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undead-supernova · 5 months

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Boring! / Masterlist

(part two here)

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: despite being intimidated by your confidence, Eddie decides to try and talk to you (and it pays off)

warnings: drinking, men acting weird, reader being sure of herself and extroverted, Eddie being a little subby 'cause he's a cutie pie, making out, no smut

wc: 2.4k

inspo: this last week I have become obsessed with Lil Mariko's music, specifically Don't Touch, Boring, I'm Baby, Hi, I'm a Slut, etc. I was inspired by her attitude and her sound to create a reader that I don't ever see but want! I include some of her lyrics in here as dialogue so go check her out and support her thanks!

(can you tell I'm a slut for girlypop trap metal/screamo? also wow I love this so much)

Eddie was a sucker for going to parties alone.

It wasn’t like he tried to, but considering all his other friends ended up at other colleges, Eddie felt compelled to at least try to meet people. But it was for naught, just a bout of self-sabotage and eye rolls at himself. He would end up sitting by himself on a beer-stained couch, drink in one hand and a joint in another. Bitterly filling the house with smoke. And, Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even spoken to anyone.

But then…well…

“Wow, what a sad bitch. Too bad money can’t buy you a personality. I’d buy one for you, but I won’t. You’re just so fucking lame.”

You threw a drink in some guy’s face, laughing hysterically as you watched him practically growl in anger. With a hand on your hip, sharp nails grazing a short silk dress, you looked like a wild lioness in an arena. Like you were ready to take a bite out of this dude and revel in his blood. Chew on his pound of flesh.

“Slut!” he shouted.

“Awh, thank you!” you exclaimed, your grin almost maniacal. Glossed lips somehow glimmering in the dim lighting. “Too bad you have to fucking grope women in order to get one to notice you.” Another laugh left your lips. “I should get a goddamn restraining order on you, shitdick.”

It was in that moment that Eddie fell in love with you.

Well, okay, he didn’t actually fall in love with you. But, god, he knew he could.

You were just so sure of yourself, always in control of the situation at hand. A dominating presence that commanded whatever room you were in. It was this magnetism that drew him to you, never leaving his sight whenever you showed up.

No matter how many times he had a knee jerk reaction to get involved when men wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves, you were always one step ahead. He’d watched you slap someone, kick them in the shins, in the balls, and even landed a nice right hook. All in your short dresses and six-inch heels. All sparkly and put together.

It made him weak, utterly susceptible to whatever it is that made you so alluring. This feminine rage, this disdain at the idea that women couldn’t be impolite. You let it be known that that was far from your mind. It wasn’t even defiance—it was just you.

And no matter the genre, you were moving and laughing with your friends. Practically gassing each other up as you grinded on one another. Eddie would take another six puffs of his joint, trying to let the smoke billow enough that he wouldn’t keep checking you out. But it was to no avail.

It was this itch in his brain, something only you could scratch. And he didn’t even know your name. No knowledge of your major or your preferences or whether you’d think he was as pretty as he found you to be. He thought it would always be this way.

Until Eddie thought that enough was enough. It was another Saturday party that you’d shown up to. He was back on that couch, back in that uncomfortable, stuffy attitude. You were standing around with your friends, finishing off a red solo cup and reapplying lip gloss over your lipstick. Carefully, methodically.

It was a crime and he knew he needed to commit one himself before he’d regret it.

“Fuck it,” Eddie muttered, pushing himself off of the couch and heading towards you. Smoothed out his hair, checked to make sure he still smelled good. Made sure his rings were straightened.

It felt like some kind of fate, the way your friends moved over to refill their cups as he approached. How prophetic, being able to get your attention with just a turn of your head. Put your hands on your hips.

“Uh, hi,” he started, immediately resisting the urge to wince at his awkwardness. Where the hell was his game? Did it run away because it was you?

You tilted your head, looking him up and down before smiling. Smiling. “Hi, there.”

“I’m Eddie.”

You giggled, looking slightly confused as you gave him yours. But in the smile that came after, he could tell you were amused.

“Hi, Eddie,” you said after your introduction. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Well,” he started, trying to formulate a sentence. “I’ve seen you around and I thought you seemed cool.”

“Oh, yeah?” you egged on, raising an eyebrow.

He silently nodded.

“I like your tattoos,” you complimented, still grazing his body with your eyes, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. Eddie felt so exposed, so vulnerable to your gaze, nearly desperate for you to look him in the eye again. It would be easier than whatever you were starting to do to him.

But instead, you touched his left forearm arm and he froze. Literally froze.

“What’s this one all about?” you asked, tapping it with your pointer finger. Goosebumps flooded his arm as you traced it with the digit, your nail scratching at his skin. It was the most recent addition, a fiery red dragon with spurts of fire flicking off the sides and a black D20 wrapped inside its tail.

“Uh,” he started, blinking a few times as he tried to regain his composure. “I got it a few weeks ago. It’s, uh, a D&D thing?”

He didn’t mean for it to come out like a question but, to be honest, if you kept touching him like that, he was really going to embarrass himself. Well, not him. His dick. How pathetic.

Your eyebrows lifted again. “D&D?”

“Yeah, Dungeons & Dragons.”

“You know, I’ve heard of that,” you said with a small smile, removing your fingers before crossing your arms over your chest. Leaned back, sized him up. “But you should tell me more about it.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah, really,” you replied with a chuckle. “Tell me about this thing it’s holding. What is that?”

“Well, it’s called a D-Twenty. It’s a dice that has twenty sides and, like, when you roll it, you get any number between one and twenty. It’s one of those things where the dice have rules and if you get below a fourteen, you’re destined to fail but if you go above a fourteen, you’re more likely to succeed. But then if you get a one then it’s called, uh, a critical failure. Automatic fail, you know? But if you get a twenty—”

“Hold on,” you said, holding up your hand as you glanced behind him. “Give me a minute.”

Eddie watched you walk past him, frozen in place. He’d really lost his chance, hadn’t he? He should’ve known better than to let himself actually talk about D&D. It was stupid! Absolutely pointless! A girl like you would never want to listen to someone blabber about a fucking fantasy game.

He should’ve known better.

The sound of your heels felt deafening as you stalked up to a guy and snapped your fingers in his face. "You've been staring at me for, like, a fucking hour. Can I help you?” The guy just stared. “Like, what's your problem? If you get near me, if you try to touch me? I swear to god, shitdick, I will take my Louboutins and castrate you."

Blubbering like a goddamn fish, the dude scratched at his head, clearly trying to come up with some kind of retort. “Hey, don’t fucking say shit to me when you’re putting it all out there for free. You expect guys to not wanna fuck you when your ass is out?”

Eddie’s fists clenched, ready to throw a punch before you had him beat.

“Yawn,” you moaned, dramatically stretching your arms out like you were getting ready for bed. “Can you shut the fuck up? I’m falling asleep listening to you. You’re so fucking boring.”

He stopped talking. The douche bag actually stopped, opting to stare at you with wide eyes as you absolutely annihilated him.

“You’re just talking to yourself at this point. Like, seriously, you’re fucking boring. Don’t talk to me."

That was when Eddie turned away, reasoning with himself that he lost your interest. He was just gonna be next, another weirdo that didn’t deserve your time. And, to be fair, he’d get it. Hell, he’d leave you the fuck alone forever if you said so. But he still had a grip on his pride, tucking his tail and ready to flee.

Eddie nearly gasped as he felt a pull on one of his belt loops, unable to process in time when you tugged him back towards you, face dangerously close to his. Your eyes tracing the lines of his lips as he struggled to breathe.

"Excuse me?” you nearly whispered. “Where do you think you're going? I didn't say you were boring, did I?"

“Ah,” he breathed, his heart racing as your grip tightened on his jeans. “N-no, I guess not.”

That earned a smile from you. “Exactly,” you said, louder this time. “Keep talking, pretty boy.”

As Eddie kept explaining the dice, you took his hand, holding it over your shoulder as you guided him back over to that couch he had been sulking on. Not once did he stop rambling, feeling compelled as you gave him little “mhm”s and “oh, yeah?”s that sounded like goddamn moans.

Nearly pushed him down to the cushion, crossing your legs as you actively listened. Actively listened.

Only interrupting when you lightly touched his long locks and asked, “Is this okay?”

And he nodded, stunned at you asking for his permission. Then you were telling him to keep going. With your pretty fingers wrapping around one of his curls, eyes nearly starry as he went along.

God, where did you come from? And how could he ever be the same?

“You’re so cool,” you said when he’d finally decided to shut up. “Really smart.”

“Nah,” he scoffed, trying to keep the heat from rushing to his cheeks. “I just have, like, specific interests.”

“That you know everything about,” you pointed out, pressing your pointer finger to his cheek. “I don’t think I could memorize all of that.”

“Well, what do you like?” he asked, now feeling more sure of himself.

You chuckled. “Is this when you ask me what my major is?”

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes, all too aware of the stereotypical conversation starter. And to quote you earlier: Yawn.

“How many guys have tried that?” he wondered. “And how many did you kick in the face?”

That earned a grin from you, something all proud and appreciative. Like he cracked some goddamn code.

“Too many to count,” you responded, shaking your head. “But because I think you’re sweet, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m undecided. I think I could look into art history or literary analysis. I just want to make the right choice before I commit to it.”

Eddie nodded, feeling electricity begin to sparkle in his chest as you went into detail about your favorite female artists and poets, how you’d spent the last few months becoming obsessed with analysis. How you pictured it as a web of tangled strings that you meticulously unraveled.

And the more you talked, the more he yearned for you to keep going. Keep filling his head with your thoughts and ideas.

Then you said the one thing that brought him to nirvana.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” he answered immediately.

And then your lips were on his.

And it was a magical experience to have your lipstick flood his mouth, growing feverish as the flavor faded and he could now only taste you.

Now, Eddie didn’t consider himself to be submissive, per se. But he certainly had no problem letting you lead the way, wrapping his curls in your fingers, your nails, and tugging him wherever you wanted. Gnashing teeth, the little moan that escaped your mouth as your tongue curled around his.

And if his boner hadn’t been visible before, he knew damn well it was now, especially when your other hand met the back of his neck, your nails painstakingly slow as they scraped down to his shoulders. A whine left his lips, all shaky and high-pitched. A fucking whine in the middle of some party at some loser’s house.

But it only drove you further, biting his lips and whispering, “That’s a good boy, hm?”

He gasped. And as if you knew the embarrassment was starting to pool in his stomach, you threw your leg over his waist and returned the noise. Moved your lips to his jaw and raked your teeth over his neck.

And when Eddie had enough strength to open his eyes, he nearly groaned again at your exposed thigh, dress rising up over the curl of your ass. But Eddie felt nervous to touch you, felt nervous to let himself indulge. Not when you hadn’t given permission.

You weren’t delicate, he knew this. A woman with the power and grace of royalty, waltzing around parties with all that intelligence; all that bark that also bites.

He wanted you to be his.

Putting his hand on your shoulder, you backed away. Stared up at him through your eyelashes, lipstick smothered around your mouth.

“I, um, I know, like, you may want to go somewhere, but,” Eddie began to stutter, trying to get the blood away from his cock. Focus, focus. “I’d rather take you out on a date first.”

And that’s when he saw you grin. It wasn’t all dominant and flirty. No, it was something genuine, all bashful with your shoulders turning inward. Was he…did his words leave you shy?

“You want to take me out on a date?” you asked.

“Of course I do. I’ve wanted to for a while now.”

“Um, I’d really like that,” you said with a nod. “Keep telling me about that game, though,” you demanded lightly, taking your thumb and attempting to wipe your lipstick from his mouth. He started to try and return the gesture, causing you to giggle. “‘Cause I have some very important questions.”

The rest of the night and early morning was spent spilling knowledge into one another, always listening. Always finding each other’s lips again, quiet whispers of Is this okay? and You taste really nice and Would you keep talking?

When the night ended and he drove you back to your dorm, you made a promise of dinner and a trip around a museum. Made him promise you three times before he gave you a wink and a chuckle.

And it sounded damn near crazy, but maybe Eddie really was in love.

thank you for the lovely divider @strangergraphics :')

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson/reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson/you #Eddie x you #Eddie x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #one of my favs I've written!!!!

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starwrighter · 8 months

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Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

#dpxdc #deadserious #dp x dc fanfic #the boi's are getting along so well

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heartelysia · 8 months

Text

busy thinking of...

toxic ex! gojo who only broke up with you because he needed to move on! at least he thought he did until you did move on without him, leaving him in the dust. he tries his best to forget about you! he really does, sinking his head into his palms the same way hes sinking his cock into the girl below him. but nothing feels good, nothing can make the aching emptiness in his chest go away, not if its not you.

god he didnt even notice how intoxicated he was with you until you left. you were everything he needed to fucking survive and you just up and left like your three year long relationship was nothing? toxic ex! gojo who will do anything for you back, buying a cup of overpriced coffee at your regular place just to bump heads with you every single day, buying you random flowers and leaving them in your break room of your workplace, texting you non stop even when you blocked most of his accounts.

toxic ex! gojo whos anger boils in the pit of his stomach when you rejected all of his advances, blaming you for all wrongdoings because this would've never happened if you loved him more! he would've mever broken up with you, he wouldnt have to go to the earths ledge for a tiny spark in your 'relationship', he would never have to end up with a fucking restraining order.

hes mad. hes mad that you moved on, hes angry that you left him without begging to stay together, hes furious that your life isn't in shambles. toxic ex! gojo needs you dependant on him, he cant just have you wandering off to another person so easily next time. so he does what any sane person does and stalks you from a distance until the restraining order expires, watching your life unfold in his hollow blue eyes.

dear lord knows how many things toxic ex! gojo has done to try and forget you but nothing seemed to work! from getting into multiple relationships, getting a brand new job in an area he has no experience in to travelling the world, yet everything he did seemed to remind him of your sweet smile.

as any other human being would do, as soon as the document hits its end, he shreds it up and makes his way to your home. you seemed too happy, forgetting about your ex entirely, getting random flings, meeting some new dude called toji, going on dates with said man. toxic ex! gojo couldnt allow that, you were his. you were his property even if you didnt know it and gojo didnt like sharing his property with others.

toxic ex! gojo who couldnt help but notice how many of your flings resembled him, personality or appearance wise, there was always something similar to your ex. that was until toji came into the picture, he was nothing like gojo and your ex felt his veins bulge in irritation. he was your first everything - from hand holding, kissing, picnic dates to sex - so you should still be with him!

he needed you back, he needed you to crawl back to him and plead for forgiveness but that never came. toxic ex! gojo who would break into your apartment when youre on dates with the new man, scoffing when he realizes you still left a spare copy of the keys behind the painting hanging above your door. god you were so easy. when hes inside your apartment, hes hit with the fattest wave of nostalgia.

he instantly heads into your shabby room that gojo stayed in whenever, inhaling the scent of your sweetness like it was an addictive drug. he swears theres a hint of his musk but it might just be someone elses considering its been two years. toxic ex! gojo didnt like that. he fucking hated that idea.

maybe thats how he ended up here, his voice whiny and airy as he desperately humps your pillow as he shoves his nose into the area where it covered your cunt. his poor cock was aching, his tip a burning red colour as the veins running down his thick cock throbbed each time he took a whiff of your panties. god he was so needy, after months of being unable to reach a satisfactory climax, just the feeling of rutting his hips into your pillow that you used daily made precum dribble out of his cock in buckets.

whilst youre happily on the date with toji, gojo is busy having seconds by staining any and all surface in his cum discreetly. he thinks hes never came this much just from masturbating, his balls wrung dry to the core just by the memory of your sweet cunt sloppily making a mess all over his balls and pelvis.

but when the front door of your apartment creaks open, gojo freezes, unable to hide the initial shock on his face. why were your sobs filling the silence?

part 2

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wqnwoos · 11 months

Text

“oh my god, i’ve literally been looking for you everywhere!”

your sentence wouldn’t come as a surprise to minghao if he actually knew who you were. but one look at you, beaming at him under the dim bar lights, tells him everything: he’s never seen you in his life.

and somehow, you seem to be convinced that the two of you are best of friends. you’re sliding onto the empty bar stool next to him — not too close, not enough to make him uncomfortable, but close enough to make it seem like you guys are here together. and you’re not. because he came with jun and dino and soonyoung, who are currently in the midst of the crowded dance floor.

slowly, after one long look — just to be sure — minghao speaks. “i’m sorry,” he says, finally. “do i know you?”

you don’t even answer the question, you just start laughing: clearly, you’re absolutely wasted. “don’t be silly,” you giggle, and it’s kind of the best sound minghao’s ever heard, but that really isn’t his priority right now.

you wave the bartender over before he can stop you. “hiiii,” you sing, to the slightly bemused dude behind the counter. “can i get — ”

“water,” minghao chips in quickly, casting a concerned eye over your swaying body. “get them some water, please.”

it doesn’t take long, and yet in the short space of time, your energy completely fades. one second you’re bobbing your head to the thumping bass; the next second, your eyes are drooping, and you look moments away from slumping over the counter in exhaustion.

“are you good?” minghao says, sudden alarm seeping into his voice; he does not want to be responsible for someone passing out, and so he twists open the water bottle, handing it to you and watching dubiously as you gulp it down.

“did you know,” you announce, once you’ve finished, “that cows have best friends?”

(minghao doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it really wasn’t that.)

still, he can’t help the amusement that exudes from his voice. “oh, yeah?”

“yes!” you say, with sudden, renewed enthusiasm. “someone told me they feel sad when their best friends aren’t around, too. isn’t that just cool?”

“sure,” he humours you, partly because your excitement about this is kind of sweet, and partly because he’s glancing around the bar to see if anyone’s looking for you. “hey, did you come here alone?”

you wave a vague hand to your right. “i think karina and jaehyun are over there. somewhere.”

your indifference is both entertaining and a little concerning. “okay, can i call one of them for you?”

you pout — you actually pout. “i haven’t told you about the seahorses yet!”

and minghao doesn’t know whether to laugh or not, because this is one of the strangest predicaments he’s ever been put in, but there’s something about you — he can’t put his finger on it. he just knows that you look gorgeous, even drunk under shitty lighting, and something that feels suspiciously like butterflies churns in his stomach when he looks at you.

but you still seem a little drunk, and so minghao orders you another water, opening the bottle for you again. he watched as you drink it down, idly wondering whether the sparkles in your eyes are from the alcohol, or if they’re always there. (he thinks he’d like to find out.)

you let him call karina then, and when she picks up (“oh my god, finally, ___, where have you been?”) minghao finally learns your name. he repeats it over and over inside his head; he’s going to remember this one.

“i guess you’re a little more sober,” he notices, a few moments after hanging up with your friend — he can tell, by the clarity dawning in those pretty eyes, and the embarrassed smile that takes over your face.

you drop your face into your hands, as though you’re recalling what you’ve said. “oh my god,” you groan into your palms, “i am — i am so sorry.”

he really can’t help the laugh that spills from his lips. even your embarrassment is endearing. “you’re fine,” he assures, trying to restrain his smile. “i had a great time, actually.”

your face is still twisted into a mortified grimace, and your words trip over each other, garbled in your flustered state. “i — i mean, thank you, but i really — oh my god.”

“i was thinking,” minghao says, waving your phone — it’s still in his hand. “you could tell me about those seahorses. over coffee, maybe.”

you look at him with wonder in your eyes — “i mean. are you sure?”

“i’m sure,” he replies, the smallest of smirks pulling at his lips, “if you are.”

you say yes, and minghao thinks he hasn’t smiled this wide for a while. and just as he’s finishing typing his number into your phone, a girl he can only assume is karina appears.

there are hurried goodbyes, and a quick promise from you to text him — which you clinch by linking your pinky with his, and that only seals it for him. it’s early, and maybe the few sips of alcohol have gone to his head, but he thinks something special is going to happen.

and when he hears your hushed, humiliated whisper as you leave (“rina, i told him about the cows.”), he thinks the something special has already happened, and it’s hit him out of nowhere. like a tornado. or a hurricane, or a comet, or you.

an / requested by anon and the prompt was SOOO cute i giggled reading it but i feel like i fucked it up writing it 😭 i rewrote it three times and it still doesn’t feel right GAHH

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

#minghao scenarios #minghao fluff #minghao comfort #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #minghao imagines #minghao x reader #minghao x you #minghao drabbles #minghao seventeen #minghao au

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yandereunsolved · 1 month

Text

Yandere Kai Anderson w/ a psychologist reader—why is a blue haired felon psychoanalyzing you?

ꨄ︎ You were first assigned to his case after he got into his third fistfight with inmates. They put him in solitary confinement and refused to let him out until he got a psych eval. He needed one anyway. You checked through his records, and half of it was missing. The guy was in for something about running a cult?

Whoever this dude was, he wasn't someone to be triffled with. Triffle you did. Soon enough, you were his favorite out of all the people in this joint. He'd threaten people just to get a chance at seeing you.

ꨄ︎ He shows classic signs of narcissistic personality disorder, CPTSD from whatever was erased from his file, and undiagnosed ADHD. He stated that he took Adderall, which was clearly illegal because he didn't have a prescription, and he sure as hell wasn't just picking it up from the local grocery store. You tried to get more from him, and he'd just tease you. He gives you crumbs and then expects you to follow the trail.

You know it ends up somewhere in his pants with you on your knees.

ꨄ︎ He pushes your buttons whenever you have a session with him. He gives you a teasing look and spews some manipulative bullshit. He'll give you impromptu strip teases just to try and catch you off guard. He does everything and anything to get a reaction out of you. It's all about getting you to join his cult in the end. He could use a mind like yours. It'll be fun degrading you into his dumb little slut that he can use however he pleases.

ꨄ︎ Don't expect to think your time with him ends when you leave the jail. He'll find ways to get some sort of electronic and contact you. They're always short blurbs about all the bad things he wants to do to people and how you're the only one who can help him. He plays all the right chords and yet you still produce no sound.

You want to get a restraining order on him, but you can't prove that the messages are from him. You only know because he asks if you got his little messages. You can't report that as evidence because of doctor-patient confidentiality.

So you're just stuck receiving message after message about how he wants to gut everyone in the prison and take you in the showers while he's washing the blood off. That one was a long night. You must have received over fifty texts.

ꨄ︎ Some of the sessions are just him psychoanalyzing you. He does his best to pick you apart and find your weak spot. The least bit of emotion, and he's cataloging that away in his mind for future use. He tells you intimate details about your life. They're things he shouldn't know. You begin to fear for your safety.

Who is this psycho, really?

ꨄ︎ You quit the job and begin working somewhere else. You didn't hear the news that he got out. You cut all contacts from the jail, and they couldn't find a way to reach you in time. So like a little lamb getting cornered by the lion, you wake up with him sitting above you. His hand around your throat, the other holding a gun to your head.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time. Are you going to join FIT and be an obedient little recruit, or slowly die at my hands?"

(dedicated to— @fear-is-truth)

🃜 𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 🃖

⛧ taglist: @bleper @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @girlyfart @lacucarachapisser @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @nahoyasboyfriend @coentinim @etheral-moon @taintandviolent ⛧

🃜 𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 🃖

#ahs #ahs cult #ahs characters #ahs fanfiction #ahs headcanons #yandere #american horror story #yandere ahs #yandere american horror story #yandere american horror story x reader #yandere ahs x reader #headcanons #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x you #yandere kai anderson #yandere kai anderson x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 8 days

Note

Hiya! It's me! I've been sending you so many asks that I wouldn't be surprised if you gave me a restraining order!

I made an account so I can actually participate in some of your rp things- if that's okay with you of course.

I sent you the ideas for the succubus, deadpool x wolverine and bimbo!au's, I sent others but I'd need to go through my memory, which would take all night.

Anyway- I have a new au idea for you! I think you'll like this. It's basically a gothic vampire!au.

I'm going to attach screen shots because I've already written it out and for some reason Tumblr doesn't let you copy and paste (it's already 1am where I am and I don't want to have to write this out all again, so I'm really sorry if this'll be annoying for you 😭).

Continuation--

Adam: it's rude to stare, you know. How did a kid get in here?

Lucifer jumped at his voice: I-I'm not a kid!- I'm 30 years old!

Adam: really dude? What are you? 5"3?... you didn't get the long straw when it came to genes, huh? See what I did there?

Lucifer sighs as the man chuckles to himself.

Lucifer: uh... that's... not important- a-are you the owner?

Adam stares at Lucifer for a few seconds before taking a sip from his glass. Lucifer watches his every move, he feels like prey- are those fangs??

Adam: I guess you can say that.. my names Adam. Even though I think the asshole who broke into my house should introduce themselves first- but I'm in a good mood today!

Adam stands and pulls a chair infront of him.

Adam: Here man, have a seat, might as well make yourself comfortable.

The way Adam smiled and watched his every move made Luicfer shiver. He walked as calmy as he could to the chair infront of Adam. He sits, eyes never leaving Adams deep red ones.

Lucifer: I'm Lucifer- and I apologize for the breaking and entering. It's uh, not the best first impression.

Adam: wait- Lucifer? Like the Devil? That's sick. And I'm not one for first impressions, but you've certainly made an entrance, buddy.

Lucifer: Yeah, like the Devil, blame my father for that one-

Adam: I ain't judging man! I think it's cool, everyone has such boring names these days, it's nice to be surprised, nothing surprises me much anymore.

Adam runs his clawed hand through his hair, eyes never leaving Lucifers face. He notices as his eyes travel down to his chest, where his shirt has opened a bit more. Adam smirks, leaning forward, giving Lucifer a better view.

Adam: I would offer you a drink, but I think you want something else~

----

That's all I have! I hope this seems interesting to you 😭

Feel free to continue it, I'll try and participate to! It would be my first time doing these rp type things, so I'm sorry if I'm a bit all over the place lol

Okay- bye!

Ahhh!! Thank you for all your amazing ideas friendo! This too is amazing 🤩

And yes of course you can participate in the rp blogs! What account is it?

Lucifer felt a little called out, this man was so good looking he felt like he was trapped in a trance.

Lucifer: I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-

Adam: Pfft it's fine, I get it. I know I'm hot shit and I don't mind you looking. In fact.

Adam leaned in closer until his hot breath ghosted over Lucifer's face.

Adam: I wouldn't mind you doing more than just looking.

He grinned at the way the blonde man's face turned bright red at the implication. Humans were always so easy to work up. And man this one was easy on the eyes as well.

It's been a while since Adam had a visitor. Even longer since he had a rendezvous.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask

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petite-phthora · 7 months

Text

A promise is a promise

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first… murder? - part 16]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

Private chat nicknames:

Fryer = Tucker

Dann-O = Danny

Other private chat nicknames:

Kangaroo = Jason

PolarBear = Danny

---

Danny has been searching online for a while now for the perfect place to take Red Hood to, for the second part of their date. He already has in mind what he wants to do, he just hopes Red Hood will like his plan.

He’ll need to make sure to get the needed materials either today or tomorrow.

Midway through his planning, his phone buzzes with a message. Danny picks his phone up, checking who sent it. He raises an eyebrow at seeing a message from Tucker in their private chat.

He opens his phone to read the text, putting his date-planning on hold for now.

---

Private chat

Fryer: so wheres my tim drake-wayne autograph danny? when am i gonna get it huh?

Dann-O: wait what? 😦

Dann-O: I still need to get it for you?? 😥😥

Dann-O: but you didn’t even end up wiping the cams ☹️

Dann-O: they were already wiped!!

Fryer: ye but I still wouldve wiped them if they werent already its all abt the intent danny

Fryer: u promised me the autograph now u gotta follow thru with it u cant just go back on ur word >:(

Dann-O: fine I’ll try and get it for you

Dann-O: I did promise 😓

Dann-O: but be prepared that it might take a while 😬😬

Fryer: great! thnx my dude knew u would come thru for me ur the best love ya danman 😘

Dann-O: yeah yeah I know 🙄😒

---

With a small sigh, Danny closes the chat between him and Tucker. He’s unsure how to go about getting that autograph.

He can’t just stalk the guy and nag him into giving the autograph, then he’d probably end up with a restraining order instead.

He could try looking online for one, but those will probably be very expensive. Though, he might be able to trick the guy into signing something? Or perhaps steal one when he’s at the manor this Saturday anyway?

However… Perhaps he can get some help with this… Danny considers.

He looks back at his phone and opens another chat.

---

Private chat

PolarBear: hey, so uh, random question ☝️

PolarBear: you wouldn’t happen to have a Tim Drake-Wayne autograph 🤔

PolarBear: or maybe know a way of getting one

PolarBear: would you?? 😅😅

Kangaroo: Why do you want one?

PolarBear: it’s not for me

PolarBear: but I kinda promised my friend I’d get one for him 😅😓

Kangaroo: Ah, okay. I’ll see what I can do.

PolarBear: really? 😲

PolarBear: thanks!! 🥰💕

PolarBear: but it’s fine if you can’t

PolarBear: like don’t feel obligated to help or something

PolarBear: if need be I’ll probably just trick him into signing something for me 🙃

PolarBear: or I could just sneak in once we’re TPing the place anyway

PolarBear: and just get one of his documents or something 👀👀

Kangaroo: Hell yeah, sign me up. This will be fun :)

---

In another realm, a bright toxic green smoke hits an unsuspecting victim, a crazed giggle following behind coming from the origin of the strange smoke.

The victim, instead of fleeing, stops right in their tracks, collapsing into themselves. Not a moment later their laughter joins in with the giggling from before.

The smoke fades away and reveals a man with bright purple hair and glowing red eyes. He’s wearing a green suit with a red vest and a purple dress shirt underneath.

In his breast pocket on the outside of his suit is a glowing red flower with purplish-black leaves that looks like a rosebud of some sort.

His face is stark white with a greenish undertone and his lips are bright red and pulled back into a deranged grin.

This insane clown who's hellbent on dragging the people of Gotham into his madness is a fairly new resident of the Infinite Realms. He’s a specter. A wraith.

A ghost.

The Joker moves closer towards the other ghost. The other ghost keeps laughing, not reacting to the Joker’s approach.

However, once the Joker is within a few meters of them, the ghost starts choking. While the ghost is unable to stop the mix of laughing and coughing, a glowing green liquid starts flowing out of their mouth.

Ectoplasm.

While they’re involuntarily laughing, their eyes are full of distress. The Joker just moves closer, humming a little tune.

Once close enough, the Joker bends down, getting right in the other ghost’s face. Ignoring the other ghost’s attempt at flinching away, the Joker drags a finger across the ghost’s face, wiping up some of the glowing green liquid.

The Joker takes a close look at it, the grin on his face becoming impossibly, inhumanely, wider.

“Oh, this! This is going to be a right laugh!” He exclaims, cackling a little. He straightens back up before continuing.

“It’ll be the show of a lifetime,” He turns around, “Don’t you agree, my friend?”

The person who has been watching the entire display from the sidelines doesn’t respond verbally, their own deranged grin forming on their face, no outside influence needed.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing @i23432i @imsotiredfanficlovertm @jaguarthecat @arkita-shadow @ilydana

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #sorry for the long wait #this is kinda a short chapter #but i just rlly wanted to post something #so i hope you enjoy

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simpinformonkies · 1 year

Note

how about a red son and mk (separately) x reader where reader is a really famous idol but also has to deal with a stalker?

GOT YOU FAM ---

RED SON

-Red Son loves you a lot, and while he knows you're an idol, you always try to make time for him.

-He knows your fans can be a little... much, but he had never assumed one would take to deal with following you.

-Like, follow you every day kind of follow.

-And you didn't tell him. For weeks. Just because you didn't want to "worry" him!

-HE'S ALWAYS WORRIED ABOUT YOU DAMMIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN???

-The only reason he found out is because he was at your house when the dude broke in and tried to steal your things for his 'shrine', and Red Son incinerated the man right then and there.

-Afterwards you told him what's up when he explained the situation, and Red Son grabbed you and forced you to sit in his lap and watch movies while he cooked you dinner.

-No one is allowed to do anything to his beloved.

-NO ONE.

---

MK / QI XIAOTIAN

-DUDE MK WOULD BE THE MOST SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND EVER; HE'D COME TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR SHOWS AND DO THE IDOL DANCE WITH THE GLOW STICKS.

-(Either that or just hold five in each hand and wave them around like he's at a rave party. He's letting out his inner Porty, leave him alone.)

-But let's be honest, MK is kind of dense sometimes and doesn't really notice things all to often, so he wouldn't really know anything's wrong.

-He'd just be all smiles and enjoying his date with you as the day passes by, while you cling to his arm.

-Then how would he notice? He would leave you to get you some food and drinks, and he would come back to see a guy grabbing you and trying to force you closer as you fight to get away.

-MK apologizes for the waste of food, but he doesn't care when he's punching the man who disturbed his beloved, sending him crashing into a wall.

-MK promptly picks you up, throws you over his shoulder and uses his staff to hop over buildings before stopping at his place and asking you to explain what happened.

-That's when you break down and explain everything, and MK just get sad and protective; he'd hold you gently, kissing your forehead, and promising to beat the shit out of anyone that ever does that to you again.

-He tells Pigsy and Tang about it, and those two alongside your lawyer slap a restraining order on the offender, and MK then goes to your shows- not just as support, but as a bodyguard.

-(And if he gets to be backstage and smooching you up before and after your show, well, who cares, right?)

#lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #nilo dabbles #writing prompt #writing requests #lmk mk x reader #mk x reader #red son x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Text

aftermath, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The aftermath of the break-up between you and Jeon Jungkook, navigating the various stages and finding out that easy isn't living.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; it's what you think it is but also not; mentions of alcohol consumption; anger turning into angst; slow burn; yes, there are a few Taylor Swift references; smut (fem reader, heavy making out, breathplay, hair pulling, slight D/s dynamic, handjob, nipple play, edging, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - ex!JK x ex!reader, switches between Jungkook’s POV and yours, ft mystery man (less mysterious if you Google his name lol), yes, he was chosen for story reasons

“Stop staring at her.”

Maybe if he stared long enough, he would burn holes into the back of your skull and you would finally fuckin’ notice he was right here.

Maybe.

“Dude. You’re being creepy.”

You were smiling at your phone screen. Why the fuck were you smiling? What was there to be smiling about? Furthermore, what did you need to look so good for? Oversized black bomber jacket with balloon sleeves and an overpowering ruffle at the shoulders. Short slinky dress with red-orange flames screen-printed all over. Black thigh-high heeled boots. Fuck, who the hell were you trying to impress? The person texting you, hah? Why did your hair look so effortlessly in place and why was your makeup so sultry with that red stain on your lips and smoked-out liner? Hm?!

Jeon Jungkook chewed on the left side of his lip and watched you walk up to the service counter, ordering a…

“Lemon cake and hot green tea. No sugar in the tea.”

“Bro, just get up and talk to her.”

Jungkook felt knuckles whack the back of his head and turned around to the annoyed face of Park Jimin, who was nursing an iced coffee and glaring at him. Oh. Right. He was supposed to be catching up at with his friend, not going all National Geographic at his ex-girlfriend.

But what were you so happy for?

“Didn’t you break up with her? What’s your problem?” Jimin questioned, confused.

His teeth involuntarily slid back and ground bone-to-bone, eyes narrowing at the questions. Jungkook wanted to tell Jimin to shut up, but then your voice came back to him, if you want to react less emotionally, you have to take the time to sort through your initial reaction and the other options. So, instead, he picked up his lukewarm coffee and tapped the bottom edge against the table, thinking about the other, less emotional responses he could have.

“Yeah.”

Mmm.

Eloquent.

Came out a little gruffier than he wanted, but too late now.

Jimin frowned. “You never said why. I thought you were head over heels for her.”

He clicked his tongue and restrained himself from looking back. You would pick a table further away from the counter. Perhaps near the window. But why were you here? You used to come here with him. Conversations and dates. Who were you meeting? But if you were meeting someone, you wouldn’t have ordered before they arrived. Hm. Then there was the whole situation with the way you were smiling at your phone.

Like you were amused.

Playful.

Fuck.

“Hello? Earth to Jungkook, do you copy?”

He blinked hard and bit on his straw, not sulking but sulking. “S’nothing.” Great, he was mumbling now. Surefire sign you’re upset, you always reminded him. Everyone can tell. Just say it. “Actually, that why I wanted to talk to you.”

Those bright eyes and full lips turned into little circles. “Huh?”

Jungkook cleared his throat and glanced at Jimin under his hair. Furrowed brows and balancing his long, tattooed fingers on the lid of his ice coffee, not wanting to ask but asking anyway, because his ex-girlfriend seemed to be fucking fine visiting the places they used to visit and smiling like she was cool with not being with him anymore and that sucked, but it was easier to be mad than sad. He didn’t want to be sad in front of people.

Especially in front of people he was close to.

Especially in front of you.

So, Jungkook stayed mad.

“Did you hook-up with my ex or not?”

Jimin blinked at him.

“Hah?”

Shit.

You cut into the lemon cake, chewing thoughtfully.

A quick look at your nails and, shit, you should really repaint them before they started looking too rough. Two weeks was about as long as you could go before the nail growth was somewhat unbearable. This was about halfway through week three. Good preparation and high-quality polish could only get you so far before life eventually wore the manicure down.

Sigh.

Today was the first day you had decided to walk out and do something by yourself that wasn’t work, grocery shopping, or… wait, that was it. You had no other reason to go outside. Ack. You had another bite of cake. Been a while since you had this taste.

Your phone hummed on the table.

With your left ring finger, you checked your messages. And then you paused, because instead of reading a text, you were looking at a soundwave.

Voice message.

You reached over to your cup of hot tea, taking a sip and letting it scald you.

Breathed in and breathed out in a calm hiss, thinking.

Chewed on cake.

Ugh. You didn’t want to be that girl. But what were you gonna do? Almost eight billion people in this world and you were going to be hung up over one? One? And, anyway… In terms of too fast or too slow, you never knew what could happen, right? You hadn’t known with him, and you wouldn’t know with this one unless you started actually talking to him instead of skirting around with surface level shit. You hated that, so you shouldn’t do it. Your brain prodded you annoyingly with thoughts. Don’t be a hypocrite. Stop fucking around. Argh, okay. Okay. Fine.

You reached over to your phone and let it hover over the play button.

Wait.

Maybe you should listen to it in the car.

Yeah.

You put your phone back down and resumed eating and drinking.

You weren’t avoiding it. Okay, kinda. There was no point in dancing around the issue when you were by yourself. Get to the point. You came here specifically because it used to be your favorite café and it still was. It had nice memories attached to it, but then you stopped visiting it after… him. And for what? Did you combust from reminiscing? No. You were eating cake and having tea like you always did. The snack was just as tasty alone as it was with a partner. You were talking with another guy and you could bring him here eventually if you felt like it.

Maybe you should have been mad or sad about the whole Jeon Jungkook thing, but at this point it was just wasted energy and you were tired.

Tired of not feeling like yourself, tired if feeling like you couldn’t do things because you were reminded of him. So what? Everyone had good and bad. He wasn’t that bad of a guy. Faults were faults, and you had to decide if you could live with them or not.

Or he could decide, and start a dumbass argument.

Honestly, that was what you were most salty about. Yes, it was your nature to fight fire with fire, but you shouldn’t have. At least not so explosively. You were glad Jungkook hadn’t met your teenage self, that was for sure. Still, you had that habit of not mentioning when you were experiencing a bad day. Of course, they happened and without reason, same shit, different day. Those sorts of negative thoughts came in waves, after all. Mostly you didn’t want Jungkook to hover over you and try to make you feel better, because he would do so, and, if what he tried didn’t work, then he would be depressed and then it would begin, the endless cycle of you feeling like crap, him feeling like crap, so on and so forth until you felt better so he could feel better. Same shit, different day. Tiring. So, sometimes you didn’t mention bad days, but if he caught you on a bad day and acted emotionally, which did happen, it ended…

Poorly.

Jungkook was a passionate guy.

He thought a lot too.

Some things could be fixed, but some things got burnt to a crisp and then there was nothing to salvage.

Ugh.

You should have kept your temper more in check. Ah, well. You knew that now, but now was too late and you had no cake left, just a bit of hot tea and a voice message from a guy who wanted to know you.

You know what.

You actually wanted to know him too.

He had a cute smirk.

You neatly cleaned up and tossed the packaging, walking out with the paper cup, going back to your car to listen to that voice message that contained an alarmingly deep voice that surprised you with its sexiness. Well. Well, then.

Time to burn it up, maybe.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Okay. Okay, he had two choices. Let sleeping dogs lie or poke them, which may or may not result in the positive outcome he wanted. It probably wouldn’t, because you were fire and burned everything in your path, and while that could be a good thing, fuck, a very good thing, but this…

This wouldn’t end well for him.

Mostly because Jungkook now realized, after finally speaking to Jimin, that he was wrong in thinking that you were sneaking around and trying to sleep with his best friend, when in actuality you were contacting Jimin repeatedly and being secretive because you were planning a grand event that included all his friends and a big party for your boyfriend’s birthday, but then he beat you to the punch and broke up with you before anything could come to fruition.

So, yeah.

You were probably really pissed at him.

Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to set him on fire.

Ugggggggh, me, you stupid dummy!

He was sitting on his couch and slowly sinking to the floor, mentally berating himself for his pride and his overthinking, because of course Jungkook wouldn’t have thought like this if, as Jimin pointed out, he had some insecurity about her leaving him for someone else – and, unfortunately and infuriatingly, Jimin is damn right, because Jimin was kind and sweet and not nearly half as brash or annoying as Jungkook was.

Or thought he was.

And you could get anyone.

Anyone. With that body, that gaze, that confidence? No one would stand a chance. He hadn’t and he was fine with that, until he went and fucked it up, and now he knew you could go out and do whatever and whoever if you wanted, you just had to want to. And, obviously, you went out and visited your favorite café. Without him. To top it all off, you had smiled at your phone, clearly texting someone.

Shit.

Jungkook slapped his hands to his face and groaned, his ass at the edge of the couch and two centimeters away from collapsing to his abstract black-and-white living room rug that you had picked out when he moved in after he nagged you saying that he was bad at interior design and needed help, but secretly he only wanted to annoy you into making decisions for him.

He should… say something.

It wasn’t going to end well.

Fuck!

He hoped the person you were talking to was not cute. You liked cute more than handsome, he knew. You liked cute faces, deep voices, and diligent, hardworking people who knew who they were and weren’t easily swayed in their beliefs.

Which he was everything he was.

He just had the wrong belief and went way too far into the deep end without putting his pride aside and straight-up asking, thus leading to him being single and, now, angry at himself. For someone who thinks so much, you act too fast, you used to tell him with a laugh, mostly referring to his aggressiveness when playing video games.

Jungkook sadly plopped onto the floor for a good while, thinking about what he had done.

You were horny.

But, also, you were trying to change, so you weren’t about to coerce this guy that you were barely getting to know to drop his pants. Although he probably would. You were pretty convincing when you wanted to be and there were some telltale signs signaling that you two had some shared… interests. Yeah. However! You were trying not to go that route for once in your life.

It was pretty difficult.

He had sent you more voice messages. He even sent one he considered embarrassing, where he was singing, which would have been cringe as hell except it turned out to be the complete opposite. The stark contrast of his sweet, angelic singing voice and his deep, sultry speaking voice was shocking. Unreal. Was it possible to fall in love from just that knowledge? No. Was it possible to find your heart racing and imagining indecent things?

Possible?

Yes.

Did that make you a degenerate?

Maybe.

Hence why you simply made a comment about his talent and how impressive it was. You did not, in fact, mention the sudden intense desire to march over to wherever this guy was, rip off his shirt, and run your tongue all over his chest so you could hear the varying tones of the delicious noises that he would surely make as you teased his skin and who-knows-what-else. Mostly what was stopping you was that you hadn’t asked to see him in person yet.

Anyway.

Now you were stuck with the age-old question – jack off or distract yourself?

Or keep talking to the new guy?

No. You couldn’t do that. You were trying to change, and that meant not basing the foundation of a relationship on sex and good conversation. The latter, fine. The former? Apparently got you in trouble, apparently made you a problem, apparently was not good, and you didn’t used to care about that stuff until you lost him.

Stupid love.

You sighed and plopped down on your bed, frowning.

Your phone was laying on your pillow, having a nice nap.

You knew you should probably talk to someone about it. Anyone. But you avoided it, because you didn’t want to put Jeon Jungkook in a bad light to anyone, ex-boyfriend or not. You simply avoided everyone’s questions until they all died out and left you alone. Then you spent countless nights, much like this one, analyzing why you felt the way you felt about that thing that seemed to invade way too much of your life.

Jungkook accusing you of cheating on him.

You used to think, ah, I don’t overthink things, but even if you didn’t actively think about it, you found yourself holding back, not doing things that you would normally do, all because what if someone misinterpreted your intentions? What is there was just something about you that implied such a thought? It would have been easy to brush off if it was some random, but the person that you had thought you would spend the rest of your life with had accused you of lying.

The one thing you hated most, lying.

Which you had been doing at the time, but not about what he thought it was.

Which made it a harder pill to swallow, which made you stubborn, which made you not say anything or bother correcting him with receipts, because fuck him, fuck Jeon Jungkook for accusing you of cheating, fuck him and his, I’m breaking up with you, and you bluntly accepting it and leaving.

Ghosted him.

Didn’t even bother asking for an explanation or reconciliation.

Be the bigger person, yeah, that was what all the self-help books and podcasts said, but honestly you didn’t give a fuck. How the hell were you going to go on, living with the knowledge of Jeon Jungkook accusing you of lying, the one thing you hated most in this world? Who cared what his reason was? Who cared what it all meant? Not you on a bad day.

You winced.

Nothing you could do about that now.

The only way to make things different was to act differently in the same situation. If you were going to see someone new, you couldn’t just seduce them and drive them to the brink of insanity so that they were begging to fuck on the first meeting. You already did that.

With Jungkook.

And we know how that one ended.

So, you were doing the whole meet-a-guy-on-a-dating-app thing, switch to texting – probably too quickly but whatever – and slowly build up to a first meeting.

Slowly.

It had been a week and he was sending voice memos of him singing and maybe you were already shamelessly flirting.

Okay, you were trying and that was the point. Also, he was making it too easy and being too cute with his reactions. Being able to hear the sheepishness in that deep voice, mmm. And he simply couldn’t refuse you when you prompted him to switch to speaking directly instead of text. He did whatever you asked, not questioning it.

Maybe you should call him.

Hm.

Your hand found its way to the pillow where your phone was having a serene siesta.

You wanted to, but there was something that was holding you back. It would be easy to be blind about it, but you had to be honest with yourself before getting to the serious playing around. You didn’t need to bring up a picture of new guy. You knew exactly what he looked like – and that was the problem.

Born in the same year.

Muscular with a cute face.

The same height.

Seriously sexy when absorbed in their interests and adorable as fuck when flustered.

Able to be flustered easily by you, the intoxicating fire.

New guy didn’t have tattoos though. Not any that you could see in his photos, anyway. Mhm, you can sit here and pretend all you want but there are too many similarities to him and Jeon Jungkook, missy. Your brain had a point. Maybe this was what having-a-type meant. Or maybe this screamed rebound, which is exactly what you didn’t want it to be, so you were holding back.

But new guy was so.

Fucking.

Cute.

Pairing the combination of his loveable demeanor with the contrast of how built he was and that was the lethal combination right there. Plus, it was obvious he liked you. It would only take a little push. You flicked your wrist and unlocked your phone with your fingerprint, immediately bringing up the last thing you were doing. His latest text, saying he was off to shower, but promising he would be back after. Your phone normally vibrated to notify you, but this time it didn’t have to.

In real time, the voice memo popped up.

You played it.

That distinct deliciously deep voice shyly murmuring, “I’m back.”

He was only sending it because he knew you liked it. You could tell by his tone. Hear the hope in it. Well, shit, you could have all these dumbass overthinking reasons to not do something risky, or you could answer the hint of anticipation in that bated breath.

Don’t, your brain said.

You ticked your head. The call button was right next to his name.

You pressed it.

“Surprised?” was your greeting.

Maybe you weren’t making headway. Maybe it wasn’t that serious. Maybe you were in for-fun mode, out to break hearts to protect yours. Not that Jungkook would know, because he was standing in your favorite place in the world, and you weren’t here to answer his maybes.

He jumped as the intercom buzzed and scratchily announced that the leftover bread from the bakery was being put on flash sale. Most likely because it was going to expire today.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook was standing in the savory snack aisle of your local grocery store. A lot of people preferred the sweeter snacks – that was him, he was a lot of people – but you wanted the salty ones, which meant you and him never had to fight for snacks. He would eat all the candy and you would be chomping on seaweed. Harmony.

Until he fucked it up.

Yes, we get it. You’re an idiot. Move on, me.

But Jungkook couldn’t move on, because he was moping and picking up the last bag of shrimp chips like it was the goddamn Holy Grail and hoping your communications with mystery man were not going well. Well, he didn’t know if it was a man but it would hurt more if it was and his mind was conjuring worst case scenario to terrorize him. Or guilt him. Or both.

He clutched the shrimp chips like they were his lifeline and shuffled out of the aisle.

He didn’t even really like them. Well, he did. He would eat any snack. They just tasted better when they were with you because you loved them and used to talk about how you ate them a lot as a kid. Jungkook used to tease you for not liking candy enough. Were you even a kid? And then you’d put him in a chokehold. A real one, not a metaphorical one – although you had him there too.

He shouldn’t have taught you that. Was a bad idea.

Well, he couldn’t even be regretful about that anymore.

Sigh.

Where the fuck were the shrimp chips?

You were staring at the label that indicated they were discounted. Right there, in glaring red ink. They were clearly sold here. You reached back, feeling around for that familiar packaging. You would recognize the ridge of the shrimp chips right away. Nothing but the turtle chips. Fuck! Who the hell bought the shrimp chips? You squinted at the cart of the old lady at the far end of the aisle.

Was it you, lady? Hmm?!

Before you could harass said old lady, she leisurely rolled off to the next aisle.

Fuck.

Not that you would fight the elderly for shrimp chips, but maybe you had put people into a headlock for less.

Not maybe, you had.

Anyway.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have come after dinner. Damnnit. You marched out of the aisle and searched the endcaps, hoping that perhaps there was a spare bag left behind or possibly another display. Nope. Sad times. What else were you craving? You came all the way over to your local grocery store to get a familiar nostalgic snack, only for them to not have it, therefore you must purchase something random so the cashiers didn’t think you’re a weirdo for leaving empty-handed.

Not that they would notice.

Or care.

Hm.

You were about to collect what was left of your shattered expectations and get out of there before you stopped, seeing a colorful display with a poster of a joyful marshmallow standing under a starry sky, beside a tent and a campfire. The stacked boxes under the brightly saturated sign indicated the product contents of chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows – a s’mores kit.

Was…

Was the marshmallow going to roast himself as sacrifice?

Or… was the marshmallow going to eat these s’mores?

Before you could debate the ethics of the vaguely cannibalistic nature of this marketing tactic, you remembered Jeon Jungkook’s favorite dessert was s’mores. In fact, he nearly caused a fire on your gas stove in his desire for said sweet treat. There was a lot of yelling and smoke and throwing open the window to your next-door neighbor staring wide-eyed at you as the smoke alarm blared.

You recalled gasping that you burnt the rice and scurrying away.

What? You weren’t going to throw your boyfriend under the bus.

Er.

Ex-boyfriend, now.

You reached out to the box. A fun activity for the family, it said. You didn’t have a family. Just you and some what-ifs. You held the box, feeling the weight. It was substantial, but not that heavy. Get it together. What were you going to do? Freak out every time you thought about Jungkook? Come on. He doesn’t deserve that. The best thing you could do was have a good opinion of him, despite him being a little shit.

Hey.

You meant that in an endearing way.

… Yeah.

You sighed and tucked the s’mores kit under your arm. This was how life was. People were too complicated to fit in neat little boxes and situations were too convoluted to have a correct or right resolution. You would probably feel even shittier if you tried to act on emotions and get into his face about it. You had to take the L. Eat the damn s’mores and maybe think about finally meeting the new guy. The conversation had been nice and fluid once you got him talking about himself, something he had been reluctant to do because he didn’t want to seem arrogant.

You had asked him if he was.

He had replied with, “Maybe a little?” The self-doubt in his response had made you laugh, as if he wasn’t so sure himself. But the whole point becoming someone’s potential one and only was bragging about yourself, so might as well lay out everything you got, right?

You didn’t even like sweets.

Maybe the new guy did, though. Maybe you should try to like them a little more.

You bought the box of s’mores and went home.

Normally, people cried into wine or chocolate, but Jungkook was crying into a bag of shrimp chips.

Okay.

Not actually crying, because then he would ruin the shrimp chips, but pretty damn close to sobbing into the crispy snack while watching the latest popular drama and wondering what you were doing. Hopefully you were happy, doing stuff you loved. Cute stuff, like watching cat videos or those home renovation shows you seemed to have great interest in. You told him you wanted to learn about houses so that you would have knowledge when buying one with him. Smart. So smart. Oh, man, why were you so smart and why was he a dum-dum? That’s not fair, Jungkook. You’ll handle all the interior design stuff because you’re artsy, oh, wait, I’ll have to narrow down the options so you don’t buy seven different diffusers. He chomped away at the shrimp chips, sniffling at the memory.

He was being lame.

Also, a little self-centered, because this was not all about him. You had been in the relationship too and technically you were the one who was hurt. He should not be the sad one sitting here on the floor in front of his television and stuffing his face with shrimp chips as he watched the male lead and the female lead go through some misunderstandings. He should be thinking about how he could be a better person.

Jungkook frowned.

Were shrimp chips gluten-free?

He checked the label.

Yes. Whew. His doctor had warned him he shouldn’t have gluten late at night, as it would upset his stomach. Step one into being a better person, take care of one’s personal health. At least he was doing that right.

Right-ish.

Back to chomping away.

Maybe you were happier without him. That would suck, but at least you would be doing well. What more could he ask for? Besides rewinding time and boinking some sense into his own head. Something to ask Doctor Strange once they would inevitably meet. It would be awkward to ask for a favor right away, but what’s the worst that could happen? Utter chaos of the timeline and disruption of subsequent timelines connecting the various multiverses?

… On second thought.

Jungkook wondered if the female lead would just tell the male lead that she already liked him. You wouldn’t have a problem saying something like that right away. It was very cool of you, always being the first to admit how you felt. Never hiding anything.

It was at that moment that Jungkook choked on a shrimp chip and starting hacking up his lungs.

He had to punch his chest to gain some semblance of breath back. There was a lot of wheezing and scrambling for the water bottle on his coffee table. Ugh. His throat felt all fucked up.

Hmmmm.

Did you throat feel like this when he rammed his dick into it? He never asked. He had been too busy feeling good and ascending to the heavens to ask questions. He should have been more thoughtful on that front. Maybe if he had been more considerate…

You had a vibe going on here, me, and you just ruined it by thinking about sex.

Oops.

Anyway.

Back to watching drama and crying over shrimp chips despite one of them trying to end his life.

You opened the box of the s’mores kit and the graham crackers were all crushed.

“Fuck.”

You could roast marshmallows and top it with melted chocolate and graham cracker powder?

You struggled and made do, realizing with a quick taste test that, yes, this was too sweet, but you had tea and resilience, and your never-say-die attitude reminded you that you could do anything, including making a very messy but possibly innovative dessert. If you added some yogurt, would it become a s’mores parfait? Hey. That could be a thing… somewhere.

Well, it was a thing here in your kitchen right now.

At least you didn’t start a fire.

“Maybe you should do something.”

He stared off into space and answered hollowly.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Park Jimin dragged out exaggeratedly. “Talk to her? Maybe your ship has sailed, but at least you could get some closure. For my sake.” He muttered the last bit under his breath.

Jungkook did not want to hear that his ship has sailed. He wanted to hear that the ship was right here, docking to the port. Or… something like that. Whatever. Anyway, Jimin was doing a shit job of helping him figure out how to repair the gaping wound in his chest. Talk to her, yeah, like that was gonna solve anything.

Psh.

Jungkook pushed the food around on his plate. A surefire sign he was feeling like shit. He always ate. Few things could stop him from eating.

“Are you dying? Why are you disrespecting your dak-galbi like that?”

On second thought, Jungkook shoveled it into his mouth. Food comas were a thing, right? Maybe he could eat himself into a stupor. Maybe he could induce an actual coma if he consumed enough alcohol and food.

Only one way to find out.

“Oi, don’t eat that fast, are you trying to give yourself a stomachache? Oi. Jungkook!”

You woke up.

Heart racing, world swirling, touching your face, and there they were, tears, uninhibited by logic anymore, blurry faces and that kind of anger that was more sad than angry, but fury won, because you didn’t want to show that you were sad, burying it deep inside until your dreams broke through your subconscious and replayed it for you, the yelling, the throwing of cushions, the snatching of the keys and the furious tossing of your shoes on and then running, running, you shouldn’t have ran but you did, you ran and ran and ran and cried into the wind just like how you cried into your pillow right now and for what, for nothing, for something that was over and dead, over and dead.

It was fading.

Fading.

The memory, and now your tears, curling into your pillow, suffocating yourself in cloth, trying to close it out, breathing nothing and seeing black, in, out, in, out, until your lungs felt like they were burning.

You threw your head up, gasping.

Face dry.

Not a chance that someone would catch you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

Not that anyone was here except you.

You were still someone though.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

How could he think I was lying when I hate lying most in this world?

And no one could see you cry, no one could see you fall apart, no one could think that they had any power over you, because you weren’t weak, you couldn’t be made a fool of, you would rather tear it apart yourself then let someone else think that they could get to you.

You ruined everything, me.

And maybe you did.

Maybe you did and now what? Nothing. Nothing but bad dreams and an empty bed and shuddering breaths as you wiped your eyes with the duvet and pretended your nose wasn’t stuffy, sliding back down to the silence, breathing quietly, he used to be right here and now there was no one but you, but you were someone and not a chance that someone would see you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

You were someone.

And there was nothing anyone could do about this aftermath, nothing to do about you yelling irreversible things and him yelling irreversible things, both of you tearing apart what you built together like it was nothing, over what?

Pride.

Fear.

The usual suspects.

There was no point in asking why no one fought for anyone because everyone was wearing masks of mad and secretly sad. Yeah, you could die on this sacred ground. You could. That would be real fuckin’ easy. But easy wasn’t living. You didn’t pick easy when you picked Jungkook, and you didn’t pick easy when you walked away either.

This limbo wasn’t you.

You sighed.

Breathed out.

Held your breath for thirty seconds.

Easy isn’t living, me. Just go on a damn date.

You are a dumbass, me.

He was too full and too drunk and a blob on his own bed. Jimin tried to convince him that he needed someone to take care of him, but Jungkook just pushed his hyung out the door and bade him good night. Jimin kept urging him to talk about it, but Jungkook was, he was talking to his head every second of every day and it wasn’t doing anything but giving him a headache, and now he had a fat headache and a bursting-at-the-seams tummy.

Oof.

So now he was a blob.

Hopefully he wouldn’t throw up.

He felt around and found the water bottle by his bed. Okay. At least he had water. There was a packet of hangover meds in his nightstand drawer. For emergencies like this. Jimin had reminded him that he couldn’t keep doing this to himself, but joke’s on Jimin, Jungkook knew he could. Had been and quite frankly was thinking about sulking to his heart’s content, maybe even until the end of time, because everyone was telling him he couldn’t, so stubbornly he continued.

Out of principle.

Something like that.

Okay, maybe Jungkook was secretly seriously considering gathering his courage to speak to you face-to-face. Maybe. It was all his fault, after all. For not believing, for making up a narrative that tore you and him apart, all his fault for burning that bridge you two built together, and for what, for nothing but pride and fear and wasn’t he getting a little old for that?

Jungkook sighed, feeling far too sober and reasonable.

Should have drunk more.

Maybe you didn’t need the closure, but he wouldn’t know unless he asked, and he was done assuming, done thinking he knew what was what. It was clear that he didn’t. He didn’t even know if he needed closure, but the aftermath still stung even now, scorched by the everlasting fire, and maybe he was stupid for thinking some silly little words could do anything for this situation, but it was something, right, and something was better than this nothing, nothing but a bad signal flickering weakly, couldn’t connect because there were too many walls separating you and him.

Jungkook knew exactly where your apartment was, and could confirm that there were probably many walls separating you and him right now.

If you were in your apartment, that is.

You had to be. It was the middle of the night.

He should be asleep.

Jungkook resumed his blob form and waited for his dreams to take him.

Or nightmares.

That was not a choice he could make, unfortunately.

First dates were difficult because you had to chose the one outfit that would represent you. In the off chance that you only ended up meeting this person once, you felt that your clothes had to give off a distinct impression of who you were. Similar to that age-old question of, if you were a ghost and stuck with one outfit forever, what would you want to wear?

Morbid, but effective.

Something you could live by.

Oh, yeah, me, also perhaps you should try to impress the new guy.

You didn’t want to admit it but the truth was the truth – this was less about him and more about you and taking responsibility for whatever came, good or bad. Because, yes, maybe it wouldn’t turn out well, maybe nothing was meant to be, maybe you were driving in the metaphorical fast lane and accelerating way too recklessly, but it wasn’t like you to let up on the gas, and the only way to found out if there was any chance at all was to put on some damn clothes and just do the damn thing.

That how you were before…

No. You were someone before him and you’re someone now.

It wasn’t fair.

But life wasn’t fair, life was complicated and maybe even a little immoral sometimes, and that was how it was so you got dressed. White cropped t-shirt. You look so good in those, even if they’re simple. Big black hoodie with a cheeky-looking ghost in the back, peeking up with a mischievous little smile. I love oversized stuff on you. It makes you look so small and cute. Short black skirt, pleated, with a chain hanging off the hip. You hooked on a little keychain of a tuxedo cat to the top of the chain, something for you to know and maybe for others to find out if you took off your hoodie. I’m glad you like wearing short skirts. You have great legs and I love looking at them. Thick thigh-high black socks to block out the cold. Aw, man, sucks that it’s getting cold now but you have to protect those precious legs. You would wear your heeled boots with the big silver buckles shaped like moons. Thick soled and heavy, ah, like mine.

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your fashion is nice because you always match me.

You could hear Jungkook’s voice even though he wasn’t there and you just had to stand there and accept that life wasn’t fair and that you would hear it for a while until you forgot the sound of his voice and it wasn’t fair that you still couldn’t decide if you actually wanted to forget it or not.

But nothing changed if you only stood still, so you walked over to your front door and put your shoes on. Checked your black bag with a frowning smiley face icon printed on the front and slung it over your shoulder, safely tucking it by your hip.

Paused.

Glanced at the hooks by your door and picked up the thick maroon-colored scarf, lopping it around your neck as you opened the door and walked out, holding your keys in your hand.

Who the fuck is that?

Now.

Now, Jungkook was fully and completely aware what he was doing was wrong, even if his original intent was perfectly sensible. Completely normal. Nothing wrong with what he had initially meant to do but shit got sidetracked the second he spotted familiar legs and a black hoodie, with a cheeky ghost printed onto the back, that’s the one, and was that a man walking next to you, dark-haired and handsome, kind of close, turning his head and laughing at something you said, something Jungkook couldn’t hear because he was a block away, staring wide-eyed with his legs moving of their own accord.

Wondering what this guy had that Jungkook didn’t have.

That white sweater didn’t do much to hide the broad shoulders and muscular frame. Clean blue jeans and a very nice smile, eyes that crinkled up when he laughed, covering his mouth. It wasn’t fake. Jungkook had hoped it was a fake laugh but it looked genuine as fuck and now Jungkook was stalking his ex-girlfriend on his way to her apartment to have that talk that Jimin kept telling him to have, the talk to get out all these pent-up feelings, but now he should just turn around and try another day.

But life wasn’t fair.

He wanted to say he was simply too dumbstruck to stop himself, but Jungkook was pretty sure it was sinful jealousy that was giving his legs the strength to follow at a block’s distance.

He wanted to tell himself something comforting, like she has terrible taste but the guy was pretty good-looking actually, or he doesn’t seem that interesting but you seemed very invested in what he had to say at the intersection, so interested that you two missed the crossing signal, or he can’t make you laugh but you did, you laughed and he laughed at the missed signal and it looked like a scene of out a movie, two adults holding insulated cups of some warm drink and shyly smiling over light sips in between conversation.

And the creepy ex-boyfriend squinting at the scene from a block away.

Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here.

You started crossing and Jungkook jogged to catch the light just before it changed.

This was really stupid all around, but he didn’t care. He wanted to know if this new guy knew your affinity for green tea and lemon cake yet. He wanted to know if new guy liked your oversized hoodie and skirt, because it was one of his favorite outfit combinations on you. He wanted to know how you felt about new guy, because new guy looked like he had an impressive personal best at the bench press, and Jungkook wanted to know if it was better than his, not that it mattered.

But it mattered.

Jungkook avoided the streetlamps that suddenly turned on, trying to stay out of the light. He didn’t know how recognizable he was in his massive black parka and black jeans with rips at the knees, but he wasn’t chancing you suddenly turning around and recognizing his knees.

He made sure his face mask was on securely before pulling the hood over his head.

New guy put his hand on your head and Jungkook almost skidded to a stop as a different hand fluffed your hair.

You playfully swiped at new guy’s hand and now Jungkook was close enough to hear that deep laugh at your reaction.

You used to take Jungkook’s hand and put it on your head and when he asked what you were doing, you simply told him that you liked the reassuring weight.

How did I not get it?

Jungkook watched as both you and new guy stopped, realizing you were holding his wrist.

In slow motion, you reluctantly let go and dipped your head, apologizing.

New guy waved his hand, apologizing himself, bowing even.

Night was falling, falling.

You beckoned, indicating that the walk should continue.

Jungkook followed and watched you talk to this man in front of your apartment complex. He tried to sort out the feeling, because there was a part of him that hadn’t given up yet, and another part that saw that life wasn’t fair, and the last part him thought maybe this right in front of him was meant to be and maybe his part of your fairytale was over.

The man leaned over and deliberately kissed you on the cheek, politely not going for the lip kiss.

He waved and stepped back, back in the opposite direction, but Jungkook was on the other side of the street now, circling, coming from the other way as he watched new guy wave to you and you wave back, yelling at him to be careful and watch where he was going.

“Kim Gunhak! You’ll trip if you don’t turn around!”

And this Kim Gunhak almost did, catching himself and looking sheepish, giving you one last smile before turning around.

You waited until he was too far away to make out and then headed into your apartment complex.

Jungkook fought with himself, unsure what to do now, wondering what was right.

You had only just taken off your shoes when your doorbell buzzed.

The intercom was in the hallway, but you were right next to the door, so, instead of checking it, you opened it, expecting a confused delivery person who was looking for your next-door neighbor around the corner or a neighbor inquiring about a lost dog or maybe even some drunkard who had the wrong apartment, literally anyone but the person who was standing at the entrance of your front door.

Jeon Jungkook.

He looked very sober.

His cheeks were pink from the cool night.

You thought you would have something to say, something vengeful and witty and spirited with fire, but your eyes connected with those big brown ones and suddenly you were staring at him and he was staring at you, frozen, couldn’t speak, afraid to jinx it, feeling like something otherworldly was happening right now, impossible that Jeon Jungkook was right there, someone you had known so well not that long ago, but now his eyes were flying saucers from another planet.

Unrecognizable, the feeling in those eyes.

You remembered crying and that hurt.

But easy wasn’t living.

Sometimes living meant you got hurt.

You remembered every detail on his face, from his dark eyebrows to his black hair, longer now, to those expressive dark brown orbs, to the shape of his pink lips accented with a silver ring, to the mole underneath them. Little details that you loved about him. You remembered you should be mad at him. You felt like maybe you should be.

But, like ashes, there was nothing but smokey remnants after enough time passed.

Jungkook spoke first.

“I’m… sorry.”

It was cold and you should close the door, but you were stuck, transfixed by his words.

“I know you hate those words, because actions mean more than I’m sorry but…” He sucked in a shaky breath and helplessness looked right at you. “I thought of a thousand actions and none of them can take back what I thought was true, because in that moment I betrayed you, the moment when I left myself believe in something that I made up in my mind more than I believed in you.”

He looked like he was going to cry and you hated it when Jungkook cried because then you felt like crying, like you had made him cry even if it wasn’t directly about you, but this was about you.

“When I realized I could be wrong, I didn’t want to admit it.”

Pride.

“By then I said some shitty things and you were already out the door.”

Fear.

“You said I was too stubborn and headstrong for anybody, even you,” you breathed, every memory scored pain, burned into your brain.

Jungkook shook his head. He didn’t try to come closer even though you could tell he wanted to. He didn’t cry even though you could tell he wanted to. He didn’t stop his lip from trembling because he wanted you to see that he was honest, that he didn’t want to hide even though past him would want to.

“I’m sorry. You always told me to be aware of my initial reaction so I could sort through the other options and react less emotionally, but I failed you, and I failed us, and I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wish I could take it all back, the first thought about you and Jimin, and everything after, because if I just said that very first thought out loud instead of holding it in, I wouldn’t be watching you live life without me.”

Your thoughts whispered to you, cruel and unfaithful poison seeping.

It's my fault.

Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Jungkook was being unfair to apply what you said to this situation and maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to tell and hard to know the answer. The funny thing about life was that there was usually no answer. There was only shit that happened and acting on too little information too much of the time. Maybe it would be apt to feel anger now, because Jungkook gave you the obscure hint that he had seen Kim Gunhak walk you home, perhaps just the kiss on the cheek goodbye part but it was spying all the same, and yet, instead of anger, you felt something else.

Relieved.

“You saw my date drop me off?” you asked quietly.

Jungkook looked away, ashamed.

“Yeah.”

Now.

Now you saw it was pointless.

Your fault. His fault. Who cared whose fault was it? You could spend all day and all night and all the time thereafter trying to decide whose fault it was, but at the end of the day the earth beneath you and him was scorched by an imperfect love, and it was fine to walk away. It was fine to tell him that he could walk away too, fine to walk away from the ashes of this fairytale.

You can walk away from our fairytale, Jungkook, me.

He raised his head, making eye contact with you again, taking a deep breath.

You gazed back.

Saw flecks of what could have been, lights still alive in those big brown eyes.

Pride.

Fear.

Not a chance that someone would catch you crying over Jeon Jungkook.

“I…”

The usual suspects holding you back.

“I… told myself I could do anything,” you said, not breaking eye contact and you saw he believed that you could; he always did. “I only had to put the effort in. Meet people and open up a little. Even if it was fake it ‘til I make it, and I almost made it.”

The world was blurry and cold, all around.

“Almost.”

Not a chance.

“I almost did, Jeon Jungkook, but then you had to go and apologize.”

The tears came down, and Jungkook instinctively reached out to wipe them away, but then he stopped, suddenly afraid. You stepped back and wiped your cheeks yourself, surprised at that suddenness. Was this what getting older and growing up meant? Allowing yourself to be in touch with your emotions?

Mortifying.

You stared at him, almost accusingly, and it was all falling apart.

“I’m tired of trying to figure out who was wrong.”

Everything was all wrong.

“I’m tired of trying to rethink every little thing, all thanks to you.”

Painstakingly re-wiring every thought so all those little things didn’t remind you of Jungkook, giving in sometimes to the memories and feeling aghast that both of you had dropped the lit match onto the bridge you built together, burning it, burning it all down.

“I’m tired of missing you.”

You didn’t want to be that one, but you grabbed him by the front of his parka and shook him hard, out of frustration and that thought that no one should catch you crying over a boy, of all things, a silly boy who had made you laugh and loved sweets and your fashion and had always eagerly listened to you talk about whatever with stars in his eyes like you his everything, and so you refused to cry in front of him so you could always look cool and tough and not affected, but now you shoved your head into his chest and cried, cried about how you couldn’t be the person he thought you were, a person worthy of his love, because the truth was deep down you were weak, deep down you were made a fool of, and deep down Jungkook did have power over you since some part of you stupidly hadn’t given up yet. If you had been worthy, why would he have any reason to question your faithfulness? You must have done something wrong. The unknown had eaten away at you all this time, prevented you from crying and prevented you from trying to reconcile, and here Jungkook was beating you to it, so the least you could do was be honest and cry.

It was the worst, letting yourself cry.

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you to him.

You pushed him away, glaring, fiercely rubbing at your eyes with the bottom of your sleeves.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Shook your head, stumbling back into your apartment, swinging at the door and missing, your red scarf falling from your neck, falling, falling, warmth slipping away.

“Don’t try to make me feel better when all you came here to do was to heal yourself.”

“I didn’t come here to heal myself.”

Jungkook bit his lip, looking guilty, following you inside, but only a step.

“I came here to try and get you back. I was going to fight that guy with my bare hands.”

Your tears paused, blinking hard to clear your vision.

“What?”

His eyes shifted and he sucked on the inside of his cheek, frowning slightly. “Well, if this was a movie, I would fight him, but it’s not, because it’s unlikely you would take me back after I beat up some poor guy.”

“I would kick your ass,” you snapped, annoyance clearing the sadness. “Not to mention Gunhak is a workout maniac, as much or more than you. He wouldn’t be beaten by you so easily.”

Jungkook pouted.

You froze.

The moment hung in the air, a stillness with too much meaning.

“Well, I would already lose anyway,” he mumbled, glancing at you. “You were always my weakness.”

Those big brown eyes and you noticed his ears were red, his cheeks were flushed and even his fingers were scarlet. This moment was a choice, a moment to stop and consider the options, but all you did was follow your instinct, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist, pulling him to you, ignoring his wide eyes and confused squeak, pulling and closing the door, cutting off the cold, and now it was just you and him, you holding his cold hands and rubbing, closing your fingers around them, not knowing if this was a bad decision or not, probably, but what made a decision good or bad?

No answers.

“I hate you,” you muttered. “You watch too much drama and memorized all the good lines.”

Your gaze flickered to him and Jungkook pulled a face, looking remorseful again, except this time he seemed less sure of his guilt.

“Sorry?”

You bit your lip.

“You’re stubborn and headstrong too, Jungkook.”

He nodded, not denying it.

“But you’re my good influence,” he chirped lightly.

Then he winced.

“Were. Were my good influence.”

Corrected himself, tone pained.

Heart racing, looking at your world, holding onto Jungkook’s hands, and he stepped closer tentatively, warmth and memories, and the line of having a possibly uncomfortable conversation tomorrow was not crossed yet, not yet, and you squeezed his hands, those big brown eyes asking you if the impossible was possible, and you didn’t dare open your mouth, because the real answer was that you didn’t know, he didn’t know, no one knew, nothing was meant to be, everything was impossible until someone made it possible, and maybe that those someones could be you and him.

You tilted your head.

Familiar breath.

“You can tell me if you like him more than me,” Jungkook whispered shakily. “I’ll probably cry, but I’ll understand eventually.”

The tips of his hair touched your forehead.

“Can you shut up, Jungkook?” you hissed back. “Just shut up and close your eyes if you want me to kiss you.”

Flecks of what could have been, lights still alive in those flying saucers, and his lashes lowered, casting darkness over the stars in those big brown eyes, closing them.

What are you doing, me?

You kissed him.

He should have accepted what was, was, but Jungkook couldn’t and now you kissed him and his brain reminded him that you could be the one to break his heart this time, but Jungkook told his brain, I don’t care, and kissed back, trying not to cry all over your face. If this was your revenge arc, Jungkook would gladly be part of it. He had kinda been a shithead. He could understand the audience perspective.

Also, you were kinda hot in your revenge arc.

What?

Jungkook had told you many times before that he loved your legs.

You let go of his hands and placed your palms on his cheeks, exhaling into his mouth, and he never said it before, but he loved that shit, it got him inappropriately hard inappropriately fast, something about the heat and the calmness of your sweet breath that drove him crazy.

He did love sweets, after all.

“You’re so cold.”

Your kiss on his cheeks, his gasping mouth, grazing his lip ring. Soft, plush, perfect lips murmuring against his skin, familiar and sensual and comforting, and he was seconds away from crying, so instead he drew in a shuddering breath, falling into the more R-rated thoughts because if he didn’t let arousal take over, he was seconds away from becoming a motionless, emotional puddle on your hardwood floor and that wasn’t how he wanted this to end.

Yes, Jungkook was relying on sex to keep himself mentally stable.

Sorry, you’re too sexy and I want you too much.

“It’s cold outside,” and his reply came out a little more childish than he intended, too breathy and shivery, it was just so nice, so fucking nice that you were kissing him again, tracing his ears with your fingertips, loving caress, pulling him closer.

Your smile against his lip ring from his silly response.

“I’m warm. Touch me,” you breathed against his chin, hot and heavy.

Okay, maybe Jungkook knew all nice lines in dramas, but you knew all the lines to the porn videos.

Not that he was complaining.

His hands finding your waist and your teeth sinking his lower lip and he whined, the sting of pain coursing through him, a sharp detail of reality proving that this was no dream. His fingers curling into the thick fabric of your hoodie, grasping for your body, warm and getting warmer, yanking you closer. Your tongue tracing his skin, your hands framing the sides of his neck, stripped honesty vibrating in the millimeters of air between your faces.

“I always liked the sounds you make,” you purred, wisps of breath from your formation of words dancing between his trembling lips. “Like you’re desperate for me.”

“I am,” he found himself admitting. “I always am, please, breathe in my mouth, please.”

A ripple of surprise, but you wasted no time, covering his lips with yours and sighing into his throat, making his eyelids flutter and his whole body shiver, and if this was the last time then Jungkook was just going to leave it all on the table, all the things that made him feel good, he wanted them, all the things he remembered you liked, he would do them, like letting go of your hoodie and sliding his hands into your hair, turning your head to kiss your ear and suck on the space right under it, tongue and lips and teeth, your hitched breath at his touch, he missed it, the soft scent of your hair products filling his nose, he missed it, he missed the taste of your skin and the way you impatiently yanked his clothes off, cleanly unzipping his parka and pushing it off his shoulders, forcing him to let go up your head and just dump it on the ground, kicking off his shoes to a different directions, persistently keeping his lips on your neck and letting the fervor take over, insistently pushing you deeper inside your apartment.

He missed it, the way you enjoyed him.

“Can you–”

But you didn’t complete your irritated request, abruptly shoving him into the wall and making him gasp, and then the next thing he knew he was pressing his head to the wall and moaning as you bit down above his collarbone, running your tongue along that sensitive skin, your nails dragging down the sides of his neck, leaving lines of wanton fire.

“Too many layers,” you growled, tugging at the collar of his long-sleeved gray shirt even though it was the only layer separating you and him, but you were right, he agreed that it was too many layers, and Jungkook hastily yanked it up and over his head, tossing it to the side and then you bent down, your hands splayed over his right shoulder and the left side of his hip.

Pink tongue sliding out.

Licking up his chest.

Watching him as you did it, causing blood and pleasure to rush to all the right places.

He moaned, loud and pornographic.

You cocked an eyebrow.

He reached out and pulled at your hoodie and you made it crumple to the floor, then body to body again, face to face, kiss to hungry kiss, his hands going up your white crop top and under your bra, whining deep in his chest as you exhaled into his mouth again, thrusting your tongue into his lips when his fingertips brushed your nipples.

You backed off a little, taking your tongue away.

“D-Don’t stop.”

You paused, searching his eyes.

He hadn’t really confessed it before.

“It’s hot,” Jungkook panted. “When you do stuff like t-that.”

He squeezed your breasts to help get his point access but also for comfort as you scrutinized him, uncertain if he was sincere or not. Fair enough.

“Like what?” you asked, prompting him to clarify.

Heart racing, hot all over, adrenaline and fear fueling his pleasure, because there was something wonderfully dangerous about this territory. He had some inkling, but before he didn’t really bother to ask too much. You always did what you wanted to and naturally it leant to a certain power dynamic, but you never asked to take it further than sporadic, fleeting moments. And, well, Jungkook had never thought about how it would feel to admit out loud that that part of you it turned him on.

It would feel embarrassing, and yet he was enticed by that rush.

Aroused by it.

“When you treat me like you own me.”

Your eyes on his, not breaking the gaze.

Reaching up, running your fingers though his hair, sending tingles down his spine.

“Do you want me to own you a little?” you murmured.

He reached up and closed your fingers around a fistful of his hair.

“Maybe a little more than a little.”

You tugged.

The sting of pain, moan tumbling from his mouth, his hand falling, circling your waist.

Closer.

“I can take more,” he whispered to your lips.

You pulled and closed your hand over his erection fighting his jeans and Jungkook felt his whole body electrify, bucking his hips to your fingers and seeking your lips, but there was no kiss, only a controlled stream of breath to swallow, and the groan bubbled up in his ribcage. Alive. Raw pleasure. Intoxicated, driven by ferocious need, his fumbling hands undoing the button of his jeans, forcing down the zipper, everything being pushed down, and then it was your hand to his hot, taut skin, flicking your wrist by his head to deliver a shot of pain and a stroke of pleasure from the other, torn between the two sensations and the lightheaded feeling of your forceful breath pushing the air out of his lungs, forgetting that he could breathe from his nose, didn’t want to anyway, living was only living when it was on this hazy thin oxygen from your exhale.

Yes, Jungkook was pants down, shirtless, letting you jack him off and pull on his hair as you breathed into his mouth.

That was not how he thought this conversation would end but he was not taking any second of it for granted, rubbing your nipples, kneading your breasts, making sure you felt pleasure too, but the thing that seemed to make you smile most was the sounds he made, so Jungkook upped the desperation level in his tone and tucked his hips back slightly, changing the angle of your stroke.

“Fuck, yes, lower, closer to the head, fuuuuck, right there, a-ah…”

And you knew it all, the right pressure, the steady build up from slow to fast, until you had to focus and simply clutched his head, digging your nails into his scalp, panting against his shaking lips, fast and intense pressure consuming him, chasing the glorious high, closer and closer and closer.

He pinched your hard nipples and rubbed the tips, moaning unashamedly and probably too loud, keeping his lower body rigid so you could control the pace, your name tumbling out of his mouth, deep, needy, looking down to watch your hand firmly wrapped around his stiff cock, the head dark red and pleasure throbbing up his torso, you’re so good, fuck, you’re so fucking good, your breasts in his hands, perfect, groan pitching to helpless whine, almost…

You stopped.

“Fuck!”

His entire body jerked as you squeezed and simply froze at the very last second, at literally the singular point of almost no return and you stopped, and he was too far gone to be ashamed of the pathetic whimpering he was doing now, gripping your hand around his twitching length and nonsensically begging you to continue, but the moment was gone and, by the look of your devious smirk, it was all on purpose.

Fuck!

In his horny-induced haze, Jungkook attempted his best puppy eyes.

Your hand slid down his head and traced his jaw.

“I’m not gonna let you cum on the floor,” you teased.

He pulled a pout. “Come on… It’s not like floors can’t be cleaned.”

Your grip pulsed around his cock so hard he nearly gasped in pain.

“You’re not going to last if you cum once before pussy.”

Okay.

You were right, but the truth didn’t make Jungkook happy.

Not until he was balls deep into you, condom wrapper falling from his hand, you taking the moment to stretch your legs over his torso casually, adjusting your hips under him, and then he was deeper, surrounded on all sides by silky wet warmth that pulsated around him, so good his head involuntarily tipped back, his hair trickling his shoulders as he slid out a little and then back in.

Oh.

God.

He was very happy now.

“F-Fuck… I hate this position… you f-feel too fucking g-good…”

“It’s just missionary.”

He jerked his head down to see you smirking at him. Looking smug fully naked, juicy thighs flush to his abs and your body was essentially folded in half as he leaned down, sucking in a breath as your pussy clamped around his length, slow and controlled and every centimeter gripped tight like his dick owned money.

“You have the most control in this position,” he puffed.

“You wanted it,” you hummed.

Jungkook squinted in mock suspicion. Then he gave up on the act rather quickly.

“Yeah, I want you.”

Slid out and back in, shuddering.

“I don’t want anyone else but you.” Pleasure snaking through him with every thrust, breathless, slow and deep at first, but gradually adding power, harder and rougher, smacking hips to crotch, erotic electricity all over, his hair falling over his eyes, looking down, staring into yours. “I know I’m balls deep right now, but you have to believe me.”

You reached up.

And.

Patted him on the cheek.

“Jungkook, we can have the deep talk after the two minutes it takes for you to finish. I promise,” you assured cheerfully with a smile.

Hey!

He scrunched up his face and glared at you. “Excuse me, I last longer than two minutes–”

You planted your hands onto the mattress and thrust up into him. He choked at the sudden slingshot of ecstasy that pierced through him and his entire tirade about how he was going to last way longer because you technically edged him which was very mean by the way, yeah, all that was instantly forgotten as you tightened your jaw and all around him, creating an insane pace that his body immediately followed, too much carnal instinct and not enough sanity, the sound between you and him suddenly louder, wetter, rhythmic smacks and panting gasps, your mouth opening and your pink tongue licking the air, hint of a smirk at the periphery of your lips, and Jungkook felt like he should be mad about that, but it was turning him on more, fuck, he felt his cock twitch as he watched that agile tongue writhe, teasing sin, he was doomed, he was one of those freaky people that was into this stuff now.

That was what he got for admitting the truth.

Your hand shot up and you tangled your fingers in his long hair, gripping his head to get the leverage to fully fuck him from below plus add the aching pain of your nails digging into the scalp to the torrent of sensations ransacking him right now.

He groaned and his eyes rolled back, the orgasm slamming into him.

All over him, shooting out all over his nerves, potent pleasure so powerful that his hips bucked and shivered, only pure will allowing him to continue thrusting, but it appeared you had been holding back, oh fuck, skyrocketing his shivering orgasm to uncontrollable crashing waves from every throb of your walls, the slickness between your bodies painting onto his inner thighs and crotch, your name torn from his throat, low and hoarse and raw, drowning in the most concentrated bliss he knew, drenched in sex and sweat, wishing it was forever.

It always ended too soon.

Fuck.

“Um.”

You sat in front of him, wrapped in blankets as he was wrapped in his own cocoon of blankets, watching his lips twist and shift, looking uneasy.

“I’m super serious,” Jungkook finally settled. “About starting over. I mean, I know we just…”

“Fucked like a bad porn storyline?” you offered.

He winced, shifting his eyes. "Er. Yeah."

You dropped the jokes. “I’m serious too. Let’s start again. I learned my lesson. No more surprises.” You sharply poked his knee through the blanket. “But you have to talk to me. Whatever it is. Even if you think I don’t wanna know. Uncomfortable or not, better sooner than later. And I will do the same.” You nodded, more yourself than him, promising to hold yourself to it. Kept your gaze on him so he knew you were serious about doing so. You took it all in, messy black hair, big brown eyes, dreams of what could be. You and him could make the impossible, possible.

You and him only had to put the effort in.

“I wanna know everything about you, Jungkook.”

There was real worry reflected back at you. “What if it’s not good?”

You shrugged. “I already knew you weren’t good. I went on one date with one guy and you were already stalking me.”

His brows furrowed in indignation. “Hey, I happened to stumble onto your date by chance!”

“Oh, yeah, and by chance you followed us all the way to my apartment?” you countered.

His jaw flapped. “W… W-Well…”

You raised your eyebrows. Both of them.

Very high.

He puffed one cheek and looked away. “I just… hadn’t decided what to do…” he mumbled. “Or how serious you were, because if you were super serious, I wasn’t going to talk to you…”

You blinked in fake disbelief.

Jungkook muttered something like, I meant I wasn’t gonna try to sleep with you or anything if you were dating another guy... Mmm. You poked him. He shifted his eyes. Then ticked his chin at you.

“What about you, huh? You did it too.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t start dating you only because you’re cute, you know.”

He blinked in confusion.

You shrugged. “Fucking is important to me in a relationship. You always wanna fuck me. That’s what I want. Especially now that you admitted that you want me to own your ass in bed, making you even more appealing. Mmm. We have to explore that more.” You nodded sagely, greatly satisfied with your decision. “Therefore, I will talk to Gunhak in the morning.”

Jungkook sputtered, cocooning himself further into the thick blankets, slowly turning red. “That’s… W-Well… I wouldn’t date you unless I thought that you were the hottest woman that’s ever existed...”

You cupped your hand around your ear. “Pardon? Jeon Jungkook, are you saying that you’re shallow?”

“I’m not shallow, don’t twist my words!”

“I can twist something else–”

“Stop, t-that’s scary, don’t come under here! Hey!”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 39

Nicky screamed as he found himself yanked from his bed as he fell to the ground. The blanket that he had so perfectly burrito’d himself in had been pulled and he had gone with it pillows and all. He laid on the ground blinking up into the darkness wondering what the hell had just happened, he squints and thinks he sees blond hair. He racks his still loading brain to try and think of anything he had done recently to Aaron that would result in such a rude awakening.

The lamp clicks on.

“Nicky, are you- Andrew, what the hell.” He hears Aaron’s voice from the left and now Nicky can see the black armbands of his other cousin.

That tracks.

“Flight 8329 from Charleston International Airport to Seattle Tacoma International Airport took off 20 minutes ago.” Andrew says as if that means anything to Nicky.

“Cool?” Nicky squints at his cousin.

“There was an hour delay due to a staffing issue, but it is off the ground now.” Andrew continues and Nicky continues to not understand what is being said to him.

“Great?” Nicky hears Aaron.

There is silence in the room and Nicky finds himself starting to drift back to sleep. The floor really wasn’t that bad.

“So, Daniel’s not here anymore?” he hears Matt’s whispered question.

“Dude, why are you whispering?” Aaron asks.

“Smithsters still asleep.” Matt says voice still quiet.

“How the fuck did he sleep through Nicky’s banshee scream?” Aaron asks voice lowered down to a whisper.

“I think moving all his stuff wiped him out.” Matt offers.

“We moved everything he just said where he wanted it.” Aaron grouses quietly.

“You know Smithster isn’t much of a talker.” Matt reminds.

“Whatever.” Aaron huffs and Nicky is almost back asleep.

“Yes Matt,” Andrew says voice quieter than it had been when he had been rattling off facts about Daniel’s flight, “Daniel is not here anymore.” He says.

That is actually great news. Feels like a shame that FF didn’t wake up to hear it but Nicky knows that it wasn’t just the move that had wiped his friend out.

The last three days had been interesting.

First, Aras had flown back home. She had offered to stay longer with FF since Daniel was still around, but he had merely smiled and told her that he’d be okay. Nicky had almost cried when FF had said that he wasn’t alone anymore. Nicky’s heart twisted when the two decided that it was probably for the best that FF not come back to Washington for Winter Break.

Second, there had been the whole debacle where Daniel had shown back up with the man who had married FF’s mom. They had burst into the practice and had gone straight towards where FF was sitting sipping his ‘New and Improved Day/Boyd Smoothie’. Wymack had gotten between them before anything happened physically, but Nicky could still see how FF froze at the sight of his mother’s husband.

There had been raised voices, threats of security, demands on why ‘John’ hadn’t answered his phone to come bail his ‘brother’ out, that he’d forced his dad to come all the way across the country to bail his ‘brother’ out. FF had been quiet looking bored and unbothered by the tirade of the man who married his mother.

Wymack had been in rare form.

“He didn’t pick up because that phone is in my desk.” Wymack had hissed standing utterly stalwart between FF and the two men. “Now get the hell out of my Court before your son gets reacquainted with the Campus Police.” He points towards the exit.

FF’s Mother’s husband had demanded FF’s new phone number but neither Wymack or Smith gave it.

It was only as Wymack lifted his own phone up to his ear after having dialed campus security that the two got the hint and ran off.

Following that there’d been the expedited emergency restraining order request that had been pushed through.

Nicky and Wymack had been the ones that went with FF for support during the request since everyone else had a prior engagement. The security footage was all that had been needed to grant it as far as the judge was concerned despite FF’s Mother’s husband’s pleas that it was merely a ‘fight between brothers’.

Nicky had almost wished he had given Andrew the Maserati back when the jackass had shown up to the hearing with his son wearing a T-shirt that said ‘I’m not the step-dad. I’m the dad that stepped up.’

Oh.

He opens his eyes and tunes back into the conversation. It seems like Aaron had come to the realization that the only way that Andrew would be awake at this god forsaken hour of- Nicky looks at the alarm clock- 5 AM is because he’d been in the same bed as Neil who was a notorious early morning runner.

“You want the Maserati.” Nicky interrupts the whispered argument.

“No, I’m just here to comment on how Smith’s motorcycle helmet really ties the whole room together now that he’s moved in.” Andrew rolls his eyes so hard that even if Nicky hadn’t been looking at his cousin he would have heard the eyeroll. “Yes, I am here because it is now officially impossible for me to hit Daniel with my car. That was the deal.” Andrew says with a scowl, “So you are taking me to where you stored it.” He says.

“Andrew, it’s too early. They’re not open yet.” Nicky groans grabbing one of his pillows and trying to hide his face under it.

It was unsurprisingly ripped away before he could properly hide away from his cousin.

“We have to walk to wherever you hid my car.” Andrew hisses.

“Andrew you’re not seriously going to make me get up and walk the whole way there on the first morning that I can sleep in.” Nicky groans.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t stolen my car Nicholas.” Andrew hisses.

“You guys can take my truck.” Matt says with a huge yawn as he settles back into bed. Morning practice for the rest of the week was not mandatory.

“See, we can take Matt’s truck. The place is only a 30 minute drive away and it doesn’t open until 7 AM anyways.” Nicky groans and tries to roll under the bed. If he can get to the far side then it will be difficult for Andrew, with his 5 foot nothing height to reach-

Andrew puts a foot between him and freedom.

“This room is buying Neil and I breakfast.” Andrew says, “And then we’ll go pick up my car.” He says.

“What? Why?!” Matt and Aaron demand as Nicky groans still trying to roll under the bed despite Andrew’s unyielding foot.

“You all either knew about Nicky’s plan or were part of Nicky’s plan.” Andrew says.

“Okay but Smithster is innocent.” Matt says.

“True, but we need him to come.” Andrew says.

“Why?” Nicky groans changing direction to try and roll under Aaron’s bed only to be stopped by the absolute barrier that was Katelyn’s suitcases of off-season clothes she kept under Aaron’s bed since her own room didn’t have space for it all.

“So we can get into the breakfast place now instead of the usual time for people our age. The owner loves him.” He says.

Ah, FF’s old lady magnetism.

Nicky gets it.

The boy has very pinchable cheeks.

There are very few things one can do when faced with an Andrew Minyard who has decided upon something. Eventually their whole room was up though Andrew at least was far more gentle with FF than he had been with Nicky. FF could sleep through almost any amount of noise but would wake up at the slightest touch and go still.

Nicky really wishes that Andrew had a less conspicuous car because he’s sure his cousin could have gotten away with running Daniel over if he had a Volvo or a Ford.

Nicky went with FF on the back of his motorcycle. One of Aras’ parting gifts to him had been an orange helmet with ‘Foxy’ written on it. Nicky had loved it immediately and unironically. Nicky held onto FF and hoped that his friend was awake enough to actually be driving on the damn thing, but FF had seemed at least 90% conscious.

Either way they arrived at the breakfast place FF was pushed to the front to speak with the owner of the fancy breakfast spot and within 10 minutes they were at a table surrounded by the elderly early bird patrons.

The all-you-can-eat brunch was always both a challenge and a danger when you are a group of college athletes. A challenge because it always felt a bit like a race against the chefs who were churning out chicken, waffles, hams to slice, eggs of all varieties, bacon, sausages, French toast, cinnamon rolls, hashbrowns, quiche, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, and lox bagels. The danger was what Matt was currently finding himself in since the man had failed to pace himself. “I think I’m gonna die.” Matt groaned.

“Smith, where did you get that smoothie?” Aaron asks looking as FF was sipping a delightful looking smoothie.

“The owner gave it to me while you guys were filling your plates.” FF says. “I’m supposed to let her know if I need another one.” He says.

“When are you going to be off that liquid diet?” Aaron asks as he digs into some bacon.

“Well, next week I can just start essentially putting things in the blender and I shouldn’t suffer the consequences like with the borscht.” FF shrugs. “Gran said she’d send along a pie to celebrate when I can eat solids again.” He adds and FF’s face is as blank and as unemotional as it usually was but there was a general air of sadness.

“You know, I don’t think it’d bother Allison or any of the girls if you joined us for winter break.” Matt says from where he was staring up at the ceiling still overfull from going too hard too fast on the egg options.

“I don’t want to intr-“

“It’s not an intrusion.” Andrew says looking at his phone, “We’re inviting you.” He adds before getting up and grabbing his backpack, “Do not let them take my plate.” He says looking at the table. Andrew’s plate was laden with the sweeter side of things for breakfast and he had made up a plate for Neil who was supposed to meet them at the breakfast spot.

Andrew left and nicky figured he was going to go grab Neil outside. “Isn’t it for the original Foxes?” FF asks.

“Yeah, but you’re our friend so it’s fine if you come. I know Dan wants to really get to know the guy who took her place on the line.” Matt says with a laugh that has him looking queasy afterwards.

“You and me can room together.” Nicky says.

“Isn’t Erik coming?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Yeah? So?” Nicky questions.

Aaron looked at Nicky like he was an idiot and opened his mouth likely to say why, “I don’t want to intrude. I can probably just sleep on a couch out in the main area, if your friends are okay with me coming.” FF sips at his drink. “You and Erik have a lot to catch up on.” He says voice giving that slight indication that he felt awkward.

Catch-up on-

Ohhh.

Yeah, he and Erik are going to christen that bed if it hasn’t already been christened.

“We’ll figure something out.” Aaron says easily enough.

Eventually Andrew returned with Neil in tow. He was a little sweaty looking but definitely look like someone who had been running for about two hours at this point. He figures that Andrew must have brought spare clothes for Neil to change into so that he’d be acceptable in the breakfast joint.

“Smith has agreed to join us for Christmas Break.” Nicky announces to the couple as they took their seats.

“Quite brave of Smiths considering how the last holiday break went when he came with us.” Aaron says wrly.

“Yeah Andrew, make a deal not to stab Smithy again.” Nicky holds out a pinky for a pinky promise with his cousin.

Andrew rolled his eyes as FF piped in, “Romero stabbed me.” He says loyally.

Eventually they got to talking about their plans for the Winter Banquet on Friday. Nicky was going with FF as his date and had already gone out and gotten him an appropriately bespoke suit with Aras the week before.

Eventually they wrap up breakfast. Nicky, Aaron, and Matt all pay and they make their way out to the parking lot.

The parking lot where the Maserati was.

“Andrew, how in the world-“

“Like a locked gate would even slow Neil down. Got the opening time and the driving distance from you this morning and narrowed it down to the only long-term parking lot in the area.” Andrew says idly as Neil hands over the spare Maserati keys to him.

Nicky spends a bit more time bitching about the fact that Andrew woke them all up mostly out of spite and as a cover for getting his car back without Nicky’s assistance. However eventually the time for class swiftly approached.

“This isn’t over!” he says pulling on his Foxy Helmet and pointing at Andrew.

“I think it is.” Andrew replies with a shrug as he and Neil climbed into the front of the car.

Nicky rolled his eyes but climbed onto the back of FF’s motorcycle.

Winter Banquet was in 2 days.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

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