just heard they’re expecting. Like ‘whooo’ great… another unfortunate child stuck in the position of royalty.” 

You frowned at this. It was no secret the youngest prince hated his title, at least not to you anymore. He hated the responsibilities that came with being in line for the throne, he hated the publicity, he hated the favoritism and the constant heavy eye of criticism. All you could do was rest a gentle hand on his forearm as he continued. “Mark is at the frontlines with the rest of the soldiers because he’s the only one my dad trusted with all the militia. That, and I think his fiancee got caught cheating with her bodyguard. So it’s been just me and Jeno for a while now. But he doesn’t even try to get along with me! Like every chance he gets, he’ll rub in all his accomplishments and how mother likes him better… It’s- it’s both mortifying to be related to someone who, for one, has never tasted your bread-” the two of you shared a laugh. “-and two, doesn’t know when to be humble. Like, okay, we get it, you speak three, different languages. Well, I can say ‘fuc-” 

“Donghyuck,” you giggled, offering him one of the rolls you had made earlier this morning. “You told me you wanted to work on cursing less.” A sound of acknowledgement left his lips and he took the tasty morsel from your hands, snacking greedily on it. 

In the brief moment of silence, you took the time to admire the young man that had made your late nights preparing for the hustle and bustle of the day much more meaningful. Though not much older than you, the young prince truly had a way of making you comfortable. The women of your kingdom would gossip to each other while shopping about how handsome the princes were, and while you never took part in these silly conversations you certainly held many of the same sentiments. However… contrary to many, you personally thought the youngest prince was much more handsome than his older twin. 

While you had only ever seen Donghyuck in the dim light of the fire, what little light danced across his features was enough to bring the deepest of blushes to your face. His skin was a much richer color than his three older brothers and his eyes - when they weren’t angry - were soft and childlike. The youngest prince had a unique voice, smoother than any honey and melodic in its own accord. His smile and his laugh was infectious, never failing to spark joy within you. And, while you had only heard of the physical well-being of his older brothers, Donghyuck was lean and muscular, much more skilled than the average commoner in the arts of self defense and swordsmanship. The wistful sigh floated gently from your tired lips. 

Oh yes, the youngest prince was the most handsome out of the four.

“Y/N?” his voice brought you out of your stupor and you blinked. The prince had already finished his fourth piece of bread that evening. “You’re staring, again. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you hummed airily, rolling up your sleeves to check on the rising dough. He paused in his loud chewing to shoot you a playful glare. You knew that he knew that you weren’t telling the full truth, but still you shrugged. “Just that you’re much too kind to deserve the indigestion you’ll get in the morning from eating all this bread.”

“Oh, hush,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never gotten indigestion from eating /your/ bread. The bread from the palace, perhaps. But never your bread. I think I’ll be okay if I eat another-”

You smacked his outstretched hand away from the basket of day old bread off to the side. “Don’t you dare, your highness. Those are for the poor and hungry.” A childish pout appeared on his lips but he retracted his hands.

“Fine.” After another few minutes of drawing mindless doodles in the scattered flour on the table, Donghyuck looked up again. “Oh right, Y/N. I wanted to ask you something before I head home for the evening.”

“Anything, my prince.” 

It seemed the young prince wrestled for a good, long moment with his thoughts as a lovely fuchsia dusted his cheeks… until finally, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot more and I was just... I wanted to know wh-what, like what would it take for me to convince you to come bake for me in the castle?” 

--

a/n: thank youu for being patient~

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Alibi” - Oneshot

“Alibi” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Malcolm Bright x Reader, Gil Arroyo x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 2,000-ish

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cursing. Large chunks of text in italics mean that it is a flashback.

Summary: After your boss is murdered, you are brought in as a suspect. In order to prove your innocence, you have to reveal a secret to your father. 

Author’s Note: This was one of those ideas that hit me like a train right as I was about to go to bed, so I scribbled as much as I could down and tried to make sense of it the next day.

We’re also gonna pretend that Gil and Jessica aren’t a thing cause then that would make this story a bit awkward.

This is not beta read, so let me know if there are any mistakes! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

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

“So, (Y/N), got any news for me?” Your boss, Mr.Naruski asked from his desk chair, casually weaving a pen in between his fingers. It was lunchtime and you had gotten salads from the meditarrian place that he liked.

“Well, Simon wanted to move his meeting with you to Friday, but there would be no way to do that unless we add another 4 hours to the day. Oh! And Mrs.Krewnshe asked me if--”

“(Y/N), sweetheart! We are on our lunch break! Which means I don’t want any news with my clients unless it's urgent. I meant news in the world of the best secretary in New York!” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little bit and smile. Mr.Naruski was a true blessing when it came to employers. He owned his own architecture business in New York and somehow wasn’t a complete asshat like some of your previous bosses. He and his wife were incredibly caring and truly understood that you had to be a human in order to work with other humans. The respect you got here was well worth the daily commute!

“Well, if you really want to know... My boyfriend set up a nice, and very last minute, date for us tonight.” You couldn’t hide the true smile that spread across your lips. Mr.Naruski leaned forward and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? And where is this ‘nice’ date happening, if I might ask?” 

“I’m not sure. He wouldn’t tell me. All he said was to be ready by 6 because we have reservations for 6:45. But I have a feeling it’s that new modern industrial place that I was telling you about. He knows I love to walk past it and appreciate the details. While I don’t think I’ve ever said out loud that I like it or would like to go inside, he has a great ability to read me.” 

Your smile grew a little more as your eyes drifted slightly down, thinking about all the times your boyfriend picked up on the smaller details in the past. He was good with surprises. Mr.Naruski watched how this interaction brought out your best side. The two of you finished your lunches and got back to work. 

Your boss had one more meeting this afternoon. It was with a company called Jetlan Inc. From the small bit of conversation you heard as Mr.Naruski escorted his guests out, it was a successful meeting. He turned back to you once the door was closed and let out a relieved sigh.

“I take it everything went well?”

“As well as I could. They are going to take tonight to mull it over and then give us a call tomorrow. So expect Samuel to call at some point.”

You wrote down a little reminder to yourself on a sticky note “May get call from Jetlan Inc.” and placed it near your desk’s phone. You went back to typing out the schedule for next week when Mr.Naruski tapped a finger on your desk.

“How about you leave early today, (Y/N)?”

“Are you sure, sir? I can stay and help with the final prep for tomorrow’s deal if you want. I should also probably finish this schedule.”

“I think I can handle that on my own. And you can add your final touches tomorrow. You,” He stood up and walked around your desk and held out his hands. You put your hands in his and he helped you up before grabbing your coat from the coat rack. “Have a date to get ready for.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was almost unbelievable to have a boss that really cared about your personal life as much as your professional one like he did. You just slipped on your coat and grabbed your purse, knowing that when Naruski made up his mind, it was set. He opened the door for you and put a hand on your arm.

“He told me to ‘love with my whole heart, but be smart enough to know when to use my brain instead.’ I think it was his way of saying ‘Be safe and have fun.’” 

A small but sad smile worked its way onto your face at the thought of him being so supportive. You felt a wave of tears coming, so you finished up your story to try to stop them from falling. 

“After that, I thanked him again, and I left to go back to my apartment and get ready. The next time I saw Mr.Naruski was the next morning, behind the crime scene tape blocking my office, dead.”

You couldn’t believe that just 24 hours ago, you were happily talking to your boss about your date. And now he was dead. Murdered in his own office, two hours after you had left. You were being questioned at the NYPD by none other than JT Tarmel, Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright, and your father, Gil Arroyo. 

No one spoke, they were taking in all of the details of your alibi. It felt like forever before Malcolm broke the silence. 

“Are there security cameras in your office?”

“Yes. There is one in the main office where my desk is positioned, one in Mr.Naruski’s office, and one in the hallway outside our door.”

“Great. We can check those. They’ll show (Y/N) leaving and should have a timestamp on them that we can check.

The team did their own little nods, still thinking about your alibi. They wanted to trust you, but they needed to think of every possible thing that could have happened, or if they could find any evidence to the real killer.

“Who did you go on a date with?” Dani was sitting about 6 feet to your right, a bottle of water in her hands as she leaned forward, elbows on the table. 

“I don’t see how my dating life is relevant to my boss being murdered in his office.”

Lies. You knew why she was asking. It was a major part of your alibi and it’s the only other way that they could concretely cross you off of the suspect list. JT jumped in to try to diffuse the situation, none of them aware of how much you didn’t want to share. 

“It's just another way that we can confirm your alibi, (Y/N).” 

You could see Gil adjusting his stance as he leaned against the wall to your left. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at your father, already feeling his intense stare boring into you. 

The room was silent, but the anxiety in your chest made it feel like the room was half of its real size. You kept your posture as straight as you could while you focused on your hands that were unconsciously fidgeting on top of the table.

“Tell us the kid’s name, (Y/N).”

“Why can’t you just check the cameras like Malcolm said? That’ll show when I left at around 4:30 yesterday afternoon and when I came back today for my shift but saw the tape instead! You could even check my apartment’s security cameras!”

“Woah! We will, (Y/N). We just want to be able to cover our asses and yours.” JT tried again to calm you down, everyone know seeing how uncomfortable the idea of sharing the details of your date made you. 

Your leg started to shake under the table, that was your cue that your anxiety was getting bad. You lock eyes with Malcolm. He sees how much you’re struggling and just gives you a short nod. You knew what he was trying to say, but you really didn’t want to agree. Malcolm then took a deep breath, trying to get you to do the same. You looked down and tried to take a deep breath in.

“Why can’t you just answer the question, (Y/N)?!” Gil didn’t yell, but you could hear the annoyance in his voice. It was the final hit that broke the last of your defenses.

“Because it's Malcolm, alright?!” 

Even you were a bit shocked at the slight frustration and exasperation in your voice. As everyone let that fact settle in their brains, you closed your eyes and took a couple deep breaths, trying to accept the fact that it was out in the open now. Malcolm made his way behind you and put a comforting hand on your shoulder, lightly rubbing this thumb to try and soothe you. You opened your eyes and stared at the center of the table, your hands now clasped together. 

“Last night I left work early to go get ready for a date with Malcolm Bright. He took me to that nicer place off of 47th that has the grey brick exterior with the iron corner details. We went there to catch a break from our lives because it's been so hectic lately and we haven’t had much time to just sit and enjoy each other’s company.” 

Our reservation was for 6:45 under Malcolm’s name. You can check with the manager there, go into their electronic reservation system, and see that we checked in and everything. Or Malcolm may have some sort of confirmation email. Now do I need to go into detail about what we ordered or what cocktail I was drinking, or am I good?”

You slowly looked up to meet your father’s eyes. You expected something upset in his eyes, but instead, they were very professional. He looked from you to Malcolm, who in turn nodded, confirming your story. Gil audibly inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his nose and he rubbed a hand down his face.  

“No. You’re good, kid.”

You look back to your hands and close your eyes, focusing on your breathing. You weren’t hyperventilating, but you definitely felt a weight in your chest. 

Dani and JT looked at each other, unaware of what to do in this situation. Malcolm looked from you back to Gil, his face slightly pleading. Gil quickly tilted his head towards the door, a small sigh of relief coming from Malcolm as he moved his hand to your arm and leaned down to quietly talk in your ear.

 “C’mon, (Y/N). Let’s get some air or something to drink, okay?”

You nodded and stood up as Malcolm grabbed your coat from the rack near the door. You took yours and slung it over your arm as Malcolm opened the door for you. Before you could leave, Gil spoke up.

“I will be seeing the two of you in my office in an hour though. We need to have a chat.”

You just nod and leave already knowing what this “chat” is going to be about. Malcolm was reaching for his coat when Gil’s voice resonated again.

“Malcolm, take care of her. Go to that shop around the corner. They have those little pastries she likes. And make sure your both are back here soon. We’re not done with this.”

“Will do.” Malcolm nodded and quickly left and caught up with you, walking you safely out of the NYPD.

With that, there was still a semi-awkward air in the meeting room. Dani quietly fiddled with her water bottle and let out a “Well…”

“Heh! Yeah. That was somethi--” 

Before JT could get further, Gil pointed at him and sternly said “Don’t.” JT just raises his hands in defense and backs off. Dani couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the sight of JT getting called out. 

“So where do we go from here?” Dani calmly asked the room. 

“We need to get the security footage from the office building and (Y/N)’s apartment complex. Get in contact with the restaurant owner and see if we can check their reservation system, if not, ask Malcolm if he has any email from their reservation.”

“On it.” JT confirmed as he left the room to head to his desk and start working. Gil leaned on the table, thinking for a moment. “What do we know about this Jetlan Inc.?

~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tags:  @malindacath @shadowfoxey @whovianayesha @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Baku, Soft Baku, Stargazing

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Minor content warning for (discussions of) self-esteem issues. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

“Bakugou.”

With an absent hum, Bakugou turns the page, squints, scribbles down a line in his neat, tight handwriting. A piece of black fabric separates his hand from the paper, the same wrapped around his pen, too.

Kirishima leans forward, over his own book-and-notepad combination dotted with scrawled comments and colorful post-it notes. It’s been an hour since any of it has made sense to him.

“Bakuuu. C’mon.”

A sigh, annoyed. Another line is added. Then: “The fuck d’you want?”

It takes a few seconds until the silence has stretched enough for Bakugou to look up and into Kirishima’s pleading eyes. Bakugou’s expression barely changes beyond a raised brow, unimpressed. It’s the one reserved for when Kirishima’s being especially dense – slightly more severe than muttered curses and slightly less so than that God-help-me roll of his eyes he premiered during their last study session.

Which was yesterday. Kirishima would be proud of unlocking a new Angry Bakugou Face in record time… if U.A.’s grumpiest genius wasn’t the only thing standing between him and a frankly impressive row of failed grades.

Final’s Week is brutal, even for heroes-in-training. Especially for heroes-in-training. So: Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Slap me”, Kirishima tells Bakugou, hushed in their corner of the library. “As hard as you possibly can.”

The arch of Bakugou’s brow climbs higher, utterly devastating in its wordless criticism. He says, “What”, tone Aizawa-levels of flat, and it’s not a question. It’s a command: Explain or else.

Kirishima is in no state to resist. The confession bubbles out of him in a whiny rush.

“Dude, I slept like… zero hours last night ‘cause Kami got Pokémon Colosseum – y’know, the reboot? So cool – and we kinda lost track of time. I know, I know, it was a stupid idea, I swear it was an honest mistake!”

Bakugou continues to stare as he puts down his pen and wipes his palms on the edge of his shirt. Kirishima ducks his head, hiding behind the limp strands of his hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, man. I’m seriously about two minutes from passing out here and there’s like a hundred pages of this thing I haven’t read yet, let alone understood, and oh shit Mic will hand me my ass with words tomorr–”

It all happens so quickly: Kirishima catches a blur of motion headed his way and squeaks; his skin hardens about half-way before there’s sparks and his cheek smarts, and a hissed “Motherfucker” sounds right in front of him.

The sharp slap! noise registers only after the fact, when Kirishima holds his face and Bakugou holds his hand and they both stare at each other in mutual bafflement as their skin turns red with the impact.

That moment is like glue, clear and sticky as it extends past its natural limit – then Bakugou snorts and starts to laugh, a cackling hyena-laugh that Kirishima’s never heard in full and certainly not like this, loud and unrestrained, and all hopes of holding back his own laughter is lost as he cracks up, too.

They laugh and laugh, until Kirishima’s stomach starts to cramp up and there’s the sheen of tears in Bakugou’s eyes. “Your f-fucking face”, Bakugou wheezes at some point. “Fucking bastard, you almost broke my hand! With your fucking face!”

All it does is send them into another round of hysterics.

At some point, Kirishima glimpses some of their classmates poke their head around the bookshelves secluding their study corner from the rest of the library, faces ranging from exasperated to deeply disturbed. There’s Ashido, giggling at the sight of both of them bent over and struggling to get some sort of grip, and Kaminari, who just mumbles “What the hell, guys” while straddling the line between sleep-deprived and intensely fascinated by what he’s seeing.

And hey, at least Kirishima’s really freaking awake now. There’s the problem of trying and failing to breathe without dying, his face helplessly flushed and sweating, but the world’s colors are back to being bright and sharp. Across from him, Bakugou isn’t faring much better, shaking his head and the back of his hand covering the broad smile he can’t seem to get rid of.

“Fuck you, you stupid, moronic idiot. For fuck’s sake, Kirishima.”

Kirishima rubs at his chest, the ache in his lungs starting to lessen now that he’s marginally back in control. “I’m so sorry but like”, he waves at himself and he can’t help his grin despite the stinging protest coming from his cheek. “Thanks, dude!”

“Eat a dick.” There’s no bite whatsoever in Bakugou’s grumbling as he sits back down and digs his nose into his book once more, thoroughly ignoring their flabbergasted audience.

After a moment of pantomiming what amounts to I’ll tell you later to their friends, Kirishima joins him, ready to tackle the final boss that is the English language.

*

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

yo nitro (sent 17:48)

where u at? (sent 17:48)

-

why (received 17:52)

-

why what 🤔 (sent 17:53)

OH uh to hang out? (sent 17:55)

dw dude it’s just me (sent 17:55)

-

[location] (received 18:10)

-

bakugou katsuki what are you doing in the middle of the woods??? (sending…)

NO WAY (sending…)

signal’s gone AGAIN i’m going feral (sending…)

screw it (sending…)

*

The GPS signal craps out twice more before Kirishima heaves himself onto the edge of a cliff and spots a familiar silhouette. Sheltered by a bend in the rock bed, the glow of a fire illuminates a backpack set aside, a pair of discarded hiking boots – and Bakugou, leaning against solid stone with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Took ya long enough”, he says, the lazy smirk on his lips cut in flickering shadows.

“Listen.” Kirishima wipes beads of perspiration off his temple; a spontaneous rock-climbing session by the last light of day is not what he had hoped for after hours of exhaustive quirk training. “We already have a perfectly good camp. There’s, like, leftover curry and hot springs and stuff down there.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Yeah. And a bunch of extras.”

There’s an exasperated reply on his tongue – They’re called classmates, genius. Y’know, friends? – but Kirishima knows it’s pointless to even start that debate. He snipes him with his sweaty headband instead, celebrating his own marksmanship when it hits Bakugou square in the chest with a wet thwap.

“Wha– Shitty Hair!”

“You made me climb this stupid cliff in the middle of the night. Deal with it.”

Bakugou just throws it back, the force of an explosion propelling the thing past Kirishima’s shoulder and off the mountain entirely. Kirishima watches singed white fabric disappear into the abyss, bidding it goodbye with a somber salute.

“Well, that’s lame.”

“You’re lame, fuckface.”

“Bro.”

Shaking his head, Kirishima laughs and joins him by the fire.

It’s quiet for a bit while he gets comfy and Bakugou throws a chunk of wood into the flames, sparks bursting into life immediately. This far up, the air feels… brittle, in a way, thin and cold enough Kirishima wouldn’t have been surprised to see his breath mist. The breeze ruffles the crowns of the trees around them, the rush of rustling leaves in the distance strangely soothing.

Bakugou’s gaze is lost in the night sky when he starts to speak. “Been thinking of borrowing my parents’ car and driving out here by myself. Y’know, once I got my license and shit. ‘s got some good trails, people were talking ‘bout it on those shitty hiking forums. Forums, like we’re in the fucking 2000s.”

His elbows on his knees and his head propped on his hands, Kirishima hums and looks up as well. The moon is a thin island of white in an ocean of indigo blue growing steadily darker, a myriad of stars coming out to keep her company. “Yeah?”

“Mh”, Bakugou makes around a soft breath. “Guess they’re all shit out of luck though ‘cause it’s the personal playground of pro heroes, apparently. It’s a miracle none of our idiots got fucking lost coming out here.”

‘Our idiots’, huh? Kirishima nudges his chin lower and into his palms to hide his smile. “Kinda far of a trip to make just for some hiking, isn’t it?”

A casual shrug, followed by a nod upwards. “Not for this. The lodge is the only structure for miles in any direction and even with us here, it’s got fuck all on an entire city. Get it?”

“Yeah! No light pollution, right?”

“Yup”, Bakugou confirms, popping the ‘p’. A small grin is shot Kirishima’s way, teasing rather than mocking. “What’s this, huh? Don’t tell me you paid attention in fucking physics after all.”

Kirishima breathes an offended huff, mock-hurt.

“Pshh, please. Y’know how everyone has that one niche thing they randomly obsessed over as a kid? That was me with astronomy. Back in Middle School I had like, a huge model of all the planets in my room and my favorite constellations mapped across the ceiling with those glow-in-the-dark stars. Years of useless knowledge, all stored right here.”

Kirishima’s thumb taps his forehead as he smiles at Bakugou; Bakugou’s lips pull into a smile of his own, small but there. When he turns back to the stars, Kirishima does the same, sighing wistfully.

“If Thirteen’s class were just about that I’d freaking ace it, dude. I get that I’m kinda dumb with literally anything else, but space is my jam. Did you know that–”

“You’re not.”

The train of thought Kirishima was about to gleefully jump onto screeches to a halt. “…huh?”

Bakugou frowns at him. “You’re not”, a vague wave in his general direction, “stupid or whatever.”

Perhaps the dumbfounded blinking Kirishima’s doing in response is already enough to prove Bakugou wrong on that. Still, Kirishima sits up a bit straighter, eyebrows pulling together tightly.

“Um. I appreciate you saying that, bro, but I’m only here ‘cause Aizawa decided to get in touch with his merciful side after all. Like, Cementoss totally wiped the floor with me back home. There’s no point in lying to myself about that.”

“So you’re calling me a fucking liar, is that it?”

“Huh?”

Kirishima can only watch as Bakugou’s mouth twists beyond the usual doom and gloom and into something… frustrated. Genuinely annoyed. An iron weight settles in Kirishima’s gut, heavy and hard to ignore. “I didn’t– Look, man, can we not fight over this? I’m just saying I wanna face my mistakes and do better, that’s all.”

“Then say it!”

There’s a severity to the words that catches Kirishima off guard. Bakugou is staring him down with eyes so intense they possess their own gravitational pull, closer to black than crimson in the fire’s light–

Kirishima likes to think he knows Bakugou, at least a little. What makes him tick, what makes him angry – because there is a reason and a rhyme to his anger, a pattern to the things that set him off that Kirishima has yet to properly figure out. It’s just that Kirishima isn’t usually one of those things, not anymore.

“You lost me, Baku”, he admits, quietly, after a beat or two of tense silence. “What do you mean?”

Bakugou sighs, a harsh noise between them. The deep breath afterwards is new, however, a sharp inhale followed by a calmer exhale before Bakugou points at him, a wordless listen up.

“Just– Okay. You fucked up and wanna learn from it? Cool, fucking say that then. Not some bullshit about being too dumb to do shit ‘cause you’re not. Fuck right off with that.”

Mouth opening, Kirishima is stopped by a flurry of firecracker sparks and a terse growl of “Shut the hell up, I’m not done.” Finally, Bakugou’s look snaps elsewhere, one sock-clad foot kicking at a loose rock in clear irritation.

“Studying isn’t your strength, who gives a fuck? You got into U.A. top-fucking-two, you’re one of the only capable fuckers around and if you seriously think you don’t deserve to be here because Cementoss got lucky one fucking time then you got another thing coming.”

Kirishima sits there in a state of mild shock until Bakugou huffs and glares at him again. The threat behind it is ridiculously empty considering the impromptu speech he just gave and holy shit, Bakugou Katsuki is praising him. Kirishima Eijirou.

He might actually cry.

“What? You’re competition, bitch, so don’t make me a fucking liar by pretending otherwise.”

Scratch that, tears are definitely part of the picture now.

Wet-rimmed eyes and a quiet sniff, that’s as far as Kirishima gets before Bakugou’s expression suddenly falls, crestfallen to an almost comical degree. Kirishima does laugh then, a watery little chuckle that doesn’t seem to make things much better, either.

“Sorry, just… Damn Nitro, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You really think so?”

And okay, yup, that’s a real glare, this time. Bakugou throws up his hands. “You’re so– Urgh. Did I fucking stutter?”

Kirishima rubs the moisture out of his eyes and smiles. “Nope.” Faint embarrassment heats his cheeks; he focuses on the warmth curling in his chest instead, glowing bright and comforting like the embers at their feet and the stars above.

“Good”, Bakugou mutters.

More wood is tossed into the fire and rekindled with red-hot palms. Scooting closer, Kirishima holds out his hands and hums happily as it chases away the ever-cooling temperatures. They can’t stay up here forever – Aizawa will have his hide for sure if he doesn’t show up to the remedial course tonight – yet Kirishima figures they have a few more minutes.

Bakugou goes right back to his earlier sprawl, unaffected by the cold: arms crossed, eyes on the sky like he can’t get enough of the sight. Kirishima thinks of glow-in-the-dark stickers, faded over time. Quietly, he wonders which constellation is Bakugou’s favorite.

“Kiri.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

Shoulders relaxed, voice even, Bakugou says: “Tell me something. About space, I mean.”

As complicated as being friends with Bakugou can get, it can be so, so easy, too. Just a while longer, Kirishima decides as he settles in next to his best friend and starts talking.

>>Chapter 4

[script-a-world]

How do I keep my worldbuilding consistent when I have multiple timelines and alternate universes? Especially when memories can bleed over too.

Constablewrites: Really, really good notes. You’re gonna need something that allows for a high level of organization and categorization. That might be a tool like Scrivener or Evernote that lets you create folders and tags, or if you prefer physical notes you can use different colored pens, sticky notes, or even multiple notebooks. (There are probably tools out there specifically designed for such a purpose, but I’m not personally familiar with any.)

However you keep your lists, you’ll want to have one set of notes for each timeline and universe that impacts the story. If you have characters hopping around, you’ll also want to have notes for each character’s personal timeline (so the order in which they experience events, which timelines/universes they travel between, what they remember when, etc.). These lists don’t have to be super long or involved--just a brief phrase describing the scene or event can be enough to keep it straight.

Even for writers only working with a single timeline, it can be useful to have a calendar of events. You can call your start point Day 1 and go from there, assign events to arbitrary dates on our calendar, or go into detail with your own system, whatever works for you. The key is just to have a way to be sure of how much time has passed, so you don’t have something like characters saying they’ve only known each other a couple of days when it’s established elsewhere that it’s been a month.

Also, this doesn’t have to be done in advance. Doing it as you go is fine, and so is assembling the lists as you’re preparing to edit and untangle everything. You might save yourself some effort down the line if you sort that stuff out before writing, but not everyone’s brain works like that and that’s okay.

Tex: It’s difficult to make lists and notes if you don’t know what information to put in them. This is a fairly common issue, since the plethora of information available to particularly worldbuilders can easily become a sensory overload.

A calendar of events is an excellent idea, if you’ve got events to catalogue (and dates to go along with them!). Unfortunately that won’t cover the rest of a world, so you’ll need to be careful in how your organize your notes. Please note that both of our suggestions are but one of many methods to arranging worldbuilding notes, especially when it comes to multiple timelines.

Scrivener, Evernote, OneNote, or even a set of notebooks or word documents can be very versatile depending on your style of note-taking. I deeply prefer an iterative process to worldbuilding, wherein I slowly collate and organize scraps of notes into a polished whole that functions as an archive. Usually I keep multiple versions, in case I need to roll back to certain timelines of development and branch off in a different direction, and keep the discarded versions in case there’s a new way to incorporate the research and ideas.

There’s a lot of debate about digital vs physical copies. For digital, the pros are that you can easily edit and transmit files to a high volume capacity, as well as store them in a comparatively small container or even purely online. Its cons, however, are that they’re easily lost, corrupted, or stolen.

For physical, the pros are that the copies are tangible, easy to visually reference in large volumes, and can usually withstand long-term storage without corruption issues. Its cons, however, are that they have a physical weight, can be cumbersome to carry around, and are difficult to edit while retaining coherency.

One of the most successful note-taking styles I’ve seen is a blend of digital and physical. When you’re still developing an idea, a digital format is very useful until you’ve gotten some concrete decisions down. You can do this with some throwaway notebooks or loose paper, too! Just make sure it’s collected in the same place, or at least is annotated in a way that’s easy to identify (e.g. headers of the same colour, washi tape, dedicated ink colours, dedicated folders, etc).

The intermediary point is usually the difficult part, because transitioning into firm decisions about your worldbuilding is where packrat tendencies kick in. “But what if I need this?” is a very common refrain. However, if you’ve isolated your first step, you’ll still have all of your sketches and ideas and notes!

A basic sorting process of “I’ll keep working on this” versus “I’ll set this aside in case I still need this” will tamp down on a lot of that inevitable anxiety. This will give you control over the flow of development, and you’ll always be able to incorporate things from that second pile if necessary.

The main characteristic of the intermediary point is the filing system, and is incredibly useful even when dividing a world into multiple timelines.

The best method that I’ve found for working on multiple timelines is to start from the most common details. Since these notes are likely to be stored with other stories, the first order is fandom vs original work. If you only write original work, it may be helpful to arrange things by title and/or genre.

I’ve made a sample worldbuilding folder on Google Drive (available here) that can be downloaded locally or into your own Drive, and am narrating the main path way; any additional folders you see will largely be blank in order to allow others to learn the overall structure. You can always copy the folders and files I mention into the additional folders, and rearrange as best suits you!

Since I made this for primarily fandom (re-title as necessary for original work), this means choosing Fandom 1 and then World Name 1. Traditionally the first world is the “canon” world, or the original seed, so it gets first pick.

I have in World Name 1 some things pre-seeded:

Timeline 1

Timeline 2

Unsorted

World Name 1 - Meta Info.txt

All of the individual files in there - usually .txt or .docx - have information on them regarding suggestions how to use them. If you already have a method, then disregard and populate as you prefer.

The Unsorted folder acts as a catch-all, and there’s going to be one of these at roughly each level. For the Timeline level, this means working in conjunction with the Meta Info text file - usually discarded snippets and/or research. While you can definitely create subfolders in this one, I would recommend keeping it loose so you don’t create a stressful, nitpicking situation that loses focus on your main goals.

If you have a main timeline, then that’s going to be Timeline 1. However you choose to prioritize the other ones, just make sure you’re consistent with it, and clearly label everything.

Within Timeline 1, you’re going to have the following items:

Story folder

Plot folder

Unsorted folder

Culture folder

World Name 1 - Timeline 1 - To Do List.txt

You already know how the Unsorted folder functions, so pass that one by. I’ll cover the file before delving into the folders. It’s a text file (that’s a bit oddly sized, apologies for that - it can be resized upon opening with Notepad or a similar program), and left without any instructions or suggestions. World Name 1 - Timeline 1 - To Do List is, as it says on the tin, meant to keep track of things that need doing for this timeline. Be it items that need updating, necessary tweaks, reminders for other things, it’s a relatively isolated way to keep track of this timeline on a meta scale.

Moving on to the rest, the Story folder contains two of its own - Chapters and Master Story. I’ve found this method useful, since it’s dumping drafts into a virtual outbox on an as-completed basis. Master Story has a preseeded doc, while Chapters is meant to contain each chapter unto its own folder (Chapter 1 has its own preseeded doc, as well). The guide docs are colour-coded and contain notes for both fanfiction and original work.

The next folder in Timeline 1, Plot, comes with three pre-seeded guide docs of its own:

World Name 1 - Timeline 1 - Characters.docx

World Name 1 - Timeline 1 - Plot Unsorted.docx

World Name 1 - Timeline 1 - Plot.docx

You see how there’s still an Unsorted folder, albeit in file form? That’s for information that can’t be put into Characters.docx or Plot.docx. All three have notes and some sort of sorting and colour-coding applied to them, with some modularity for copying and pasting. Plot.docx functions a lot like programs like OneNote and Scrivener, so the formatting can be ported over if you prefer a more literal digital notebook style.

The last folder in Timeline 1 is Culture. I’ve divided this into Non-Physical and Physical. There’s a readme text file in both detailing the types of things would go into each folder, though otherwise both left blank so you can dive right into creating sub-folder systems of your own. As with the higher-level folders, you can always duplicate the methods of unsorted folders and meta docs!

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: Variations in Perfections

Ahh my failed ABO event fic since I didn't finish in time  This, I think, will be a three parts but I didn't want to wait until I did all three parts to post. This way, I can start dividing my time for other events 😱

Prompt: [Preferred tags: non/dub-con, body transformation, humiliation/degradation] Omegas are not a natural occurrence, they're made when an alpha is forced to submit and takes another alpha's cum. Sometimes they have to be knotted more than once for the change to be complete.

Notes:  noncon, possessive Peter, a/b/o dynamics, Alpha Tony/Alpha Peter, alpha turning, breeding bench, (in later parts: body modification, humiliation/possible degregarion)

WC: 2693

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

Tony's consciousness drifts in and out.

It's a haze of color and sounds, blurred images that make no sense except for one thing.

Peter's face comes in and out of focus. He looks… worried and that causes a ping of worry to spark up in Tony's chest.

"I–" His mouth is dry, so dry… It almost hurts to talk and his tongue feels dumb and too fat in his mouth.

He's disoriented and confused. He reaches a hand out towards Peter, his mind trying to grasp logic (What's happening? Why am I like this? Was I… drugged…?) but it slips between his fingers, one elusive thought after another.

He feels a pinch and his head turns in an attempt to track it. It feels like slow motion. His eyes don't follow the movement so it takes a moment longer to see it. It takes another moment to focus and recognize the little syringe, depressed, stuck in his arm. And the fingers holding it...Peter's hand… connected to his wrist… to his arm… to his concerned face.

"Pete…?" 

Tony's voice cracks. He doesn't know if he even manages to say the other alpha's name but when he slumps forward, it's Peter's arms that catch him.

He's surrounded by the younger man's scent, a pungent scent. Too alpha. His nose scrunches up, puffs of air being expelled in an attempt to get rid of that scent. It should rile up Tony's own instincts but his mind is too drugged up– fucked up to register the faint growling in his head. 

He's trained his stupid alpha brain to ignore other alphas because they live in a civilized society. Couldn't have alphas snapping and growling at each other… Especially when Peter is an alpha, too.

"I got you, Mr. Stark," Peter tells him and his arms tighten around him.

Yeah… Yeah, the kid will keep him safe. Peter's a good kid like that. Such a good kid…

---

Tony sinks into the darkness.

His head feels like it's stuffed full of cotton balls.

There's a creaking sound, wood groaning under duress.

His body makes all its complaints known once he has more than one brain cell booting up and online.

His arms hurt. His knees ache. His stomach is digging into a padded bench as his body is being rocked forward. The rocking motion makes his head spin.

Tony's being fucked. Every alpha instinct screams in protest, in denial. He's an alpha!

He groans, body jerking violently in protest but stronger hands hold him viciously in place. Whoever has him is like a dog with a bone, relentless, and fucking savagely with an outcome in mind. Strong hips slap against his ass, harsh and unforgiving as a thick alpha cock spears into him, sloppy with wetness.

"Mr. Stark…"

Tony freezes, all attempts to struggle shocked out of him.

"Mm?!" The cloth tied around his mouth makes it impossible to speak but his disbelief and indignation are clear.

"Didn't know when you'd wake up…" 

Peter's hands turn gentle, leaving the bruises on his hips as he presses tight against Tony's back. Tony can feel the younger alpha's hot skin, sweat damp and bare against his own. Even then, Peter's hips don't stop in their harsh rhythm. He continues to hump forward, easing his cock in and out by only a few inches inside of Tony's body.

It feels so… intimate. It's wrong.

"Alpha…" Peter groans into his ear. "Oh, fuck, alpha… You feel so good…"

Tony shakes his head in denial and tries to buck away. How long has he been unconscious? How long had Peter been doing this…? The questions nearly overwhelm him but his mind quiets, going sharp with observation.

Peter nips at his ear then kisses down his heated neck. Tony growls when he gets near his mating gland but the younger alpha ignores it. Peter seals his mouth over the sensitive area, sucking harshly until Tony groans, high pitched and distressed, body jerking violently at the sparks of pleasure it brings.

It feels bruised and tender, much more than it should be for such a gentle bite. Has Peter already marked him there…?

The young alpha pulls away and gives a sigh of contentment. His hips slow and Tony can feel every inch that sinks into him. His entire body acknowledges it, muscles aching fiercely and his hole spread uncomfortably wide.

Whatever lube the kid used is slick and slippery. He's used an abundant amount and that, at least, is something Tony's grateful for even when he knows he shouldn't be grateful at all. He can feel it dripping down his thighs, warm and sticky…

He can still stop this. 

An alpha fucking another alpha happens over dominance fights. It's a given. But dominance fights usually only happen once between a pair and rarely ever again. Between two strong alphas… probably more. It was Tony's mistake for not acknowledging Peter's strength even though he's been witness to it time and time again.

Alphas fucking other alphas were dangerous. Alpha cum was… Bad. Bad for other alphas. It was like an aphrodisiac to omegas… And to other alphas… It could be just as addicting. because alphas weren't safe from other alphas… Omegas weren't always born omegas… Sometimes they were alphas who were caught unaware, alphas who were bitched into omegas.

Tony's heart stutters at the thought but he reigns his traitorous thoughts back into line. There's no point in frightening himself.

He still has the chance to get out of this.

He could… He could acknowledge Peter as the more dominant alpha. Sometimes, that's all another alpha wants from Tony. Acknowledgment. Tony hasn't been caught unaware since he was just newly presented.

He hadn't thought Peter as the type… But then again, it's Tony's mistake for assuming, right? So he's being mounted… By his protege who was clever enough to catch Tony unaware. He is the more dominant alpha then. 

Tony can still stop this from going too far.

More muffled moans and more tosses of his head, his body shaking as he tugs on the bonds. They all clue Peter in on Tony's desire to talk. The gag is tugged down and Tony pants, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows down the humiliation.

"Alpha," Tony rasps. He licks his dry lips and pushes himself to continue. He has to know the situation and what he's dealing with. "C-Condom…?"

If Peter's using a condom, then– fine. That's fine. The younger alpha could take it as far as he wants. Tony wouldn't be in danger of being turned as long as Peter doesn't dose him up with potent alpha cum.

He shudders when he feels Peter smile against his nape. He feels teeth press gently there, the sharp points of alpha fangs threatening to break skin. Mark him up like an omega...

"No." 

It's barely a whisper but with his ears straining as hard as they are, Tony hears it. It's crucial information and the older alpha crushes down the humiliation that tries to rise. It's information he needs and even though it's not favorable news– Tony knows he can persuade the younger alpha. 

Who would want an older omega? Omegas are supposed to be soft and dainty with cute little cocklets. Turned older alphas aren't like that at all, though some have shown favorable results. Bitched alphas have cocks that were still too large and bodies that weren't as small and petite as the ideal omega.

Tony is letting fear rule his mind. Peter wouldn't want a bitched alpha like him. This is just– just a dominance play and Tony just has to grit his teeth and bear it.

Even with that certainty fixed in his mind, Tony murmurs, "Pull out, okay? You gotta– Gotta pull out, okay, Peter…?"

He's accepted this and his head hangs low. It's not so bad– It's not that bad. The betrayal part of it stings more than the way Peter's cock stretches him past what his body can take.

Peter stills behind him. The thrusts have slowed until he's at a standstill with his alpha cock buried only partially inside of Tony's ass. Tony thinks– Oh, thank God, Peter's done with it.

That very through is driven out of him as the younger alpha shoves his cock home with a dirty groan.

"Oh!" Tony yelps. 

His body shakes from the impact of Peter's hips crashing into his ass and he writhes in the younger alpha's arms, twisting and turning, trying to ease the assault being brought upon him.

"Ohh–!" The older alpha cries again when Peter doesn't stop. 

The boy is intent, fucking into him with quick and harsh rabbit thrusts. He's barely pulling away now and he's– fuck, he's rutting. He's following those cursed base instincts that urge all alphas to breed, to knot…

"Peter! Peter, don't– Oh, fuck, Peter, don't…!" Tony babbles even when the younger man's cock brushes right against that sweet spot of his. 

Traitorous pleasure shoots up his spine, forbidden and uninvited. He gasps and groans, barely hanging on but desperately doing so because he needs– his eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head. Pleasure sings, drowns out every logical thought.

"Oh, God, guhhh–" Tony doesn't even realize he's panting, breathless little litanies as Peter has his way.

The young alpha sets his teeth against Tony's mating gland and each thrust has the sharp points scraping over sensitive skin. Tony whines even more, a sad, pathetic sound but he's being dominated. Dominated and fucked into submission by his protege…

It shouldn't feel as good as it does but Peter seems to know what he's doing. He's relentless in stimulating that spot inside of Tony's body, convincing him with his cock that maybe… maybe being Peter's omega bitch wouldn't be a bad gig after all.

It's a betrayal even worse than the one Peter deals him, a betrayal of his own mind and a terrifying foreshadowing of what's to come.

Tony pants desperately, still trying in vain to convince the younger alpha that this isn't what he wants. He can't give in!

"Pete…! You can't– can't…! Oh, God…!" Tony cries out. The boy's knot is inflating and his body clenches down on it.

It's all biology. His own alpha body is fighting against this, the growls rough up his throat amidst all the soft cries. Peter's already changing him up inside… Even precum is enough to make an alpha more inclined to be bitched, given how much alphas leak during sex.

And Peter's bare inside him…

"Almost done," Peter pants before sucking harshly on Tony's mating gland. The older alpha cries out like he's been dealt a blow. He tosses his head, trying to get Peter to stop but Peter only presses even harder, digs his claws in deeper. "Almost– Mr. Stark! So close… so close, sir… Ughh, I can't…!"

The knot… Tony groans because he can feel its presence inside him. It's growing larger and larger… Tugging on his fucked open hole with every thrust, making its existence known. Peter's intentions are clear but Tony's still in denial. 

"Pull out, kid," Tony murmurs raggedly. Even when he feels Peter's knot slipping in and out of him, he tries. "Pull out…"

"Can't– I can't," Peter hisses. 

The thrusts turn brutal and the bench groans under their weight. Peter holds Tony's hips in place, humping against him like he wants to fuck Tony right through the bench. He feels like his very bones creak under the pressure of Peter's hands.

Tony closes his eyes, bound hands squeezing into fists. Peter's moans of pleasure have his ears burning red. Some part inside him whispers how good Tone's doing… How good he's making his alpha feel by letting him fuck him…

Good…

A good omega…

Tears burn in his eyes. Denial serves no purpose and will only make it worse. Tony draws in ragged breath after ragged breath, tears burning hot trails down his cheeks. He's thought about alphas who've been turned, pitied them when they seem to lose recollection of what they'd been.

He never expected that siren's call to sound like his own voice. Logical thoughts fragment and rearrange. His very being is being remade.

Tony cries out when the knot tugs painfully at his rim. It's too large to pull out and Peter groans shamelessly as he shoves it back in, triumphant in the successful breeding. It feels like the very breath is being knocked out of him to make space for it.

"Here it comes…!" Peter pants against his ear. "Gonna fill you up, Mr. Stark… Make you… mine… Make you… my perfect omega..."

Peter's cock only grows harder inside him and Tony whimpers when he starts to shoot. His insides are being flooded with heat. Another alpha has knotted him, fucked him in submission and now, Peter's taken that last step.

As though in apology, Peter runs his hands over Tony's ravaged body. Gentle and soft. Loving.

His cock pulses on and on, spurting load after load into Tony's insides and that moment that the older alpha has dreaded finally occurs.

"Ah…" It's the quietest sound Tony's ever made but Peter hears it. A soft exhale, a discovery… 

The alpha cum being pumped inside him soothes his abused body. The components, the addictive element in alpha cum that gets another alpha so loopy and out of focus… It soaks in every available crevice, changing things inside him at a biological and neurological level.

The pleasure comes just as quickly and it leaves him breathless and panting in an entirely different way.

Saliva floods Tony's mouth but he's too caught up in pleasure to notice. The intrusion in his body no longer feels invasive, it's… comforting… His alpha's body on top of his, the weight, reassuring. And his insides feel so warm...

"That's it, Mr. Stark…" Peter breathes and nuzzles against his hair. "That's it… Feels good, doesn't it… You feel good to me too, Mr. Stark… so good…"

"Peter…" Tony sighs, drool slipping from the corner of his lips. "What did you do…?"

The boy's hands wander over his body and the word to describe it floats up to the forefront of his mind. It's not gentle or loving… It's an assessment.

"What I had to…" Peter says gently. "Couldn't lose you, Mr. Stark… Had to make a move…"

His hands dip between the older alpha's legs and he pumps Tony's deflated alpha cock. He gets him hard enough that Tony's hips twitch into the touch, desperate for more pleasure.

"That's it, Mr. Stark… Milk the knot… ah… fuck…" Peter groans when Tony's body squeezes down on his cock. "Can't wait till you do it by yourself…"

Tony groans when Peter brings him off. It doesn't even feel as good as it normally would. His knot doesn't pop and Tony only has to wonder why when Peter reveals the reason.

Peter drags his cum wet hand lower and presses in that forbidden area, right behind his balls. His own cum is smeared there…

"Can't wait till your omega hole comes in…" Peter murmurs. "How many more knots, do y'think, Mr. Stark…"

How many… Tony doesn't know.

"This was three…" Peter reveals while stimulating where his omega hole would be. "Three… You took three knots so well, Mr. Stark…"

The revelation only numbs Tony up even more… Peter has knotted him three times, twice while he was unconscious. This was his intention all along.

Tony was literally fucked before he even woke up. And his body's responses make sense now. The extreme rollercoaster ride, his instincts warring between fighting against Peter's actions versus taking it like a good omega for his alpha. His instincts are waning, the alpha giving way to the omega being made inside him.

"Again, Mr. Stark… Gonna do it again and again…" Peter promises him, "And when your omega hole is ready, I'll knot there, too… Gotta jumpstart your heat. All the articles say a newly turned omega should have their heat within the first week… It's better for you..."

It's too much… too much… Tony sinks back into the darkness and lets the change come over him.

[leeisacat]

Birthday Sex | A Kuroo/Bokuto/Akaashi/Kenma/f! Reader

A/N: Literally the most self indulgent one-shot I’ve ever written in my life, for God’s sake like this was straight out of a fantasy I had. Tags/Warnings: Smut, spanking, pet play, creampie, dom/sub roles, anal, role play, gangbang (?)

“Tetsu-kun, I’m home!”

(Name) slipped off her tennis shoes at the door, pushing them neatly in line with an assortment of men’s and women’s shoes. She peered down the hall, looking for a sign of her boyfriend.

To celebrate Kuroo’s birthday, the couple had invited over their closest friends for dinner. But, for how soon they should be arriving, it concerned her that her boyfriend didn’t seem to be home.

“Tetsu? Are you home?” she called out, still receiving no reply.

Narrowing her eyes, she hung up her coat and set down her bags— which, included the present she had picked out for her boyfriend. She walked down the hallway and turned into the kitchen.

It had been obvious he had started preparing dinner, and a pink sticky note was stuck to their usual barren fridge.

‘Ran to the store—

Something in the bedroom for you ;)’

She quirked an eyebrow, taking the note off while walking to the bedroom. It was his birthday, so why was he getting her things?

Pushing open the slightly ajar door, it was pitch black, the light from the hall shining in enough for her to make something out on the bed. She reached for the light switch, flipping it before emitting a small gasp. Her face turned beet-red.

Neatly laid out on the bed, there was a maid’s outfit that left little for the imagination. On top of it were matching black lace stockings, a simple red collar with a bell on it, and black cat ears. She noticed a small notecard placed on top of it, and immediately recognized her boyfriend’s writing.

‘Hi Kitten,

I hope you remembered our little talk a few days ago. It’s okay if you change your mind, but I definitely would like you to put a little show on for us tonight. Mostly me, of course.

P.S. remember my name, or else ;*’

Her eyes widened, recalling what their recent conversation was about. He’d asked her how she felt about trusted people watching them do their thing, and even possibly bringing them into their intimate moments. She agreed, as long as they both trusted whoever it was coming into their private space. But, it occurred to her that it was three other  people coming tonight— Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kenma. The thought of them also getting in on the action riled her up, causing her to press her thighs together.

She sighed, realizing that Kuroo would never force her into anything she was uncomfortable with, and the moment she said the safe word it would be stopped. Plus, the idea of being a cute little kitten maid for all her master’s  friends enticed her.

This was going to be an interesting night.

Changing into the maid costume with Kuroo’s favorite lingerie set underneath, she realized it  left nothing for the imagination. The fluffy skirt of the dress just barely sat beneath the curve of her ass, threatening to flash her lacy panties with one wrong move. The front dipped down enough for her cleavage to be on full display, daring to expose her bra underneath. She glanced in the mirror, her face flushing as she saw how scandalous it was. She sat down on the edge of the bed to pull on the stockings, and afterwards clipped each ear onto either side of her hair. Lastly, she had to put on the color.

Her fingers grazed over the nice leather, when she realized there was something engraved into it. It said ‘Property of Kuroo Testsurou’ , causing her face to flush more. But, she heard the front door open, and quickly fumbled to get the collar around her neck.

“Oh, where is my kitten~? I was expecting her waiting for me, is she hiding?”

She peeked her head out the bedroom door to see Kuroo standing at the entryway, seemingly waiting for her. Slowly, she stepped out into the light and walked towards him, twiddling her thumbs in front of her while keeping her eyes trained to the ground. He could hear the bell on her collar quietly jingle as she approached which caused him to chuckle.

“Ah, are you being shy? There’s no need, it’s just me,” he said, bring his hand up to brush her cheek, “You look very beautiful, by the way.”

“Th— Thank you, master,” she said, remembering his instructions, “And, happy birthday, of course.”

She finally brought her eyes up to meet his, gazing into them as they crinkled lightly with his smile. On the other hand, she was staring at him wide-eyed, an obvious blush not leaving her cheeks. He gently brought her in for a quick peck on the lips before breaking away.

“Thank you, kitten. Now, could you bring the groceries to the kitchen for me? I’m going to change, and then we can finish preparing dinner together,” he said smoothly, holding the two paper bags out for her to take.

She nodded, grabbing them and letting a small grunt out when she realized one was significantly heavier than the other. He smiled at her, brushing past her to the bedroom as she moved the bags to the kitchen. Peering into the heavy one, she realized it weight was due to its contents of alcohol.

As she was finishing putting away the groceries, she felt Kuroo wrapping her arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re very tense, (Nickname), are you that nervous? Or, are you just that turned on~,” he said, dropping to a seductive whisper for the last sentence.

“Oh, you,” she said, playfully poking his cheek, “Yes, I’m nervous, Tetsu. Not only am I wearing a skimpy maid costume, but I’m about to be presented to our high school friends like this. You told them about this, right?”

His fingers brushed her thigh before his hand quickly came down hard on her ass cheek, causing her to yelp in pain.

“That’s my first and final warning for not addressing me properly. And yes, they know what they’re in for. Well, mostly. The maid costume is a bit of a surprise,” he chuckled darkly.

She spun around in his grasp, pushing him away before crossing her arms. Furrowing her eyebrows, she looked up at him.

“My color is red . Kuroo Tetsurou, you invited three of our friends over without explaining to them about this ?” she said, motioning to her maid outfit, “You are going to scare them . They are going to be so flustered—!”

“ Hey ,” he said, placing his hand behind her neck to silence her with a kiss, “It’ll be alright. Kenma actually helped me pick out the dress for you. I was just teasing, they know, they know.”

“Can’t I just, like, change into this afterwards? How am I supposed to even address them? Should I also call them master?”

“ No. That name is reserved for me and only me,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly, “And, just refer to them by their names. Use formal honorifics, of course. Do this for me, pretty please ? You’re so cute when you give me puppy dog eyes when you’re begging for my—”

“Tetsu!” she exclaimed, “Fine. My light is green.”

With that, they continued prepping dinner together, an occasional teasing remark being slung at (Name). She would only roll her eyes in response (with her eyes closed, of course, couldn’t risk punishment this early into the night). She set the dining room table for the night, and set out glasses for the booze. Eventually, (Name) shooed Kuroo out of the kitchen to finish cooking dinner on her own, surprisingly with no protest from him. Soon, everything was ready, and she was nervously sitting on the couch next to Kuroo, legs neatly tucked under her as she focused on playing with her thumbs again.

He must’ve noticed that her nerves hadn’t gone, so he brought his hand up to her back, rubbing soft circles into her shoulders. She seemed to ease into his touch, looking a bit calmer than before.

The doorbell suddenly rang, causing her to jump slightly and look up to Kuroo with big eyes.

“Go on and greet our guests, kitten. I’ll be right behind you,” he said, motioning for her to walk to the door.

He quite literally was right behind her, hands on her hips slightly under her dress. She was already flustered enough as it was, but Kuroo has to dig his thumb under the band of her panties and snap it. She let out a soft whine before finally unlocking the door and swinging it open.

“Hey, hey... Hey?!” Bokuto exclaimed, eyes landing on (Name), “Oh, wow .”

“Kou, stop ogling his girlfriend. (Surname)-san, don’t mind him too much,” Akaashi said, lightly swatting the back of his boyfriend’s head with an envelope, “Anyway, happy birthday Kuroo-san. We got this for you.”

He held the envelope out towards Kuroo, but he made no motion to grab it. Quickly, (Name) got the gist and grabbed it for him. She clutched it to her chest, bowing deeply.

“C— Come in, Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san. Make yourself at home,” she said, stuttering while a deep blush flooded her cheeks.

Kuroo wrapped an arm around her waist as they stepped to the side to let the couple in. They shed their shoes and coats, before (Name) stepped forward.

“I can hang your coats for you,” she said softly, holding out an arm.

The two exchanged a look of sorts before obliging, draping the coats over her arm. She left to go hang them in the closet across the hall, leaving the three boys alone momentarily.

“Kuroo... you have her referring to us so formally . I was... not expecting this,” Bokuto said, looking over to his raven-haired friend, “Is she comfortable with all this?”

“If she wasn’t, she’d tell us. (Name)’s just playing shy, that’s all. Come on, let’s wait for Kenma in the living room,” he replied cooly.

His friends followed him, and soon (Name) entered the living room. She was about to sit next to Kuroo on the couch before he gently grabbed her hand, pulling her into his lap. She softly gasped in surprise, but situated herself on his knee while folding her hands in her lap. Akaashi sat on the chair adjacent to the couch while Bokuto sat in opposite corner of the couch.

They soon fell into small talk, and Kuroo thankfully felt (Name) relax further. He was mindlessly stroking her thigh, occasionally squeezing it. She sat there though, letting the tension flee from her body. She only spoke when addressed, following the normal rules the Kuroo had set for her in this state. It was easy, and Bokuto nor Akaashi was acting phased by it in any way.

“So, is this a regular occurrence between you two, or what? Keiji never let’s me do this type of stuff with him, although he occasionally will dress up and wear a skirt for me,” Bokuto asked, looking curiously at Kuroo and (Name) before smirking as his boyfriend.

“Well, yes and no. This is the first time she’s ever dressed up for me like this, and it’s the first time we’ve allowed other people to see. But, we regularly use the names in the bedroom, even punishment if she’s being a little brat ,” he said, lightly smacking her thigh, “Which, to no surprise, she’s usually like that. I honestly think she gets off on it.”

“Do not!” she suddenly squeaked, blushing a furious shade of red.

“Ah, is that talking back I hear?” Kuroo mumbled darkly, using his hand to turn her head towards him.

She widened her eyes, nervously glancing to the other men in the room. They were only watching curiously as the scene unfold before them. Kuroo tapped into her cheek with his fingers to redirect her attention back to him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. Did you just now talk back to me?” he repeated himself.

“N— No, master,” she mumbled, barely audible.

“I can’t hear you kitten,” he said, a smirk now on his lips.

“No, master!” she said loud enough for everyone to hear, using all her strength to not tear her gaze away and bury her face in her hands.

To her avail, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” she blurted out, standing up and straightening her dress as best as possible.

Kuroo chuckled as she scurried away with her bell jingling, looking over to Bokuto and Akaashi. They two looked astonished at what had unfolded before them, definitely turned on . God, how were they expecting to last through dinner if the two were gonna act like that ?

(Name) greeted Kenma at the door, bowing deeply and addressing him in the same formal way.

“Kuro put you up to this, didn’t he? Ugh, if you’re gonna call me anything, just call me Kenma-san,” he said, finally looking up from his phone and giving (Name) a once over, “Oh, the dress does looks very... nice on you.”

She muttered a small ‘thank you’ while bowing slightly, taking his jacket and hanging it up with the others. Kenma joined the other boys in the room with a small blush dusting his cheeks, waving and giving his greetings.

Dinner went by fairly uneventful, (Name) engaging in small talk but still extremely embarrassed from what had happened before.  Kuroo would not ease up on the playful jabs here and there, thus not giving her even a moment to cool down. Her usual sassy demeanor was very subdued for the fact she was not sure what Kuroo would do as a punishment if she jabbed back. He seemed to enjoy the attention she was receiving from his friends a little more than her, almost prideful of flaunting his girlfriend.

While they were eating cake, that’s when Kuroo decided to make (Name) put on a show.

“Kitten,” he cooed, swiping some frosting from his slice onto his fingers, “Why don’t you clean my fingers?”

He waved his point and middle finger in front of her face, which were globbed over with the creamy frosting. She nervously glanced around before she felt his fingers pressed to her lips.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said lowly, the words almost rumbling in his chest.

She tentatively gave his fingers a few kitten licks (staying true to her pet name) before wrapping her mouth around them. Slowly, she took them in to the knuckle, sucking and swirling her tongue around the appendages. Once she felt they were thoroughly cleaned, she opened her mouth and pulled away, a line of drool still connecting her tongue and his fingers.

Kuroo barely held back his groans, because damn . His girlfriend was hot.

“We should probably clean up the table. (Nickname)-chan, can you start gathering the dishes? I’m going to take care of the leftovers,” he said as nonchalantly as he could for the growing erection in his jeans.

She muttered a quick ‘yes, master’ before gathering dishes off the table. Kenma stood up though, grabbing his own bowl and plate.

“I’ll help her,” he said, trailing behind her to the kitchen.

She started rinsing dishes and placing them in the dishwasher while Kenma brought them to her. While she was cleaning though, Kuroo brushed past her and flicked up the back of her skirt, causing her to yelp in surprise. A furious blush found its way back onto her cheeks as she tried to focus on finishing with the dishes.

Kenma watched the ordeal with a soft blush on his own face before turning to (Name). He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest as he looked to her.

“Kuro has not let up on you the whole night, has he?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

She gently closed the dishwasher, looking back to see Akaashi walked into the kitchen as she nodded in response to Kenma.

“This is... very embarrassing and,” she glanced over to the dining room, seeing Kuroo and Bokuto laughing loudly in their own conversation, “he’s not helping, no.”

“It’s because we’re just watching, isn’t it? Of course, I would also be shy if I was on full display like Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-san is putting you on. We think it’s adorable though, don’t worry,” Akaashi said, mentioning a nickname from their high school days.

He brushed up to (Name), closing the distance rather quickly. She backed up into the counter, now pinned between it and Akaashi. Staring wide-eyes up at him, he lightly pinched her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, tonight is going to be enough to forget about all your embarrassment. Also, Kuroo filled us all in on your safe words, so if it’s ever too much, don’t hesitate to tell us.”

She nodded, before glancing over to see Bokuto and Kuroo staring at them. She became flustered again, bringing up her hands to her face to hide her blush.

“Hey, hey, Akaashi! You tryna start without us?” he exclaimed, a pout on his lips, “Not fair!”

“No,” he smirked back, “I’m just giving a pep-talk from one bottom to another. She’s so nervous, and you two aren’t helping.”

She let out a squeak of embarrassment, hiding her face in Akaashi’s chest. He casually wrapped an arm around her, placing a hand on the small of her back as he pulled her away from the counter.

“Who, me?!” Bokuto said, pointing a finger towards Kuroo, “It’s been her boyfriend the whole night!”

Akaashi chuckled at his boyfriend’s antics and started whisking (Name) away to the bedroom.

“Alright, but I’m getting first dibs on her. You two would destroy her in one fell sweep,” he called out, hearing they’re footsteps behind him.

The boys fighting over her caused her arousal to pool rather quickly, and in attempt to quell her desires she began rubbing her thighs together. Akaashi’s hands found themselves resting on her hips, and he narrowed his eyes as he dug his fingers into them.

“Are you trying to please yourself? No, no, none of that. You have to last for Kuroo-san.”

She whined, but obliged and stopped creating friction for herself. Bokuto soon was besides Akaashi, side-eying his boyfriend.

“So, what? You get first dibs?” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Boys, boys, settle down. I’m sure she’d be happy to take both of you at once,” Kuroo said, popping his head between them with a smirk on his face, “Kitten, be sure to listen to them. You’ll get the same punishment as you’d get with me if you disobey them.”

“Yes, master,” she said breathlessly, pressing herself back into Akaashi’s chest, “What would you like, sir?”

“Kneel,” Akaashi said before placing a hand on her shoulder and helping push her to her knees.

She let herself fall with a soft thump as her knees hit the ground. Her hands reached for Akaashi’s jeans first, but were redirected when he side stepped in order for Bokuto to stand in front of her. She slowly began undoing his pants, him watching her with a hungry gaze. Once the zipper was undone, she hooked her fingers through his belt loops and gently tugged them to his knees. His erection was very visible through his tight briefs, causing her to blush furiously. He was rather large, a bit more girth to his compared to Kuroo’s. She gulped, bringing her fingers to gently fiddle with his waistband.

“Well, what’re you waiting for, cutie? You scared ?” Bokuto said, staring her down with a cocky grin and his huge golden eyes.

She brought one of her hands to cup his erection through the frantic, running her hand slowly across it. A low rumble came from him, and he took the liberty of shoving his briefs off, his erection springing free in front of her face. Her eyes widened as she retreated her hands, looking up at him with big puppy eyes.

“Cat got your tongue? I though Kuroo would’ve taught you to respond when spoken to,” he purred, settling his hand in the back of her hair.

She gulped again, eyes traveling down and landing on his dick.

“It’s— it’s big,” she whispered, coaxing a small laugh from Bokuto.

“You’ll get used to it,” Akaashi shrugged, unzipping his own jeans.

Boluto prodded his member at her lips, and she began to experimentally lick along his shaft. She sucked on the tip and tasted his precum, causing him to groan and dig his fingers into his scalp. He took the opportunity to push slowly into her mouth, getting halfway before stopping.

“You okay, princess?” he said, half moaning while gripping her hair.

Her jaw was already aching from the stretch, but she nodded as much as she could. Bokuto pushed the rest of the way in, her nose brushing the wiry hairs at the base of his shaft. She was gagging slightly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She tapped on his thigh, signifying she was running out of air. He released her, causing her to gasp for breath, but it was short lived as he reentered her mouth. Luckily for her, he set a slow and steady pace, allowing her to bob up and down his length comfortably.

“Bokuto, there’s no need to hold back. She can handle it,” Kuroo suddenly piped up from across the room, strewn across the chair in the corner.

She glanced over with worry, seeing her boyfriend sitting there lazily stroking his own erection, a smirk across his face. Bokuto suddenly slammed into her throat, causing her to gag and slobber all over his dick. He set a grueling pace, grunting with each thrust into her mouth. Her hands found the back of his thighs, nails digging into his skin as she tried to steady herself. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as he ruthlessly fucked her mouth, makeup smudging along with it.

“Don’t— Don’t spill a drop,” he said between grunts, signifying her of his upcoming orgasm.

He slammed one last time as deep as he could into her mouth, hot spurts of cum shooting down her throat. It filled her mouth quickly, but she forced herself to swallow as much as possible. Some dribbled out onto her chin, but she was quick to lick it off, and opened her mouth wide to show Bokuto for good measure.

“Good girl,” he smirked, panting hard and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

It wasn’t long before another dick was prodding at her mouth. This time, she looked up to see Akaashi.

He was thankfully not as girthy as Bokuto was, allowing her to easily maneuver around it. She swirled her tongue around his tip and began to suck up and down his length, taking note that he was slightly sweeter tasting than Bokuto. More tears streamed down her face as she deep throated Akaashi, causing him to moan loudly.

“F— Fuck,” he said breathlessly, “You’re good at this.”

She went back to focusing on his tip, stroking the rest of his slicked length with her hand. Her sucking coaxed grunts and moans from him as he rocked his hips with her movements. She looked up to see Bokuto kissing up his neck slowly before biting down harshly, causing him to groan aloud.

“You think you can swallow my cum too? I’d hate to ruin your dress,” Akaashi asked, petting her head.

In response, she sucked even harder before resuming deep throating him, causing him to twitch in her mouth. He was groaning between pants before pressing himself into her mouth and emptying his load into it. She tried to swallow as much as possible, but she couldn’t, and more than a few drops dribbled out down her chin.

She quickly tried to scoop it back into her mouth with her fingers, but Bokuto grabbed her hand to stop it, crouching down to her level and staring at the white substance. He took the liberty of licking the substance off slowly, before kissing her harshly and shoving the remains into her mouth.

“Hmm, what should we do with you? You didn’t swallow it all,” he said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

Fear filled her eyes before she pressed her forehead to the floor, in a apologetic way. But, with how short her dress was, her ass was now on full display.

“Please! It— It was an accident! I’m sorry, it won’t ever happen a—again!” she exclaimed.

Bokuto looked at Kuroo, before shrugging.

“It’s your call on this one,” he said, folding his arms, “Your her boyfriend.”

“Stand up,” Kuroo called out, standing up as well while pulling his boxers and pants back on.

She slowly pushed herself up off the floor, eyes trained on Kuroo. He coaxed her to come to him with his fingers, staring at her intensely. Looking around the room, she realized that all eyes were on her. She hadn’t even noticed Kenma in the doorway, probably had been standing there for the whole ordeal.

“Yes master?” she said before yelping as Kuroo yanked the front of her dress up.

His thumb slid her panties to the side as he swiped two fingers against her slit, causing her to shudder as he gathered her fluids. He brought them up in front of his face, staring dully at the his now slightly shiny fingers.

“This doesn’t look very sorry to me. I’ve let too many things slide since we have guests over,” he said, eyes boring into her, “What’s your color?”

She knew exactly where this was headed, and couldn’t help but press her thighs together in excitement. Her face was completely flushed as she stared doe-eyed up at him, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“It’s... green,” she quietly said, looking at the floor.

Kuroo suddenly fell back into the chair, patting his lap. She gulped hard, stepping towards.

“Bend over my lap. Don’t make me wait,” he said lowly, looking at her with half lidded eyes.

She whines softly, but ultimately obliged. Her perky ass was in the air, skirt pushed up to expose the lace of her panties.

“God, you’ve soaked through,” he said, staring at the thin fabric covering her core, “Such a little slut, getting off on sucking other men’s dicks in front of your master. You want to be spanked, huh? You like the attention?”

He was softly rubbing her ass cheeks, squeezing every so often. She kept her eyes trained on the floor, avoiding the other men’s gazes.

“N— no,” she stuttered out, before yelping with the hard slap to her ass that followed.

“Wasn’t a question for you to answer, kitten. Now, be a good girl and count to ten.”

She prematurely winced as she awaited the first hit, squinting her eyes shut. It hit her harder than the previous one, causing her to bite down hard on her lip as she whimpered.

“One,” she whined, clenching her fists until her knuckles were white.

“What do we say?” he said teasingly, lightly pinching her burning ass cheek.

It caused her to yelp, a flush of red flooding into her cheeks.

“Thank you, master,” she quietly mumbled.

He ran his fingertips gently across her exposed thighs before once again harshly snapping her cheek.

“Two! Thank you, master,” she quickly said, a little louder than the previous.

Bokuto was watching her carefully from a distance, before turning to Akaashi.

“Why don’t you do that for me, huh?” he said, playfully swatting his partner’s ass.

Akaashi only side-eyed him, before they heard another harsh slap and a gasp from (Name).

“Three! Ah, thank you master!”

“She didn’t even do anything relatively that bad, Kuro,” Kenma butted in, walking further into the room while watching his friend give another harsh slap to her ass, “Don’t you think this is a bit harsh?”

“Are you saying you’d like to take her place?” he said, smiling coyly while enunciating his word with yet another harsh slap to her ass, “I mean, she is getting significantly wet from this. I don’t think it’s as much as a punishment as she leads us to believe.”

“F— five, thank you, m— master,” she stuttered, biting her lips hard from the burning of her cheeks (face and bottom).

Kenma has a thoughtful look before he shrugged leisurely.

“Just thought we could get to the main event sooner, that’s all.”

Kuroo quirked his eyebrows before a devious grin spread across his face, and he decided to give the last five spankings sequentially, causing her to squeak and whimper from the intensity.

“Six— Ah, seven, m— master. Eight! N— nine! Ten! Thank— thank you, master,” she stuttered out with each slap, whimpering incessantly.

“There, happy? So impatient with my kitten. You did good, cutie pie,” he said, flipping over (Name) and cradling her in his arms, “Now, were gonna treat you real well.”

Kuroo carried her effortlessly to the large bed, setting her down on her back. He gave her small pecks from her mouth trailing down her neck, sucking harshly at her collarbone. Small moans and whimpers escaped her lips as his hands slid up the dress, flipping the front up onto her stomach.

“So naughty, wearing my favorite color lingerie,” he cooed, pressing two fingers to her clothed entrance, “And you’ve even soaked through them more? My, my, such a slutty kitten. Getting off on having so many men watch her get manhandled by her master.”

Being so focused on Kuroo, she didn’t even notice that Bokuto had slipped onto the bed. She felt his arms push her torso up to sit behind her, and his hands got to work on massaging her chest through her dress. It was certainly hard to keep her composure like this. The feeling of his re-hardened member grinding into her back only intensified the heat traveling directly to her core. Kuroo finally dug his fingers under the band of her panties and dragged them down her legs, tossing them onto the floor. He removed his own shirt with it, then lowering himself back down to kiss her.

Akaashi was only in his boxers when he moved to help Bokuto push the sleeves of her dress of her shoulder to exposed her bra-clad chest. He pinched and prodded at her nipples through the lacy garment, causing a slew of moans to escape her mouth. Kuroo was teasing her lower regions with his mouth, nibbling at her thighs only to ghost over the part she wanted his mouth the most. It was frustrating, but with Bokuto’s arms holding back her own, she couldn’t grab his hair and pull him to the desired spot.

“P— Please,” she gasped, “Tetsu please .”

Akaashi dug under her bra and pinched both her nipples hard, seemingly retaliating for using Kuroo’s name. She whimpered with each tug and pull while Bokuto unclasped her bra, taking the sleeves of her dress off fully before flinging it to the floor. Her chest was now fully exposed, and Akaashi brought one of the buds into his mouth. Bokuto’s lips were attacking her neck with licks and soft bites, and she swore she was about to lose it if one of them didn’t fuck her in that moment.

“Oh~?,” Kuroo purred while looking up at her, fanning his breath over her throbbing pussy, “Use your words, kitten. I’m no mind reader.”

“Please, Tetsurou , please fuck me!” she cried out, balling her fists up into the sheets.

He chuckled lowly before ridding himself of his remaining clothes, his cock springing free from it’s confines. She was so focused on her lover, she yelped at the slick finger prodding her back entrance.

“I’m gonna wreck your back door, princess,” Bokuto whispered lowly into her ear before nibbling on it, finger circle around the tight hole.

Kenma finally got in on the action when he pushed two fingers past her plush lips, pressing down lightly on her tongue.

“You didn’t forget about me, did you?” he said, palming himself as he watched her close her lips around his fingers.

She couldn’t help but gasp when Bokuto finally slipped a finger into her hole, whining quietly at the unfamiliar sensation. At this point, with all the different sensations on her body happening at once, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

“Tetsu, I— I— This, it’s, ah~! ”

She was taken away from the other men by Kuroo suddenly, flipping on top of him to press her bare chest to his. His dick was pressed against her thigh, a copious amount of precum glistening on the tip. Their lips locked in a hot kiss, and he didn’t seem to mind her calling him by his given name.

Bokuto stuck another finger in her hole, her moan being swallowed up by Kuroo’s mouth. He was scissoring and stretching it with lube to prep her for his own length. Kuroo placed both hands on her hips, maneuvering her to just the tip of his member. She was panting when she broke from the kiss, whining quietly as he rubbed against her slit.

Slowly, Kuroo lowered her onto him, whimpers escaping her lips as his hips pressed flush against hers.

“Good kitten,” he cooed, running his hand through her hair, “You’re taking me so well. Look at you, so pretty when you’re stuffed full of my cock.”

He let her sit for a minute, watching Bokuto as he pulled his lubed fingers from her hole. Akaashi handed him a condom, to which he quickly tore open and began rolling on his length.

Although his wasn’t as long as Kuroo’s, he made up for the loss with his impressive girth. He’d probably leave (Name) unable to walk for days if he was too rough. She wasn’t used to it the way Akaashi was.

“If you get too rough with my kitten Bokuto, I will bite your dick off,” Kuroo snapped, playfully but with a glimmer of seriousness in his eyes.

“Okay, okay! Got it,” he said whilst raising his arms in defense.

Akaashi moved to where her head was with Kenma, the two stripping away their own clothes and tossing them to the floor. She squeezed in delight seeing their cocks being pushed in front of her face, causing Kuroo to groan lowly underneath her.

“Kitten, if you squeeze like that again I might get a bit impatient and fuck you til you see stars,” he growled, causing her to smirk.

“I think that’s what you intend to do any— Ohhh fuck! ”

It slipped out of her mouth unintentionally as Bokuto sank his length into her hole, causing her to moan out the curse words. Which, in return, caused Kuroo to snap a hand at her already tender ass cheek.

He began to move his length inside her, thrusting up while Bokuto sank in. It started slow and steady, but soon the pace quickly became relentless. Kenna’s head prodded at her lips, which she happily accept, sucking and licking at his length. Her moans were muffled by his dick, and soon Akaashi was prodding his own at her lips too.

“Take them both, like the good kitten you are,” Kuroo said seeing as she hesitated.

She switched between sucking off Akaashi and Kenma while being rammed relentlessly from both Kuroo and Bokuto. It was hard to keep her attention on anything as so much was happening to her body at once. It didn’t help when Kuroo snakes his hand between their bodies, finding her clit and rubbing it in circles with her thumb. It caused her to spasm around him, and Kuroo realized she was finally edging onto her orgasm.

Bokuto was the first to cum, purely because he was still sensitive from the first time he came and it didn’t help how god damn tight (Name) was. He emptied his load into the condom and pulled out, slumping backwards onto the plush of the bed. She whined at the loss of contact, but immediately Kuroo picked up his pace in thrusting into her from underneath to reach their climaxes together. Unable to focus on anything but her boyfriend’s relentless pounding, she released Kenma’s member with a pop and leaving him to finish himself off, along with Akaashi but neither of them minded. The sight laid out before them was more than enough to bring them to their own ends.

Finally, (Name) clenched hard around Kuroo’s lenght as his thrusts became sloppier, his thumb still working relentlessly on her clit. With a loud cry, she came around him, and he wasn’t far behind. He pulled her flush against his hips, digging his finger into her own as he came deep inside her, letting out a deep groan of his own.

She let her weight collapse on top of him out of exhaustion, his softening member still deep inside her. Kuroo gently rolled her off him, pulling out to see their mixed fluids running down her thighs. The two of them were still panting as she cuddled into his side, wrapping her arms around his chest. He sighed in content, pulling her closer and turning to kiss her softly on the lips.

“You did so well, baby. God, I love you so much,” he said, peppering soft kisses all over her face, “How are you feeling? Do you need anything, kitten?”

“Happy birthday, Tetsu,” she mumbled, burying her face into his chest.

“I’ll run a bath for you two,” Akaashi said, sauntering to the bathroom already dressed in his boxers, “I know she’s sore at least from this one.”

He jabbed a thumb in the direction of Bokuto. His partner laughed softly as he stood up from the bed, finding his own discarded clothes on the floor.

“She took me like a champ though. Actually, all of us! Thanks for sharing her, Kuroo-kun,” he said, pulling on his jeans.

“It was her decision, ultimately. I sprung this unto her very last second,” he replied, gently scooping her up, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m going to make sweet love to my girlfriend in the bath.”

Bokuto only laughed at this, Kenma rolling his eyes as he pulled on his shirt.

“Oh, and you all are free to stay the night. The couch pulls out and the guest bedroom is just down the hall,” he called out over his shoulder, brushing past Akaashi as he entered the bathroom.

Once the other men had sauntered off to do their own things, Kuroo locked the bedroom door and saw how peaceful his girlfriend looked surrounded by bubbles and the scent of lavender. He carefully stepped into the tub, pulling her into his lap as the warm water sloshed lightly around them.

“How you holding up, (Nickname)?” he said softly, carefully massaging some shampoo into her hair, “You feeling alright?”

“I feel like I should be the one doing this for you,” she giggled, leaning back into him.

“Oh, no no no. You’ve done enough for me tonight. Thank you, by the way. For riding along with my crazy idea,” Kuroo replied while scooping some water onto her head, “Here, tilt your head back for me.”

She obliged, him rinsing out the shampoo before gently running his fingers through her hair with some conditioner. Sighing in content, she turned her head to the side to give gentle kisses along his jaw.

“Now, if you keep doing that, I’m really gonna plow you into the tub.”

“Testurou!” she mumbled against his neck, laughing, “Just let me love on you a bit, just right now.”

(Name) turned her body around in the water, her lips finding Kuroo’s.

“I love you, baby,” she mumbled against his lips, smiling.

“I love you too, kitten,” he mumbled back, squeezing her gently, “But, since it’s my birthday can you give me one more present?”

“What is it, love?”

“Can I please actually plow you into the bath?”

“Fiiine,” she laughed gently, entangling her hand in the back of his wet hair, “Just be gentle, okay? My ass really hurts.”

“Damn Bokuto, told the guy to be gentle or I’d bite his dick.”

“You’d what?!” she exclaimed, widening her eyes.

“Nothing.”

Before she could reply, he silenced her with a kiss, and soon enough, they were making sweet love in the tub.

[leah-halliwell92]

Romanian Rhapsody

Summary: Almost two years before Dracula awakens, Dr. May Van Helsing is abroad gathering her own information on the legendary vampire. Years have passed since Jonathan Harker’s visit to what should be the ruins of Castle Dracula. Years since the village people have spoken or even warned anyone away from it. What will May find the deeper she digs into the Count’s home?

Previously: 

May shrugged not knowing what to think, “I don’t know and right now I don’t have time to worry I’ve to undo what she and her team have done to my domain.”

Sam and Raven shared a look but understood where she’s coming from so let her be. It had been two years so there are things that need to be put to rights.

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4

Chapter 5

A couple of days later, May found herself breathing a sigh of relief as she slumped backwards on her chair. Because she’d finally managed to get all the records and files in order, the physical files were all in their respective homes, the more sensitive ones have been put back in their locked cabinet, for these she made a note to change the locks and keep the spare key close. 

Raven and Sam had been running themselves ragged along with her when it came to not only organizing the archives room but also the area in general. Just as lunch rolled around, Sam and Raven walked in take away bags in hand. 

“I know you don’t condone eating real food in here but I’m in no mood to deal with the likes of one Dr. Jack Seward today,” Sam said as she took a seat in one of the spare chairs in May’s office.

“What did he do this time?” May asked as she picked up the containers that were respectively filled with wonton soup, white rice, stir fried vegetables and Mongolian beef. Luckily the trio likes the same Chinese food, sharing between them is no issue.

“You know that girl from accounting?” Sam asked with a hum. 

Raven and May nodded at this as they began to eat. 

“The little bugger decided to bad mouth me in front of her and now she refuses to go out with me,” Sam seethed as she too served herself a plate. 

The trio sighed heavily at this. 

Jack seemed to make it his life mission to drive them mad whenever they don’t do as he orders them to. He had Zoe around his finger, Bloxham is cow that has her own agenda, and the rest of the foundation bar a select few follow his lead as if it were the most natural thing in the world all because of what she and her friends do for and in the foundation. 

“Why the hell did I decide it was a good idea to have a crush on him?” May groaned. 

“Because at first glance he is smart, looks to be sensitive, is cute and so happens to work where you work,” Sam listed off nonchalantly. 

Raven nodded agreeing with Sam’s list before saying, “And then he let his colors show, saw an in to the archives through the crush you have for him and abused that thinking he could get away with it.”

“Which lead to me leaving for two years to move my delusional ass on from this pointless crush,” May said with a shake of her head at her own naivety. 

“Don’t,” Sam said voice firm.

“What,” May said with brows raised. 

“It’s not naive to hope,” Sam said still firm, “It’s not naive to want to have something good in your life and it’s not naive to hope to find it where you work...i.e where you spend most of your time as it is.”

May nodded numbly taking in what her friend had said. Sam’s right, to be naive is one thing and to be hopeful is another, it irked her some to see she still needed to learn the difference between the two. 

The trio continued to eat in silence enjoying the when Raven groaned nearly spilling her food as she did. 

“What?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Did you both forget what today is?” Raven asked incredulously. 

May and Sam exchanged puzzled look the latter giving their friend a shrug. 

“Its Valentines Day weekend,” she said still shocked that she’d forgotten. 

May groaned loudly as Sam looked like she at the canary. 

“Zoe’s probably not going to be here for too long,” Sam said knowingly. 

“The foundation will pretty much be empty bar the stupidly thin skeleton crew,” May added with a nod.

“And I need to get Eva something,” Raven said with a sigh. 

“Hey do you still have that coupon I gave you for that place down the street from me?” Sam asked as if she’d gotten the best idea of the year. 

Raven nodded with a blush.

“Let’s go and see what they have then,” she said with a wiggle of her brows, “You’ve been whining about not having a proper toy to have with your wife for ages. Maybe it’s time for that dream to come true.”

May laughed at the look on Raven’s face and said, “Come on Rae, you know she’s right.”

Raven huffed a laugh and nodded along with her friends. 

The day progressed with a buzz that hadn’t been there before for May. It now carried with it an energy she wished she could ignore. Alas, she’d do as she’d always done and keep moving forward. 

She was on her last break of the day when Sam sent her a text that both Jack and Zoe had been to the archive and taken with them a couple of files each to the cage floor. A welcomed and appreciated heads up from Sam May had to say. That’s how the dance went between Zoe, Jack and her. Avoidance is the best factor, or so they have said. 

She went to her office her break no over to see which files were missing. She rolled here eyes at the selection and wrote them down on a sticky note to take up with her when it was her turn to grind the midnight oil. May didn’t like working nights, she hated it, but it beat seeing the lust sick fools on the streets trying to flirt their way into her bed. No matter how many times Sam has sad a one night stand is not bad idea depending on one’s mood. 

May spend the rest of the afternoon compiling the pieces she’d gathered from her study of Castle Dracula to be added to the already existing file originally put together from what the late Mr. Harker had told the nuns at the monastery. She’d found she had to correct somethings here and there but most of the stuff already on file fit the information she’d gathered. She’d thought about giving Zoe their great-grandmother’s notes and diaries but decided against it. Because as much as she wanted to blame her death on Dracula, she felt there was more to this than what they’d been led to believe. 

Jack had been down here and there trying to charm files out of her. Having had enough she’d rejected his advances and demanded he go through the proper channels to gain access to the files he was requesting. The pinched look on his face told her enough. But like hell would she be cowed because he didn’t like it when people told him no. 

“Don’t you need a slice of humble pie,” Sam said as she sauntered in looking more than ready to leave the foundation for the night, “Zoe sent me to tell you she’s looking for you.”

Jack seemed to have an uncanny resemblance to Percy Weasley with how he glared at Sam but did as bid and left.

“You sure you want to stay?” She asked May once Jack was out of earshot. 

May nodded and said, “Better here than out there. Stupid prick wants to use my crush for him to get what he wants when Lucy is doing just that.”

“Except unlike Lucy, you won’t spread your legs for just anyone,” Sam said knowingly. 

May grinned at that and nodded. 

“Seriously though, are you sure? I could cancel and we can have a night laughing at violent slasher movies?” Sam said worried for her best friend. 

“Don’t worry about me Sam,” May reassured, “Better here where there is quiet than out there. Plus if Zoe needs me I’ll already be here so I won't have her nagging about not doing my work.”

Sam nodded not convinced but let things be. She bid May good night and made her way to the elevator to head home. She saw Zoe and Jack talking quietly to each other on her way out. 

“She needs to do as she is ordered,” she heard Jack say derogatorily, “She’s a pencil pusher there to give us the files we need and put them back.”

“She’s more than that Jack–”

“No Zoe don't give me that,” he snapped, “You don't even believe that yourself and you know it. She’s nothing but a glorified secretary.”

Sam stopped at that and turned to face the couple. 

Zoe caught the heated look Sam was sending them and at least had the decency to look ashamed. 

“She’s your sister,” Sam said voice ice cold, “You’re supposed to defender against pricks like this like she's done for you on so many other occasions. Do you really doubt her so much that you’d fail her in this manner?”

Zoe paled at this knowing Sam is right before finding a certain spot on her shoes very interesting all of the sudden. 

“And you,” she said looking to a now nervous Jack, “What’s the matter? Can’t have the one you want so you bully the one that’s had it for you since we began working here? How much more cowardly can you get?”

Turning back to Zoe she said, “You know it’s times like this when I realize that even Ted Bundy would have been a good bloke to date for your sister compared to this clown, good night.”

00//00//00

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[guksauce]

~TickledPink!~

Part Three

Pairing: Jjk x Reader Pregnant AU

Word Count: 2,641K

Rated: M

Book Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mild Smut, Adult Language, Fluff City.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: Thank you to those that give this story and myself love 💖 This one was for Taehyung, getting to spread his wings and be the little artist he is!

Tag List: @jamkookies @jk97luv @1-in-abillion

All you know is whoever just threw open your curtains is in direct line of facing your wrath. Early, dramatically slanted, morning rays flood Jimin’s bedroom and your cracked eyes catch the way dust particles fall like glitter to the ground. The idea of waking up and having to leave this bed after Jimin had changed all the linen to clean sets last night, felt like a crime. His generosity spree came back to you in vivid colors; vibrant pink tufts of hair, borrowed fluffy white Chanel sweaters, smiling crescent eyes, and smoky white curled wisps of hot latte steam. Exchanging old stories about each other’s parents and home life from days gone by helped you to almost completely forget the argument you’d witnessed. The argument you’d caused. Jimin had begged you to not let it bother you so much and had shown you nothing but genuine friendship and support, that of which you would forever remain in his debt for doing so. But you would never fully forgive yourself for making a rift.

You couldn’t even be mad at the curtain culprit, especially not when his face was all the best parts of happiness embodied. Childishly puffed cheeks under smoldering taupe eyes, and heart shaped lips curved into a smile so unimaginably warm. He exuded a coziness so genuine it was impossible to feel anything but whimsical.

“Good morning Y/n-ssi.” Protests to even being talked to yet leave your throat in gargled groans as you cover your eyes, providing some relief from the sunlight.

“Good morning Taehyung-ah. What time is it?” Not that it matters, it’s obviously too early to care about times or anything for that matter. Tae’s mood is high above you, raining down in feathery words and soft chuckles. You feel bad for not being more of a morning person so that you could enjoy being rained on by Tae while being warmed by the sun, but he doesn’t seem to mind the groggy attitude you wear as he waltzes to the door.

“It’s 11am. I was going to let you sleep in longer, but I’ve been working on a surprise for you that I would really love for you to see.” Long strides leave behind the potent but endearing scent of fresh paint. It mixes with a familiar cologne and you decide that this is probably what Tae smells like all the time; art.

“A surprise for me? But why?” Before you can question it further, he’s taking your hand and pulling you from your heap of warm blankets and leading you out of the comfort of Jimin’s bedroom. It was the first time you’d been outside of his room since last night amidst the chaos and youd be lying if you said the air outside of the room felt sticky with remnants of tension. You squeeze Tae’s hand as you scan the halls and nearby rooms with wide eyes in fear of being seen by one of the other members.

“They’re gone. They went out shopping for the day, so you can relax.” The gesture isn’t a lot, but the way Tae slows his steps to fall in line with you and gives your hand a much needed reassuring squeeze back, keeps you from gulping for air when you think you might just break down in the middle of the hallway. “Ok! This is where you have to cover your eyes.” You do as you’re told and cover your face with your hands. Tae makes a sound of approval just before you spread your fingers enough to peek through.

“No, no, no! No peeking.” He laughs and uses his own hand to double cover your eyes. The sound of a handle turning is heard, as well as his voice behind you guiding you to the surprise. The smell of paint becomes more pungent as it fills your nostrils, along with a gust of cold morning air through an open window. There’s a dull ache in your head but its worth it when Tae uncovers your eyes and lets out a small “Tada!”

Together you stand in an empty room. Except it doesn’t feel so empty. Instead its full. Very full. Of what, you’re uncertain but you can feel that it holds something powerful. It reminds you of the feeling Jungkook and Jimin described last night; pure elation, as though you aren’t the only two standing in this room.

“Taehyung…You did all of this?” In this room stands tall walls similar to that of Jimin’s room except all of these walls are a beautiful lavender purple. Despite the overwhelming aroma of paint, somehow it morphs into fields of tall stalks of tiny purple flowers and the autumn winds turn into balmy summer breezes carrying tiny white dandelion seeds.

“Yup! We wanted to make sure you had a space of your own and I got to thinking last night that it would be fun to customize it for you.” Crisp white trim kept the room bright and the purple filtered out any harshness that an all-white room would have. It was comforting and calm and Zen.

“You really didn’t have to do this Tae. This is too much.” You say shaking your head as you take one last look around.

“Ah, what’s a little paint? It took no time at all and it wasn’t hard.” Taehyung watches you closely as you look around. He sees the moment your features change from awe to guilt; smiling eyes pointed up to the sky fall to your cheeks and a wide grin droops to pouting lips that you try to hide by walking to the window. He seizes the opportunity. “Damn it, I missed a spot.” He says through a full smile when you turn around. Taking in his appearance, you finally see the hard work built up on his clothes. His white shirt is forever stained with purple paint where he’d spattered it everywhere from the roller, and his black sweatpants artfully ruined with full on handprints in both purple and white.

When he holds out a paintbrush to you and the smile returns to your face, he hopes you wont mind being covered as well.

“You know, as wonderful as this is, I don’t know if ill be staying here. I don’t want to ruin Yoongi and Namjoon’s relationship any more than I already have.” You take the brush from Tae’s hand and stare at the bristle’s already muddied with wet lavender paint.

“I think you should stay. Just because Yoongi was mad doesn’t mean you are disliked.” Tae says softly and you nod. Turning to the wall, you dip your brush into the paint and smearing it onto the surface in patterns that look like the thoughts swimming in your mind. There should probably be a pattern. Up, down. Up, down. Or side to side even but you fill the white spaces with swirls and circles. Tae pauses and almost protests but tilts his head to the side as he considers this a window into how you see the world. He joins you with a lop-sided smile on his lips, trying his best to blend his designs with yours.

“This rooms been empty forever. I’m glad you’re filling it. And from what I heard from Jungkook and Jimin this morning, for more reasons than why you were brought here, they are too.” Out of the corner of your eyes you can see the way Tae turns his head to see your reaction to his words and you can’t help but smile.

“I feel like…I’ve tainted this place.” You admit and he bathes in those words, soaking up whatever meaning he found in them.

“Any family of Namjoon’s, is family of ours.” He says firmly, pausing to choose his next words very carefully. “It’s been just us for so long…I think for all of us its hard to imagine there being anyone else. But really its nice.” Tae peeks again in your direction to gauge your reaction. Your smile is thin and small but it’s there and that’s all he needs to push forward. “Sometimes we forget why we do what we do. Becoming more of an image for others has really blended in with the fame, you know? Sometimes things start to merge, and we get caught up in the work of it all and forget to remember where the power comes from. It comes from our connection with people. With our fans. With our family. With you. I think you coming into our lives has reminded us just how fortunate we are to be where we are and who we are and how we are together.” At this point, Taehyung has lost himself in his self-realization and his words get quieter as he begins to talk more to himself and less to you.

It continues this way while you each fill in the blank space on the wall, talking nonstop to each other. Mostly its Taehyung. His easy-going attitude and free-spirited aura breaks your wall of nerves. He tells you everything from his life on the farm with his parents, to his beginnings with the guys and how fond he’s grown of them over the years. His story is long and really you don’t mind listening because it’s amazing he’s even come this far in such a short amount of time. Your proud of him because really, it’s a lot and you can’t imagine having to cope with all of this fame and fortune and recognition at such a young age.

It makes you admire him a little more as you watch him fill in the last strip of white paint with the purple color, he picked out for you. For you…

“Thank you.” It’s cold on the floor where you’ve made a small nest in the protective sheet covering the floor. The paintbrush in your hand feels heavy and your limbs feel like they might fall off if you raise them above your head again. In hindsight you probably should have let Tae take care of the top half and you the bottom half but being next to each other seemed to work better for conversation.

“It was really no trouble Y/n. It was fun. Its been a long time since I’ve had another person to talk to. Don’t get me wrong,” He starts, wiping his hands on his shirt leaving streaks where more droplets fell onto the fabric, and turns to you on the floor. “I love my brothers. Their great and talking to them is always…well…great. But talking to you about my journey has been really new and refreshing.” Kneeling to you he smiles a thousand-watt smile that all but blinds you. “So, thank YOU for reminding me of who I am and who I’ve become.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” You see his smile and raise him a bigger one followed by a much-needed hug. “If anything, you’ve only given us a new layer of glue. It was a test of our friendship and it survived. Sometimes we aren’t so sure we belong together but its moments like this where we feel like we can. Like we Will.” His embrace is warm and welcoming and you’re sad you hadn’t gotten to know him a lot sooner. Curse Namjoon for being so-

“Taehyungie! We’re home!” Down the hall the lock on the door clicks and the handle creeks slowly. Jimin’s voice is the first to echo the walls of the apartment.

“Can you come help us carry in groceries!” Hoseok asks, the sound of his shoes squeaking on the hardwood floors of the foyer. Everything in your body begs you to run, the muscles in your legs clenching as you try to tug away from Tae’s embrace.

“Don’t run, Y/n. You don’t have to run.” Tae doesn’t know what’s happened to you, so he doesn’t realize the way he’s triggered you by holding you in place until you’ve frozen in his arms.

“I just...I have to get some things from Jimin’s room. I forgot to clean up some stuff and…and.” Footsteps approach your purple room and though being clung to makes your heart beat wildly in your chest, you hold Tae tighter the closer they get.

“Taehyung have you seen Y/n? She’s not in Ji-oh.” You let out a deep breath when you connect the voice with the face that appears in the doorway to your new room. It’s much brighter than the first time you’d seen it. In fact, Jungkook was glowing. He didn’t look plagued with sleepiness or twisted with anger at Yoongi. Instead he was fresh and glowing and…beyond handsome. Gently you step away from Taehyungs hug and wave awkwardly.

“Hey.” You say.

“Hey.” He responds, an adorable smile pulling at his lips. The way the sunlight pours in from the window behind you, it catches strands of his long hair and turns them to warm melting chocolate.

“I was just thanking Tae for painting this room for me. It’s my favorite color.” You smile fondly at Taehyung who bows formally like the little prince he is and turn back to Jungkook. He nods and takes another look around with his hands folded behind his back.

“It’s pretty. He did a good job.” He states, taking a step closer to you. The smile lingering on his face melts you into a puddle as you observe him. For a second you feel bad for leaving Tae standing alone in the corner of your room while you gawk at Jungkook, but he’s content with admiring his work. “And I see you helped.” Kook chuckles as he reaches up before he realizes what he’s doing and wipes your chin, revealing a purple smudge on the pad of his thumb when he pulls away. The gesture is harmless to everything but your heart. You flush immediately and laugh as you rush to start pulling up sheets from the floor.

“I did! It was really fun. Tae and I had a great time. He told me all about his family and how he met all of you and-. “

“What’s this?” The voice that fills the room isn’t smoldering like Tae’s or lifting like Jungkook’s. Instead its deep and layered with mild disappointment.

“I painted Y/n’s room so she will be more comfortable here.” Taehyung says with no signs of wavering as he moves closer to you. His voice doesn’t shake like your knees do.

“Mm.” Unable to read Yoongi’s emotion, you stay glued to your spot in the far corner of the room as his eyes scan the room before settling on the sheets in your arms. “Ill take those.”

“Um…I can take them…” Momentarily you’re surprised that he would even offer to take the sheets. Why would he want to help you after the unintentional tear you’ve made? No. Don’t. Tae said you…you’re the glue.

“I’m doing laundry tonight so I should just wash them.” This time when he holds his hands out in your direction, its no longer a question. He’s taking the sheets. You rush across the room, scooping up the last sheet on your way and keep your focus on the ground beneath you as you hand them over. He doesn’t tug them away from you like you expect him to. Neither does he make any sounds or signs of protest or disgust and really you feel like begging him to punch you square in the face for the trouble you’ve caused. Stop! Tae said you’re family.

“Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes.” Yoongi says no more and no less and it’s a blessing. A blessing because this is normal for him and normal is better than yelling at Namjoon or cursing at Jungkook. You consider this a win and bow softly as Yoongi departs, leaving the feeling of your new purple room in the same condition it was before; happy.

Part Two

Master List

Part Four