#like id rather do that than pay out of pocket somewhere.

[corvidaedream]

had an appointment w my pcp and told her the plastic surgeon i had a consult w wants me to lose weight before he'll consider top surgery and she just sighed deeply.

[lmaoplsdontlookatme]

im so obsessed w dads friend bo this got out of hand and is way too long lmao 🥴 thank u @slasherrabbitmadness for letting me dabble w dilf bo 😭🖤🙏🏻

🚫 minors 🚫 sfw

It was the first time you’d visited the shitty little bar in the town where your dad lived, some back end swamp that gave you chills and you were both wondered and disgusted how people could live with so much heat and humidity. You’d been home on summer break from college, staying with your father rather than your mother and while you loved him more than anything, the mosquitoes and constant sweat on your brow was beginning to make you regret your stay.

That was until you found yourself at the only bar in your father’s town, dark and dusty and full of mean looking strangers and you’re sure you’re in a movie. The bartender does’t check your ID when you order yourself a vodka cranberry, but he tilts his head and stares at you long and hard enough that you blush. You’re tucked into the corner of the bar, silently watching its inhabitants while you drank iced vodka over iced vodka - your phone had no service here.

You’re three drinks deep when you buy a pack of cigarettes from the bartender and when you fish your wallet out to pay the rest of your tab to leave, there’s a smooth voice at your side and you give the speaker weary eyes - until you see him, that is. Taller than you, and clearly muscular under his clothes. He’s got a thick neck and a strong jaw and a dirty baseball cap over dark curls - his fingers are dark and covered in what you assume to be old, built up engine grease. A mechanic. He’s got a brow raised at you and you blink up dumbly at him, face heating.

“What?”

The older man’s lips curl into a grin that’s all teeth and your heart skips a beat as he dips down ever so slightly, just right into your personal space.

“Real loud in here, huh? Sorry, was askin if you’d mind if I bum one - left my wallet back in the truck.” He motions over his shoulder and you see his truck outside before giving a nod, offering the tall stranger the pack of cigarettes. His toothy grin shrinks into a side smile and you feel your knees go weak - his deft fingers quickly pack the cartridge before opening the plastic and tossing the garbage onto the bar. He takes a cigarette from your pack and lights it with a match from his pocket before offering it to you - you take it with a slow blink and watch as he lights his own before sliding you back the pack.

“Bo Sinclair. Mechanic for a couple towns over - I own a specialty shop so i’m here pretty often.” He’s got a thick southern drawl that makes your stomach clench and you have to tell yourself to breathe - why the fuck were you going nuts over some backwoods hillbilly? You blamed the vodka, though you knew that it wasn’t the case. Instead, you squeeze your legs together to quench the throb of your clit while you smoke. You offer your name quietly and he repeats it with a satisfied hum before motioning the bartender over. “Double whatever she was havin, and give me a couple of whiskeys too.” The bartender is friendlier with him - /BO/ - than he was with you and your drinks are served promptly and when you take the shot glass and the cool vodka cranberry, you glance up at Bo with drawn brows. “Owner and I know each other. My brother does some work for him now and then.” He finishes his sentence with a wink before tapping his shot glass against yours, urging you in.

It’s a few hours later when you’re thoroughly buzzed and gone through over a pack of cigarettes and your eyes are red and puffy from the weed offered to you and Bo just outside the bar that you find yourself giggling along side of the main road in town, fingers laced loosely with Bo’s as he lets out soft chuckles behind you, eyes dark as he takes in your form. You had every intention of leading Bo back to anywhere you could and fucking the brains out of him, but hesitated when you thought of your father’s small home.

“Hey. Wait. This is, uh. Weird.” Your voice is breathy and you have to stop to laugh, but then you steady yourself as Bo comes close to you, dropping his forehead down against yours and pushing you gently into the shadows of the buildings along the street. You swallow and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and he’s there, hand instantly wrapped around you and lifting you and you’re being pressed against some sort of brick wall with Bo’s hands at your ass. He kisses you harshly and you moan against him, all teeth and tongue while your fingers wrap into the dark curls of his hair and Bo grinds up against you, already hard behind his pants. “Can’t, uh. Go back to mine. My house. It ain’t mine. My uh, my dad is there.” You’re breathy against him as he sucks harsh bruises into your neck and collar while you pant and whine against him. He bites down and you let out a cry, Bo’s hand shooting up to cover your mouth. He sucks in a harsh bruise that you’d have no possibility of hiding and you wonder for a moment if he was a high schooler in a man’s body because who else would leave this many hickies?

He lets you down after a long while and pulls you from the wall and Bo ducks for a moment and you only have a second to catch your breath before he’s lifting you and you’re slung over his shoulder, hands at his ass with your ass at the side of his face. He presses a harsh, bruising nip against your thigh that you’re sure would bruised and you’re being carried away through the dark streets. There’s a noise and Bo grunts and you’re being gently slung into the passenger seat of his truck, old leather still hot from the day earlier.

Bo slides into the seat next to you and while he’s sitting, you can see how hard and thick he is behind his jeans. He shifts his truck into gear and you jump and bounce and you’re on your belly against the bar seat of the truck, face against the rough fabric of Bo’s pants while you whine and groan around him, soaking the front of his pants as much as you could. He’s got a hand in your hair and he occasionally lifts it to shift gears - the ride is smooth and you can feel his eyes on the back of your head and you pant against his fabric hidden cock. You weren’t sure where you were going and the thought crosses your mind that you were totally about to be brutally murdered somewhere and when Bo’s hand tightens in your hair, you groan around him as your clit throbs between your legs and then you don’t care where you’re going, as long as Bo fucks you.

The drive feels like forever but it couldn’t be more than 15 minutes and suddenly the truck stops and Bo pulls you up for a harsh kiss before shoving you back to your side of the truck - you’re out of the door and Bo is at your side in seconds, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you up into his house. It’s big, two story, and there are multiple vehicles outside which leads you to believe that there are others than Bo staying at the house. You wonder briefly if he’s married with children and a sinful shiver runs down your spine. There’s no lock on the door and you follow Bo in quietly. The house is dark and you trip over the edge of a carpet, but Bo is there and he leads you upstairs with his fingers tight around your wrist.

As soon as his bedroom door is closed behind you, Bo’s attitude changes. He’s slower, calmer, a cheshire grin across his face. You’re panting, clit throbbing between your legs, limbs trembling as you sink to the floor and drop to your knees, staring up at Bo. “Wanna suck your cock. Please.” Your voice is low and Bo’s grin only widens at your words - he’s quick with his jeans, popping the button and flicking down his fly to shimmy them down his legs. He’s thick behind his underwear and you watch him rub over himself with dark eyes staring down at you, panting against the warm bedroom air. You reach up and tug Bo’s underwear down his thighs, letting out a slutty little moan as his cock comes free - he’s thick, thicker than anything you’ve had before, and he’s got enough length that you have to use two hands to jerk him off. Bo hisses above you as you press sloppy wet kisses along his shaft, lubing him up while you tug and massage at his balls with one hand, the other balled into a fist at your lap.

He doesn’t give you long to get used to him, not before he’s got his hands at the sides of your head with his own slammed back behind him into the door, hips tilted forward as he fucks your throat. You’re doing what you can to take it, both hands at his thighs while you choke and gag around him, drool and spit and pre puddling under the two of you. He’s fucking loud above you, airy chuckles and panting your name and you’re so surprised that he’s so expressive and it only turns you on, humming around Bo as he assaults your throat. That makes him stutter and you can see his thighs clench around you and his fingers tighten painfully in your hair as he chokes. He stays like this for only a few seconds before yanking your head back with a growl. You pop off of him as you choke, coughing painfully and spitting against his carpet. You’re given only a moment before Bo’s hands are under your arms and he’s lifting you like you’re a fucking child - you’re tossed back onto his bed and he lifts his hand to circle his finger, indicating for you to flip. You comply immediately, hands under you to open your own pants and you’re shimmying out of them when Bo is there behind you, face pressed into the ass of your underwear as he licks and nips at you from beneath the fabric. You whine and push back against him, using the leverage to get your knees under you and you find yourself face down in a stranger’s pillows that smelled like way too much Old Spice and there was so much warmth between your legs that you thought you might drown and die.

Bo’s fingers are there along with his tongue and he works your wet cunt open from behind, humming against you as you moan and writhe and pant into his bed, a hand behind you in his hair while the other grips the blankets desperately for something, anything. The thick fingers inside of you speed up and you press back against him and he sucks and licks at your clit and you cum harder than you remember ever having in your life, knees shaking as Bo fucks you through it, lapping your orgasm soaking around his fingers. He doesn’t break, only shifts his hand so he can slip a third finger inside of you and you stretch around him, delirious with sex as you push back against him with your sluttiest of moans. You can hear him behind you, panting and letting out small whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god damn’ and then suddenly it’s not enough as you clench and whine hard at Bo, shaming your hips and ass, inviting, begging him to fuck you.

He pulls back and is gone for a moment and you try to catch your breath, repositioning yourself on your knees with your ass up and hips spread, how you to like to be fucked deep and harsh. You hear plastic and he’s putting on a condom thankfully, though with this much heat in your belly it was hard to care if he had one or not.

“Look at you, just beggin for it. Fancy little city slut desperate to get fucked in my bed.” Bo’s tone is harsh and you moan loud at his words, his accent thicker in his lust and when he grabs your hips and pulls you back, you let out a small yelp in surprise. You’re expecting Bo to plunge into you, to be taken brutal and harsh but the head of his cock is at your cunt and you hold your breath as he slowly, slowly sinks in. He’s fucking thick and you gasp at the burn and stretch, eyes wide against the bed. He feels like he could split you in two on his cock alone and you press back into him suddenly, fulling seating yourself against his hips with his thick length buried deep in your pussy, deep enough to feel his throbbing head against your cervix. You moan, low and long around Bo and he picks up his pace then, drawing back with his cock nearly spilling out of you and then he’s back with a sharp snap of his hips - you cry out at the second assault in your belly and then he sets his rhythm, rolling his hips to snap harshly into you and pulling you back onto his cock with each thrust.

You don’t know how long you’re bent over and fucked like this, Bo groaning and brutal behind you, hips already marked with countless bruises in the shape of his fingers and you’re so sweaty, a pool under you where Bo fucks into you and you leak around him. You’re sobbing into his sheets, bouncing your hips back to meet him with each thrust and Bo gets louder as he spanks you harshly - on his fourth slap, he grabs your cheeks in a hard knead before picking up his pace, bucking into you and chasing his own pleasure, using your cunt like a fleshlight as he chases his own pleasure with your body. Onetwothree pumps and he pulls out of you with a slick sound and your knees collapse under you, a cry passed your lips from the sudden loss of contact and then Bo’s fingers are under your shoulder and you’re being flipped. You obediently sit up on your elbows and open your mouth with your tongue out, eyes locked on Bo’s and he yanks off the condom just in time to finish against your face - thick, warm ropes of cum that splash into your mouth, over your lips, across your neck and into your hair. You moan and lick him cum from your lips, hiding the wince at his bitter taste.

Bo falls asleep quickly afterwards, snoring and with an arm slung over your back. You lie awake and watch him in awe - he’s the first older man you’d ever slept with, and he fucked you better than boys your age did. You sigh and crawl out from under him, pulling your pants back up. The walk back to town and to your own car is long, a good hour, and you’re so sore when you get back to the bar that you slump against your car for a moment before settling in. You flip down your mirror and take a look at yourself and blush at the dark teeth marks and bruises littering high on your neck and down your collar. There’s no chance you’d be able to cover them and you sigh to your fate of having to explain to your father why you have hickies in your 20s.

The next morning you’re sore in places you didn’t know you could be sore - you rubbed your clit in the shower and came to the thought of an old hillbilly who probably wasn’t even that cute, you were only wearing beer goggles. Your dad doesn’t say anything about the bruises on your neck, but you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eyes. You’re red in embarrassment throughout the morning and when your dad suggests you get out of town rather than staying cooped up in the house, you gladly take his keys and drive the two of you to town, old truck chugging along. Your father didn’t like your car, said it was too small and hard for him to get in and out of, so you learned stick so you could drive him comfortably in his own truck.

The two of you eat at a diner that serves you greasy biscuits and gravy but their coffee is halfway decent so you sit with your father and enjoy a companionable silence. It’s broken by a loud, familiar voice and you furrow your brow as it comes closer and then he’s speaking your father’s name and his voice lights up as he stands.

“Well, Bo god damned Sinclair! I thought that was you, what other bastard is crazy enough to go muckin about dressed like that?” Your father’s voice is all smiles and he pulls Bo into a hug - he was dressed in all black as it he were coming from a funeral. “Hey, sorry, ain’t meanin to be rude. This here’s my daughter, come home from college for the summer.” You close your eyes and sigh through your nose because you’re surely in some kind of shitty romcom. Bo looks down at you and blinks, eyes widening only momentarily before his lips curl into the same cheshire grin he had when you fucked him. “Well how about that.” Bo reaches down and you shake his hand, his fingers squeezing yours tightly, and you see his eyes raking over your body, over his bruises and teeth marks left on your neck and collar and shoulders.

Your dad invites Bo to sit and he does so, eyes locked on yours with this big shit eating grin. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you come back, Bo’s made himself comfortable at your table with his own cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You wipe the sweat from your hands on your pants and return to the table and the mess you’d gotten yourself into.

[clouditae]

First Love | 22

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff

Word: 2k

omg hey it’s my birthday

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You’re not sure how long you’ve been on the bus, but you know it’s been long enough when the driver stops and tells you it’s his last stop. You look at him then out the window onto an unknown location. You get up from your seat, grabbing your belongings, but there’s nothing to grab. 

When did you drop your backpack? Did Ari grab it? Where are you?

You exit the bus, mumbling a “thank you” to the driver before stepping onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning the area around you. You’re standing in front of a bank that is closed, the lights inside showing an empty building. On the right side of the bank is a diner that’s still open, its neon pink lights shining brightly in the night sky, telling you it’s your shelter until you can get back to the dorms. 

Pulling out your phone from your pocket—grateful you managed to take it with you, you unlock the screen, go to your contacts, and click on Ari’s contact, the phone dialing her number. It only takes a few rings before you hear Ari’s frantic voice.

“Y/N? Where are you? Are you all right?” 

Just the sound of her voice breaks you. You let out a quiet sob, your head dropping as you tell her, “I messed up, Ari. I should have let him tell his side of the story—I shouldn’t have said those mean things to him, but he loves her.” You hiccup. “She’s his first love and I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted her back, but I don’t want that. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Y/N…” Ari sighs. “Where are you?” Your eyes scan up and down the street until you find a street sign, telling her where you are before she adds, “I’m heading over now. Get some dinner while you wait.” 

Ending your call, you wipe away your tears, and make your way towards the building. You enter the somewhat empty diner, the waitresses scurrying back and forth with orders, coffee for the late night drivers, and everything else. Looking along the booths, you take an empty table towards the middle. 

What is going on? What’s going to happen tomorrow? Is it all over?

You almost break down again, but a hot cup of what smells like hot chocolate is placed in front of you. You look up to see an elderly woman looking down at you with a warm smile on her face. “You look tired, sweetie.”

You give her a weak smile as you answer, “I’m very tired.”

“Long day at school?” Blowing at the hot liquid, you nod before taking a small sip. It’d be easier to tell her it’s school rather than a boy. “The hot chocolate is on the house. Can I get you anything else?” 

“We’ll have two orders of chicken strips,” you hear Ari say in your place, your eyes traveling from the elderly woman to your best friend who just entered the diner and takes a seat across from you. “To-go please.” 

“Got it, sugar.” The waitress leaves you two and heads towards the counter. 

“You got here so fast,” you comment, surprised to see her already even though the two of you got off the phone less than five minutes ago. 

“I was already looking for you. When you called, it turns out I was only down the street,” Ari tells you, resting her elbows on the table, leaning forward just a bit. “Now there’s a lot that happened today, Y/N. I’m not going to tell you what you should and should not do because it’s all up for you to decide. The only thing I’m going to tell you is to process everything.” 

You sigh in response, resting your head in your hands. “That’s a lot to process,” you confess. “Walking in on your boyfriend kissing his ex is not what anyone would expect.” You wipe at your eyes, realizing tears are forming again. “Dating someone who has a reputation of sleeping with people—I can’t believe I told him that.” Everything you told him comes flooding back to you. 

You feel guilty. Angry. Confused. 

“Talk to him. Tell him everything you’re feeling and just see what happens,” she tells you, her tone sounding encouraging. “Just talk to him, Y/N. When you’re ready,” she adds. 

You nod, wiping your eyes again before looking up to her. “Let’s talk about something else,” you say, hoping she can easily change the subject. Distract you from everything. 

“When we get to the dorm, let’s watch that new movie I was talking about. I bought a projector, so we can watch it on an even bigger screen,” she tells you, clearly happy to have bought the projector just for watching movies more comfortably. 

You let out a tired laugh. “We should get shakes, too, while we’re here.” 

Ari grins. “That’s my girl.” 

It takes ten minutes for everything to be in your possession. Ari pays mainly because you left your money in your backpack, but you promised to pay her back. She argues with you that you’re not going to, but you’re persistent in paying for your half. 

A short ride later, you’re sitting comfortably in your bed with your food displayed in front of you. A blue screen is projected on the white wall above the mirror closet while Ari gets her phone connected to start the movie. It takes her a few minutes, but she finally got the movie playing and food is being devoured almost immediately. 

Today is a lot to handle, but tomorrow you’ll talk to him and get the answers you deserve. 

You’ve never avoided Yoongi so much like you have now. You told yourself that you would talk to him the next day, but the second you open your door, he opens his and you immediately close your door. It might not have even been Yoongi, but you didn’t want to take that chance to see. 

It seems like you’re not ready. You’re not ready for his answer, or for your embarrassment if it really is a misunderstanding. You’re just not ready, and you wonder if you’ll ever be ready. You can’t drag it on like this, but you want to take all the time you need to find that courage to face him. 

You’re a mess. Plain and simple your head is a mess and your emotions are definitely a mess.

“That’s all for today,” your professor tells you, interrupting you from your thoughts. Grabbing your belongings, you place them in your backpack, get up from your seat, and follow your classmates out the door. 

You make your way out of the department building and head up the sidewalk towards the higher grounds of campus. Your next class starts in fifteen minutes, and it only takes you about a minute to get from point A to point B, but you just want to take a seat and just focus on anything that isn’t your problem. 

You round the corner of the building where your next class is. Off into the distance is the bus stop where a bus comes to a stop, the doors opening and people exiting the vehicle. You reach your classroom door when you see her. She’s stepping off the bus, laughing at something someone said. She looks so carefree and unbothered while you’re dying on the inside. 

Why? 

Why is she so calm and happy about all this while you’re the one he’s dating? She’s the one who ruined everything. She’s the one who can’t keep her hands and mouth to herself. She’s the one—what if he called her over?

What if he wanted it just as much as she did? What do you do about that? What if you’re still the distraction, or the bait and Sam happened to fall for it and want him back just as much as he’s wanted her since they broke up? What if you mean absolutely nothing to him?

Sam is long gone from your sights, but her smile is imprinted in your thoughts. You want to cry again. You want to cry so badly. 

Screw class. You just want to go back into bed and forget this ever happened. Forget you ever met him or her. You walk past the classroom door and head towards the bus stop Sam had just left. Maybe luck is blessing you this once because your bus pulls to a stop just as you reach the sidewalk. You pull out your card, enter the bus, and after hearing the familiar beep you make your way down the aisle and take a seat near the back door. 

A few seconds later the doors close and the bus takes off. You stare out the window trying to think of anything that isn’t Yoongi or Sam, but your thoughts are fragile. There’s nothing to think about when their presence is so strong and you don’t have the strength to push them out of your thoughts. So, you close your eyes and open them every now and then to make sure you don’t miss your stop.

When the bus comes to a stop at the back of the dorm building, you thank the driver as you get off. The gate opens as a car leaves the parking lot, blessing you again with luck so that you don’t have to struggle with the door. You take your trip across the back parking lot and up the stairs to your floor. Pressing your ID to the scanner, the door opens automatically, the hall empty as you enter. 

You can’t wait to take off your shoes, toss your backpack somewhere where you can’t see it, lie in bed and take the biggest nap of your life. By the time you wake up, Ari should be back by then and the two of you can go grab dinner with Hoseok if he’s free. Just a nice, relaxing rest of the day. When you enter your room, you toss your backpack and shoes, change your clothes into something more comfortable and lie in bed. It honestly feels like seconds before you fall asleep. Seems like you’re way more tired than you thought. 

When you wake up, it’s not because Ari just came in like you thought. You wake up on your own, surprised to see that light in the room has dimmed to a pink hue. How long have you been sleeping? It was only supposed to be an hour max. Your hands roam around on your bed for a few moments before you feel your phone. Tapping the screen, the clock on the screen tells you that you’ve been asleep for around three hours. You’re surprised to have slept for so long, but you’re also surprised to not see Ari in the room. 

Sending her a quick text, you climb out of bed and slip on your shoes. You use the restroom, wash your face to wake you up, and grab your ID along with your phone and make your way out of your room. You’re hungry and Ari may be eating with Hoseok on campus or something, so you’re on your own. Thankfully you can just grab your food to-go and come back to your room where you can watch something on your computer and enjoy your food. 

When you open the door, his door has just closed with him standing in front of it. The two of you make eye contact. You’re frozen in place, heart racing and thoughts in a haze as the two of you stare at one another in silence. He says nothing and neither do you. He looks tired, but that’s all you can read. His expression is empty. Like it’s always been when you first met him. It’s hard to read him, and that only makes you angry. What is he thinking? Is he hurt like you? Does he care? 

The gaze feels like forever but it’s only a few seconds, and just like that, Yoongi makes his way towards the staircase. Saying nothing to you. 

You don’t leave your room after that. You just close your door, lie back in bed, and text your roommate to buy you food. It seems like his mind is made up. 

Now all you have to do is make up your own and move on.

[geekywritings]

JUNGKOOK X READER Part 1 - The most awkward meeting

I got myself a list of writing prompts that I just couldn’t resist. So enjoy Part 1 of a Jungkook x Rader Mini Series I’m planning. If you have prompts for Jungkook x Reader, Namjoon x Reader or Yoongi x Reader you want, send them over! :D

The prompt for this part is: “ They jump into your car breathlessly and tell you to keep driving.”

Damn, you hated red lights. Especially after work, when you just wanted to get home to your little flat and cats. But all the traffic lights of Seoul had somehow magically decided to stop you at every chance possible. 

You had currently stopped on your SIXTH one since you had left your job and were furiously drumming your fingernails against the wheel, before turning up the volume of the music you were listening to. It was just the right song to calm you down and so you started to sing along.

The last note ended on a scream however, when suddenly the door was pulled open and a stranger in a mask practically fell into the seat next to you. He was quick to pull the door shut behind himself and then breathed out a “GO!”.

In your panic, you just did as told, putting in the gear and starting the car as the traffic light changed to green. Just as you started moving, you saw a group of wildly screaming girls come to a hald where you had just been standing. You were tense, while the adrenaline started pumping like crazy in your body. Almost afraid to look at the stranger next to you, in case he took out a gun or something, you kept your eyes on the road, but still took a moment to lower the volume of the music. Now you could hear the stranger breathing heavily, suggesting that he must have been running.

“Thank you...”, he finally managed to say after a few minutes. “I don’t usually do that.”

“Do what?”, you asked, eyes still on the road, your body tense. 

“Jump into people’s cars. But I was desperate.” From the corner of your eye you could see him pulling down his mask and curiosity got the better of you. You turned your head and your jaw almost dropped. Next to you was one of the most handsome guys you had ever laid eyes on. There was also something really familiar about him, but you couldn’t exatcly put your finger on it.

“That’s assuring...”, you slolwy replied, eyes darting back to the road. Silence fell for a few moments, until you just had to ask. “Why were you running?”

Now it was his turn to look surprised, though you couldn’t tell why. “You don’t...oh... I was running from some crazy girls.”

Was that how popular guys were treated these days? Crazy world. Then again, he did look like a model or an idol, so some females were bound to lose their minds over him. 

“Can I drop you off somewhere?” All you wanted was to go home, really, but you could hardly just throw him out randomly or take him home. 

“Do you know where Big Hit Entertainment is?”

You shook your head. You had heard the name obviously, but didn’t know much more. 

“I’ll guide you.”

From then on, you just followed his instructions, navigating your car towards the fancy Gangnam-Gu district and feeling absolutely out of your element.

“Are you a trainee then?”, you asked, which earned you another confused look from your new passenger.

“You really have no idea who I am?”

Again you had to shake your head. “You do look kinda familiar, but...” You ended it with a shrug. As you stopped at yet another traffic light, he pointed towards a billboard on his side. You had to lean over a little to see it, but then your world turned upside down. It was a huge advertisement with seven handsome boys. BTS, it read, and in the center stood the very person currently in your car.

You froze up completely. “Hello?”, he called, waving his hand in front of you and then nodding towards the light that had turned green again. How long had you been out? Instantly you got the car going again, this time feeling even more nervous than when he had just gotten in.

How did one deal with an idol in their car?! 

“You really didn’t know.”, he said, suddenly sounding rather amused and giving you a cheeky grin.

“I don’t pay much attention to the k-pop world.”, you admitted. You had a busy job and your cats and yoga classes to fill your days and while you did enjoy music, you hardly thought about the artists.

He nodded in understanding and then turned to look at you properly for the first time. You could practically feel his stare and you wondered if you looked horrible. Working as a junior vet, you hardly wore fancy clothes, instead opting for white sneakers, jeans and a simple white shirt, with your hair pulled back. 

You reached the next traffic light, which couldn’t be anything other than red of course and you turned to look back at him, his smile only growing wider, making you feel even more self conscious. 

“I never had such an interesting ride back to the agency.”, he suddenly said. You raised your eyebrow at that. Interesting was a curious word to pick here. Awkward or surprising was more fitting in your opinion. 

“It’s certainly a first for me.”, you said.

“What? You don’t usually pick people up like that?”

For the first time your lips twitched upwards, a smile breaking through.

“No, usually such things only happen in dramas.”, you reminded him.

“Ah, so you don’t know K-Pop, but you know your dramas. Good to know.”

“Are you teasing me?”, you asked, slowly warming up in his presence, even though it was still awkward. 

“No, I would never.”, came the instant reply, but his cheeky grin said otherwise. 

“What’s your name?”, he suddenly asked.

“Why?” The question bubbled out of you before you could stop.

“It would be nice to thank my saviour properly.” 

You nodded and gave him your name, before concentrating on the road again. From the corner of your eye you could see him take out his phone, typing away.

“Do you have Kakao?”

Again a question you did not see coming and you had to concentrate extra hard on the road not to cause an accident.

“Yes...”, you started wearily and then slowly gave him your ID. Was this really happening? Was he adding you? A second later you could feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. OMG, he really might have! 

“I’d like to thank you properly, Y/N.”

“It’s no need. I’m glad I could help.”

You turned right, as he indicated to you, already absolutely lost. This was a part of town you never visited and the traffic was making you nervous. So many fine cars...

“My hyung’s would never let me live it down if I didn’t show my gatitude properly though.” 

When he spoke like that he sounded so young. Thinking back to what little you know of the group, you remembered that he was the youngest one. But his exact age? You really couldn’t recall. 

“You work as a vet?”

He must have been scrolling through some of your Kakao Story Posts, seeing as you sometimes posted pictures from work.

“Yes, I just started though after university.”

“You are my age.”

So that answered that question. But you were caught on something else.

“Are you stalking my profile right now?”

“No.” There was this incredibly charming cheeky grin of his again! No wonder he was an idol!

“You can just ask, you know? I’m sitting right here.”

For the first time he appeared shy though and put his phone away. “Maybe next time. The building up there is our destination.”, he finally said, puling the mask back over his handsome face. But even with his mouth covered, you could see the smile in his eyes, when you stopped the car.

“I’ll text you.”, he said and all you could do was nod. “I mean it.”, he added. “I might need another rescue. Or maybe a nice ride back to Big Hit.”

He was teasing you again, you realized, but somehow it made you smile widely. “I’m not a cab.”

“Of course not, Miss Junior Vet.” He got out of the car, but leaned inside once more. “Than you again, Y/N. Till next time.”

You followed him until his form disappeared inside the building, reality fully hitting you for the first time. You had just picked up an idol on your way home. A super hot idol. And he had talked to you. And added you on Kakao. AND promised to text you.

You shouldn’t get your hopes up about that last part, you knew, but still. Seeing as you were still parked outside of the building, you sneaked a look at your smartphone. Indeed, someone had added you on Kakao. But first, you needed to look something up. You googled BTS and instantly the search engine was flooded with information. Jeon Jungkook. That was the info you had been looking for, finally putting a name to the handsome face.

You would certainly not forget this day ever. But you had no idea that this was just the beginning...

[bluegarners]

“Damian takes a pic with a mall santa, chaos ensues”~ anon

For 12 Days of Batfam prompts

“I do not see why traveling here was necessary.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dami! We’re going gift shopping!”

“Clearly. However, actually going to this cesspool of idiots is ridiculous. The internet exists for a reason, Richard. It is about time you learned how to use it.”

“That takes all the fun out of it though,” Dick pouts, landing a hand in Damian’s perfectly combed hair. “It’s practically like a tradition at this point. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to actually look at what you’re buying and not just try and guess what it’s like through a screen. What if it wasn’t like you wanted? What then?”

“Returns exist as well,” Damian grumbles, swatting at the hand still latched firmly to his scalp. “If the purchase is void, then a simple return is all that is necessary to begin again.”

“For once,” Tim sighs, cringing a bit at the obnoxious mall-music and over enthusiastic sales people trying to approach him, “I agree with the brat. This is uncomfortable and just… over the top. I know what I’m looking for, and reviews on products help determine if the thing is actually good. There isn’t any reason to be here, Dick.”

“On the contrary, my beloved brothers,” Dick grins, mouth stretching impossibly wide as his eyes land on something in the distance, “There is actually a fantastic reason for us to be here.”

As if deciding on something, Dick nods to himself before quickly turning around and clapping his hands together. “Okay, here’s the plan. We’re already here and it would be a waste to drive back after it took us an hour to get here, so we are staying.”

Cue the simultaneous groans.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Dick reprimands. “Let me finish. You guys can do anything you want. It’s the freakin mall, so it’s got other stuff than just stores. I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s legal. You could even just hang out in the food court, as long as you’re doing something. I need to do a couple things, but I will call you when I’m done and we’ll rendezvous somewhere.”

“You are leaving me here?” Damian asks, surprised. “With Drake of all people?”

Dick leans down to ruffle his hair again, but Damian moves away, a dark scowl edging its way onto his brow. “No, I refuse to be left alone with this imbecile.”

“As if I’d want to babysit you in the first place,” Tim mutters, glaring at the youngest.

Dick smiles pleasantly, a contrast to the way he squeezes both of their shoulders tightly, pulling them closer to him. 

“We’re not going to have any problems, right boys?” he asks sweetly, eyes crinkling. “Because it would be a shame if I had to make use of that lovely return policy on all the gifts I had planned this year.”

“Do you take me for a child-”

“Seeing as this is the last week I have left in Gotham, it would be quite the disappointment if I didn’t get to train surf with either of you before I leave again too.”

Damian shuts his mouth quickly, the idea of banning dual patrol before the eldest’s departure more threatening than lost gifts. 

“I don’t like train surfing,” Tim says smugly, crossing his arms in victory, “and I don’t like playing babysitter.”

Dick slowly tilts his head towards him, and the strain in his smile is enough to make Tim wither a bit. 

“All I’m asking for is maybe an hour of alone time while I get some stuff done. You don’t have to do anything together, you don’t have to go shopping if you’re so adamant on doing it online, and you don’t have to eat. Just please stick together. That’s all. Please, Tim.”

His resolve lasts all of four seconds before it crumples, and Tim looks to the side as he groans out a forlorn, “Fine.”

“Great!” Dick exclaims, an easy smile blooming back onto his face. “I’ll see you guys in an hour.”

And just like that, Dick disappears into the crowd, leaving behind two very disgruntled boys in his steed.

They stand there, refusing to acknowledge one another’s presence, before Tim sighs again and thinks, Well, might as well be a big brother. Holiday spirit and all that jazz.

“Okay,” he starts, half-way turning to face the youngest again, “Is there anything you want to do?”

Damian doesn’t say a word.

“Any stores?”

Silence.

“They, uh, have a movie theater in here. Any movies?”

Damian still refuses to open his mouth.

Well, fuck me, I guess, Tim bemoans, having the inability to think of anything worse to do than spend his Saturday afternoon looking after the gremlin in his charge.

Suddenly, Damian turns on his heel and begins walking away. Tim frowns, chancing a quick glance behind him to see if Dick was secretly watching them and if he could make a break for it, but decides against it at the last second. A happy Dick Grayson was infinitely easier to deal with rather than a disappointed one.

Everyone knew disappointment was worse than anger. 

He follows Damian quietly, keeping his distance and sidestepping the insane amount of people and sellers, all looking to get something. Tim doesn’t hate people, per-say. He finds them fascinating at times, but when he’s not looking to be fascinated, he just finds them uncomfortable to be around. Noisy, touchy, and all around obnoxious. There were precious few people Tim could say he liked to be around, and these strangers in the enormous mall were not them.

Damian walked with purpose, easily evading others and taking turns as if he knew where he was going. Perhaps he did, but Tim can’t recall a time where any of them actually frequented the mall often enough to know where things were. At least without looking at a map or asking an employee.

A minute later and Damian vanishes from sight. In a blink, he’s gone from the endless swirl of people and Tim panics slightly. How does someone lose a child so quickly? How is that possible? He was literally right in front of him, Tim had his gaze locked on the green hoodie, but it’s as if the brat was made of air. Poof, gone.

He pauses, turning this way and that in search of the elusive Wayne. It was unfortunate that the brat was shorter than the average 13 year old, if only by half an inch, but now was not the time to goad over heights. Tim is tempted to just text Dick and say he lost Damian, but hearing that in his head, after literally five minutes of being alone, does not sound like a fantastic idea. He can practically predict the lecture that would follow, words of, “Come on, I know you guys don’t get along super well, but he’s your brother,” and “I was gone for all of two seconds- how did he escape so easily?”

Tim groans, a common thing he’s been doing ever since they stepped into the epitome of capitalism, and resigns himself to continuing the search. Oh, he was so going to beat the brat during their next spar. This entire thing was not worth the discounts.

.

.

.

Damian smirks as he watches Drake fiddle around like a fool, searching blindly for him. If Drake had actually been paying attention, he would have seen Damian step into the small candle store to the right, hiding behind an outrageous depiction of Saint Nick practically shoving some holiday scent down his throat. 

As it were, though, Drake was a twit with half the brains of a goldfish, and Damian feels a sense of satisfaction wash over him as the older teen walks away in the opposite direction. 

He was free and alone. Perfect.

Well, not really.

Damian had agreed to go to the mall in the first place on the condition that it would just be he and Richard. It had sounded somewhat enjoyable, Richard hinting at some sort of surprise, but he was greatly displeased at the sight of another figure waiting for them in the car. Of all the people in the world to choose from. Of all the available and useless ignoramuses out there, Richard just had to ask Drake to come along.

Of course, he immediately protested because he had been promised that it would just be the two of them, but Richard insisted and used that horribly childish face with wide eyes and saddened sulk and giving in, at that point, was the only wise decision Damian could make from then on. In no way did he plan on spending this hour with Drake, awkwardly attempting conversation and suggestions that sounded boring enough to sleep to.

So, his plan of action was simple and executed flawlessly. All he had to do for the next 50 minutes was stay out of sight of both Drake and Richard, and the rest of that time was his to do with as he pleased.

He had already chosen gifts to present later on in the week, there was no need to do extra shopping, so all there really was to do was explore. 

Which is exactly what he did for the next forty minutes before he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his back pocket. He pulls it out, squinting at the caller ID of Grayson.

He lets it ring for a few seconds, some part of him thinking the wait as some sort of pay-back for betraying his promise, and answers on the last ring.

“Damian?” Richard says, urgency coloring his voice.

Instantly, Damian is paying more attention. “Yes? What is it?”

“I need you to meet me at the center, it’s important.”

“The center?” Damian mutters, scanning the crowded walkways for a map. “Why? What is happening?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here, okay? Just get here as fast as possible.”

“Affirmative.”

Richard hangs up first and Damian begins searching for the nearest wall-map. He finds one and tsks when he sees he’s in the far west region of the mall, the center, if he walked like a normal person, taking upwards of about five minutes to reach.

He’d been given no details, nothing except the urgent lilt in Richard’s voice, a dead give away to how nervous he was. Nervous about what though? What could possibly make Nightwing frantic in an area like this? It must be something mildly bad, or at least dangerous for civilians, for Richard to call him. Crowd control possibly.

He hadn’t heard anything other than the usual noise of the populace, so Damian rules out a fire or some maniac shooting. There doesn’t seem to be an urgency in the way the crowd shifts, no clear tell for panic. 

His phone vibrates again and Damian immediately answers.

“Where are you?” Richard asks, that same nervousness pitching his voice.

“I am near a clothing store: Urban Outfitters,” he responds, picking up his pace slightly.

“Hurry,” Richard pleads. “You need to be here in two minutes or less or else I might- just hurry, please. When you reach the center, there will be a large Christmas tree off to the right. I’m over there. Find me when you get here.”

“Wait, Richard-” but Damian can’t get anything else in before the older man hangs up again.

The vagueness of the situation begins to worry Damian as well, doing as asked and trying his best to weave in between people and their annoying need to create a stiff, horizontal line wherever they walked. He curses when a little girl holding an absurdly shaped stuffed animal darts out in front of him, oblivious to the obstruction she’s caused.

She trips and falls, slapping into the smooth tile. Damian is tempted to walk around her, unmoved by her pitiable cries for her clumsiness, but when he glances back and sees no one else, no parent or sibling or literally any other bystander willing to help her, he rolls his eyes and turns back around. He holds out a hand and pulls the little girl to her feet, her tears silenced by the strange act of kindness.

“Where are your parents?” he asks gruffly, anxious as the precious seconds tick by.

“Uhhhh….I don’t know.”

I should’ve kept walking, Damian thinks to himself.

.

.

.

Tim is practically giddy with excitement. Dick stands behind him, arms crossed and peering over the heads of countless other parents and children, in search of Damian.

After having wandered around in a vain search for the brat, Tim had finally given in and texted Dick, apology in tow, when Dick had told him to meet him in the center of the mall. There, Tim had spotted the eldest standing in a long line filled with kids no older than eight and tired parents, disheveled and attempting to keep their children’s hair neat.

As soon as he’d tapped on his shoulder, Dick had reared around, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he said, “It’s tradition to get a picture with Santa.”

Tim less than fondly recalls his own picture with the infamous mall Santa, the old man smelling of cigarettes and too spicy cologne to mask it. All the bat-kids had taken a photo with the cheap Santa at some point or the other, Tim having been the oldest to do so at fifteen. Dick had taken his when he was ten, and Jason at eleven. 

However, once he registers the actual words that had come out of Dick’s mouth, Tim feels something close to euphoria rise in his chest as he now understands it was the brat’s turn to sit on off-brand Santa’s lap and have his picture taken. Oh, would that be a sight to behold. Chaos to be sure. Most likely some screaming as well. A lot of protest and cursing. Maybe even some tears.

A sight to behold.

“I knew you guys wouldn’t stick together,” Dick explains, “So I figured I’d call you over here earlier. Then, I’ll call Damian once we’re close to the front and act like it’s an emergency so he’ll have no choice but to come quickly.”

Tim was impressed. “You know,” he says, eyeing Dick, “You’re a lot more evil than everyone thinks.”

“The term you’re looking for is evil mastermind, Timmy.”

“Uh huh,” Tim jokes, excitement building in his bones as he notices they’re only two spots away from what is destined to be the greatest moment of his life. 

“Look! I see him!” Dick exclaims, pointing in the far distance.

Indeed, there was Damian in his green hoodie, half-jogging, half-walking as he headed towards the Christmas tree Dick had directed him to.

“We’re next,” Tim says anxiously, glancing at the teenager dressed as an elf, who was probably wondering why the two of them were standing in a line meant for children.

“It’s fine,” Dick reassures, his own thrill building. “He’ll be here.”

And, as if one cue, because malls are where miracles happen, Damian calls out, “Richard!”

Dick waves him over, compulsion in every movement of his arm. “Hurry, Dami!”

The teenager elf is now guiding them into the “Miracle Circle” and Dick yanks at the sleeve of Damian’s hoodie before he can even register what’s happening. Tim has to keep a hand over his mouth in order to stop himself from snickering at the bewildered look on the youngest’s face, eyes blown wide as he takes in the bright lights and tinsel.

“Richard,” he growl-whispers, “What is this?”

“Tradition,” Dick answers, tugging him closer to the overweight man sitting on the massive throne. “And it’s time you partake in it. I let you get away from it last year because I lost track of time, but not this year. This year, Dami, is where you finally experience,” he leans in closer, nearly whispering, “the joys of a mall Santa.”

“No,” Damian says, aghast as Dick pulls him closer and closer to the center. “No, I refuse. Unhand me this instant.”

He is powerless though against Dick’s firm grasp and excellent navigation skills. Everyone is watching. Everyone is staring.

“Hello there, little one,” mall Santa booms, arms out stretching as he reaches for Damian. “Come sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you’d like for Christmas.”

“Richard,” Damian pleads, struggling as he eyes the suspicious fake beard, “If you do this, I will never forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, Dami,” Dick amends solemnly, a lie written all over his face. “I have to. It’s tradition.”

Faster than even Damian can react, Dick is sweeping him off his feet and plopping him onto the lap of a complete stranger.

“What’s your name?” mall Santa asks, Damian recoiling at the rank breath.

“Let me go,” he demands.

“Oh ho ho,” mall Santa chuckles, stomach jostling like a gross bowl of jelly. “We haven’t taken our picture yet!”

Mall Santa points a little off to the right, and it is with horror does Damian spot not only Richard, but Drake, Father, and Pennyworth aiming cameras at him.

Drake waves at him, shit-eating grin plastered shamelessly on his face. Richard is cooing through his phone, oo-ing and awe-ing at the scene. Father looks at least a little bit sympathetic, pity spelled out over his face as he watches his youngest son try to free himself from the mall Santa’s surprisingly strong grip. Pennyworth takes one picture, quickly putting away his phone. 

Damian is sure that the one picture is enough to spell doom for the rest of his life.

“You know,” mall Santa whispers, nearly suffocating Damian in the vice-like hug he’s trapped in, “Most kids smile when they take pictures with Santa.”

“I am not inclined to smile for a pedophile,” Damian snarls back.

“Well,” mall Santa sighs, voice suddenly less cheery, “I guess that means you’re on the naughty list then, you little shit.”

Damian stills in his struggle, eyes widening as he turns to meet the green eyes of the man who holds him.

“Todd?” he hisses, humiliation rising as the man just chuckles, winking.

“Happy holidays, little boy,” Jason cheers, playing up the act. “If you’re good, Santa might-”

The next morning, the top headline from the Gotham Gazette reads, 

Christmas Chaos: Youngest Wayne Punches Santa!

The article gets framed above the tree in their living room, and Damian waits for the day to exact his revenge. Soon. Soon.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 34

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, guns

A/N: i do realise i’m very VERY late with this post but i’m growing too attached to this fanfic. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - You know Sebastian, just because your father was a great man, doesn’t mean he was a good one. 

Sebastian watched as she left the room, the trail of her dress disappearing between the edge of the door and leaving him frozen where he was. There was probably not a single person in the whole entire world who could freeze him for what seemed like more than an hour, yet Y/N seemed to hold that power effortlessly, something she could easily control. What looked like someone who’d always be there no matter what was slipping like sand through his fingers. 

He rubbed his face, walking over to the good selection of glass filled bottles to pour himself another glass. What was he doing? Was he really about to marry someone who despised him and who he couldn’t stand when the girl he wanted was asking him to leave? Maybe he could pay off Forrest and move to a new country with Y/N after transferring all his money to other offshores. Surely he could do that without calling much attention.

A loud sound rang through the room and his eyes glued to the phone on his bedside table. He was sure he’d never heard an actual hotel phone ring and that alone intrigued him. He grabbed the phone from the hook, bringing it up to his ear.

    - Hello? - shaky and heavy breathes came from behind and he started to wonder if someone was trying to play a prank on him. - Hello?

    - S…Sebastian, it’s Y/N … - he could almost hear her cry which made him grip the phone. - I’m scared, Sebastian. I’m scared.

    - Are you alright? 

    - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. 

    - Angel, whatever it is, you can tell me.

    - I’m pregnant.

For the second time, the same exact person had managed to freeze him on the spot yet again but what was most worrying for him was why she was crying and why she was telling him in the phone. He kept calling her name on the phone but before he could even get an answer the line went dead. Without much of a second thought, he dropped the phone and rushed out of his bedroom, going up the stairs where her bedroom was located. The numbers seemed to mock him as he tried to run as fast as his legs could allow him to her bedroom. Knocking on the dark wood as forcefully as he could, he found no answer and without much prior thought or consideration for hotel staff, he grabbed his revolver to shot the lock open which led to an empty room. He looked around with the agility of a cheetah and eye of a predator but she wasn’t anywhere to be found and with more worry settling on his chest, he ran over to Gwen’s bridal suite where Y/N’s bodyguard was standing.

Surely if he was standing there she would be safe inside and the call was maybe Y/N being playful. Yet again, something in the back of his mind made him unreliably restless and so, much to the groans of some of the women waiting outside the bridal suite, he walked inside the room to be met with girlish high pitched screaming about how it was bad luck to see the bride in the wedding dress. How much bad luck could it bring to a made up wedding he didn’t know but in all honesty he didn’t care and mostly ignored the rest of the bridesmaids as he looked for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

   - Where’s Y/N?

   - Probably somewhere else. God, Sebastian could you at least follow some traditions? You could give me at least a few hours of freedom before I become a Stepford wife. - her eyes were mostly focused on her glass of prosecco rather than him which greatly annoyed him. - Y/N wanders around, she’s probably outside or with Jude Dubois, they’re awfully close. 

   - Was she with you a few minutes ago? - he ignored how uninterested Gwen was in her handmaid’s whereabouts.

   - I don’t know now would you kindly leave? This is my bridal party and you’re not part of it. 

Sebastian quickly realised she wasn’t here and Gwen barely care if she would return or not. He returned back upstairs to her bedroom, maybe she had been in the bathroom when he came to check on her. His mind kept yelling at him something was wrong and even the most rational part of him, the one that normally overwhelmed everything else, was telling him that Y/N wouldn’t call him like that, telling him she was scared. What worried him more was she being pregnant, he wondered if she was safe and if the baby was safe, with little to no regard at what consequences her being pregnant would be. 

He paced inside her bedroom but nonetheless it was empty with the smell of lilies and roses belonging to her fragrance lingering around. Sebastian sat down on top of her bed, sighing out of frustration and worry. There was no sign of anything bad happening in the bedroom, everything was tidy and kept to perfection except for one opened drawer of her bedside table. He wondered if Y/N had decided to leave with Jude Dubois and that call had been nothing but a joke but yet again, he could feel something was wrong, he heard it on her voice, her trembling breathy voice. That wasn’t the voice of someone who was playing tricks on him. His heart ached, completely ached in a type of pain that he couldn’t remember ever feeling. Something was wrong, something bad was happening and he couldn’t find a rational reason that would put her in a safe situation.

As he got more lost in his own thoughts, his phone rang. He picked his phone from his pocket to see Y/N’s name as the caller ID. However, before his heart could slow down from the mere stress of not knowing about her whereabouts, his whole body tensed as he recognised the voice way too well.

   - How are the wedding preparations? Busy enough? - Mr. Williams’ voice came through the phone with a pompous tone, almost proud. - Have you ever noticed how Y/N squeals every time someone grabs her? I wonder if that gets you off.

  - Listen to me, if she’s not in my hotel room in less than half hour, you’re a dead man. I’ll ... - anger dripped from his voice.

  - No, you listen to me. - he interrupted. - You don’t have the upper hand in this situation so I would watch your tone unless you want her head as your wedding present. Now ... I am a fair man, I don’t enjoy killing innocents just for it specially pretty girls like her. I’m sure we can reach an agreement.

  - You don’t want to start a war with me. If you touch even a single hair of hers, I swear I’ll make sure both my men and Forrest’s will go after you. 

  - Yes, I’m sure Michael Forrest will love to know his precious daughter is pregnant from you. It must sting, knowing that it was her you were supposed to marry. - he froze on the spot once more, unsure if he was once more playing games on him or if he had dropped. - You’ve always been like your mother, so gullible. You didn’t even bother check on any of the two girls, how they had the same birthday or how she was the only one to inherit a whole family’s estate? It only took a few documents to prove that yet you didn’t do it. I never pegged you to let your guard down for a pretty girl yet here we are.

His head hurt, his heart pounded harshly in a way that made it sound through his skull and all he wanted to do was scream and kill him. Flashes of her face and how she would always smile at him crossed through his mind as his own voice blamed him for her situation. 

   - Meet me at the Lotte New York Palace Hotel in an hour and maybe we can strike a deal. 

   - What makes you think I won’t just kill you? 

   - You don’t know how many people in your inner circle are loyal to me. If you tell anyone or if you try any little games, there’s several of my men who’d love a way with your little mistress and I’ll make sure to tape it so you can watch it later. Don’t cross me. - the line went dead.

He stood there, helpless, surrounded by her scent and belongings which only reminded him more of her. Every single memory he had of her seemed to hit his mind like a freight train from the first time he had seen her from his most recent denial of running away with her. He could almost feel her finger tips on his jaw, hear her little laugh whenever something pleased her, every thing was still so fresh, so recent. His ears were ringing as he noticed the little music box he had gotten to her on her bedside table. His hands reached for it, cradling the box close to him which caused it to snap open, the soft melody of La Vie en Rose flowing into the bedroom.

He promised. He promised her in Paris that nothing could harm her yet here he was, unsure of her state and helpless to fix anything the way he knew. He broke his promise, he broke his promise and for what? A family name? Her safety? She wasn’t safe either way. That thought itself drowned any emotion in his face. It was a blank slate and not even his eyes where Y/N could always find the truth of what his heart was going through seemed to show anything other than the pure void. 

Placing the music box on the pocket of his jacket, he exited her room and, almost mechanically, made his way down the hall, ignoring every single person who tried to talk to him or even congratulate him. Soon enough he was at the parking lot, entering his car so he could ride to the Lotte New York Palace. He was early, much early but all he could think about was seeing her again, see her safe despite anything. 

The hour seemed to go by incredibly slow but everything comes to an end and once the deadline reached its expiration, Thompson Williams walked into the hotel bar, sporting an irritable smile on his face as he sat on the high chair next to him. 

   - Why so gloom? - he taunted, for the first time holding power over the man he considered had stolen his golden opportunity of success. - Might it be because you have no control anymore? You let her be around me, I learned how she acts, I knew she wasn’t gonna scream and I knew if I endangered anyone she would do what I told her. So innocent, I can see why you like her.

   - What do you want? - Sebastian only stared at him, trying to not let the guilt or his comments affect him. At this point, he just wanted her to be back to him safely. Revenge could wait. 

   - Here. - he slide a document file towards him. - You’re gonna reside from your position within the family in my favour. Sign that document and you can go on your merry life with her, maybe use that little house Forrest gave her, have the kid. You were never made for this life anyway.

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[blatant-attitude]

I Think I’m Gonna Kiss You

I finished promised earlier today id finish editing a WIP, and i said i had something special when i posted a drabble earlier! Its currently 2am and I’ve finally finished said editing, lol. Enjoy!

Summary: A rewrite of that one scene in 05x02, with an added scene after. :)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

Rating: T for this one :)

“You didn’t have to walk me up here, you know.” Hotch tells her as he strides through the door and begins punching the buttons to silence the alarm.

“I know.” Emily replies back as she closes the door behind her, glancing at Aaron after she watched the doorknob slide into place. “So you think Call’s gonna be okay?” She asks him after a split second of silence. 

“I don’t know.” He replies simply, hands dropping to his sides before he clasps them nervously in front of him. His eyes subtly shift back and forth around his living room to look for anything out of place.

“He got his answers. Killed the man who haunted him.” She tells him, subtly trying to shift to talk of him and the nightmares she knows he has. She has them too, only he doesn’t know who the main antagonist of her nightmare is.

“And what else is there.” He looks to her, eyes glancing at hers for just a second before he shifts his eyes somewhere else. Avoiding a conversation he needs to have.

“The years of torture.” She tells him as her own eyes flick to her shoes before flicking back up to meet his. He’s finally staring back at her.

“Think he’ll get over that?” Aaron tells her calmly, eyes shifting down her body for a second or two before shifting back up to meet her eyes again.

“How could he? But at least he doesn’t have to feel like he’s alone anymore.” She tells him with a little shrug and a tilt of her head. She sucks in a breath, hands clasping in front of her. She hopes that he will be ok. 

“He doesn’t have anyone.” Aaron replies, aware that they’re not talking about Call anymore. They’re talking about him. Aaron Hotchner, the man who let a killer getaway and now he’s paying for it by coming home to an empty house and no promise of the next time he’ll see his son.

Emily feels her heartbreak softly, looking away from him to the kitchen just to the right of him before the turns her eyes back to him. Back to his dark brown eyes so full of sadness, he won’t let anyone soothe. “You have me, Aaron. You’re not alone.” 

He just gives her a sigh as he looks down at the floor. He doesn’t comment on it. She takes his silence as enough of an answer. She turns away from him, facing the door. “Get some sleep.” She tells him as she glances at him one last time. Her heart throbs slowly in her chest

Her eyes drift back to the doorknob as she reaches for it. She twists it, opening it slowly before he finally responds. 

“Yeah, you too.” 

She gives a single nod in response and leaves. As soon as the door is closed her body is slouching against the door, lungs filling with air before sighing it all right back out. With a push to the door, she was standing right back up and making her way out of the apartment building and back to her car.

______

It’s several weeks later when she finally decides maybe she should confront him again. Maybe he didn’t realize what she was saying that night. He continued working along with her like she never said anything so that’s the possibility right?

She walked up the steps of the bullpen carefully, hands tucked into her back pockets as she thought about what had happened yesterday when they arrested the most recent unsub. When Aaron went after the unsub alone, anyways.

She can’t believe it. Aaron Hotchner, Mr play by all the rules, actually broke the rules. The guys they were looking for had been killing women and taking their eyes to use for his taxidermy. 

Morgan had said something, her brain can’t process it at the moment because she’s to busy looking at Aaron, making sure he’s actually ok and not hiding any injuries. He goes to slide past her, smirking at her as he asks her, “What?” 

“Nothing.” She’d replied it loud, giving a little huff of a laugh before turning back to follow him. She just stood still for a moment and let her thoughts take over. ‘I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you.’ She shook her thoughts out before following the team back to the station and eventually back to the long flight back to D.C.

A hand on her shoulder shakes her out of her thoughts. It doesn’t surprise her that it belongs to the man she was currently thinking about. He looks concerned before he looks slightly relieved. “Are you alright? You were just standing out here. I’ve called your name three or four times.” He tells her, worry etching his tone, but stern expression slipping back into place.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just got lost in my thoughts I guess.” She tells him, sucking in a deep breath and standing a bit taller. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” She corrects herself and follows him into his office when he nods towards it. 

He glides around his desk and stands, waiting for her to sit before he does. Ever the gentlemen he is. Emily closes the door before she stands on the opposite side of his desk. Her hands tangle nervously together before she forces them to break apart and tuck into her belt loops.

“I love you, Aaron. I thought I made that clear the night I walked you to your apartment but you just brushed it off and then continued to work like it never happened. Then last night you went after that guy alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I loved you and how lost I would’ve been had you gotten seriously hurt—“

“Emily stop,” she’s cut off by his voice, much softer than she’s used to, “I love you, too. But we both know that we can’t do anything about it because if Foyet knows I’m seeing someone he’ll make it his mission to kill you. Besides, we’re co-workers.” He finishes, sitting the file she hadn’t noticed he was holding onto his desk.

“Now you’re just making excuses.” She starts, moving to stand behind his desk with him rather than on the other side of it. “Besides, I think we both know I’ve never been one to back down from a fight. And I have definitely never been one to follow the rules.” She chuckles, hands sliding back into her back pockets as she looks at him. 

“The team-“

“Will get over it. Besides, I think the only one that hasn’t figured out I’m in love with you is Reid, and the only one who hasn't seen the lovey eyes, as JJ calls it is Garcia.” She responded with a huff, and a grin on her face. 

Aaron’s phone chimes on his desk and they both look down to see a text message.

Rossi: Team is going out for drinks at Joe’s. My treat. Kiss Emily already and meet us there.

It makes Emily smirk, and she dips her head down before looking back up at him. He’s just staring at her, glancing between her and the phone. “Well, are you going to kiss me or do you need some liquid courage first?” She teases, biting her bottom lip softly. 

“I think I’m gonna kiss you first.” He tells her and then grabs her face in his hands, cupping her jaw on both sides as he pressed their lips together. Her hands slip from her back pockets to grip his neck as she slides her body to form against his. 

His lips devour hers, pulling that bottom lip into his mouth and nipping at it which has her letting out a little moan. His hands slide to hold her better, one hand running through the hair at the nape of her neck as the other one holds her firmly to him by her waist. 

She grins into the kiss, hands sliding so she’s hugging his neck tightly while he continues to devour her mouth. She lets out a sigh as he breaks their kiss for air. His mouth moves down her neck instead, hand tugging her head back to expose the ivory skin better for him to kiss. 

“No marks. Wouldn’t want to team to think something up.” She teased him, laughing when he shuts her up by sealing his lips over hers again. Doesn’t take long before they’re both panting and pulling apart again. 

“We should probably head to the bar before they think something is up. Like I bent you over my desk and fucked you or something.” He told her with a grin that has her groaning into his shoulder as he grips her ass in his hands. 

Another text chime from his phone has them pulling apart to look down at it again. 

Rossi: Atta, boy. Now let's go to the bar.

It makes Emily laugh before she’s tilting her head back up to kiss Aaron once again, softer this time. 

They walk into the bar an hour later (his arm around her waist as she leans into his side), after choosing to bask in a little bubble of them before the team inevitably asks questions they already know the answer to. 

The night ends with the both of them sweaty and tangled in her sheets. ‘I could get used to this,’ She thinks as he sinks below the sheets to taste something other than the whiskey on her tongue.

🌺Taglist;

@whump-town @jetaime-jespere @crinkled-emotions @emilyxprentiss @garcia-reid-lovechild @criminal-hotch @abigail-5871 @clockedstar @not-your-housekeeper98 @ssaemilyprentits @wiinterblooms @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @misskirkstark

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 5:00 p.m.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.5k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 2;

her side;

Music—it’s a magical force lying somewhere between evil and good. The closest form to humanity’s long-sought time machine, it merely takes a simple sequence of three notes for the winds to blow, for the skies to set and the clock to rewind, until you find yourself warped in a fragment in time unreachable by all else means. 

Truly, it’s an otherworldly craft, one that comes and goes, not on a quest to fulfill a beckoning, but rather, on a quest of its own whimsical accord.  In forethought, you were thankful for such an uncontrollable phenomenon that could defy even the grasp of time; but it doesn’t take you more than three ephemeral months of infatuation for you to look back in horrifying awe at the way something so hauntingly beautiful could revive even the faintest of memories you had once misperceived as long buried in time. 

And the secret to such a double-edged sorcery?

Willingly or reluctantly, you would soon find out.

<<now playing: i like me better - lauv>>

It all started on that treacherous night midway somewhere between the breezy fall and the frostbitten winter, when the sun prepares for an early slumber and the skies drape a blanket of impending starry darkness, that your fickle heart embarks on a trek of no return. Temperate leaves color the brick road a spectrum between red and orange. Its crunches under your boots accompany the bass of an upbeat track you’ve been blasting throughout summer ‘til now. With a dipped head and a pair of hands buried into the depths of your pockets, the world is made aware of your one-way-ticket to hell—or, in other words, work. 

5:00 P.M. 

Whew, just on time. 

A sigh escapes your lips in a puff just as the wind’s chill on the upper half of your face barren of a scarf dissipates under the hands of your company’s heater. Eyes like darts and lips grumbling incomprehensible curses, it’s apparent to both you and your chattering colleagues that this is the last place you would like to spend a Tuesday night. You scan through the meeting room cluttered by numerous two-seat desks and make your way to the corner of the room where no one could bother your already ruined evening. 

Sure, it’s extra pay, but who holds project meetings at 2 P.M. and 5 P.M. in the evening? To make it even worse, why did your supervisor have to assign you to the latter, the worst time slot of all?

Pulling out your phone, you scan through your phone to pull up the list of participating colleagues that your supervisor had sent out last week. 

One scroll, two scroll, yup, not a single person you know—oh, well, if that isn’t a surprise. His name rings a bell, one that leans closer to good than bad: Jeon Jungkook; because even though it’s been a name you haven’t muttered since exactly one year, where you had beckoned for the reclusive boy to sit next to you and your friend and he had the audacity to refuse, you can sigh in relief because now you have someone else joining you in the aloof club. Other than the first friendly words you had spoken to him at the cafeteria and the once-in-a-blue-moon tips you had given when he sought for your help, you haven’t exactly befriended that man despite the more than coincidental bump-ins throughout the company building.

Wouldn’t it be funny if maybe, just maybe, fate pairs you with him on the basis of feigned happenstance for just one last time? 

If there’s one thing you find amusing in this life-draining room, it would be the mugshot of an ID photo displayed next to his name. Lips grim and eyes looking into the camera, his picture must have been an exact mirror of your expression if it weren’t for your chuckles at the moment. 

He just doesn’t give a damn, huh? 

“Y/N,” your supervisor points at a table in the center of the room, smack in the middle of other encircling tables, “that table’s off limits. Could you move to this table?”

Nodding, although reluctantly so, you pick up your belongings and start your trek to the middle when you lift your head only to spot the very subject of your snickering; because there he is himself, Jeon Jungkook walking into the room, fashionably late as always, and eyes scanning through the filled room. Reaching the desk, you glimpse through your peripheral vision to quickly come to the conclusion that a few chairs remain unoccupied… one of which is right next to yours. It’s unlikely that he would choose to sit next to you, out of all other seats, right? Considering he had so adamantly refused to take your offer for company last year?   

But no. 

Swiftly but unhurried in that nonchalant, indifferent mien of his, he seats himself right next to you. 

“I know there are plenty of other places you would rather spend your evening at, trust me,” your supervisor announces, “but please utilize this time to introduce yourselves to your partner and get working on the project.” 

Keep calm, Y/N, you tell yourself as you slowly turn to face your partner, don’t let him figure out that you remember—shit, does he remember rejecting your offer last year? It was supposed to be a friendly gesture and nothing else! He doesn’t think you’re into him, does he?

Jungkook stares at you. Eyes peering down at you, lips too lazy to even put on a friendly mien, and face emanating of giving no fucks, it seems like an eternity has passed as he waits for you to speak first. Or at least it seems like an eternity to you.

Is this really the same guy your friend told you she found cute?!

“...I think I already know your name,” you deadpan, trying to put on an equally apathetic front. 

Finally, he smirks—and when he does so, you think something has your heart jolting. What was that? Judging by his ongoing impression, he’s probably just another cocky bastard. Born with the looks but maybe not so much with the smarts, he must be all up in his head. He must think you’re smitten. He probably doesn’t even remember your name—

“—Y/N,” he greets you, cracking a crooked grin. 

What was that again? 

The next hour passes by in the blink of an eye. Your supervisor proceeds to explain the project albeit poorly so, but all you can remember from that day was you shrinking away at the sight of the boy beside you through the corners of your eye. Having forgotten his existence until now, you haven’t realized just how much has changed between you two. Just a year older and he’s already popped his own bubble, opting for tank tops and gym shorts instead of his conservative hoodies and slim jeans from last year… probably eager to show off those newly built muscles of his. Remarkably, he’s probably also grown taller—because now, he stands a good three or four inches taller than you. A year must do a lot, seeing how he’s changed from the reclusive boy to an equally reclusive man, and you begin to wonder if he’s noticed the changes in you, too.

Focusing on your supervisor’s wrap-up for the day, you don’t notice just how long Jungkook has been staring at you with those unreadable eyes of his; and when you finally do, turning your head and peering up at him with quizzical, wide eyes, he smirks. 

“What?” you cinch your brows. 

“Nothing,” he insists, despite how much harder he starts snickering.

“What?!” you gawk, mouth agape in full offense but lips curled into a cheeky smile for who knows what. 

Do you have something on your face? Does he think you stink? You don’t know why but your face begins burning beet red. 

“Nothing!” 

He only laughs harder, the corners of his eyes wrinkling and the apples of his cheeks rising along with the wide grin he slacks open—and at that moment, staring at him in a momentary awe you would recall for as far into the future as a distant year, you marvel at the sight before you.

Has he ever smiled this hard before? You’ve never seen him like this, even with the few friends he had. Or is this a sight others have yet to witness? 

Nowadays, when your playlist goes on shuffle and you stumble upon that one melancholic winter beat meant for feverish summers, the expired ache in your heart returns with vengeance. 

But in that moment, you were hoping for forever and that was your first mistake of many. If the walls of your heart  had managed to fend off many others before, then why did you not listen to the sirens in your head at that very moment? After all, you should’ve known that devilish grin of his lethal charms meant he was only on a search for something temporary. 

Embarrassed and ashamed, it’s been a year later and you still can’t listen to that particular song without recalling the moment you fell too hard, too fast.

Maybe, just maybe, you once remarked to yourself, Tuesday evenings wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

-

his side;

This is the dumbest shit I’ve ever had to attend, Jungkook mentally curses with the roll of his eyes as he strolls into the building. The sweat he had shed after hitting the gym had long been washed off after a quick shower and the forfeit of the relaxing winter chills in exchange for the company’s heater only ticked him off further. With a water bottle in his hand, he tosses the plastic wrap of his protein bar into the trash. He then draws the door wide open with utter ease in his hands and a one-way-ticket to the playground in his heart. 

Great, not only does the supervisor forget to send a list of participants, but now that he’s finally here to see for himself, he scans through the room, there isn’t a single person he recognizes—well, maybe not. 

“Y/N,” Jungkook watches as the accursed supervisor points at another desk in the middle of the room, “that table’s off limits. Could you move to this table?”

Why the fuck put a table there if it’s off limits, then?

In the corner of his eye, he notices the girl rise from her seat, although begrudgingly so, before trudging toward the other desk. Meanwhile, Jungkook had just finished his prolonged entrance into the room, skimming through the room with just one thought on his mind: get. me. out. of. here. 

Well, there’s really only a few seats left—hell, why is everyone literally an hour early? It’s either he sits at the back of the room, where he could slack off and honestly would have preferred, or he sits at the very front with someone he’s somewhat familiar with. 

Does she even remember him? 

Jungkook doesn’t really give a damn, for his feet has already begun its trek toward the empty seat beside her. Judging from the few interactions he had with her, she never really seemed to take a liking to him. She was friendly, no doubt, but maybe too friendly. She probably even realized her own unnecessary benevolence, for Jungkook recalls the multitude of times she had purposely ignored his presence ever since that one time he declined the offer to sit beside her in the cafeteria. Now, she probably saw him as the dumb guy at work who asked her too many questions. 

Maybe now he’ll finally get a chance to really know her. 

The supervisor babbles a bunch of shit, and before he knows it, people are chattering again and Jungkook mentally cursed at himself for zoning out. Turning around, he looks down at the girl beside him. Is it just him or does she not look too pleased? Well, not that he really cares. It’s not like she’s acquainted with him, nor is she obligated to smile. 

“...I think I already know your name,” the girl mutters. 

Oh, so she does remember, Jungkook can’t help the lopsided grin that escapes onto his lips.

“Y/N,” Jungkook utters simply, returning his attention to the front of the room where the supervisor continues speaking and failing to notice the look on his partner’s face. 

The next hour passes by dreadfully slowly. In fact, it takes Jungkook everything not to rest his head on the table and ask Y/N to wake up from his nap once the supervisor was done. Instead, his mind wanders elsewhere… 

Why did he sign up for this again? Oh, right, he needed the cash, and this time fits perfectly after his gym sessions. 

Why did he choose this seat then? Well, beats him. Something about his constant run-ins with Y/N has even him, the most indifferent of them all, scratching his head. It’s almost as if this is fate’s own way of begging for him to give her a chance. 

Does she actually hate him? Still, Jungkook wouldn’t mind either way, although he wouldn’t say he isn’t curious. Considering how she still remembers his name, however, something tells him she doesn’t exactly despise him, and that’s a bit of a relief. Why? Well, no, he doesn’t really care. Really.

She’s changed a bit, Jungkook remarks as he turns to take a look at his partner. He recalls her long locks from orientation as well as the beginning of the year when she had cut them short. Now that another half year has passed, her hair had somehow returned to its original length… or to whatever extent of a difference a boy like Jungkook could notice. She’s gained a bit of weight, or maybe that’s because she’s bundled underneath all her winter layers as compared to the halter romper he had first seen her in at orientation. Either way, she looks… different, perhaps a year more mature. One thing that hasn’t changed though, he observes as he watches her devote every ounce of attention on the rambling supervisor, is her undeniable work ethic…

...maybe that’s why he caught wind of a certain nerd, Taehyung, crushing hard on his infamous partner who had ghosted the poor boy. 

And yet, here he is, Jungkook muses with a half-smile, sitting next to that very infamous girl. 

Something about that thought gives him power and he can’t quite pinpoint why. 

“What?” she says a bit more offended than he would have expected.

“Nothing,” he says truthfully, because to him, there really isn’t anything to say. 

What? Is he supposed to apologize for staring? 

“What?!” she repeats. 

The confusing mix between offence and laughter that plasters across her reddening face only amuses Jungkook further; and at that moment, he figures there’s something oddly satisfying about teasing this girl. 

“Nothing!” 

The boy doesn’t notice it until he’s already burst into laughter, a full leap beyond his usual chuckles done out of social obligation, but he’s actually laughing. Mouth agape, teeth showing, eyes squinting into crescents, he really doesn’t know what he’s laughing at and he doesn’t really care that others are staring at the two of you. 

Hey, maybe gym sessions aren’t the only form of entertainment he’ll be looking forward to on Tuesday nights. 

[yuulina-vre]

Gifting you a new life

Finding the hint

Pairing: Steve x Bucky, Reader insert

Warnings: None 

Word count: 3731 words

Part: Two

Summary: Bucky struggles a litte through his workday

Masterlist

* * *

Bucky wakes up tiredly. The night wasn’t one of the best he ever had but it wasn’t as bad as the worst ones. Nightmares and restlessness had him captured and awake for half of the night. Now he doesn’t really feel rested, but he’s used to it by now. His shoulder aches as he sits up. He winces slightly, starting to massage around on the scarred flesh of his stump for a moment, then rolling his shoulder and ignoring the slightly dulled pain. After throwing the blanket off his lap he yawns wide and long before he stands up to stretch his arm as high as he can. He throws a quick glance at his metal prosthetic that he had taken off before bed. He still can’t decide if he likes or hates it, even after years of having it. It makes the everyday life easier but at the same time it’s a struggle to put on by himself, he can’t feel with it and sometimes he calculates his strength wrong and smashes glasses and the like. One thing that’s makes no difference are the looks. He gets them if he wears the arm and he gets them I he doesn’t, but by now he’ s at least used to that.

With a sigh he lets the arm stay in his box and walks to the bathroom and straight to the mirror. After seeing his reflections, he sighs again, this time in annoyance. His hair is a mess! It’s tangled up nicely and look like a mop, not hair at all. Maybe he really should cut it at some point. He had grown it out since he got honorably discharged from active duty. That was about three years ago.

He eyes his reflection with a slight frown, brushes his hair but doesn’t try to even get it somehow presentable, just pulls it up into a bun. Then he undresses as best as he can with one arm and steps into the shower to quickly get rid of the sweat of the night, from dreams he can’t even remember anymore.

After stepping out of the shower into the now steam filled room, he feels more awake and refreshed. His hair is now a wet mess in a bun since he didn’t pay attention to it and got it all wet. But he doesn’t mind.

Wrapped up in a towel around his waist and holding it with his hand he leaves the bathroom again to sit back down on his bed. His eyes wander back to the arm in the box. He silently debates if he should put it on today or not. Sometimes he rather not wears it when his shoulder hurts already it makes attaching the arm difficult and the pain will grow over the day but without it his workday will be a struggle to handle. After a few minutes of back and forth he garbs his prosthetic, letting the towel fall from his hips. It’s not like someone can see him running around naked anyway. Aside from Maggie but she’s not even here. Bucky struggles a little with getting the arm attached to his shoulder. It always hurts a little afterwards which is now worse since his shoulder is, in fact, hurting already. “Come on you fucking piece of- Aha” he curses a little until he finally manages to get the damned thing on. He really hates this arm. Maybe. Probably. He rotates his arm and shoulder for a while, massages the scarring again to prevent the stiffness from setting in just yet. It feels a little heavy at first, like it’s dragging his right side down, but Bucky knows that it’s just because he actually wears his prosthetic for the first time in three days and the feeling will vanish the longer he wears it. He carefully flexes his metal hand a few times, testing the strength and motion before he lift himself from his bed to shuffle over to his closet. He gets one of his favorite shirts and a pair of boxers and pants to get dressed in before he leaves the room to walk downstairs to his kitchen. Once again, he’s reminded that his house is actually too big for just him. He used to live here with his siter but since she married a few years ago he’s living all by himself in the house he grew up in. he thought about selling the place a few times by now but never really got it in him to follow through. There were just too many memories of his parents and his childhood in the walks and floor. Each cracking step, whistling of wind that squeezes past the windows, each little ting that need renovating or replacing has its own memory to tell. So, he stays. Maybe he adopts a dew more cat. Maggie probably feels lonely when he’s not home anyway. Yawning tiredly again, still not really awake, he switches on the coffee machine before he starts the toaster. While waiting for his toast he goes to one of the cabinets to retrieve some of Maggie’s favorite food and fills it in her bowl, whistling for her, so she knows food’s ready. Then he walks back to his table, grabs his toasts and some stuff to put on them, grabs his coffee and starts his breakfast, all while scrolling through his phone. He’s almost finished eating when he hears a meow from behind him. Bucky turns around only to be greeted by a white, black-footed fluffy cat that stares up at him with sparkling amber eyes. “Hey you. Finally, back? I waited for hours last night.” Bucky glares at his little girl but Magnolia only meows again, rubbing her head against his leg with a purr before stalking over to her food. Bucky shakes his head and silently curses himself for being so soft for the fur ball. “You know, one of these days I see you stealing my credit card to buy yourself some staff or something. You do what you want, huh?” The cat meows again, looks up at him and flicks its tail as if to say that he’s damn right. Bucky chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. For feeding I’m good enough, I know.” Snorting he drinks the last of his coffee, gets up and disposes everything into the sink to wash up later. Then he walks to Maggie, bends down and picks her up into his arms. She struggles for a second, not pleased to be interrupted while eating breakfast but then settles down, rubbing her head under his chin with some more purring. A smile creeps on Bucky’s face, he starts scratching under Maggie’s chin and kissing her fluffy head until his gaze switches to the clock on the wall. It’s late already but he figures that he can take five minutes to cuddle with his favorite girl. He strokes though the cat’s fur, letting her purr against his chest while she still rubs her head against his chin and shoulder. As much as Maggie loves to be outside, striving through the wilderness of his garden, she loves to cuddle with him, too. Sometimes Bucky thinks that she has more dog than cat in her genes. She always seems to know when he’s not feeling well or is in pain. She comes running up to him, greatly takes her places on his lap or chest and stays there, purring contently and letting the man stroke through her fur until he’s feeling better, or she decides he has to suck it up already. Sometimes she stays as long as Bucky lets her, and he has to admit that it can be pretty long. He loves her small warm body purring against his skin. Magnolia is really good at comforting, too.

The little white ball meows again and Bucky kisses her head once more. “I know, I need to get ready.” He sets her down watching her walking back to her food. “See you later, Maggie. Don’t do stupid stuff. And don’t scratch the couch again. I know it was you!” He points at the cat, but Magnolia just throws an innocent look at him, munching happily. He shakes his head before he walks to his wardrobe in the hall, slips on his ID card for the military and takes the dog tags form the key hooks where they always hang. He stokes his thumb carefully over the old and damaged metal, lingering for a moment in some memories. These tags are the only thing that he still has from his time as a soldier. They aren’t his though, oh no. He gave his own to his sister for keeping safe util he’s ready to take them back again. These ones are somebody else’s. They’re from the man that he rescued. A comrade, a total stranger. He pushed him away as a grenade exploded which made the stranger fall down a small cliff. That was the day he lost his arm. He can’t remember much about the day, let alone the face of the Captain he saved. Since he retired his service and works in the lost-and-found section of the military he tries to find the man. For five years now. He still has no clue who he is or where to find him. He doesn’t even know if he’s still alive or if he died that day. No one could help him, and no one seems to know the man. At least no one he talked to. The team is so damaged that the only things he knows are, that the man had the rank of a Captain and his last name ends with ‘gers’. So, he carries the tags with him, as reminder and in hopes to finally find a clue one day and get the chance to give them back. He carefully slips them into his jeans pocket, takes his car keys, locks the door and walks over to his car. The old thing looks like it’s falling apart some day and Bucky really hopes that his motorcycle will be repaired by tomorrow. He hates his car.

 * * *

The moment he opens the door to his office at the community center he sighs. He managed to get across the whole place without anyone stopping him to have a chat. It’s not that he doesn’t like talking to anyone but if he doesn’t have to than that its totally fine for him. He likes to be alone and have his silence. He only greeted some people he knows pretty well, and actually likes.

Now he collapses into his chair with a huffed sigh. It’s not that he has much to do but the few things he has to do are tiring. Carding through old files, newspaper, calling the archive of the military and so on. A lot of running around, too. And all that just to return some old things to retired soldiers or their remaining family. The things mostly consisted of dog tags, photos sometimes clothes that were found on battlefields or while sorting through other stuff somewhere. To be fair, most of the people are very happy to get some memories to cherish. Some are not that happy and ask to get rid of the things because they dig up things that were buried a long time ago. Bucky can understand that very well, that’s why Becca has his own tags right now.Bucky rubs at his shoulder; his prosthetic seems to give him more trouble today. He wonders if his shoulder is too stiff already, it has only been two weeks since it got massaged professionally. Or if it got infected again. That happens sometimes and with all the scarring he has, the fears get more vivid that the doctor was very sloppy in his work. If he had enough money, he would go to the next best doctor, get everything fixed but that would cost a fortune and the military would not help him out since he already got his arm and operations covered before. He lets out a second sigh. What a damn mess he returned to. Everybody tells you that it will get better after returning home, after living a normal life. Bucky thinks he has more troubles now then he had before. A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts. He looks up just as it opens and a brunette woman steps in. “Maria.” Maria Hill, one of Bucky’s favorite co-workers and at the same time some sort of boss, after Nick Fury of course, holds a cardboard box in her hands. “Hello James. I’ve got something new for you.”“Again? I didn’t even finish the last box.”“I know. But this might be interesting for you. The things all should be easy to get back, too.” She places the box on his table and opens it. “We got a few lost dog tags, some pictures form wife’s and children, clothes and all the usual.”

“Something pretty damaged?”

“No, at least not as damaged as the tags that you’re always carrying around.” She musters his feature as his hand instantly raises to the pocket. “Did you find any clue by now?” She raises her eyebrows, looking really interested. She always tries to help him find the mysterious Captain but until now there’s no lead. “No.” Bucky sighs defeated, flopping back in his chair. “The guy seems to have vanished. I found some guys who were in the same area as we were back then, but no one seems to be either around here or to remember. Just have to keep looking.”

“Did you look through protocols?”

“Yeah, and I asked Peggy. But nothing ‘til now.”

“You’ll find him eventually.” Maria pats him on the shoulder with a kind smile. “Anyway, this here might be a little easier. The tags are pretty good to read, so you shouldn’t have any difficulties to find the ones to return them to. Some of the photos even have names written on the back, could be some kind of help.”

“Thanks.” Bucky gifts her a small smile before he pulls the box closer to look through it. Maria looks him over for a while. “It’s bad again, huh?”

“Hm?” Bucky looks up at her, wondering what she means this time. “Your shoulder. You’re holding it in a protective posture again.” She nods at his shoulder before she crosses her arms. “I don’t understand why you aren’t asking Fury for a new one.”

“Because his answer is going to be the same as last time.” Now Bucky leans back in his chair, crossing his own arms over his chest. “He’s going to say that I already got a new arm, and that the military isn’t a charity organization. We don’t repair what’s already been repaired.” Bucky rolls his eyes and sees Maria do the same. “Should I talk to him?”

“No. I will talk to Phil, try to find out if I have any other option so I don’t need to pay everything on my own. Since then, I have to live with this.” He shrugs his shoulder and suppresses a wince as a sharp pain shoots through it. Maria seems to notice it, her face darkens a bit, but she says nothing to it, well knowing Bucky will deny it if she points it out. “Fine. But do it quickly. It wouldn’t help when your shoulder is too damaged to repair anything.” She is almost out of the door as she turns to him again. “James. Nick says you still have to take your vacation. If you haven’t taken it by the end of the month, he’s going to force you.” He looks up, feeling a little uncomfortable but nods at the woman. “I know.” He watches as Maria leaves before he leans back in his seat again. It’s really not that he doesn’t want a vacation, he just doesn’t know what to do with all the time. He has no family left to visit besides Becca who lives in the same town, no other half to take on dates, Magnolia would disagree, though. She likes it when he spoils her rotten all day and would gladly have him home for a week or so. A vacation also means that he has way too much time to think, too. After he lost his arm he was in a really dark space of his head. It had taken his therapist almost two and a half years to get him back out of it and since then Bucky always tries to take as less free day’s as he can. Still, Fury always insist that he takes his vacation and always makes sure he really does.

While he goes through the contents of the box, he sees a photo that somehow catches his attention. On it is a man, clearly a higher ranged soldier with a woman. They’re both smiling at the little blonde boy in the man’s arms. The boy seems to be around five years old, has a lost tooth but he seems a bit smaller than other kids Bucky has ever seen at that age. He’s also very thin but his eyes shine with happiness as he hugs his dad while laughing. The photo is well used with all sorts of bends and folds in it. The edges turned a little yellow with time and are a little frayed. He keeps looking at it for a while longer and sets his mind to find the owner to this one first. He turns the photo around to see if somethings written on it. “Sarah and me with our little sunshine. 1993.” Bucky reads out aloud. He turns the picture again and thinks for a moment. Where should he start to search? He decides to run down to the archive to ask Peggy about it. She usually has some good ideas to help him.

 * * *

The archive, like almost all archives, is down in the basement of the whole compound. It’s pretty big and each time Bucky is down here he asks himself how Peggy still knows where to find something. Margeret ‘Peggy’ Carter is one of Bucky’s favorite woman. She’s kind and almost always likes to chat with him, always knowing what to say and when to be silent. She listens to him and is actually the only one that never showed him some kind of pity. She always says what she thinks and is honest with him. He appreciates it very much. Peggy even established the lost-and-found unit for the military, having lost her own husband in a war.

He knocks lightly on the door and waits for Peggy to call him in. Never would he dare to just enter. Peggy can be really scary when she wants to be, and he learned that lesson more than once. “Come in.”

“Hello, Peg.”

“Bucky. How nice to see you.” The elderly woman smiles at him and waves him over. “What brings you down here?”

“I need your help.”

“Oh, what for this time?”

“I have this picture. Do you happen to know this man or where I can find something about him?” He passes the picture over to her and she eyes it for a while before turning it over. The year that’s on the paper is one year before Peggy lost her husband, so she knew many soldiers at that time. She hums and mutters to herself before she stands up and shuffles away to vanish behind some of the shelves. Twenty minutes later she comes back with a big box of folders. “This are all the soldiers that got send away in 1993. Let’s see if he was one of them. He looks kind of familiar, but I don’t have a name to that face.” Bucky nods and they go through folder after folder until Peggy hums. “I knew he’s familiar. He was the one to always get me some cake on my birthday. And his little boy was a really sweet one. He drew me lots of pictures, quite talented actually.”

“Show me?” Bucky holds his hand out for the folder and Peggy passes it to him with a bitter expression. “The poor boy. He must be around your age now. Joseph was a really nice man. But in 1993 he was sent to this stupid mission.” The brunette woman shakes her head with a displeased sound. “Something top secret.” She scoffs and Bucky can clearly see what she thinks about it. That kind of mission happe more that one would think and never do the families hear what really happened to their loved ones when they pass away while being shipped off. “The man never came back. Sarah had to raise Steve all on her own. The boy had lots of sicknesses and Sarah had to manage double shifts in the hospital and caring for the boy when he was ill again.” Bucky looks up from the folder and passes it back to Peggy. “You seem to know a lot about them.”

“Sure do. Sarah brought Steve over from time to time. I told her I would look for her little troublemaker if she needs to pull extra shifts. Until he turned thirteen, I think, he was like a nephew. Then Sarah had to move away. Her rent was too high, and I lost contact.” Bucky nods and looks back down at the picture. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“On the cemetery I’m afraid. I think Sarah died a few years ago. The boy must have turned 18 or so.” Bucky raises his eyebrows and looks down at the picture once more. “Seems like a bad life for him so far.” He picks the picture up and looks at Peggy again. “Do you know where he lives now?”

“No. Dear god, if I would know where everybody’s children moved, I would know whole America.” She frowns at him, but her eyes still sparkle. Bucky guesses she has some nice memories returning right now. “Okay, okay, Peggy.” Bucky raises his hands with an amused laugh. “Need some help to get these away before I leave.”

“I got this, you just go and make this boy a bit happier. I remember he was really sad back then. He loved his father.” She waves at Bucky as he leaves.

Pervious Part / Next Part

[adamdriverwrites]

Carpe Noctem || Part 3

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: nothing worth mentioning. So your basic mentions of death, swearing, implications of crime.

Word count: 3888

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 3! Thank you to everyone who commented, I never knew this many people would like my story! I can’t believe the amount of people who have liked and reblogged so thank you so much xxx

Taglist:  @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz​, @musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, @hazydespair, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy​, @0nevergrowoldnevergrowold0, @sarasxe, @um-well,

Masterlist here

You sat in your parked car outside the Supremacy. The facade of the building was seemingly unchanged since you had last seen it all those years ago. It was a large, two story building in a relatively nice neighborhood. Dark stone stretching almost half a block, black windows obscuring a view inside, and a neon red sign with 'The Supremacy' in a cursive font hanging over the door.

It was a long shot coming here, but you were still working up the courage to go to Mallory's apartment. You figured this was a suitable stepping stone. She had mentioned her friend in passing conversations, had apparently worked at the establishment for years. You didn't know what time she worked, day or night, and she probably wasn't even here today but you didn't want to head back home right away. And it was a long shot in which you were wiling to investigate a little further. You had to start somewhere.

There was a lone member of security outside the front doors. Black clothes, tall figure, imposing; completely  the modus operandi of your father's workers. There was no line to get in, not unsurprising given it was mid afternoon on a Friday so you straightened your leather jacket and walked up to the bald, intimidating bouncer.

His eyes looked you up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. "ID?"

You pulled your ID from your pocket, where it was nestled in between your card and your phone and handed it to him without fault. He looked it over, eyes checking the photo matched your profile before he looked back at the driver's license. His brown eyes widened profusely, and he handed it back to you.

"Sorry, Miss Snoke." He stepped the side, an arm outstretched to welcome you into the establishment your father owned. You entered a dark hallway, bass in the music traveling further, blackout curtains separated as you walked through. Your eyes were assaulted by bright, colourful lights. Dancing wildly around the room in perfect time with the music. Four elevated stages, with poles that stretched to the ceiling were placed around the room, seats arranged the stage. Tables were littered in between and a long bar was nestled against the far wall. It was slightly more busy that you thought it would be, your expectations exceeded to see a woman dancing on a stage, six men littered around her in various seats. A few more patrons sat at a table, two women talking to the group, flirting and petting the men in their suits.

You had never actually been in the Supremacy. But it was a classier joint than you extrapolated. Surfaces looked clean, and the air was fresh with a hint of perfume. Black furniture, and red silk curtains hanging from the ceiling provided some tables extravagant privacy on the wall opposite the bar. Large stairs in front of you wound up to the second floor. Another set of double doors were open, revealing a long hallway that disappeared. A glass railing on the second floor surrounded the deck, and you noticed it linked all the way around to a second floor office. The front wall of the office consisted entirely of glass, a suitable viewing precipice for whoever ran this place for your father now.

You spotted a male bartender working, polishing glasses and stocking the bar. A young man, maybe in his late twenties, blonde hair and blue eyes, black uniform t-shirt that simply had 'The Supremacy' in the same font. You walked forward, weaving through the empty tables before you stepped up to the bar. He looked up, smile painted on his previously vacant face, and put down a glass and a polishing rag.

"Welcome!" His eyes raked over your form quickly, and it felt like he was vaguely ogling you. "What's your poison?"

You gave a half assed attempt at a smile, "I'm not here for a drink."

"Hmm," he hummed in interruption, leaning forward on the bar. "A dance? A job, then?"

You bit your lip, "No-"

"I mean, you've got a great body but, darlin’, this is one of the best clubs in town. Girls are dying to dance here."  

You were sick of him interrupting you. Ogling you. You had little patience today, so you decided to tell a half-lie just to shut him up. "I know. My Father owns this place." You had no idea of the waiting list to work here, but you pretended. 

His face stilled and he leaned back slightly. You pulled your ID from your pocket once again and waved it in front of his face for good measure, then placed it back into your jacket. "I want to talk to Lacy. Is she around?"

He reeled, "Look, I didn't mean no disrespect, I had no idea-"

"I don't give a shit." You interrupted him in turn. "It's important, I just want to see Lacy. I don't know her stripper name but I know she works here."

"She's not in, she hasn't been in for a few days, I don't know her work schedule but I can get the manager? He'll know more than me."

You nodded your head. "Okay, sure."

He leaned over, leaning his hand under the bar, he pressed something and his eyes averted up to the office you had spied previously. He withdrew his hand and picked up the glass and rag once more. "He'll be down in a moment. Wait here."

You nodded, and watched as he moved down the bar slightly, back to restocking the glasses on the wall.

You gazed around, music changing as the dancer walked off the stage after collecting her money, another dancer filling her spot. The men didn't move, cigars between their lips and drinks in hand, patiently waiting to get their fill. All men looked successful, and had amber liquid swirling in their glasses. Suits adorned their bodies and shiny watches adorned their wrists. It was easy to assume this was a classy establishment, catering to more high paying clientele.

Which confused you slightly because this business had originally started as a front. It was a way for your father to launder money from his other ventures that were less than legal. Or a way to siphon a small amount anyway - he had a few legitimate businesses for this purpose now but the Supremacy had been one of the first.

Clearly, the Snoke name was still among high standards of rich and elite of New York. Your father had all sorts of friends in all sorts of places, and almost all of them owed him favors. Politicians, lawyers, moguls - clearly they all wanted to be a part of something bigger, something mysterious. The Snoke crime family.

A blur out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. At the top of the stairs you noticed a tall figure in a dark, all black suit. Pale skin, bright red hair, and a caustic confidence you could feel from basically halfway across the room.

Armitage Hux.

You didn't fight the smirk that curved your lips as your eyes locked with his. A chilling smirk mirrored his lips and he made his way down the stairs. Eyes completely focused on you.

You couldn't believe he was still alive - let alone running the fucking Supremacy. His father had been an advisor of your own. A part of a small council that ran the whole operation. Hux had been around when you were a kid, though he was closer to Ares' and Roman's age than yours.  

He had been a smarmy, confident piece of shit growing up. Like a lot of people, he was at your house often. You didn't start getting to know each other until you were a little older, around 12 or 13, before you left for boarding school. You still thought he was a cocky shit, but the two of you had something in common.

A disdain for Lyon.  

He seemed to rub a lot of people the wrong way, though you never seemed to mind him too much. But you were a good judge of character - you knew he was manipulative, cunning, cruel even. But he had always had a good head for business, and was loyal to the Snoke family and the Order. If you knew what you were expecting, then it wasn't that bad.

Hux approached the bar, green eyes piercing as he walked closer. He spoke your name with an almost unbelievable exhale. "I didn't know you were back in town."

"Well, you don't know everything."

"Ah, but I do. That's my expertise." He came to stand in front of you, looking you over before leaning against the bar nonchalantly. He looked exactly the same as you remembered, if only aged slightly, soft wrinkles around his eyes. Otherwise his hair was still perfectly gelled back, not a strand out of place, his clothes still immaculately pressed with his usual stiff and rigid posture.

"Never the less, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His eyes shifted to the bartender behind you and he flicked his finger, his attention returned to you. Pale green eyes absorbing your figure. "Tell me you're here for me." You knew you were rather heavy in the chest area, and had an ass to boot, but you weren't under the allusion you were pretty, or gorgeous by any means. In fact you felt particularly plain enough to go under the radar. Though since being home, you hadn't felt more like the opposite. You figured it was the stark growth spurt you had under gone since you were last back home. Last everyone knew - you were just a teenager. Prepubescent and awkward.

"Not quite," you huffed, "I actually just wanted to talk to Lacy." His head raised slightly, eyebrow cocked before realization dawned on his face but you spoke anyway. "She was friends with Mallory."

"Oh... yes. I'm sorry for your loss, I suppose.” You wanted to smile at his awkwardness before he sighed.  “Your father has been... never mind. You came all the way here just to talk and reminisce with a stripper?"

Again, you felt the instinctual need to lie, but resisted. "I just wanted to hear some things about Mallory's life, since I've been gone so long." It wasn't a lie, technically.

The bartender's presence interrupted your conversation, and he placed two glasses of scotch down on the bar before making himself scarce. You didn't want to drink, though now it was placed in front of you, you wanted to knock the whole thing back.

"Anything for you." An almost evil, calculating smirk curved his lips. "But first, let's catch up in my office. You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you anything."

He hummed out a laugh, signalling something you didn't know to the bartender and gestured up the stairs towards his office. It was a short walk, though his close presence felt behind you made it feel longer than it actually was. You reached his office, and he opened the double doors, allowing you inside before shutting them behind you.

It was a big area, not wide, but particularly long as it recessed into the building. Half of the office was glass, giving a perfect view to the club below. It was dark grey walls with a flourish of a red velvet couch. A desk with a few papers were scattered on it, and you noticed it was devoid of any type of computer. You guessed your father was still paranoid about any digital trails leading to evidence that could prove hurtful.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the red velvet seat situated opposite his desk. "It’s been a long time. What have you been up to all these years?"

You walked forward, taking a sip of your drink before collapsing into the comfortable seat, eyes watching Hux as he rounded the desk and followed suit. "Studying..." you shrugged, "working... enjoying life away from my family."

"It would appear so." Hux's eyes flashed with something, and a smirk graced his lips again. "He sent you off to boarding school, you graduated, and never came back. Clearly you were off having fun."

"Fun is for children."

"Which you are not." Again Hux looked over your form.

"You know what he's like, it’s why I didn't come back. Why are you still here?"

"I've worked hard to get where I am today, my loyalty and allegiance to the First Order and the Snoke family-"

"And look what you have to show for it; a strip club?"  You interrupted his tirade. "You've done far more than Lyon has and less to show for it. You respect nepotism?"

His nostrils flared at the mention of your brother and you knew that he was still a sore spot for Armitage. "That is but one instance. Not everyone of import in the Order is of your father's blood."

You nodded, "Phasma?"

"Ren."

It was your turn for your nostrils to flare and you quirked a brow. "My father's bodyguard?"

"That's a simplification. I wish his duties were that insignificant."

"Well they are now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been tasked as my bodyguard while I'm here."

Hux leaned forward at this, elbows resting on his desk, his interest suddenly focused. "Is that so?"

"Why is that so interesting?" This piqued your curiosity. "What does he do for my father exactly?"

Hux seemed to choose his next words carefully. "Ren is his... fidus Achates, his saboteur, his right hand man."

You got that sense with how often he was in your father's office. He was even in his office when he had kicked Lyon out earlier. If anything that was conducive to the fact that he was more trusted than any other man you knew about in the Order. Even when you were a kid, your father didn't have any men that seemed permanently glued to the shadowy corners of the room.

"Whatever problems your father has, Ren makes them go away."

"So like his hitman?" You ask.

"More like a rabid animal." Hux spat the words, and you gathered there was a little contempt from the red headed man. "Kept on leash by only your father and let loose whenever he pleases. You thought he was ruthless before you left? Well, Ren is solving every problem with bloodshed and violence."

"Unnecessarily?" You sipped your drink, leaning back into your seat.

"No, your father points his finger, and Ren takes care of the rest... destroys everything in his path."    

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "If he’s so important why would my Dad assign him to me?"

This made Hux smirk. "Precisely."

You had your perceptions about Armitage, you had known him since you were young. While you didn't trust him exactly, you trusted that you knew him well enough to talk about Mallory.

"He thinks something happened to Mallory."

"I know." Hux sipped the amber liquid. "We've talked about it. While Ren handles the... messier assignments, my strength is acquiring knowledge and intel."

"And what have you found out?"

"Nothing." He didn't look like he was lying, not that you were sure what that even looked like. "Not yet, anyway. Is that why you're here?"

You sipped your drink again, if only to stall time before you answered. "I just wanted to talk to Lacy, but yes."

"And now look at you, talking to me. Isn't this so much better?"

Your mind couldn't help but wander, back to Kylo. So much mystery surrounded him, leaving you in the dark and Hux was finally providing a little light on the situation. And he seemed rather accepting to share. You made a mental note to think of some questions to ask him, hoping that he would give some truthful answers.  

About to open your mouth, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you pulled it out of your pocket to see a message from your father. And two missed calls.

Where are you? We're having an early dinner. Just family.

You withheld a sigh that wanted to escape, and you looked back to your company. "I've got to go." You threw back the rest of your whiskey and put it on his desk before standing up.

"So soon?" Hux mirrored your movements. "You just got here."

"I'll see you soon."

He grabbed a pen and paper off his desk, handing it to you. "write down your number, when Lacy comes in I'll let you know."

You wanted to question his helpfulness but decided against it. Feverishly writing down your digits and handing it back to him instead. "Thanks, Hux."

"Of course."

Leaving the Supremacy left you feeling a little defeated. Even though Hux said he would text you when Lacy was next in, it meant today had come to a standstill, stagnant in your search for information. Your next plan was to head to the penthouse, see what possessions of Mallory's was still around, however, your fathers text had brought that idea to a standstill. Maybe you could go later tonight, when everything had calmed down? Jumping back into your car, you sent a quick reply to your Dad

Just at the store getting tampons, leaving now.

You hoped he was grossed out enough by a woman’s basic bodily functions to not want to reply. Starting your car, the V8 grumbling loudly. You pulled from the curb and headed to the direction of your house.

Seeing Hux again after so many years was a refreshing change of pace. He acted the same as he did all those years ago and looked the same too, save for a few wrinkles displaying the passage of time. The two of you catching up was good, and he had divulged some impertinent information regarding your new ‘bodyguard’ that proved fruitful. You hoped next time he would be even more forthcoming.

The drive home was shorter than you expected, just less than an hour. Traffic was light, and you were pulling into the Snoke driveway before you knew it. You wished it had dragged on longer, you half preferred sitting in your car than going inside to drink and eat with your family. You hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral earlier today, and you expected the strong facade you had adapted was going to falter.

As you drove down the long winding driveway, rounding the towering willow trees either side you came into view of the house, and then the garage. The electronic door at the very end already open, you didn’t have time to be confused as a tall, dark form came into view.

Kylo.

He was standing in your spot, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as his dark eyes stared at you. His stoic form didn't move until you came forward, moving so you could park your car in the area he had occupied. You killed the engine once you parked and didn't have time to open your door before he had done it for you.

"Welcome home." You grabbed your belongings from the seat beside you and looked up at the man standing over you.  Once you were clear, he shut the drivers side door, and blocked the way to inside the house. You tried to maneuver around him but he moved to defer you.

This caused you to sigh. Your eyes darted up to meet his.

"Yes?"

"Your father’s been worried."

You rolled your eyes. "I was gone for a few hours, so that's his problem."

"And his problems become my own." He stepped forward, the small distance between you became even smaller. "If you don't want me to come with you then you at least need to tell me where you're going."

It was obvious now what he was getting at. Your little field trip to go see Hux had apparently not gone unnoticed. Or, well, to the store to get tampons if your message was to be believed. You didn't think your father was going to be enforcing the whole bodyguard thing so intensely, or so quickly. Though an idea came to mind.

"You seem like a moderately intelligent guy..." Your eyes looked over his form. "Built for brute force rather than a boring protective detail of the little old likes of me." His full, pink lips encompassed the cigarette to take a puff and it almost momentarily made you falter. His hum pulled you from your thoughts of what they could have felt like and you continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"And what would that be?"

"Surely you have more important things to deal with. Which is why, if you want to do your own thing while I do my own, that's totally understandable - in fact, its actually preferable." For the first time since you've been home you tried to plaster a welcoming smile on your face. Trying hard to seem like a demure little girl your Dad had painted you to be.

Kylo expelled a huff of breath, something akin to a laugh. Your smile faltered slightly at the thought of him laughing at you.

"Your father relies on my ability to perfectly..." he searched for the proper words, throwing his cigarette over your shoulder onto the concrete behind you. "execute whatever he asks of me."  

"And you can do that, really make a difference!" It was hard to try appear as chipper as you were. Manipulation was a hard game, and you were not a happy person. "Instead of following me to the mall, or to see my friends while I'm here, you can strive to make my Dad proud."

You weren't much of a shopper, and you had no friends here to speak of. It was a low shot, but you hoped by his assumptions on your gender and what most women liked to do, you could get away with the lie.

"Your father informed me of your shrewd capabilities." You didn't know it was possible but he walked forward another step, closing the distance between you two. You had to strain your head to look up at him. He spoke with a deep conviction that conveyed anger being tethered by a small sliver of control. "It's why he chose me for the job. I won't be swayed so easily, especially by a spoiled little princess."

Your smile faltered, and you felt your rage flourish at his words.  Suddenly, you couldn't be bothered with this shit. You would think about it later, when your mind wasn't so clouded with the thought of Mallory. "Good luck." You moved past him, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the door that led to the house, shooting him one last look. "Haven’t you heard? I’m cursed.”

He watched you walk away, exhaling the last cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The door to the garage slammed before he dug his hand deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small gps tracker. Getting down on the floor, he leaned underneath your car by the rear wheel frame. Pulling off the small adhesive backing, he pressed it to the metal where it would be hidden. Flicking the switch to activate, he quickly paired the device to the app on his phone before getting up, and following suit into the Snoke manor. 

[megalony]

Slip up

This is another murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​  @killer-queen-ofrhye  @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me​ @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Joe asks (Y/n) for a favour that could get her into trouble with her husband Ben and she really doesn’t want to get on his bad side.

Enjoy.

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

"Joe... I'm really not allowed to do that." (Y/n) could already feel the shaking setting into her bones from the mere thought of what he was asking her to do. She hoped he would understand and walk away but he followed her down the corridor that was as cold as a freezer. (Y/n) could feel the chill in the air nipping at her skin causing goosebumps to arise on her flesh. Her head turned to look at her friend who was walking alongside her, his expression just as desperate as her own. He knew what he was asking but he wouldn't even be asking if he wasn't in trouble.

"I know, I know but if he finds out I didn't put all the cash back in there he'll kill me. (Y/n), please."

A shudder ran down both their spines when they both knew that Joe's ill-fated remark was not an exaggeration. Joe would be hurt and fired for this, if not killed in the end as well and he valued his life and his job here. He needed (Y/n) to help him out before Ben went upstairs and realised what Joe had done out of desperation.

It had been Joe's week this week to collect the money the club was owed and normally it was no problem at all. All the men knew they could use brute force to get what they needed and they had their guns on them at all times for added protection and as means of threat. But when Joe got the money, he didn't give all of it to Ben to put in the safe, he had to keep a bit back to use for his own purpose and that was strictly against the rules. Joe was a stickler for the rules- at least, for the rules imposed by Ben, not the law- but this one time he had to go against them. But he had the intention of giving the money back before Ben even noticed it was gone and today he had the money to put back in the safe.

But the problem was, the safe was upstairs and no one was permitted in the upstairs office without Ben being present, not even (Y/n) could go up there on her own.

Joe needed that money in the safe today because it was the day of the week for counting the money and paying the wages and bills. If Ben noticed it was gone he would know exactly who had taken it and then he would have Joe's head for it.

But (Y/n) could put it back.

"I don't own a key for the door, Ben does." (Y/n) wrung her hands together in front of her as she stopped walking and turned to face Joe.

"But you know the code to get up the stairs and the code for the safe... can't you take his keys for five minutes, please? Just put the cash in the safe and then put the keys back, he trusts you."

There was a key code on the side of the door that led to the stairs needed to reach the first floor. (Y/n) was permitted to know the code since she was married to Ben and he owned the club, but she didn't have a set of keys for the safe room upstairs so she couldn't get in without Ben's set of keys that she knew had five keys on it. One for the front door, one for the back door, one to his main office downstairs, one for the office door upstairs and one for the desk drawers in his downstairs office.

"I... okay, fine. But I really can't get in trouble if he finds out, you know that." (Y/n) could put the money back but she couldn't take the blame if Ben found out what she was doing, she wasn't getting on his bad side and Joe knew it would be far too much to ask her to lie for him if she got caught.

Just because Ben loved her didn't mean he didn't threaten or hurt her if she went against him.

When the pair reached Ben's downstairs office, (Y/n) tried the door before reaching into her pocket for her car keys that held the keys she was allowed to have for the club and her house key. She desperately hoped that Ben didn't have the office keys attached to his belt loop like he sometimes did or Joe was as good as dead.

Her footsteps were light like she was a spy or a burglar even though she was allowed in this office. Her heart started pounding against her chest when she saw the keys resting on the corner of Ben's desk and she wasted no time in swiping them from the desk. (Y/n) could barely breathe when she stepped out of the office and locked it back up behind her. Was she really going to do this? (Y/n) had a hard time trying to find somewhere in her house to hide presents from Ben, or even just walking around the club on her own. Actually snooping around like this was going to give her a panic attack or even a heart attack.

"Love," Ben's voice hit (Y/n)'s ears like a truck and her whole body froze in place before slowly turning on her heels to face her husband who put the fear of God into her despite how much she loved him. "Can you go sit at the desk for five minutes, Adam had to pop out."

Ben's words were more of an order than a request but he was trying his best not to sound controlling because his controlling nature was beginning to be a problem. He didn't see the way (Y/n)'s breath left her lips in a huff of relief before she managed to smile and nod.

"Sure." (Y/n) leaned into his shoulder when he walked over to her, his arm winding around her waist but his eyes darted between her and Joe, wondering what the pair of them were doing. Joe dipped his head at Ben before walking past him, clearly heading into the boxing ring room.

They had a front reception area at the main entrance for the few people who came here to box rather than to work for Ben. They had to be checked and signed in and it was relatively easy until someone got frisky or demanded to be let in when they weren't a member. (Y/n) never minded sitting at the desk, she could daydream and only had to smile politely at the members, most of which she knew and never had to ask for ID or a name to press the buzzer and let them into the gym/ boxing ring.

"I have a meeting in five, I'll come see you when it's finished." (Y/n) hummed in response, smiling when she felt Ben's lips pressing to the top of her head and she tightened her arms around his waist before eventually pulling back to go to work.

(Y/n)'s eyes landed on Joe when she walked into the ring, seeing two guys in the ring and three others stood around at the punching bags lined up near the windows. She reached her hand out when she walked past Joe and he placed the envelope of cash into her hand which she quickly stuffed into her back pocket, ready to put it in her bag that was hanging up in reception.

"I'll try putting it back as soon as Adam takes over at the desk." She whispered quietly before pressing the green button to head out into reception.

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

She could hear the way her heels clicked against the floorboards despite the carpet separating them. Her hand clung to the banister which she used to swing around the small corner on the steps and then again around the next corner until she was bounding down the narrow but straight part of the staircase. Her heels sounded like the hooves of horses against the road when she reached the bottom of the stairs and was back onto the concrete surface.

Peeking out of the window in the door, (Y/n) checked the corridor was clear before she opened the door and slipped out, closing the door until it clicked so it couldn't be opened again without putting in the code.

Now all she had to do was put the keys back on Ben's desk and everything would be fine.

(Y/n) held her breath to calm down her erratic breathing and heartbeat before she proceeded down the corridor until she reached Ben's office which she spent a lot of her time in. But the moment she opened the door that she found to be unlocked, the hairs on her arms pricked up and she stopped breathing when her eyes set on her husband.

"Where are my keys?" The words passed through Ben's lips in a cold sneer that showed he knew (Y/n) was the one who had them. Ben wasn't stupid, he had his keys on the desk and locked the door when he left earlier, (Y/n) was the only other person who could get into his office so it had to be her because Ben knew exactly where he left them and now they weren't there.

(Y/n)'s hand automatically reached behind her into her back pocket, her fingers curling around the key ring that she slipped over her finger to hold them better but she didn't pull her hand away. She walked closer to Ben but he was quick to meet her halfway, looming over her like a towering skyscraper that was about to crash down on her.

"Do you know what just happened?" Ben leaned his head down until his face was inches away from (Y/n)'s and his eyes could burn into hers that were already glossing over with tears of panic and terror.

"N-no..."

"I just had a meeting, and when I came to open my desk drawer to get the papers out, my fucking keys weren't there. Now the only person who could take my keys and lock my office door again is you, so why did you take them and what have you been up to?"

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she visibly cowered back from Ben who was petrifying her with just his words. He narrowed his eyes, watching as she swallowed the lump in her throat before her chest was heaving up and down like she'd just ran a marathon. He had no idea why she would want his keys but he was beyond pissed that she had taken them and caused him to be embarrassed like he just was.

Ben was the on in control, he had to be feared by everyone but when he came to making a deal with the two men who just left the club, he looked like an idiot. He couldn't find his keys he always had on his person and therefore he had to jam a metal ruler between the desk and the drawer and smash it open to get the papers out he needed before the men called off the deal that Ben needed to happen. He couldn't have looked more desperate, enraged and unhinged smashing open his own drawer because they thought he'd simply misplaced his keys like he was that much of a simple idiot.

"Baby I- I'm sorry, I had to put something in the safe... I didn't think..."

"Do you know how fucking embarrassing that was for me, not having the key to my own shitting drawer? I had to break the damn thing open to get my papers out." Ben's hand was suddenly gripping (Y/n)'s chin with an iron grasp like he was trying to smash her jawbone to pieces. His thumb and forefinger pressed bruisingly into her cheeks and made her lips pout until a tear finally escaped her eye.

"I'm sorry." (Y/n) whimpered through the words that she truly meant but if Joe hadn't of feared for his life and his job she wouldn't had to of taken Ben's keys. If Ben was more understanding or a bit more relaxed this wouldn't have happened.

"Why were you going into the safe? You don't have a key to that room for a reason, you need something you ask me." Ben growled and snarled like an animal before he roughly let go of her chin, throwing her head to the side as he let go. But (Y/n) knew by his tone that he didn't really care if she told him the reason or not and that made her heart calm down for one tiny second. She didn't have to come up with a lie or dare to tell the truth and make Joe lose his job.

Finally realising that her hand was still stuffed into her back pocket, (Y/n) gingerly pulled her arms to her chest, holding both hands together with her keys enclosed in the middle like a precious pearl inside a clam.

Out of instinct, (Y/n)'s hand twitched and her fingers spasmed and curled into her palm, pushing the small key fob with five different keys into the palm of her hand like her skin was a mould for the indents of the keys. She could feel each jagged edge pressing against the tough skin of her hand until they were slowly slicing through each layer and letting small droplets of blood rise to the surface.

Her whole body jolted when Ben's hand cinched around her wrist like an iron bar that dug into the small amount of flesh and dug into the thin bones of her wrist. It took no effort for Ben to swiftly pull her wrist until her hand was within his line of sight that was daring yet so infuriated that his eyes were blazing like a wildfire. He watched with some sense of delight how (Y/n)'s breathing escalated but turned shallow until she was barely breathing at all.

Ben's other hand curled around (Y/n)'s hand that reminded him of an oyster shell that was unwilling to open up and reveal the secrets held within. He dug his nails into her fingers and slowly but easily bent them backwards until her spasming hand opened up to reveal the keys she was hiding with the circular key ring hooked over her finger to hold all the keys at once.

(Y/n) couldn't bite back a whimper when Ben's hand tightened around her much smaller wrist until she was sure he was going to snap the bone in two.

"Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again."

His words were menacing, but his expression was more frightening than anything else. The way his eyes were scrutinising her and the way his lips contorted into such an angered snarl and bared his teeth made (Y/n) want to shrink back and disappear or have the floor swallow her up whole.

"I won't, I d-didn't mean to-"

A petrified yelp left (Y/n)'s lips when the key ring hanging around her middle finger was suddenly wrenched back, scraping against the skin of her finger before catching on the bend of her finger. The sickening snap that followed could be felt throughout her hand, arm, neck and spine which sent tingles running along every nerve fibre she owned. She couldn't be sure if he meant to break her finger or not but when she dared to open her watering eyes and look up at her husband, there was very little remorse in his eyes.

She'd shown him up in front of his clients, the people who were supposed to fear him and bow down to him were almost mocking him because of her. He wasn't about to be sorry for breaking her finger after that.

"One more slip up and I won't hesitate to punish you, sweetheart."

[flatfootmonster]

Running Past Empty

(read on A03 here)

Red seeps into my sweater. I didn’t even have time to use my newly honed anger because whoever ran into me, and spilt whatever this is, is long gone. I can’t even see the cup they must’ve been carrying. Whatever it is, it’s sticky. But it can wait. It has to wait. Voices and horns build to an overwhelming chorus behind me but it’s dampened by a fog that I summoned. I can’t focus on noise right now; I have to cross the road. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Are you OK?” One of the voices is a panicked buzz in my ear—and too close. Much too close. I feel sick. “Jesus.” That sound hisses between teeth; steam escaping a kettle that boiled too long.

“I’m fine, I need to go,” my words are thick, stammered through numb lips. Sangwoo was just there. I can catch up with him. He’ll probably scoff over the state of my sweater, say that I’m a baby that needs looking after. I don’t mind when he teases though. 

A shackle attaches itself to my arm. “You’ll stay there.” The buzzy-buzzy bee is persistent. I think I hate it.

There’s no time to look at whoever this fuck is that won’t listen, and I won’t reply either. I pull away with so much force his hand might’ve come clean off because his grip is still there as I leave him behind. When did I get so strong? I’m moving now, that’s all that matters. I’m moving fast and it’s OK. The bee follows though, like the memory of the hand, but the fog cuts in front of those sensations. I’m blocking them out because I have somewhere to be. 

My feet beat the pavement, each step smooth and measured. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this coordinated before. It’s because of Sangwoo, I’m sure of it. He gave me things; I can shout now, and I can pull away, I can run. He never said it would hurt though. Pain jolts up my legs—a familiar hurt but this time it spreads, it bleeds from bone to vein to nerve ending. When I find him I’ll rest, and catch my breath, too. Lungs shouldn’t be so difficult to inflate. Maybe I need more exercise. That’s probably it. Does he play sports? I should know that. 

Skidding to a jittery halt, I take a second to find my bearings. It’s no surprise the buildings that tower over my head are unrecognisable. They choke out the sky with dirty fingers of brick. I get disorientated a lot, you see. Plus, I was running towards the point I last saw him rather than pay attention to this road or that. Yet he seems to slip around the next corner when I think I’m gaining ground, the only thing I catch is a glimpse and even that is on the peripheral—right on the edge of the earth. Can’t he hear me? I’ve been shouting, haven’t I? Maybe this is a game.

“Did you call them?” Someone snaps those words out and they snatch my attention. I turn to find a mother looking down at a child. He’s holding skis. That seems odd but what business is it of mine what a stranger chooses to carry around? He used to carry me around a lot—Sangwoo did—and no one said anything about that. “Did you?” she presses, fear in place of impatience. What is she scared of? The shadows the buildings cast make their faces dark, features as indistinguishable and ruddy as the bricks. I can’t even see which direction their blackened eyes are pointing.

“Yes, yes. I did. I can’t make them get here any faster,” the kid replies but the voice belongs to the bee—it’s still stuck in my ear. When I blink their faces are pressed to mine, breath hot and sickening as their words decompose in their mouths. But there’s still no detail. The expanse where their features should be is pale, cold, and blank—a human-sized dead worm. I don’t want to look at them. My stomach squeals as my heart thuds once against my ribs in protest and they’re back in the shadows, merging with the buildings, voices melting and flowing into the cement that links brick to brick to brick. They are inconsequential—irrelevant to life; dead worms wriggling back into ashy soil.

If I stopped to catch my breath maybe they’d come back into focus, I'd find detail and explanation, and perhaps the buzzing would subside. I could maybe help with whoever it is they need to call—or mediate their disagreement. But I don’t want their faces so close to mine or their breath misting my vision—I have to go. Time is running out. It’s ticking away, it itches beneath my skin. 

It’s a narrow alley next, I chose it simply because this way avoids streets and voices and worms and bees. There’s only one voice that I’m looking for—I’m desperate for it because I’m drowning and it’s a diving bell; I need it to get to where I’m going. 

A man stands in a cobwebbed archway, phone pressed to his ear while glasses slide down a greasy, porous nose. He mutters, again and again, the same thing, “keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing.” His eyes don’t focus, they skitter this way and that like a spider, roaming the scratched wood behind him and the grey concrete beneath him. His face is grey, too, and when his eight-legged eyes find me the greyness spills over him. He’s a statue now and I’m glad because his gaze crept and crawled along my skin, his voice was needle scratching vinyl. A broken record. A broken, tired, useless record. Does he even understand what the fuck he’s saying? I know I don’t. It’s nonsense.

The narrow walls give way to a square but it’s empty, all I can hear is an alarm coming from somewhere—everywhere. It echoes from concrete planes the same way it bounces around the walls of my skull. Ignoring it is as simple and irritating as muting the agony throbbing in my veins. I still don’t recognise where I am. Slowing, the pain embeds itself deeply in bone, my marrow vibrates with every serrated inhale. Razors are in my lungs trying to cut their way out, climbing up my throat; the scores they gouge ooze with frigid sap. 

There’s a stand. It was empty before, I’m sure of it, but this won’t be the first time I’m wrong. It’s a cake stand, too far away to make out details past that. There’s a girl, standing with her back to me. Something about her stance is familiar but memories are on the other side of the fog, I can reach them if I want yet I have no desire to. She’s fumbling around in her pockets frantically. Behind the counter, there’s a blank slate of a man and one red round cake sat between them. He holds a bag of white icing in his left hand.

“His name? What’s his name? Isn’t there any ID?” 

“I couldn’t find any. There’s nothing,” her voice is the bees' voice as well. Too low to be authentically hers, it’s familiar but not in the same way her stance is. It should be odd, and it is, but I’m used to slipping and sliding around the wet tiled surfaces of reality. I’m used to things not making sense. And I’m used to being solely focussed on one thing so that it didn’t matter how reality is consumed by my abstract senses.

The man sighs, looks down at the cake before addressing it mournfully. “OK sweetheart, it’s going to be OK. Hold on,” he reassures the sticky, red surface beneath his bulbous nose. I suppose it’ll stay unnamed unless they’re going to write sweetheart on the top. Why doesn’t she know the name of the person she’s buying a cake for? And why is the bee still stuck in my fucking head? 

My body jump starts, every atom eager to move. I lurch forward, transitioning into an easy run, eating up the ground in long strides. Between the waves of discomfort and crushing loneliness pressing down on my sternum, I feel fluid and capable. My form flows and slips, if I just trust in the magnetism pulling at me I’ll find the sensation of belonging that my atoms are begging for. I’ll slip down the right cracks when I find it; I’ll write the correct letters; I’ll outrun the concrete.

I need to catch up with him. There was something off—for days and days it was off. I did something, or he did, and I can’t unpick it. I don’t know where the stitching went wrong to unthread and rework. If I catch him I can, I’m sure. If he just listens… 

I promised, you see. Wait. What did I promise? No—that’s a stupid question; It doesn’t matter if my brain cells can’t recall because my body seems to be making up for that ignorance. 

A wall towers above the building in front of me. It doesn’t seem to be a part of its surroundings; there’s no adjoining structure or roof to give it relevance within this rigid environment. It’s a misfit—I can relate. There’s only one thing that marks it useful. Up top, an old advertisement is plastered down with crumbling, infertile glue. Its corners are peeling, weather-worn, dull, and barely discernible. But I can make out a pair of bulbous eyes in a green face—I see a squat animal. There’s my compass. I’ve found my bearings.

An alarm’s going off again. It’s different somehow, in the way one hymn is different from another but when you’re outside the church—when you’re skulking around in the graveyard—it simply sounds like another incessant drone. I cover my ears, it needs to be blocked out. It can’t dictate my route. But it’s loud. I don’t like it, and—just like the composting heat of the stranger’s breath and the stinging, grabbing bee—I don’t want it. 

My skin prickles under the scratching hands of ticking minutes and seconds, counted out by a silent omnipotent force, pressing down on my sternum. My surface area needs to be peeled off because it burns. Everything is so fucking distracting. If my lungs were working like normal I’d sigh as all those things dull once more; the fog is back. It looks more like a veil now—cascading and shimmering in its divisive nature.

I round a corner where those spherical eyes were beckoning. This area is flattened. A building was demolished here and all that’s left is gravel, dust, and rocks. The debris forces its way into my mouth and fills my throat; I am the ground—desiccated and ruined. But I’m not sad because this is where I’m supposed to be, it’s how I’m supposed to be. I’m sure of it. 

But how do I find belonging?

There’s a new sound, a beeping when my lazy heart thuds against my rib cage. Maybe it’s a timer about to go off, but if it does go off and I don’t find him, then what? I can’t let that happen. He’ll be gone. Gone forever. I’m losing time, running on empty.

My gaze devours the gravelly tarmac and the bare walls, desperate for the merest taste of a clue. It’s just dust, everywhere is dust and nothing—like me. Where do I go? There should be an opening somewhere, maybe on the floor, steps leading down. There’s nothing though. There’s only stillness but I swear I hear him, his voice saying my name, muffled like he’s hiding in this silly game we’re playing without rules. He’s the childish one.

The wall. 

In the centre of the ruins, where the frog sits on top, there’s an old bricked up doorway. It’s the only entrance—or exit—and I can’t go back the way I came. I just can’t. 

Bum. 

There! It’s not a bee. It’s him. And now I know. 

Logic slips away, just like that mother and child did, as I run at the wall and throw all my strength at it. The barrier punches right back, sending me flying away from the threshold. The floor hits, if there was any air inside of my body I’d be winded. Hesitation doesn’t weigh my mass down so I scramble to my feet and run towards that same spot. Those nondescript breeze-blocks will give way, they don’t know how strong I am now but I do. I’ll prove it. 

My chest bursts again. The beeping stopped—the timer is done. In its place there are footfalls, bouncing from the concrete behind me, voices reverberate and buzz—a stampede of chaos that I’m trying with every last molecule to outrun. I never did understand it and now I don’t have time to learn. I don’t want to understand, not anymore.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” 

Bum! 

He’s here. He’s waiting for me.

“Stay with us.”

Maybe the statue came to life or the child became solid again, maybe it’s the girl with the cake or the man selling it. Maybe it’s all of them. I don’t want them, I don’t need any single one of them— 

This time the explosion makes everything reverberate, the ground shudders beneath my feet as buildings sway in a sickening dance. Brick fingers are pushing into the sky, choking the sun. Cracks appear between the bricks and there’s light there—on the other side. I will do it, they won’t catch me. They can’t catch me. 

The light says this is my last chance.

When I collide on the final assault my lungs tear themselves apart under the force of a silent scream. It’s been clawing at my throat, dying to be freed. It sets fire to salted rivulets the razors made before heat surges to a flashpoint. I’m turning inside-out. My burnt skin is splitting, the marrow is lava. The air in my ruined chest is ash. 

I’m combusting but no concrete punch lands; the floor doesn’t hit my back;

Four, twenty-eight PM, the fifth of the eighth. 

Water sloshes manically, slopping against a surface it found to break the cascade. It’s cold—the water is, and so is the air pouring down my throat. Haggard breaths send ripples across the crystalline surface, it’s the first thing to break through static-filled vision, pale and unblemished skin is the second. Everything is bright—pure.

“Bum?!”

Sight recovering, my gaze devours mint green tiles. I can’t grasp why it feels so desperate; notions and memories of panic and pain are slipping away like sand through my fingers. A squat green shape, two bulbous eyes staring at me from the sink, becomes the focal point as the black and white dots fade. It’s a ceramic frog, two toothbrushes and a half squeezed out tube of toothpaste sticking out from its back. It’s clean and simple, a faint smell of genuine pine lingers underneath the tang of generic shower products. Nothing is out of the ordinary, everything is exactly as it should be, so why does it feel like I’ve been pulled inside-out? Or maybe outside-in. 

“Bum! Where are you?”

He’s calling—that’s all that matters. That fact didn’t change in whatever seismic shift occurred. “Sangwoo?” My voice trembles, lips and tongue feeling as unpractised as an infant’s, but it doesn’t hurt to speak. Why would it hurt? 

If the water is cool, it’s nothing compared to the tide of relief that pulls me under, leaving my skin tingling and the fine hair on my body upright when he bursts into the bathroom. Why would I be relieved? He’s always here. We’re never far away from each other, people gossip over how inseparable we are. 

His face. I can see his face. It’s close to mine as he kneels, breath warm on my pebbled skin but it doesn’t twist my gut. There was something nauseating in that dream.

“I’ve been calling you for… for I don’t know how long. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. It was silly to worry. But I’m sure I checked here…” he stops, bowing until his forehead is pressed to my shoulder and huffs a laugh. He shakes his head, the imbalance of understanding that we’re sharing is echoed in a weak laugh.

And, powerless to the forces that move me, I reach for him—we’re magnets, we can’t be anything else. “I promised,” the sentiment tastes familiar, spawned from the crumb of a memory that slips beyond reason. What did I promise? Worry ebbs away and nerves soften because he feels right: skin clear, hair soft, and his heartbeat is so strong—like it usually is, like the rest of him. But maybe the vehemence in his grip says he understands the words, that somehow, in the hangover of an abstract dreamscape, it made sense to him. If anyone was going to understand the things I say that I don’t even comprehend it would be him. It’s always been him. 

“I think maybe it was a bad dream,” he sighs.

“Me too. Maybe we were stuck in a nightmare together.”

He looks up, the troubled tightness in his face melting away and leaving only easy, weather-worn memories in their place. “Like when we were kids?” 

Humming, I stroke through his hair. I’ve sat here long enough for my fingertips to wrinkle. The darkness seems vague, another era—another universe entirely. Yet, at the same time, it lingers over my shoulder, hidden only by a veil. The urge to look behind is dwindling, just like any solid dream fragments I could share. What does it matter anyway? “I think I spilt something on myself but—” I stop and frown at the floor. Apart from the small puddles of water, it’s clear. “I don’t know where my clothes are.” 

His mirth turns rueful. “Probably kicked them off somewhere that I’ll find later. Cmon, the dryer just stopped, you can put something fresh on.”

I try to sit but my muscles are infantile, too. “Whatever that dream was, it zapped my energy,” I sigh. Even my lungs are exhausted.

He shakes his head, fingers dipping into the tub. “It’s cold. How long have you been sitting here?” he tsks the question to a close. We look after each other, it’s just what we do. “You’re gonna freeze if you stay here any longer—and it’s dangerous to sleep in the bath,” he tuts again as one arm slides around my shoulders, the other beneath my knees. 

I’m not given time to disagree but I try anyway. “You don’t have to—“ 

“Shush. You’ve done this enough times for me—well, for the five minutes you were bigger than me anyway.” He grins down while plucking my mass from the water with casual ease. Contrary to my words, I soften against him. We have different strengths that we lend each other, you see. It’s always been that way. I know that. I remember. 

The journey is a quiet ceremony; we migrate from one room to another before I’m eased into a kitchen chair, wrapped in a fluffy, white towel. The clothes are still warm, Sangwoo stays centred and focused as he helps me dress. I’m quite capable of doing it myself, just like I could have walked here on my own two feet, but he’s persistent. There is always a dire plea in his eyes when he silently lends his hands to whatever task needs doing, and it’s fulfilled with a gentle touch and stern focus. It feels like repentance or supplication, and so earnest that I can never fight it. 

He’s always been determined, since the day we first met. Gripping tight to my sleeve, Sangwoo wailed until my mum came to investigate and forged an alliance with his mum. The rest is history. He can’t possibly remember that day but that doesn’t stop him from swearing otherwise—says he knew we were soulmates and that it was a matter of life or death to hold on with stubby, sticky fingers. After all this time I’m schooled to the silly, sweet things he says, letting them be without anything more than a grin and a shake of my head. Yet there’s something shiny about that memory. It shimmers in the ancient light of a summer evening and, for whatever reason, I forgot about its existence; slept too long and lost track of identity and time and place. Seeing it there, reflecting true warmth, drapes a comfort blanket over my consciousness; I want to bask in our history.

Those same fingers that gripped my sleeve back then now drag a sock up my calf, but they possess a few decades of knowledge beneath their fingerprints—they are no long stubby or sticky but calm, attentive, and skilled. He smoothes the wool flat and tugs at the seam over my toes to make sure it sits perfectly. 

“Do you wanna listen to something?” His movements effortless, Sangwoo turns to the fridge and items are taken out and placed on the countertop: eggs, milk, butter, a bar of chocolate—flour and sugar joins them from the cupboard. I’m transfixed by every last detail and action, every syllable that falls from his lips without it being translated within the confines of my upside-down skull. My body is righting myself and so I’m simply happy to sit here, snug in warm, fresh clothes and absorb. “Maybe the tape you made last week, or—I don’t know. Which one is your favourite today?” There’s a note in his words that proclaims years of experience when it comes to my quickly evolving, and perhaps fickle, favourites. And, of course, there would be. 

There’s no radio up here, we’re too far out to get signal, and so when we go to the lake to fish or swim we take the old cassette radio with us. A blank tape will be ready in the cassette slot to record songs as they’re aired. We have a kitchen drawer full of compilations, Sangwoo’s precise scrawl can be found on the case of each to note the date and song list. His methodical ideology doesn’t just stop at me, there’s notebook after notebook of days gone by filling shelves around this small home. Moments are recorded in detail as if to prove our existence in this world; we are here in this universe and this story will be left. It never fails to cast a spell of enchantment over everything. 

“Bum?” Feet planted before mine and a crease between his brows, he’s observing me. “You’re spacing out,” he mutters before pressings a palm to my forehead, “but you don’t have a fever. Do you need some fresh air?” 

I think he’s right. Air sounds good. I like the air where we live—it tastes freshly baked as opposed to the staleness lingering everywhere else in the world. “OK.” He weighs me up with his measuring gaze when I get to my feet but there’s no reason to worry, strength is restoring itself and even the memory of pain is unintelligible now. “I’m OK.”

“I’ll bring you some tea.” With that, he’s back to whatever it is that’s being conjured, and I’m trusted to get on with my own job—as simple as it is. A kettle full of water is placed on the stove while I retrace the path he made carrying me in his arms. 

Just past the bathroom is the front door. I say door but it’s mostly window; two large panels that make up top and bottom of the portal are crystal clear. It’s flanked by massive windows, too, because why wouldn’t it be that way up here? Where a panelled wall is required you have it, but if there’s any chance to capture a living portrait you do just that. 

Wood clanks against wood, the door swings shut as I venture out onto the porch. That sensation of experiencing something for the first time settles again, like a dewy web, yet it’s not discomforting. It doesn’t spark curiosity either because I’ve known since we came here that I’ll never get tired of the stretch of cosmos that wraps itself around these stone walls. It stretches this way and that. Green trees that sway in the breeze, dancing to a silent tune, build behind the house, rising to lofty peaks. There’s a handful of hiking routes that wind their way up there. Before me, the pines subside and flow towards the lake. The body of water below glints and shimmers; a mesmerising world of fluid secrets. The amber-blue sky stretches on forever, when the sun sets its understudy arrives and millions of diamonds provide a twilit reverie. Every day is like the first, and at the same time utterly unique. The secrets whispered are always slightly different, the shapes the stars make are always evolving.

This place might not seem much to some, or most for that matter, but it’s everything to me. Eyebrows tend to rise when people know we live together out here, like a couple of hermits, but we’re beyond caring about the thoughts or assumptions they paint. There were times we tried to be apart, building independent lives, but things would spiral into chaos and confusion; bad things ultimately happened. It was never worth the discomfort of trying to squeeze ourselves into empty slots in a puzzle when we never came from the same box in the first place. We found this peace right here, our belonging, and it really doesn’t matter what the world outside thinks.

Besides, we’re not hurting anyone. 

“Here.” I didn’t hear the door open and neither do I flinch with his apparition.

My gaze shifts from lush, green leaves to earthy, rich irises. The pleasure found there is fertile enough to coax a smile. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, and why shouldn’t it be? The mug offered is steaming—chamomile by the smell of it, probably with a little too much honey. 

“Thank you.” It’s sighed while I inhale the scent and let it wrap around me along with every other element within reach that’s whole and perfect. 

“And there’s that smile,” he coos the gentle tease. I’ve always loved the way he teases. His humour is mildly provocative but it soothes instead of stinging, the worst side effect being blushes. It makes up for my quiet demeanour and—if anything—he preens under the laughter that always comes easily from his audience of one. Sometimes my rare sarcasm trips him up, too—it’s served extremely dry. I have to admit a hunger in my gut is fed when his knees buckle under unforeseen hysterics. “You look much better,” he adds, expression mirroring the one he just shone a spotlight on. 

“I feel much better.” To prove the point to myself, my toes wiggle within their thick, woollen confines. Everything feels as it should again—better than it should. Energy coils itself deep in muscle and bone, eager to spring into action. Reaching out, I sate that desire. My fingers brush against his cheek while a pinprick of panic plucks at my imagination over what I’ll find. There was no need to worry, there’s nothing other than him. Past the stubble, he’s warm and smooth—soft even. Most wouldn’t attach that adjective to Sangwoo but, then again, no one knows him as I do.

He sighs, his eyes close, his head tilts into my touch. Yes, he is soft. 

“I’m glad.” Hand finding mine, Sangwoo’s grip weaves  around my fingers until they are entwined with his. There’s a ring he wears, a gift from me. It’s never been removed no matter what graft is demanded. There should be no surprise in seeing it where it belongs. “If you stay out here too long you might catch a cold.” To highlight the gently presented advice, and with an added chuckle, he ruffles my damp hair. “At least get dry first if you want to take a walk.” A light kiss is pressed to my forehead; a full stop for his nurturing thought. I bookmark the moment, recording every last atom vibrating around and within. I’ll return to this page—over and over and over. I just know it. “I have a cake to make,” he adds, taking a step back. A new spark of enticement kindles in his gaze, hoping that he’ll provoke some curiosity—or at the least hunger. 

Where I know him well, he matches that—step for step, word for word, breath for breath. 

“Cake? What kind of cake?” I can’t hide the eager giddiness in my voice, I wouldn’t attempt to either.

“Chocolate.”

My stomach rumbles on cue. “What’s the occasion?” Honestly, I don’t care, I’m already fantasising about the dessert induced coma I’ll fall into later, regardless of the reasoning behind it. Sangwoo is a magician in many things and baking is one of them.

A casual shrug is offered as a response before words follow. “It just felt like a cake kinda day.” Taking another step backwards, he’s halfway over the threshold. “If you’re around in about twenty minutes there’ll be a bowl and spoon to lick clean.” There’s another grin, full of mischief, and eyebrows that quirk before he disappears back into the warmth of our home. 

I’m caught up in the sweetest quandary. My legs long to pace earth and my fingers ache to touch pine, but the cosmos isn’t going anywhere right now… whereas that bowl and spoon might. 

His argument is compelling; Sangwoo knows my weaknesses. But we’ve never truly needed anything to persuade ourselves or convince the other. Nothing binds us here aside from free will, shone and reflected back in equal measures. He is me and I am him. We can’t breathe alone. 

[clouditae]

First Love | 04

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | swearing | mentions of abuse

Word: 2.4k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

It’s Friday afternoon. Everyone's out doing something while you lie in bed. You’ve been in bed since you woke up and watched Ari pack a bag of clothes. She and Hoseok are going somewhere for the weekend and you couldn’t help but question how she and him were a couple after only knowing one another for a month.

“I wondered the same thing,” she told you, folding a dress and placing it into her bag. “But after we met that first day, I guess we just sort of clicked. We couldn’t help but get closer, and ta-da,” she laughed, “We’re dating. It’s still early to start a relationship, but we couldn’t help it.”

“Lucky,” you mumble, finally forcing yourself out of bed. “It’s so easy for you to find someone, but it’s a struggle for me.”

You walk towards your mirrored closet, opening it and grabbing your caddie. You grab a towel from the shelf in your closet, and close the closet door before making your way towards the bathroom door to take a quick shower. When you finished showering, got dressed, and walked back into your room, your stomach rumbles.

You sigh, “Ten more minutes.” You glance at the little blue clock on your desk to confirm that the dining hall would have lunch out in ten. Thankfully you’re correct.

You take your time putting on your lotion, brushing your hair when it is dry enough, and putting on your socks and shoes as you hang your towel on the rack in your closet. Checking the clock on your desk one last time, you grab your keys, ID, and phone before leaving your room to grab lunch. You walk down the hallway, but turn back around and make your way back to your dorm when you realize you didn’t grab your earphones.

Placing your key in the keyhole, you turn the key and push the door open. You quickly grab your earphones from your desk and leave your room once again, pulling the key out and making your way down the hallway. What you’re not expecting is a girl knocking on Yoongi’s door, and you definitely aren’t expecting an ache in your chest as you slowly walk past her. The sound of the door opening catches your attention. Your eyes meet Yoongi’s as he looks past the brunette and at you. Looking away, you walked faster until you were at the bottom of the staircase.

Your chest aches even more. You’re still not over him, even though he’s rude and clearly doesn’t care for anyone but himself. Your feelings for him remain. You want to believe that he is a good person, but you know he isn’t.

Maybe other people see different. But from what you see… you want nothing to do with him.

Entering the dining hall, you do your usual routine, grabbing what looks best before taking a seat in the back corner of the room. Pulling out your earphones and phone, you plug in your earphones before clicking on your usual app and clicking on the show you are currently invested in. You put your phone down, angling it just right and begin to chow down.

Today’s episode is about the main character getting the guy of their dreams. Some bad flirting happens, jokes are made, feelings are hurt, and all you want to do is throw your phone out the window. It’s like the world is giving you the bird in the biggest way for falling for someone like Yoongi. With so much anger building up inside you, you shove the rest of your food in your mouth, placing your empty plates in the huge sink for the dishwasher to wash, and practically stomping out of the dining hall.

Min Yoongi is a jerk and nothing can change your mind.

Saturday morning is something you don’t want to be awake to. It’s Saturday and all you want to do is sleep in until noon, but you have homework to do and a project to begin. If you stay in your dorm, you know for a fact that you won’t do it. All you will do is sit at your desk and stare at your computer screen, so you force yourself out of bed, into the shower, and pack your textbooks and other items into your backpack before grabbing your earphones and heading out of your dorm. You walk down the hall, past the staircase that leads to the first floor, and into the north hall. The hall is a lot longer than the center hall as you walk down it towards the exit door that leads to the outdoor staircase. You can’t help but wonder if everyone in the hall knows one another like your hall did. Center halls have fewer people, so it’s easy to remember everyone. Or at least know their faces.

Reaching the door, you exit the hallway and make your way down the staircase. You follow the group of friends making their way towards the shuttle that is across the parking lot and on the side of the street when you reach the first floor. The music plays in your earphones loud enough to block out the world. The cars that drive by, honking because the car in front of them is too slow, the chatter from the other students who are waiting for the shuttle, and the dogs barking. You don’t hear it.

You check your phone for the time. The shuttle will leave in ten minutes, but the bus will drive by in four. Glancing to your left, down the street you could see the bus parked on the curb next to the bus stop. Rather than wait for the shuttle, you walk up the sidewalk to the bus stop in front of the apartment complex next door. You stand next to the bus stop for two minutes before the bus pulls up in front of you. You steal a quick glance to see if any of the other students are making their way over towards you, but no one is looking at you. Either they aren’t paying attention, or they still didn’t bother getting the bus pass from the cashier window on campus—which is free. You hop on the bus, pressing your bus pass against the scanner, hearing a beep before making your way towards the middle of the bus.

Taking a seat next to the window, you watch as the apartments and the auto shop blur by, the coffee shop appearing as the bus comes to a stop. With the doors opening, two people enter the bus. They take a seat closer in the front as the doors close and the bus drives off towards its next stop. For the next five stops, three people enter the bus. Usually there would be a lot of students, but because it’s Saturday, no one wants to go to school. It’s the weekend, who would want to go to school to study? You can’t help but sigh. Sadly you have to go to school to study.

The bus turns left, entering the campus property. With no one at the first stop, the bus continues on until reaching the second stop where the stop light is red. The doors open and two students enter the bus. As the driver of the bus waits for the light to turn green, you stare out the window as a few students wait at the bus stop for their bus to appear. One student, however, catches your eye. He stands next to the bench, hands in his jean pockets. You can’t see his eyes with his sunglasses covering them, but his blond hair looks familiar. Before you can even think hard enough, the bus takes off, leaving the familiar person behind.

At the final stop, you get up from your seat and walk to the front of the bus, thanking the driver, and getting off. You walk to the edge of the sidewalk, looking both ways before crossing the small street. You make your way up the sidewalk towards the library, watching as a bus pulls up to the bus stop next to you. You continue forward before turning left and walk alongside the library towards the entrance. No one is at the tables outside the entrance, so that means the floors aren’t completely filled with people.

Entering the library, you’re met with the smell of coffee from the coffee shop in front of you. The five story building has each floor assigned to the level of noise. The basement is a floor for studying and no noise. First floor, the floor you’re on, has the computers, the front desk, and the coffee shop. Clearly talking loudly is allowed. The second, third and fourth floor contains books for the students to search for, along with tables to do some studying. The second and fourth floor allow talking, while the third floor doesn't. The fifth floor is a lot like the basement. All tables but this floor has cubicles for students to group study. The fifth floor allows talking, and during midterms and finals, a lot of the students spend the night in the cubicles.

You pass through the detectors, making a right towards the lobby. Pressing the up button to the elevator, you glance at the computers that occupy the rest of the floor to your right. A few students type away furiously on the keys as they most likely write their paper. After a few seconds, the middle elevator doors open. You enter the elevator, pressing the fifth floor, and watch the doors close just as a group of guys’ heads appear to be coming up the stairs from the basement. 

The number at the top goes from one to two, then from two to three. The number goes up to five before the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. You exit the elevator, making a left and enter through the glass doors into the study of the fifth floor. Much to your expectation, there are very few people in the room. You make your way towards the back of the room towards the desks that run along the window. Taking a seat in the empty one at the corner, you place your bag on the desk. You love this spot because from this floor, you get a view of the ocean.

And so, for the rest of the day until closing at five in the afternoon, you do all your homework and plan out everything you have in mind for your project. You’ll need to start the project on Monday when the shelter is open. When you leave the library, you contemplate whether you should have dinner on campus, or head back to the dorms and have dinner in the dining hall. You debate for a few minutes before deciding to have dinner on campus. You’re craving sushi and some fish and chips from the Greek stand.

Rather than turn left from the entrance of the library to head towards the bus stop, you move forward, passing numerous buildings where you had and have classes in. You pass the building of the Asian department, pass the psychology building and the bookstore. Walking down the small set of stairs, you pass the outdoor seating to the grill and pub, and finally enter the food court next door. The numerous smells of different types of foods hit you like a wave. Walking further in, you ignore the Boba shop that isn’t good, and the vegan stand as well, eyes strained on the Japanese stand and the Greek stand next to it.

You’re going to order your fish and chips first, and thankfully there isn’t much of a line. You follow the maze of the line leading towards the cashier, and walk up to the smiling woman.

“What can I get you?” she asks, her tone bright and welcoming. You give her your order, requesting only two fish rather than four along with a large drink. She repeats your order, asking for your school ID for the student discount, takes your card, and makes the transaction. You tell the woman your name before making your way to the stand next to it. Grabbing the container of spicy crab sushi rolls, walking up to the cashier to pay for it.

Once you’ve paid, you make your way towards an empty table, setting the rolls and your backpack down. Before you can sit, your name is called. You walk towards the counter of the Greek stand and grab your tray of fish and chips and your drink. When everything is laid out in front of you, you have your earphones in, show ready, and take your sweet time eating dinner.

Everything tastes so delicious. You’ve been craving sushi and the fish and chips for a while, but because you never have a reason to eat on campus, you never bother eating here. Now, however, you gave yourself a reason, and it’s the best decision you’ve made in a while.

Eventually you finish eating, pack your belongings, ride the bus towards your dorms, and close the door to your room behind you. Immediately you strip your clothes, feeling free as you slip on your gray pajama pants and a light pink short sleeved shirt. You’re about to binge something on Netflix, eat your tub of ice cream in your freezer, and pass out around midnight. Maybe later.

Before you can begin your steps to getting comfortable and eating, a knock is heard on your door, both startling you and confusing you. No one should be bothering you unless it’s your RA, but he wouldn’t bother anyone this late. You peek through the peephole, seeing blond hair on the other side of the door. You frown. Why did the blond hair look familiar?

Grabbing the handle, you twist it and slowly pull the door open, but the person on the other side pushes themselves in, causing you to stumble back. “Where is she?” the man says, as he walks into your room. You barely have time to open your mouth before the stranger turns around to look at you, eyes fuming. That’s when it hits you. You know who this man was. Ari’s stories scare you, but seeing him in person, showing his anger scares you more. “Where the hell is she?” he asks again, voice a bit louder than before.

“I-I don’t know,” you tell him, voice shaking.

Leo. Ari’s ex. She broke up with him your first year at the dorms when his verbal abuse became too much. Ari said he never hit her, but the way he talked to her made her feel worthless, and the way he yelled and got close to her scared her. He doesn’t break you physically, but he does mentally.

“Then you’re going to take me to her,” he tells you, grabbing you by your wrist and dragging you out your room.

“I’m telling you—I don’t know where she is. Please let me go,” you beg, trying hard to stop him from dragging you down the hall, but you’re not strong compared to him. With your free hand, you try to have him let you go. “Please Leo. Please let me go—I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know where she is!” You feel warm tears stream down your cheeks.

He isn’t listening to you. He’s going to drag you to his car and force you to find Ari. Maybe he’ll abandon you somewhere where you’ve never been. Maybe this is where you die.

A hand appears out of nowhere, grabbing Leo’s wrist, forcing him to stop. “What do you think you’re doing?” Leo turns back to face the person holding his wrist while you look up to see Yoongi standing next to you. “You should let go of her.”

Leo scoffs, “Not until she tells me where Ari is.”  

Yoongi has a blank expression as he replies, “She’s out with my roommate for the weekend.”

“What?” Leo growls, grip on your wrist tightening causing you to whimper as he grabs Yoongi by his shirt with his free hand and pushes him against the wall.

“I’d suggest you leave. You have an audience, and you won’t be running far before the cops catch you for entering a room uninvited, kidnapping, and I’m guessing you already have a record, so this’ll be bad for you,” Yoongi says, tone so calm as if he isn’t being threatened by someone who looks stronger than him. Leo’s grip around your wrist loosens just a bit, and the voices behind you can finally be heard over the rapid beating of your heart.

Leo is silent. No words are said between the two as they stare one another down. Can Yoongi be stronger to challenge Leo? You’d never know as Leo finally lets go of your wrist, jabbing a finger at Yoongi’s chest. “This isn’t over,” he whispers before storming out the hall and down the staircase.

You remain still, staring at the spot Leo was just at. You’re afraid he’ll come back if you move from your spot. You thought that maybe if you stay here, he won’t come back.

“Hey.” You blinked, sucking in a breath as you turn your head to look at Yoongi who is leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked you up and down. “Where are your keys?”

It takes you a bit to comprehend what he’s asking, but when you’re finally able to push the thoughts of what happened back, it dawns on you. “In my room,” you whisper.

“The office is closed so you can’t use their key to get in,” he began, pushing himself off the wall, “so it looks like you’re with me.” You stare at him with wide eyes. You’re going to sleep in his room? Just the two of you? What will everyone in this hall think if they watch you walk into his room? “Everyone has gone back to their rooms, so no one will see,” he tells you. Everyone is gone? Slowly, you turn around to see an empty hall. When did everyone go to their room? Yoongi takes a few steps before he reaches his room and opens his door, staring at you as he holds it open. “Well?”

This is the one time where you wish you weren’t so paranoid and left the latch to your bathroom door open so you can just go to your neighbors and get to your room through the bathroom, but you know for a fact that you closed it. You couldn’t hate yourself any more than you do right now as you walk into his room.

Yoongi’s room is pretty much set up the same way your room is. Except, the only thing is that everything is on the opposite side of yours. While Hoseok has some rather bright colored bed sheets, Yoongi is more on the darker side. Having just a simple black pillow case and gray blanket.

“You can take my bed,” he tells you, and before you can respond, he adds, “I washed the sheets if that’s what you’re thinking.”  

That isn’t what you’re thinking. In fact, you actually forgot what happened earlier. You feel rather uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but the more you think about it, the better his suggestion makes sense. If you sleep in Hoseok’s bed, Ari may find a strand of hair or something and that can lead to something you do not want to happen for them. So, you nod and climb into his bed.

The blanket and pillow smell like fabric softener and shampoo. He must have been lying in bed before he found you and Leo in the hall. Your thoughts go back to Leo, your heart racing and body slightly shaking. You’re fighting the urge to cry. You don’t want to cry in front of him. However, the sound of music begins to play, getting loud enough to block out a conversation.

You’re not sure if he did it for you or not, but you’re grateful as your vision begins to blur, and the view from the closet mirror of your hero working at his desk goes blurry as you cry yourself to sleep.

[softjeon]

Jamais Vu

• Pairing: CamBoy!Yoongi x Jungkook • Genre: Smut | CamBoy!AU • Words: 14k | AO3 • Disclaimer: /

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳  Part 1 of ‘Nuit Inoubliable’ in which you will follow three different stories about your favorite Cam!Boys and their unforgettable nights. → Jamais Vu » Triple Plaisir »  Plaisir d'offrir

Jungkook bit his lip, shielding his eyes from the rain as he blinked up to read the name on the sign that was written in gold letters over the entrance. He got out a small piece of paper, where he had shakily written down the address and compared it once more. His heart did a somersault and picked up its pace. He quickly gulped down the nervousness, pulling his hood a little closer over his head to keep himself from getting drenched and walked closer. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his leather jacket, the bag he carried filled with the stuff he needed for a one-night stay in a hotel. “Fuck,” Jungkook cursed silently, feeling himself hesitate to step in, his fist tightening around the piece of paper. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and then opened the door. 

It had only been a week ago when Jungkook had been just as nervous, but if one would ask him now he’d definitely say this was way worse than clicking on the ‘Apply’ Button and waiting for a response. It was one of those nights: darkened room, his roommate was out and only the flickering lights of his laptop was illuminating the scene. His eyes fixated on the man that moved absolutely beautifully as his hands gripped his own cock, jerking himself off in a live-cam.

Suga. 

At least that was his artist name. Jungkook groaned, leaning his head back but quickly snapped back to not miss a thing from the cam. He could hear the man’s raspy voice. It was absolutely mad how he was turning Jungkook on just by what he said, riling him up so effectively that Jungkook had come so hard that night it only left him a shaky mess on his bed. He was breathing heavily, listening to his voice coming from his laptop with a faint, sated smile on his lips. Jungkook didn’t watch the screen anymore, just listening to Suga talking to the people that were chatting with him. Jungkook swore that it was better than any audiobook to fall asleep to, but something made him get up quickly instead of shutting his eyes this time.

“You guys want a partner show again?” Suga chuckled, successfully sending a shiver down Jungkook’s back by that sound alone. “You know you can apply right? Maybe I’ll chose one of you...do you want to be a moaning mess underneath me? Or do you want RM to come by?” The rest of what Suga said gotten lost because Jungkook had jumped up from his bed, cleaning himself up quickly and pulling his laptop on his lap again. And then he did it. Without thinking about it much further and only when he hit ‘send’ did he realize what he had done. 

“Welcome to the ‘Nuit Inoubliable’ how can I help you?” The low voice shook him out of his flashback and Jungkook looked up at the receptionists. He was a young man, not much older than him, with dark brown hair and just as dark eyes that were staring straight back at him. A big boxy grin on his face. He narrowed his eyes a little, trying to read his name tag. 

Kim Taehyung. Jungkook smiled at him, “Yeah, I...I got a room...on the name Jeon Jungkook?” While the receptionist was searching through his computer, Jungkook let his gaze wander over the lobby and the people around. The hotel was beautiful and modern, looking rather fancy and probably wouldn’t have been Jungkook’s first choice just because he couldn’t afford it. There were a few maids walking past them and people bringing their luggage up their rooms or leaving again. Jungkook’s gaze got stuck on a man at the other side of the lobby, who was leaning comfortably against the wall. His eyes wandered over the handsome man’s face and the way he stroke his hand through his hair, down to his tight jeans that were beautifully showing off his… 

“Thighs,” Jungkook choked out quietly, completely in awe but then a young man cut the view from him, leaving him pouting. He watched how they engulfed each other in a hug and a sweet kiss, only to disappear together somewhere deep in the hotel’s hallway. That younger man seemed familiar, but Jungkook couldn’t put his finger on it. So, he returned his attention to the front desk and smiled, as if he hadn’t had a black out over a stranger’s thighs for a second, taking the key from him quickly. “Thank you.” Jungkook waved awkwardly and turned to find his room. He had to get himself ready. 

... 

Yoongi wasn’t really nervous, he had met too many partners before to really get nerves bit there was still a pleasant anticipation running through him. It was always exciting to meet up with someone you didn’t know yet but you could end up having sex with about half an hour later. It had been a while since he’s had a cam together with someone else but he liked to keep things interesting and every new person brought different vibes or talents to his job so he enjoyed it a lot. 

He arrived a little early as he liked to observed when his ‘workdates’ come in, when they don’t know that he is there yet and are still their most true and honest selves. When he went up to the booth he normally used for meetups he saw that Jungkook had beaten him to it. He smiled. Someone must have had the same thought - or was a little too nervous for his own good and therefore over punctual.

Jungkook was biting his lip in an anxious matter, lacing his fingers together only to push them under his thighs seconds after. He leaned over to take in the straw, sipping on the coke as he looked over to the bar. There was the same boy again, the one from the reception. Apparently he was an all-around talent and now was helping out at the bar, throwing around bottles of alcohol as if it was nothing while pouring in drinks for the people around. Jungkook got out his phone to look at the time and sighed. He had been way too early, and it seemed like time was only slowing down instead of going faster, making him even more anxious. In a nervous habit he reached out for the little ‘reserved’ sign, playing around with it while watching the bar boy, whose name he remembered as Taehyung. He mindlessly tossed the little sign from one hand to the other, intrigued by the tricks Taehyung was doing – but because he was so nervous, Jungkook ended up throwing it a bit too far making it fall off the edge of the table and fall onto the ground with an awful loud sound. He apologized quietly (even though only a few turned their heads only to return their attention to their drinks) and reached down to grab the sign, when two pair of shoes stopped in front of his hand. Jungkook, halfway hanging over the edge of the booth seat, his head under the table, while his hand was holding onto the table to not fall over, slowly blinked up. With his doe-eyed look, he smiled up at the stranger, “I am sorry. I don’t think it’s broken but I will of course pay for it if I did.”

“That’s nice of you.” Yoongi grinned at the doe eyed beauty, “But I didn't came over because of the sign. I came here for you.” He sat down at the table to show that he wasn’t a waiter but the person Jungkook was supposed to meet. He could see the younger’s eyes widen when he realized that he was ‘Suga’. Of course he looked different when his body was hidden under clothes and his face visible, instead of the other way round. Though his masks were small they still helped a lot to hide his features. Also he changed his hair colors every once in a while, both for fun and anonymity. 

“Oh,” Jungkook gulped, before flashing him a shy smile, “Hey.” Jungkook internally slapped himself on the forehead. Oh? Hey? That was it? That was all he could think about. But the moment Yoongi said in front of him, he couldn’t say more. His eyes scanned him fast, the soft cheeks and button nose, the dark orbs that were his eyes and staring straight back at him. “You’re pretty early,” And once again, Jungkook would have loved to just slap himself but instead reached for his drink to take a sip. 

Yoongi chuckled. “Says the one who’s been sitting here before I even got there. What were you doing? Trying to get Tae’s attention? Or did you plan on learning to juggle?” Jungkook looked pretty nervous and now that he was closer to him he could see how soft his face was, how plush his lips. He looked pretty young. And stunningly beautiful. Of course he had seen a pic but he had thought that the other was just good at editing pictures or choosing filters. He was way too pretty to hide his face with a mask - and Yoongi felt strangely proud to know that if they clicked he would be the one who would get to see his face too on top of all the naked skin that would be shown on his cam. Maybe he should check the other’s ID first though, just to make sure.

“No, not really…I was just…nervous, a little.” He smiled, looking down at his hands to hide the light blush on his cheeks, “I hate not being on time and I couldn’t rest. It was only making me more nervous. Is it okay? I mean that I am nervous. Are other people nervous when they do this?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “I’ve never done this and honestly, I didn’t think you’d take in my application anyway.”

Together with his boyish looks and cute shyness Jungkook’s statement had him listening up. “By ‘you’ve never done this’ do you mean sex or cams or hooking up with someone to be on a shared cam?” They had exchanged a few sentences via messenger but that was about it. You could lie way too easily when you were able to hide behind a laptop so he rather asked the real questions in person.

“Cams and hooking up,” Jungkook nodded. He wasn’t a virgin anymore, but neither did he have much experience. He was shy, not really out and partying a lot like his roommate did and therefore there were not really any opportunities to hook up. At college he just avoided everyone and quietly studied for himself, only hanging around his close friends. It had surprised himself even more when he just simply applied for a spot on Yoongi’s cam, but he had done it. ‘Suga’ felt more like someone he already knew than anyone he could meet in a bar and take home with for a one-night stand. Jungkook didn’t want that. But he had needs, too.  

Yoongi nodded, relieved that the other hadn’t told him that he’s never had sex before. Although there was of course nothing wrong with it, it would have been totally inappropriate for his cam. He didn’t feel comfortable with taking on the responsibility to ‘deflower’ someone he had just met on tape. “Then it is totally fine to be nervous. Just so you know I only do live cams with people I know a little better so you don’t have to feel pressured. You have full control and if you are uncomfortable we can stop at any time. We can edit it later, cut out things that are too private or censor it if you curse too much or say something that would reveal your identity. This is just a test, on both sides. You will get paid of course. But the decision to post this online is something we can make after the session. Which means there is nothing you need to be afraid of. Or is there anything you are particularly nervous about? We can talk it out. There are no ‘wrong’ things to say or stupid questions.”

Jungkook listened attentively, sighing in relief when he heard that it would be pre-recorded instead of a live-cam. He wasn’t sure if he could have done that, though he really enjoyed them when Suga invited some of his friends and did partner shows. “Yeah, I guess…just are we going to…figure out what we do…ehm, before?” Jungkook started playing with the reserved sign again, before he noticed his habit and placed it aside, “Do you want me to tell you what I want? Or what I prefer? Do we just…” He licked his lips nervously, blinking at Yoongi, “I only see the videos when they are done. So, you can just…lead me through it I guess.”

Jungkook was absolutely adorable and Yoongi found his nervous habit utterly endearing. He smiled softly at him. “Of course we talk beforehand. Not that we make a plan and then follow it every little step but we will set basic rules and guidelines to go by. We’ll discuss what you are willing to do and what you don’t like and for safety I also like new boys to choose a safeword or go with the street light system. Even if we don’t do anything extreme you might get overwhelmed and telling me ‘no’ might feel like too much and then it’s easier to just say your word or tell me ‘red’. I won’t get angry at you or shame you into doing anything. That’s not how I work and I expect you do show me the same respect. My limits are my limits and if I tell you no then you are supposed to stop immediately. Also I’d like you to sign some papers for the company before we start. Don’t worry it’s by no means a contract, it just states that you are fine with the cams being taken and uploaded on the company page and other legal stuff like that you are supposed to keep my identity a secret - and other boys if you meet them on your way up and that you won’t tell anyone where the cams are being taken. It’s not a normal hotel it is owned by the company so no one can recognize the rooms unless you have been in here for a cam.”

“Sure, of course I’ll sign that,” Jungkook rolled his shoulders back and leaned back. The more he was talking to Suga, the more relaxed he felt. He seemed just as kind as he was in his videos. Jungkook had noticed it a couple of times – how caring he was about each and every boy that he filmed with. That he made sure that they felt comfortable.

He loved that about him.

And it made Jungkook feel safe. 

“Great! If you don’t have any more basic questions then we can do the signing stuff at the reception and take the conversation upstairs. I feel like it’s more comfortable to take about sexual preferences and hard limits in private, don’t you think?” The ‘meeting in the restaurant’ was the first step of three and Jungkook had mastered it perfectly; he seemed nice, reliable and Yoongi had a good feeling about their cam. The next step would be talking about what they would do today on cam - but there had been only very few people that left or had to leave the room during this. And the last step was the actual filming. You could talk all you want there also needed to be a certain connection for it to look good on film. Yoongi couldn’t wait to see if they would have a connection on cam as well. 

Jungkook followed Yoongi to the reception quietly, taking the few papers for the contract as soon as they were pushed towards him. He read through them thoroughly, while Yoongi was talking to the receptionist, getting the key to his room. Jungkook had to concentrate, trying not to listen in on what they were saying. He loved Suga’s voice. He always had. And it was ten times better to hear him in real life. And so surreal at the same time. “Okay, done,” Jungkook said with a smile and gave the contract back to the receptionist. 

“Perfect. Then let’s go.” Yoongi reached out his hand for Jungkook to take. He wanted to initiate some casual physical contact for Jungkook to get used to him and to feel a bit more relaxed. When the other shyly took it he guided him along, up the broad main stairs with the thick red carpet which led to the first floor. There the carpet was more simple and it was mainly small visitor rooms for people who stayed overnight or storage room for equipment. And above that on the second floor were the cam rooms. He could practically feel Jungkook shaking from anticipation when they stopped in front of Yoongi’s room.

Jungkook jerked a little when there was a beep sound coming from the door when the card slid through the safety, the small lights lighting up green when Yoongi opened it. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it had startled him nonetheless. The moment they stepped in, Jungkook stood in awe. He could see the main room from here, where there was the bed, the couch and everything he had seen before in videos. Yoongi pulled him in a little further and where normally he let go of the boys’ hands, he could feel how Jungkook only tightened their hold as he gazed around. They passed a rather large bathroom (in comparison to his hotel room sized one) and another room, which looked like a small office. “Do you edit your videos yourself? That’s so cool. I actually study Visual & Media Arts and I love editing. If you ever need help-,” Jungkook giggled softly and turned to Yoongi, who had dragged him, further into the main room and away from his more private sections. For a moment he completely forgot about that he was about do porn. With a stranger, a cam star. Someone he only knew from his shows - which he paid for. And it only came back to him, when he saw the cameras on the table. 

“Oh, that‘s good to know. We could definitely about the editing afterwards then. If you choose to stay.” There were some who got overwhelmed by the whole experience and needed some time for themselves while others preferred to stay and ease out of it and he wasn‘t sure which type Jungkook was. He secretly hoped it was the latter because he loved staying in bed for a little longer after the cameras had been disconnected, to just bask in the warmth and intimacy and connectedness you could feel right after. And Jungkook’s hair looked like it would be really nice to brush it.

“Do you want to sit on the bed to talk? Get a little more comfortable?” It would be easier to go from talking to kissing if they were already relaxed and right where they were supposed to be. It also helped to ignore the cameras if they had been around them the whole time rather than seeing them for the first time when they would start with their „compatibility test“. Yoongi got out of his jacket and put it aside, leaving him in a thin white shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans that were soft enough to sit crossed legged on the bed with them. 

Jungkook was staring at Yoongi for a second too long, quickly realizing that his eyes had been fixated on the others chest, waist and then his hands. He always had loved Suga’s hands. They were the most beautiful one’s he had ever seen and he never had wanted to let go off them, but seeing him in that thin shirt now was definitely worth it. It was perfectly outlining his body. Yoongi was a bit smaller than him, but Jungkook didn’t mind. There was something about him that had always intrigued him, maybe his hands, or his voice or a combination of both and the way he always treated his partners as well as his own body. The porn Yoongi did was different from anything else you could find. It was intimate, personal and one could see how much Yoongi cared for each individual partner. When they asked them to kiss them, or soothe them, he was always right there. Jungkook loved that, it was something he wished for himself and knew he couldn’t find in any other stranger. He was too shy for flirting, leaving him be a stuttering mess all the time and Jungkook rather stayed home, working on his videos than going out to party. He could feel the excitement pool in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the anticipation and nervousness. 

Jungkook got rid of his jacket, pulling at his oversized sweatshirt nervously, that perfectly hid his own body and sat down next to Yoongi. He mimicked him, pulling in his legs. “You’re really handsome, Suga. I mean...I....knew you must be, but...without the mask you’re way prettier,” Jungkook mumbled shyly, the blush creeping up his cheeks and down his chest making him awfully hot, “I’m sorry. That just...came out of me. I mean it though. You are. I’m awful at flirting.” Jungkook hid his face behind his hands for a moment. “Probably one of the reasons why I did this. Me being bad at flirting,” Jungkook added and shrugged his shoulders, “Jimin told me about you guys. He’s done it before, but not with you. And...I actually am not subscribed to the others. Only to you. There’s just something about your videos…” The younger one bit his lip, keeping himself from babbling even more, trying not to give in to the urge to hide in shame.

Yoongi couldn't help but smile fondly. Jungkook was adorable and the longer they talked the more he liked him. He got a little closer so that he could take Jungkook's hand again as it had visibly calmed the younger before. “It's alright. I won't judge, you can talk openly. I'd rather have you being honest and open with a little awkwardness - which is quite endearing by the way - than someone giving me perfect socially expected phrases with no meaning behind them. I like you. Not despite your little nervous habits and shyness but because of them. You're cute. And it's just human to be nervous.“ His smile turned a little more daring as he started to trail his fingers up the inside of Jungkook's wrist and arm. “I'm flattered that I'm the only one you've been watching. Did you see anything that you liked in particular? Something you want me to do with you?”

Jungkook shivered, feeling the light touches of Yoongi sending sparks up his spine. “I…I mean, yeah. I guess. I don’t know. I like your hands...a lot,” Jungkook confessed and chuckled nervously, “Anything you do with them and your voice. When you whisper…” The younger blinked up at Yoongi, “It’s probably not the information you needed, ehm…,” He rubbed the back of his neck, before adding quietly, “You can be a little rougher to me. I am not sure about toys or anything alike...I don’t have much experience...but I like to be manhandled.” Jungkook blushed heavily.

“Oh.” That was a little surprising. With Jungkook's shyness and soft eyes he had thought that he would ask for something gentle - or maybe even compensate for his inexperience with dominance. So rough sex just with their roles reversed. It intrigued him, the way the younger talked about him and asked for something with that beautiful blush adorning his cheeks. “I can do that. Within reason of course. I'd like to be a little more careful with our first time. But if we both like it and you really enjoy it then I can get rougher as we go along.” He dropped his voice a little, making sure it was the kind of husky rasp Jungkook would enjoy “Let's see how you'll handle it when I'm having you on my terms.”

Jungkook was internally key smashing the moment Yoongi dropped his voice. He knew he was doing it on purpose and still it went right through his groin.

“Yes, of course. I’m not even sure what I like, yet. I’ve seen things you did that I loved. But seeing them and then actually doing them is still different, so I’d like that. We could go for just what feels right to us.” Jungkook nodded, shifting a little closer to Yoongi. “But I know I have limits. I don’t want to be choked, or anything too restraining. I don’t like getting degraded in any way.” He said, trying to sound as confident as he could, “People quickly assume that I am more the dominant part, because of my appearance, but...but I think I’m not I…never had anyone really to try it with me. But I’ve seen the way you are with your partners. I’d love to try it out. I like to be exhausted and pushed to my limits. In a safe way.” The blush on his cheeks turned even darker, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is. Everything that we are both comfortable with is fine.” He wondered why the younger was so shy considering he had no obvious reason to be. He was extremely beautiful, fit, knew Jimin which meant he wasn’t completely secluded and was studying something he seemed to have a passion for... Yoongi would have loved to get more insight in Jungkook’s life. But he figured he could wait till after the sex when People tended to get more open. “No degradation, got it.” He was absolutely fine with that as he didn’t enjoy it himself and only did it when his partner was really, really into it.

“How about pet names then? Sweet stuff I could call you if I think you’ve been good for me.” He cocked his head a little, watching Jungkooks face closely. The way Jungkook described his idea of their encounter and himself in general made Yoongi feel like the younger was a perfectionist who wanted to be ‘good’ in every way. He was young but already so tense that he would probably enjoy it if someone made him feel like it was okay to let go and let someone else take over whatever burden he carried. No responsibility on his side, no worries or overthinking. Just pleasure. And the way he always checked to make sure he didn’t do anything ‘wrong’ gave Yoongi the idea to push it a little further. “Do you like being called baby? Or maybe even baby boy?” His voice was calm and collected, his face showing nothing but curiosity. He didn’t want Jungkook’s shyness keep him from something he wanted.

Jungkook giggled softly as an answer, “Yeah, I do actually. I like it more than anything else.” He brushed a hand through his already messy hair, “I think if you ever whisper that into my ear it would be the death of me.” He smiled genuinely, lacing their fingers together again, “Is there anything I need to be aware of? Any boundaries? I want you to feel good, too.”

“We’ll see.” At Jungkook's cute giggle he had a hard time to not try and do it right away just to see the other shiver. Jungkook’s eyes had darkened a little just from talking about what was about to come alone and it was the cutest thing ever. “Don’t worry, I’ve done a lot of things so as long as you treat me like a decent person I should be fine. I don’t like to be hit though I can handle it if you scratch my back. Don’t spit at me or do anything that would hurt me in a long term sense. I don’t think that’s what you’re into anyways so as I said; treat me properly and it’ll be fine. Also I don’t have a problem to tell you if I don’t like something during sex so if we run into something despite our precautions then I’ll just tell you and we can make sure it doesn’t happen again. Ah, yes, one thing: Please don’t run away. If you get cold feet or get embarrassed or feel like you need to get out of here please just tell me. I’ve had someone run out on me once and it’s really shitty to be left alone without a word. So please don’t do that. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want and I can give you room and space to breathe. Just talk to me. We can figure everything out. Together.”

“You really care about the people,” Jungkook cocked his head to the side, “I like that…actually, I always liked that. You can feel and see it in your videos. I think that’s why so many people want to apply for you. I’ve seen so many on your twitter and…” Jungkook smiled, “I don’t know why but…still you chose me,” He leaned in a little closer, “I won’t run away, I promise.”

“Yeah, I do. Sex is always about trust in a way, even if you like it rough and are trying to get quick, mindless pleasure you still have to make yourself vulnerable in a way. So I want my partners to know that I’ll catch them - and in exchange I can trust them as well. Also it’s just easier and more enjoyable if you are open with each other. It minimises unpleasant surprises and the negative kind of awkwardness. So it’s best for anyone involved if you are attentive.” He smiled encouragingly at the other. “Oh I don’t know why I chose you either - until now. It was just a feeling and I have learned to trust my gut in this. And now after I met you I’m a hundred percent sure I made the right choice. We will work great together.” As a demonstration he leaned into Jungkook, hesitating for a split second for Jungkook to pull back if he wanted. But the younger stayed, no flinching, no tensing up. He trusted him. As soon as he had reassured himself of this he closed the last bit of distance between them, covering Jungkook’s lips with his. It was a gentle kiss, soft and warm and definitely too chaste for the camera. It wasn’t meant for watchers though but solely for Jungkook. The younger’s lips were deliciously plush and warm and Yoongi enjoyed kissing him. It felt natural, their mouths fitting together easily and with a gentle touch on Jungkook’s neck he pulled the other closer, deepening the kiss, just the tiniest bit.

Jungkook melted into Yoongi easily, his hands wandering up his chest when he pulled him in. The younger took it as an invitation to come even closer and place himself on his lap, while his lips weren’t separating from his once. Right now, Jungkook could forget about the whole ‘porn’ thing again. It was just him. And Yoongi. He sighed softly into the kiss, wrapping his arm a little closer around his shoulders, while mindlessly letting his hand rake through Yoongi’s hair. 

Yoongi liked how responsive the younger was and how easily he had decided to let him in. It felt good to have Jungkook in his arms and so he closed them around the other, gasping in surprise when he felt how tiny the younger’s waist was. In the oversized sweater with the long sleeves he had looked bigger than he apparently was.

“Woah, you’re tiny!” When Jungkook blinked in doe eyed confusion at him he chuckled. “I mean your waist. You honestly feel like a perfect camboy because it’ll make it really easy for me to hold you close. And it will look good in the video if you have a defined body. It’s all about angles.” He kissed Jungkook again, quick and sweet because he knew he had to let go of him for a little while. “I guess you should get ready now. I’ll show you the shower and when you come out I’ll be waiting for you here on the bed.”

Jungkook only hesitantly got up from his lap, a soft blush on his cheeks when Yoongi had so bluntly talked about his waist. He reached for his hand, pulling him up from the bed and let Yoongi show him the bathroom and the towel he had prepared for him. Only minutes later Jungkook stepped under the shower, letting the hot water run over his body to relax his nerves. He was starting to get nervous now, his heart picking up it’s pace, while he cleaned himself thoroughly and dried himself up after. Jungkook had wrapped the towel around his body and blow dried his hair (it wasn’t supposed to look like he just jumped out of the shower), before checking himself in the mirror. He could hear Yoongi roaming around in the room, probably setting up everything and it was making his heart jump. He was about to do porn. Real porn.

“Oh fuck,” Jungkook cursed to himself quietly, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. But before he got out of the bathroom, he let his towel fall to the ground.

He wouldn’t need that anymore. 

Yoongi had been getting everything ready, rearranging the cameras, placing the remote within reach on the bed, fluffing up the pillows. Just when he placed the lube and condoms onto the bedside table did he hear the door opening and turned around. His jaw dropped. His shy new partner was completely naked. And he was absolutely stunning. It was obvious that he worked out a lot but it wasn't just that. His soft look and boyish expression together with his sharp angles made for an amazing contrast. His skin looked to die for, showing off honey undertones and a softness that Yoongi knew felt amazing under his touch. His tiny waist would be perfect for holding him in place or just hug him close and his hips... they were deliciously narrow, just how he liked it. He wanted to see Jungkook kneel, just once, to see if those muscular thighs could get any more tempting.

“Damn, you really are a sight!” The compliment came over his lips before he could stop himself so he quickly added, “I mean I like you that’s why I asked you to stay. It definitely won’t hurt that you look like my secret wet dreams personified though because you’ll get me hard in no time just by looking at you. Makes it easier you know.” He playfully winked at him.

The blush on Jungkook’s cheek reached down all the way to his chest, fumbling around with his hands nervously and averting his gaze. “Thank you,” He said quietly and walked over to Yoongi. “I can give that compliment right back to you,” His hands pulled at the hem of Yoongi’s shirt, “Although I saw it a couple of times before. I bet it’s different to touch you. Let me, please.”

“Sure. It’s all yours.” He quickly pulled the shirt over his head so Jungkook could touch him for real, taking it as an invitation to reach out for the younger in return. Jungkook had taken a warm shower so his skin was pleasantly warmed up and Yoongi kissed his shoulder because he just couldn’t hold himself back. “Okay, how do you want to do this?” They hadn’t talked about their position yet - and simply thinking about the many ways he could have that beautiful boy in front of him spiked up his heart rate. It sent a shiver down his spine and Jungkook let his hands wander over Yoongi’s soft skin and down his shoulders and back, stepping even closer. He nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck, kissing him there softly, “However you like. Just keep me close, because I like this.”

He really did.

The way Yoongi felt in his hold, his sweet, musky smell. He felt not even one bit like a stranger and it was easy to forget about the cameras Yoongi had put up, when Jungkook could stare into the dark orbs that were his eyes to feel safe again. 

Yoongi bit his lip, contemplating for a bit before suggesting: „You should definitely ride me some time as you have the thighs for it and it would be an amazing view – but we should keep that for a later cam. I guess it would be easier for you if I take control in this? Don‘t worry, we‘ll do something where I can see your face.“ He was an attentive partner so he would see it immediately if Jungkook would get overwhelmed or uncomfortable in case the younger couldn‘t really voice it himself.

„I was thinking we stick to the basics first so maybe you on your back? Depending on how flexible you are we can change the angle and see how deep you like it.“ Sinking deep into that beautiful body would be heaven „Or if you‘re really up for the intimate stuff right away I could take you on your side. It would be great for neck kisses and I could hug you if you like that. I could touch you a lot.“ He would definitely enjoy that too.

“All of that sounds good,” Jungkook giggled, hiding his face a little more because this way it was easier to talk about something so intimate with him. He began kissing Yoongi’s neck again, pushing his lips softly against his skin, licking and biting him there lightly as he moved up his jawline and towards his lips. Then he leaned in again, kissing him more passionate this time, pressing his body flush against him, while his hands were exploring Yoongi’s body. 

Yoongi had barely time to catch his breath before the younger downright went for it. If Jungkook knew that neck kisses had him weak from his previous performances in the website or if he had just guessed correctly he had no idea. Nonetheless it had a strong effect on him as his knees practically buckled and he landed on the bed. He tried to defend his own ego by telling him that Jungkook was heavier than him and therefore could have easily pushed him down but honestly the over enthusiastic way Jungkook latched onto him as if Yoongi was the sweetest treat to devour had him breathless. He tried really hard to keep his mind in the game and not drown in Jungkook’s sweetness. There was one question he hadn’t asked yet, then he would start the cams right after.

„Wait, Kook – baby, just a sec,“ Being that excited could mean that he was also easy to overexcited. Some of his former partners had been so quickly to rile up on their first time with him that it had helped to get them off first and start with the main part later. „How.. how‘s your refractory period? Can you come twice or do you get oversensitive quickly? Cause if you think that you‘ll come too quickly like this I could get you off before we start the cameras. Or you could show me what you like while you do it yourself, whatever you prefer.“ He wouldn‘t lie, getting his own private show from Jungkook sounded promising. Though the younger would probably die from embarrassment - and it also was a pity that he would need to keep his hands to himself then. „Do you want me to blow you?“

“I can come twice, don’t worry.” Jungkook just kept on kissing Yoongi in between the words, in no way wanting to separate from his lips. “If you keep calling me baby, I might come a third time.” He giggled softly, pushing Yoongi back onto the bed to lay down to attack his neck once more. Jungkook sucked on Yoongi’s neck lightly, kissing his way up to his lips, when his eyes fell onto the masks that were lying on the nightstand. His heart skipped a beat and the nervousness rushed back into his veins, making him shiver. “Will you put it on me, please?” Jungkook mumbled in between kisses, rather wanting to keep on devouring Yoongi than thinking about anything else, but he wanted to keep his privacy.

“Yeah, get over here.” He reached for the remote and pushed the buttons to activate the camera, almost losing the remote because he was simultaneously trying to reach the masks. He would cut out the part at the beginning with their faces during editing. He placed the mask against Jungkook’s cheekbones, sighing as it covered up half of his face. “Such a pity. You’ve got such a pretty face. At least I can still see your eyes. And kiss your lips.” He nipped at Jungkook’s bottom lip, just for a second to tease him before he tied the velveteen ribbon at the back of the younger’s head into a small bow. As he had his hands in Jungkook’s hair anyway he brushed his fingers through the isilky strand, scraping his nails gently along the boy’s scalp. Damn he was already enthralled by him.

Jungkook took the mask Yoongi usually wore from him and placed it on his face gently. “Well, it’s a pity now that I’ve seen how handsome you really are.” He whispered and tied it, before he let his hands fall down to his neck, his gaze wandering over his beautiful features. His fingers were drawing soft little patterns into Yoongi’s skin, as he shifted on his lap nervously, feeling the fabric of his pants that he still wore against his own naked skin. Jungkook leaned in, his voice turning into a whisper, “I…I am still nervous.”

Yoongi tightened the ribbon on his own head as Jungkook had tied it a little too loose, probably scared to hurt him before leaning in and whispering right into Jungkook’s ear, “And I still find it cute. You don’t have to be though. If you don’t want the video to be uploaded after you can still get paid - and I can keep it for my own private collection, filed under ‘the sweetest babyboy I fucked so good he almost cried’.”

An involuntarily whimper escaped Jungkook and he had to bite his lip to keep from making any sounds. Yoongi’s deep voice was sending a shiver down his spine and he held on a little tighter to his shoulders. So, Jungkook took another deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “I want that,” He whispered back, placing a kiss right at the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, “I really do.”

“And you’ll get it. Anything you want. Cause I’ve got anything I can dream of right now too, a beautiful boy, naked on top of me, willing to let me have him, ready to be taken apart…,” He turned them over, switching positions so that Jungkook was on his back, “Although I think I like you even better like this, on your back, looking up at me with those dark, pretty eyes…”

He stole another kiss from him before linking hands and placing Jungkook’s arms above the others head. He didn’t really restrain him or hold him by his wrist, he just kept their fingers linked and marvelled at all the expanse of skin and muscles that were yet to be explored by him. “Would you mind if I got to know your body a little better?” Exploring Jungkook with his mouth would be fun because he was pretty certain that Kook was sensitive enough to twitch if he attack his weak spots with his tongue. 

“It’s yours for the night,” Jungkook answered in a husky voice, his eyes following Yoongi’s every movement. They kissed again, hungrily exploring each other’s mouth, before he dipped deeper and down his neck, leaving Jungkook panting way too easily. There was something about the way Yoongi was kissing him, that absolutely drove Jungkook mad and he couldn’t get enough of it. Yoongi’s hands slowly let go off his, caressing down his wrists as he wandered down his neck towards his chest, sending shivers throughout his whole body. “Mhm, I like the sound of that..” Yoongi hummed contently, looking up at Jungkook through his lashes before giving him a seductive smirk, “And I also like your taste.” He teased Jungkook’s nipple with the tip of his tongue, wetting it slightly and when the younger’s breath visibly stuttered he knew he was on the right track. He switched sides, using his free hand to rub the one that he had already teased while he started to nibble on the other one. He wasn’t lying, he liked the silky texture of Jungkook’s skin against his tongue.

If it would be solely his call he could do this all night.

Jungkook was writhing underneath Yoongi’s touch. He couldn’t help it, he had always been awfully sensitive on his nipples and he had found his weak spot right away. Jungkook let out a soft moan, brushing through Yoongi’s hair. He could feel himself harden from Yoongi’s teasing alone, making him close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from moaning too much already. Yoongi dragged his thumb over Jungkook’s bottom lip to open up the other’s mouth. It was red and swollen from where Jungkook had bit down on it which made it look even more dirty. He dipped into the the sweet mouth that he would claim again later after he was finished with his current project (aka get Jungkook hard) keeping him effectively from hiding his moans. “Don’t do that baby. I wanna hear it when I drive you crazy.” A sharp nip on his nipple underline the statement. However he showed some mercy after, soothing over it once more before kissing down further. There was enough time and room to rile the other up further downwards.

“O-okay,” Jungkook mumbled, watching Yoongi closely as he dipped down. His nervousness mixing blissfully with the anticipation, leaving him a shivering mess. But before Yoongi could kiss down his hip bone, Jungkook propped himself up on his elbows, “C-can you still hold my hand…if you…I mean…”

“You want me too..?” Yoongi startled at the request but when he realized that Jungkook was serious he wordlessly reached out for him, intertwining their fingers like they had done before. It seemed to be Jungkook’s safety net, to have something to hold onto. And it was also a nice way for Yoongi to get feedback while his eyes would be closed: If Jungkook held onto his hand tighter it would mean that he had upped tension enough for the younger to need an outlet. He didn’t go there immediately though, taking his sweet time to nib a soft love bite into the delicate skin above the boy’s hip. Then he slid his palm up along his thigh, feeling it up before nudging it to the side.

“Open up, sweety. Let’s get to where you want to feel me most.”

Jungkook felt a lot better, more relaxed now holding onto Yoongi’s hand. He leaned back again, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he opened up his legs for him to get in between. Yoongi was slowly kissing down his thigh, taking his sweet time, never letting go off his hand once. He was really thankful for it, that he hadn’t really questioned it but just did what felt good to him. Jungkook smiled, reaching out for Yoongi to cup his cheek. The other turned to him a little confused, but Jungkook simply leaned over and placed a kiss on his lip, a quiet thank you, and then laid back again fully relaxed, spreading his legs a little more to show off his flexibility. 

The way Jungkook easily opened up for Yoongi told him that would be able to take him comfortably on his back if they chose to switch to this position later. Still he wanted to enter him on his side, sweet and intimate. But first he needed to get him hard and aching so that Jungkook’s attention would be elsewhere while he prepped him. Without warning he pressed a kiss against the younger’s cock and smirked when he could feel Jungkook’s abs clenching hard. Yoongi had been told before that he was pretty good with his tongue and he used his skills to his full advantage while he got Jungkook fully hard, teasing the vein at the underside that he knew was sensitive, licking over the tip to make Jungkook’s breath stutter just to finally get him fully into his mouth. He had no problem with going down on him quick and dirty and although Jungkook must know it from watching his cams he definitely wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to have his mouth around him. It had him choke out a moan loudly as he arched his back. “F-fuck,” Jungkook cursed, gripping the bed sheets tight while with the other he was holding onto Yoongi’s. Yoongi’s skillful mouth left Jungkook gasping and whimpering in a matter of seconds. It felt absolutely dirty and he loved it, the way Yoongi was bobbing on his cock, his eyes locking with his own and Jungkook could see the smirk on his lips when he kissed the tip again, only to take him deep moments after. “S-suga, please…”

He pulled off with a pop, knowing that this was not what Jungkook had wanted just to ask him sweetly “Yes? Tell me what you are pleading for, pretty. Do you want me to take your cock back into my mouth, is that it? Or do you need something else?” While he let Jungkook time to decide he trailed his finger along the younger’s cock who stood proud and hard by now, rubbing gently along his ball and then lower, to get a feel of how sensitive the younger would be.

Jungkook twitched nervously, his blushed chest heaving heavily as he tried to think of an answer. “I…yes, please. I want you, please. Touch me.” He was pleading quietly, moaning when he was gently massaging his balls to tease him more, making Jungkook open up his legs a little wider. “Please. I want you so bad.”

“Touch you, hm?” He prodded against Jungkook’s hole, teasing the rim until the younger’s muscles clenched again. “You mean here?” He could have drawn it out a little longer but they were both turned on and ready to go for it so he decided to take it a step further and reached for the lube, squishing out a small amount that he could easily warm up before putting his fingers back where Jungkook wanted them. “Relax for me, please.” He warned him but instead of pushing in right away he just started massaging him a little more intensely, making sure the boy was used to his fingers and the way the rubbed against his skin, the easy slide over his perineum and around his balls and over everything else that had Jungkook restlessly moving against him.

Jungkook slowly turned it into sensual movements, circulating his hips against Yoongi’s fingers, sweet little moans escaping him whenever he was close enough but still too far away from working up Jungkook for real. The younger had reached for Yoongi’s hand the moment he wrapped it around his waist, pulling him in a little more while he was brushing against his rim with the other. He just needed it to ground himself and to feel the connection even more.

“Yes, there, please.”

When he deemed Jungkook ready he took a little more form the lube to make it wet and easy and then slowly pushed past the resistance of Jungkook’s muscles. While he kept still inside of him, giving Kook time to adjust he massaged soothing circles into his skin with the other around his waist. It didn’t take long for Jungkook to start moving his hips again and Yoongi took it as an invitation to add a second finger. He managed it easily and decided to start stretching the younger out, moving his fingers slow and deep in a pace that matched the sways of Kookie’s hips. He was about to ask if he still felt good when he stroked along the younger’s sweet point and a whole body shudder through him. “Oh. I guess I found what I’ve been looking for,“ He commented dryly and repeated the motion just to watch Jungkook shudder again. 

There was pure ecstasy rushing through his veins, making him feel dizzy and Jungkook gripped Yoongi’s hand tighter. It felt so good to be touched like that, to have someone adore his body like that and that feeling alone made him shiver. “Suga, please, please…I just want you.” He cried out, arching his back off the mattress, when he rubbed against his walls so sweetly, stretching him out so well, like no one had ever done it before. Jungkook pulled at Yoongi’s hand desperately, wanting him to be back over him, kiss him and make him his for the night. 

“You’re so pretty like this, all open and ready for me.” Yoongi absolutely wanted to give in to Jungkook’s pleas because every gasp and sigh the younger made heated him further up and it had gotten quite uncomfortable to still wear his pants.

Nonetheless he had no idea when he would see Jungkook like this again so he wanted to make the most of it. He kept his finger’s inside him, stroking and teasing him mercilessly before sinking back down on his cock, swallowing him whole in one single motion. Jungkook’s hips bucked and he couldn’t quite keep them down so he was forced to take Kook even deeper, swallowing reflexively around him and trying to breath evenly as best as he could. He was glad that he had practise with this or else he might have choked on the younger’s cock, embarrassing himself and driving Jungkook even more crazy than he must already feel. Jungkook let out a pathetic whimper, feeling Yoongi’s hot wet mouth around his cock was just heaven. “Fuck, please, Suga,” He moaned, letting his hips fall and Yoongi off his cock, who wiped over his mouth as if Jungkook had been the most delicious snack he had tasted. Jungkook could feel how Yoongi pulled his fingers out of him, wiping them clean at the sheet as a smirk placed itself on his lips.

The younger blinked up at him, watching his every move as he got up from the bed and unbuttoned his pants. Gulping heavily, Jungkook’s eyes flickered down to his pants and how easily Yoongi let them fall and with them his boxers. Jungkook dragged his thumb across his lip, shifting nervously on the bed when he could feel the mattress dip again. 

“Are you getting nervous again, babyboy?” He positioned himself behind Jungkook while he put on the condom. A low moan escaped him when he rolled it on, jerking himself off once or twice to give his neglected erection a tiny bit of attention before he would focus on Jungkook again. It was easy to turn the younger onto his side as he went willingly however Yoongi arranged him. “That’s my boy. Don’t stress yourself, you’ll feel so good with my cock inside you. I’m gonna make you feel every slide, every thrust. You are so pretty when you shiver so I’ll make sure to abuse your sweet spot as much as I can. You’ll come so hard, baby, you might take me with you over the edge. I love it when pretty little boys tighten around my cock right before they come. And you’re gonna be tight, aren’t you?” All his dirty talk showed that he was pretty excited himself but in contrast to Jungkook nothing of it was visible on his face. He hiked up Jungkook’s leg a little more so that he could nudge his cock against Kook’s entrance, sliding past it once just to tease him and get him a little more desperate before he couldn’t take the tension any longer himself. WIth a satisfied sigh he pushed in, slow and deep. The arm around Kook’s waist kept the younger in place, flush against Yoongi’s body so that he could feel every twitch and shudder as if it was his own.

In this position Jungkook was looking right at one of the cameras, but the sudden anxiousness was just as quickly gone as it came, when Yoongi pushed into him. It left him completely speechless. “Ah, Suga,“ Jungkook moaned out blissfully, his thighs shaking as he was getting used to the sudden fullness. He turned his head, to avoid the camera but also to kiss Yoongi again. He pulled him in by the back of his neck, feeling his hot breath fan over his lips as he began to move his hips, pushing even deeper into Jungkook, “Yes, so tight fo-for you.“ Yoongi kissed the words right from Jungkook’s lips with open mouthed kisses. He could feel Jungkook’s abs clench everytime did something as simple as shift and so he gently caressed over his front in a soothing gesture.

“Relax, pretty. I’ve got you. Just.. just let go. I’ll take care of your needs.” He kept his pace sensually slow while concentrating on relaxing Jungkook instead. When he placed his hand over Kook’s chest he could feel how hard and quick the other’s heart was beating against his palm, almost as if he was scared but his stuttered breaths and little gasps spoke a different language. Gently he caressed the free side of Kook’s neck, nipping at his jaw and kissing bruises into the soft skin below his ear until he could feel the tension seep out of ihm. “It feels so right to hold you in my arms. Like you belong there.” His whisper held a little too much truth for his liking and yet he couldn't help but confess. The younger whimpered quietly as an answer, pushing his ass back to meet Yoongi’s eagerly. The words soothing and urging him on at the same time. He was putty in his hands, absolutely pliant from the first touch - this is how good he was, Jungkook thought to himself, smiling against the open mouthed kisses. “M-more please,” Jungkook blinked his eyes open, gazing at Yoongi through the masks while he was pleading in pout, “I really want more.”

The little pout on Jungkook's lips had him looking so cute that Yoongi might have cooed over him if he wasn't just buried inside his sweet ass to the hilt. “More? Already? You're a greedy little thing aren't you?” He gripped Jungkook's cock tightly and jerked him once, just to have him gasping for him (because that pout might be his downfall) before he gave into the youngers request. With a steady hand on his hips he pulled Kook back against him as he started to push into him harder.

Jungkook cried out in pleasure, leaning his head back against Yoongi’s shoulders, giving him even more access to kiss and bite his beautiful skin there. He fitted perfectly into his hold, moving against his thrusts in eagerness, while he tried to hold onto Yoongi desperately, the harder he was pushing back into him. Jungkook closed his eyes, letting go of everything else and completely let Yoongi take over. He hooked up his leg a little, spreading his thighs so he could reach even deeper. Jungkook wanted Yoongi to feel good, to remember this and not just because of the videotape. He wanted Yoongi to think about how he felt, how tight and how eager he was to please him. His hands wandered over to Yoongi’s back, squeezing his bottom there lightly and urging him on to take him even harder. 

“You’re perfect, baby boy.”

It felt right to praise him already because Jungkook was a real pleasure to shoot with. Despite this being his first time being filmed he didn't try to hide or be a certain way for the camera, he just trusted him to do this right and showed all of his charms naturally. Yoongi could feel the desire run down his spine like molten heat the harder he pushed into the youngers sweet body, being rewarded with a little gasp or desperate whine whenever he moved just right. He was glad that Kook was flexible enough to turn a little so that they could still kiss and Yoongi made use of this, plundering the youngers mouth while fucking him good and hard.  

Jungkook smiled, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “O-only for you,” He mumbled into a kiss, reaching behind him so he could brush a hand through Yoongi’s hair. “Take me however you like, please. It feels so good.” Jungkook started circulating his hips a little, moving sensually against Yoongi. He let his hand fall down again, searching for Yoongi’s who was holding onto his waist, “I can take more, please, Suga, please.”

“You really want me to have you how I want?” His voice was daring, raspy but it was also a honest question for consent, “Because then I’m gonna keep you in place and fuck you hard while jerking you off. You would come in minutes and I’d have you ride out your orgasm on my cock before I pull out.” He nipped at Jungkook’s skin again, the spot at his neck where Jungkook would have beautifully blooming bruises later. He just couldn’t get enough of the boys silky skin. “And then I’d push you on your back where you can just lay back, all blissed out and I’d have you hard again until I come deep inside of you. You want me to take you like this?”

His answer was a whimper, a sweet sound that made Yoongi shiver. “Please, yes,” Jungkook added and sealed it with a deep kiss, not being able to get enough of him. Yoongi tasted like the sweetest treat to him, like honey and his voice was so rough from fucking him that it was turning Jungkook on even more. He wanted this. More than he’d like to admit and he didn’t even care about the millions of people that would be watching it later on. He would be one of them. He wanted to savor it forever.

“Take me apart, Suga.” Jungkook blinked up at him, feeling Yoongi’s rhythm falter for a second, slowing down before he would give it to him right, “I still want to feel you tomorrow.”

“Oh you will, Babyboy. I’ll make sure of that.” WIth Jungkook’s okay he didn’t try to hold back his strength any longer, using what his body had left to give it to him hard. Jungkook’s body was shaking with every thrust and just when he could feel that he had found the right angle to make Jungkook’s knees weak he held him there mercilessly. There was no way to get rid of the tension or ease off the intensity of the pleasure as he hit Jungkook’s sweet spot dead on. He could feel it in the tremble of Jungkook’s thighs and the hitch of the younger’s breath that he was utterly lost in this. If Yoongi hadn’t held him in place so tightly Jungkook would have collapsed from the onslaught of pleasure. 

Jungkook was grabbing the sheets tightly, trying to hold onto anything that gave him some kind of leverage. He reached out for Yoongi, pushing himself closer to the other, while he was abusing his spot over and over again, making Jungkook go crazy with the pleasure that was rippling through his body. He cried out his name, breathy little whimpers escaping him as he jerked forward with every deep thrust. It was exactly what he needed to let go.

Leaning his head back, Jungkook helplessly searched for Yoongi’s lips. Their kisses were messy and dirty, both too lost in their pleasure to care for technique or etiquette, they just needed to satisfy their need for reassurance, for connection, to feel the others breath against their lips and their heartbeats against each other. When he felt Jungkook getting close he reached for the lube again to slick up his fingers before he took a good hold of the youngers cock. The wet slide made it easy to jerk him off but Yoongi still started a torturously slow, loose rhythm to rile Jungkook up as much as he could before he would let him snap.

Jungkook was a whimpering mess, his whole body was jerking and tightening around Yoongi’s cock deliciously while he was crying out in pleasure-pain. “Suga,” He moaned, holding onto Yoongi’s waist to hold himself up or else he would have been already pushed over the edge of the bed with how hard he was going. He could feel every pull, every hit on his sweet spot. It was the sweetest torture. Each time Yoongi’s hips snapped forward, he jerked his cock at the same time and Jungkook swore he could see stars in front of his eyes. His thighs began to quiver, his fingers digging deep into Yoongi’s waist. 

Jungkook’s moans were music to Yoongi‘s ears, his whimpers so sweet and desperate that they were his own turn on. If he kept this up for too long he might just follow Jungkook into oblivion and come right now. He didn’t want it to be over so soon though, he wanted to have the younger on his back, to make him come again later when he was all pliant and fucked out with his eyes hazy and his smile sated. His grip around the youngers cock tightened and he stopped playing games, making the younger sob in half relief, half pleasure. Jungkook was easy to play with his body responsive and sensitized by his caresses.

He might love this a little too much.

Jungkook cried out, closing his eyes as the pleasure was rushing through his veins like ecstasy and his whole body began to shake. Yoongi kept fucking into him mercilessly, while he was falling apart right on his cock, feeling every thrust so deeply inside of him as he tightened around him. He choked on a moan, whimpering quietly while losing complete control over his body.

The younger fell apart beautifully and Yoongi could feel him clenching tight around him in a way that was absolutely maddeningly perfect. He fucked Kook through his high, let him ride out his pleasure on his hard cock and only when Jungkook stopped shaking did he slow down, gently easing out of him when the younger had caught his breath. The urge to push back into that perfect, velveteen heat was overwhelming but luckily he was pretty good at controlling himself so instead he soothed over Jungkook's side and brushed through his hair.

“Are you good? Do you need a minute to calm down a little? We could just make out a little until you feel like you’re up for the next round. Or do you want me to keep going right away?”

“Mh,” Jungkook hummed in response, feeling absolutely pliant, reaching for Yoongi to pull him a little closer. There was cum sticking onto his stomach but Jungkook didn’t mind. He smiled faintly, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down, feeling Yoongi’s hands soothe over his body.

“Hm’yeah,” The younger mumbled, “Kissing…fucking…just both.” He turned a little, nuzzling his face cutely into Yoongi’s neck and placed a kiss there. “Don’t leave,” Jungkook was still shaking, soft little aftershocks from his orgasms, “I need you still.”

“Don’t worry, pretty one, I won’t leave you out of my sight.” Jungkook had pretty much given him his answer with the way he was curling into him, searching for warmth and closeness, basking in the intimacy that this position provided. He was glad that he always placed everything he needed within reach before he started a session because it meant that he didn’t even had to let go of Kook to get what he needed. He stretched a little, fishing blindly to get hold of a wet tissue and grinning triumphantly when he got one without Kook even stirring or opening his eyes. “Fair warning, it might get a little cold while I clean you up now but I promise you’ll get all warm and fuzzy again soon.” 

Jungkook pouted when he could feel the cold tissue on his stomach, writhing his body away from Yoongi, “I’d rather feel dirty.” He giggled, his hands wandering down his neck and chest. “You feel so good inside of me, you really want me to wait even longer now? Or don’t you like your baby being dirty?” He cocked his head to the side, biting his lips.

“Are you getting sassy with me, sweetheart?” The tissue landed somewhere on the floor and Jungkook on his back as Yoongi rolled them over. “You think that’s a good idea while you’re all sensitive and fucked out? I’m still hard, baby. I can fuck you into oblivion again and again until you’re sobbing. Or do you think you got more stamina just because you sport all those pretty muscles?” He tweaked Kook’s nipple and revelled in the way the younger’s back arched off the bed. 

“Maybe, ah, that’s what I want,” Jungkook moaned, a shiver ran down his body whenever Yoongi teased his nipples even more. He propped himself up on his elbows, so Jungkook could reach Yoongi’s shoulders, leaving a wet trail of kisses up his neck. “Please, Suga, I’ll be good.” He opened up his legs a little more, letting Yoongi in, in between them, before caressing a hand down his body taking a swipe of the cum that was left on his stomach and sucked on his finger deliciously. He wasn’t sure where the sudden confidence came from and maybe it was only to rile Yoongi up further. “I want to have a lick of your taste.”

“Oh fuck,” He definitely hadn’t expected the younger to get so daring and dirty with him during sex but it was a nice surprise. However, it chipped away at his control immensely and so instead of teasing Kook like he had initially planned until the younger was begging to be filled up again he just held Kook’s thighs open and sank back into the delicious heat that swallowed him whole. He moaned, low and strung out because he was aching and moving against Jungkook’s hips brought enough relief to make it bearable. Still it wouldn’t be enough if he kept going like that. Jungkook had gasped loudly when Yoongi had pushed into him without a warning. He could feel the oversensitivity mixing with the feeling of being filled and it made him shiver.

Yoongi fished for a cushion, urging Kook on to cock his hips up so that he could push the cushion under his back, changing the angle a bit. It would be easy to get deep now and with him on top he had enough leverage to snap his hips into the younger as hard as he needed. He would have Jungkook hard and whimpering for him in no time. When Yoongi’s hips snapped forward, he screamed out, reaching out for his shoulders to hold onto something. Yoongi smirked, drawing back awfully slow, making Jungkook whimper in the process. Nonetheless Jungkook kept his eyes on Yoongi, each thrust tearing another quiet sound from him.

It wasn’t as soft and intimate as before but it nonetheless had its perk to fuck Jungkook on his back. The younger was bendy and could easily open his thighs for him so both of them were comfortably while Yongi could roll his hips into the younger hard and reckless. He could feel himself sinking deeper and he groaned, trying to find a rhythm that wouldn’t have him coming too fast.

“You feel fucking amazing!” A soothing kiss took the edge off his curse as he kept on rocking into him over and over again, “So tight and perfect...I want to come inside of you, baby. Make you feel how much I love fucking you like this.” 

Jungkook blushed, loving it how much Yoongi seemed to enjoy it as well. He held onto his waist, every thrust making him push deeper into the mattress and the cushion. It didn’t take long for Jungkook to get hard again, the pleasure pooling in his groin making him want even more. Eagerly, the younger pulled Yoongi down by his waist, roughly meeting his own. He was sure it would leave bruises tomorrow, but he didn’t mind.

He, now, just wanted to be fucked into oblivion.

“Ah, Suga,” Jungkook turned his head, whimpering and he could feel the bow of the mask he wore slightly loosen under the pressure and constant push and pull of his body. Jungkook took him well and willingly and considering that he had told him that he didn’t have that much experience Yoongi took it as a sign that there had good chemistry. He pretty much doubted that Jungkook would do this for about anyone. In a semblance of adoration and fondness he brushed Jungkook’s hair back, feeling how soft it was still despite Jungkook being all sweaty. “My pretty little baby.” The whisper was barely there, not meant for the cameras but Jungkook.

“You might just turn out to be my favourite boy.” 

The younger melted into his touch, kissing the palm of Yoongi’s hand the moment it caressed down and over his cheeks. He was so blissfully gone in the pleasure that he didn’t really hear what Yoongi was saying, the oversensitivity making him unaware of anything else but the pleasure he felt with each hard thrust inside of him. Jungkook wrapped his hand around Yoongi’s wrist, not giving him a chance to pull it back but instead kissed him there endlessly, taking his thumb into his mouth to suck on it deliciously giving Yoongi the most beautiful scene to watch as he blinked up at him. He closed his eyes, arching his back in pleasure as he moaned loudly, “I…can’t…it feels so good.” Jungkook almost sobbed when a particularly rough push into him made him snap his eyes open, “Fuck. Don’t stop, please.”

It was utterly cute how overwhelmed the younger had gotten and Yoongi smiled fondly at him, kissing his face wherever he could reach while Kook writhed in pleasure under him. He was close already, he could feel it in the pulsing of his cock and the tightening of his balls so he slowed down a little, dragging it out because he didn’t have enough of Kook yet. His perfect body, his breathy little gasps that he loved already, his little whimpers whenever he pushed in deep. And right now he pushed in hard and deep and merciless with every thrust, teasing sweet sounds out of Kook with every snap of his hips.

“N-no, no please,” He pursed his lips into a pout, letting go off Yoongi’s hand to reach for his waist instead, wanting to pull him closer and make him go faster. “Ah, please,” Jungkook sobbed, shaking his head cutely as he gazed back up at Yoongi, who was only smirking, enjoying the view, “But-but I’ve been good. I want you, pl-please.” He began to move his hips restlessly, circulating slowly and sensually against Yoongi, making the cushion under his bottom shift with the movements – but Jungkook didn’t care. He pulled Yoongi in by his neck, kissing him deeply, whimpering and whispering pleads in between each one of them. 

“So demanding, pretty.” Yoongi tried to tease him but his voice sounded a little too breathless for that. The way Jungkook moved his hips against him did things to him that got his knees weak and his thighs shaking. “I... I’m gonna come soon... but dont worry, I’ll get you off too… promise.” He leaned into Kook’s tight hug, trapping the younger’s cock between their bodies to stimulate him too but he’d probably finish before him. So maybe he would get to blow Kook fully tonight after all. There weren’t any words left in his mind as the tension pulled tighter and he let his control slip, taking Kook the way he needed to to finish off: quick and rough and as deep as he could.

Jungkook was holding onto Yoongi while wrapping his arms around him to keep him as close as possible. He closed his eyes, letting the pleasure take over and Yoongi be the one he could lean on. The way Yoongi was growling and shaking above him, told him that he was close and Jungkook spread his legs a little more, feeling how sore and tired his limbs already felt – but he loved it. The exhaustion was settling in his body, but the pleasure was making him feel so much ecstasy that he didn’t mind. Jungkook squeezed Yoongi’s bottom, feeling the firm flesh against the palm of his hands, while he placed open mouthed kisses on his shoulder and everywhere he could reach. The rhythm was faltering and Jungkook could feel himself tighten around Yoongi’s cock, heightening the pleasure for both of them. 

Yoongi got close, so close when Jungkook started touching him and when the younger tightened around him like he had before when he had come on his cock it was over. Yoongi’s muscles locked up as he moaned in purest pleasure, emptying himself in the condom (that he wished wasn’t there right now. He always used them but with Kook he would have actually prefered that he hadn’t right now). He collapsed on top of Kook afterwards, making sure he caught enough of his weight to not hurt him, considering Kook was still hard and his thighs spread but he needed a moment to come down from his high. He felt amazing, a mellow sort of bliss in his mind that made it a little hazy, his body a little harder to control. The urge to pull Kook in and just hold him all night was sudden an unexpected and he tried to get rid of his feelings by kissing the younger deeply and telling him softly how good he had been and how amazing it felt to have him.

Jungkook hummed against his kisses, dwelling in the attention Yoongi was giving him. He brushed through his hair, blushing from the sweet compliments he was giving him. He smiled in bliss, not even caring if he had gotten off the second time or not, but he was sure Yoongi wouldn’t let him go so easily. He wanted to exhaust him, Jungkook had especially asked for that. So, he didn’t move, when Yoongi propped himself up again and kissed him sweetly, moving down his neck. He made a show of going down on Kook. He trailed all the way down with kisses, giving Kook’s perky nipples extra attention just to hear him whimper again and then stopped to admire the bruises on the inside of Kooks thigh that he had given him before. “Wouldn’t it be a shame to leave you one sided?” The younger whined helplessly as he attacked the delicate skin on his other thigh but with the way he was twitching and how hard he was Yoongi kept it short and let go of it quickly. He dragged his thumb over the reddened tip right in front of his face, teasing the precum over the swollen head before finally closing his lips around it and swallowing him down.

Jungkook bucked his hips upwards involuntarily making Yoongi choke a little, but it didn’t keep him from blowing him for real. There was no chance for Jungkook to pull off, or his hips away from Yoongi. He was holding him down, swallowing around him so deliciously that he could feel his thighs starting to shake in a matter of seconds. “F-fuck, Suga, plea-,” Jungkook choked on the moan, crying out as he arched his back off the mattress. His whole body was shivering, thighs trembling as he came right into Yoongi’s mouth. He had his eyes closed, putting his arm over them, feeling the tears sting in his eyes. The pleasure was completely overwhelming him, every touch of Yoongi was like fuel to the fire only heightening the feeling. Jungkook came quick and hard and Yoongi swallowed it all down, licking Kook clean while the younger was close to sobbing from the overstimulation.

The way Jungkook just kept still after, sunken into the pillows and arm still over his eyes told Yoongi that it might have been a little much for him. As there was nothing to clean up this time he could lay down besides him right away, soothing him with light, careful touches and small kisses on his cheek. He didn’t take his arm away for him as he didn’t want the younger to feel pressured but he addressed it nonetheless. “Are you okay there, baby?” His voice was still husky from before but he put enough softness in it to hopefully soothe him. “Do you want me to stop the cameras? Then we can take the masks off and just relax for a bit. You’re a little sleepy right now, aren’t you?”

Jungkook didn’t open his eyes but he let his arm fall, turning over to where Yoongi was to snuggle closer to him. “I’m okay,” He mumbled, “Yes, take it off, please.” Jungkook could feel Yoongi hesitate for a moment, but he decided to just edit out the end and gently pull the mask of now. First his own, then Jungkooks. The younger pliantly leaned into his touch, shivering from the sudden cold. “Is…is it okay if we stay like this for a while, Suga?” He was starting to talk in pout again from how tired he was, his hand searching for Yoongi's to hold on to, caressing down his arm while he kept his eyes closed. 

Jungkook was so cute like this, leaning into him as if his closeness was all he wanted and Yoongi’s heart made a little leap that always lead to dangerous thing.

“Yoongi.” He answered, a secret whisper, only for Kook to know, “My name is Yoongi. And you can stay here as long as you need.” He kissed the boys pout as he laid there exhaustedly, apparently too tired to even open his eyes. Yoongi didn’t mind it, quite the opposite. It was his room so no one would throw them out and it would be really nice to fall asleep with someone in his arms - especially when this someone was a pretty little boy he’s just had sex with.

“Yoongi,” He whispered tiredly, cuddling even closer to his warmth. A soft giggle escaped him and he blinked up at him, “I really did that. With you. I hope they will like it.” Jungkook yawned, helplessly reaching for the blanket before giving up. “Your viewers. I hope they enjoy it…as much as I did,” His voice was quiet and one could hear how Jungkook was slowly drifting off, “I like you.” He leaned his head on Yoongi’s chest and closed his eyes again.

“I like you too, baby boy.” He chuckled low as the younger nosed along his jaw in a sleepy attempt to shift even closer before his body stilled and his breath deepened. Stretching a little he reached for the remote to turn off the cameras and pushed the button. A little click and a sirring sound told him that the cameras had just turned on. Confused he pushed the button again, effectively shutting the cameras off. He groaned as it dawned on him.

Jungkook had attacked him so passionately that he had barely watched what buttons he had pressed in the beginning - and apparently he hadn’t turned on the cameras at all, which meant they had just fucked each other for fun. He shook his head, glad that Kook was asleep and couldn’t see his embarrassment right now. Luckily he could take it lightly; he could still pay Kook and honestly it had been worth it. And if Kook still wanted to have an upload, well… then they would just have to fuck each other again soon.

A/N: Here we go! This is the first story to our little Series (3 Parts). Cat and I just wanted to try and write PWP and so this happened. You ready for your stay in the ‘Nuit Inoubliable’? Don’t forget to tell us how you liked it!! 

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[addicted-to-dc]

Red Hood’s Little Monster (Part 6)- Red Hood/Jason Todd X Gender fluid!Reader

Welp, I’m actually posting something! Hopefully you all will enjoy this VERY long fic. Also, I currently do not have my tag list on me, so I cannot tag anyone for a while, not until I can find my list.

Warnings: Anger issues? Flirting?

"Come on, man, you gotta help me out," you begged, barely suppressing the urge to roll your eyes at your own words. "I just need one identity, I don't care who, but I need one now."

Norm shook his head, pacing around the room while biting his nail, "You know that I can't do it in less than a day! I need at least a week in advance to do it, to make sure it is prepared properly and won't get any red flags! You know if you get caught while using a passport and documents from me, that could damage my reputation!"

"Oh come on! You gave me one in three days," you spat, trying to keep your emotions in control, "and I'm offering double the pay that I gave you that time! I don't give a shit what gender, race, hell, I don't care what age, just give me a goddamn passport and a picture of the poor bastard. You know that I can handle situations like these, can you?"

He pointed at you, shaking his hand as he muttered a few curses. Wiping his face, he scratched his beard as he thought up for some type of solution, something that could save him from being killed by you. As soon as he thought of something, he ran into the back room and dug through his things, searching for the one type of person that would guarantee her a way to escape. Grasping onto the documents, he walked back into the room and handed you what you requested.

Looking over the documents, you scanned over the man in the photo. He had a handsome face, but his face would definitely blend in. His dark skin glowed in the sunlight of the photo, making his dark brown eyes look like honey.

"What happened to him?" you asked Norm, pocketing the documents.

"Disappeared without a trace," he replied solemnly. "He had no family, friends, or next of kin, so you will not deal with any unwanted attention."

"Did you know him?" you questioned, watching his eyes shift to the floor. "If this is too personal I will not take-"

"No, take it," Norm stated, waving you off. "He was a... a good guy, a loving one, too, but his kindness got him killed. It's somewhat comforting that a little bit of him will be back, y' know?"

You nodded, "Thank you, Norm. The money will be transferred to you tomorrow, I just need to get a head start before drawing attention to your bank account."

"I know the drill by now," he chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. "Stay safe out there."

"You, too," you replied, adjusting your jacket before leaving the building.

Stepping out into the sun, you pulled your sunglasses onto your face and continued forward, determined to slink back into the shadows like you always did. You had the upper hand now, but for how long? They had more resources than you by far, but it would take time for them to get everything. Your father's quarrel with Bruce Wayne would spark arguments if he requested help from him, but there was the possibility that his familial instincts will suspend the fighting.

Huffing, you moved forward on your path, heading to the nearest alley to shift. It wasn't the most inconspicuous, but it was better than going into a populated area and having questions arise. Leaning against the wall, you breathed heavily as you looked at the picture of the man, absorbing his image into your head as your body started to burn. Gritting your teeth, you felt as your muscles, bones, and other insides shift and grow, creating an exact copy of him. The shift was oddly less painful than your last ones, but you couldn't focus on that now. Pulling your hood up, you stretched out before walking out the other end of the alley, quickly getting used to the height difference of this body.

Opening your wallet, you pulled out the ID of your previous form, folding it in half and snapping it before throwing it into the nearest dumpster. Digging into your pocket, you slid the new one in, staring and memorizing all of the information. He had a California license, had a height of 5'11" and weighed 194 pounds. His birth date was August 20th, 1995, and his address was Norm's. You would read the documents containing more information on the way to your destination, but now you needed to sell the look of someone traveling. Looks like you were going to blow a lot of cash.

--------------

Walking through the airport, you pulled your cheap carry on suitcase, which was filled with clothes and other useless items, as you continued forward. You made sure not to look at the cameras, knowing that it would draw attention to you. Sighing, you glanced around and rubbed your eye, your exhaustion getting the better of you. Your contact had assured you that you wouldn't have to deal with security, especially when you still had your suit on. As advanced as it was, it wouldn't make it past the metal detectors that nearly all were required to pass through.

Clutching the handle, you looked around for your contact, searching for her obnoxious bright red hair. Before you could notice someone running behind you, you felt an impact against your back. It nearly made you throw a punch, but you were able to see her head notched into your neck before you made the mistake. Smiling, you laughed and turned around, hugging her to keep the act going. Her honey-colored eyes stared into yours as the both of you pulled away, but kept close physical contact.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other," she smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist, "and I must add that's one delicious form you've taken."

You chuckled at the redhead, remembering how much you hated her personality, "Might I remind you that I am a minor."

"A minor that can shapeshift into a very scrumptious adult," she smirked, removing her hand from your waist, "but I know my boundaries."

She led you through a corridor away from the TSA infested area of the airport. The sound of your footsteps reverberated through the hall, making you scan the area cautiously. From what you memorized of the blueprints of the airport, you were heading back to the loading dock, and your plan did not include going there.

"Is there a bathroom somewhere I can go before we leave?" you asked, looking around. "The coffee is kicking in."

"Don't worry, assassin, they think you're taking a private jet in the opposite direction," she stated, continuing forward. "Your plan worked, but we needed to take a more subtle route to our flight."

You didn't like the change in your plans, but even you knew that she was telling the truth. The Mya you knew wouldn't sell a customer out, especially if the customer could snap her neck before she could realize it, but that didn't mean that this was Mya.

"How's your brother and sister?" you asked, remaining behind her.

"They're okay, Gram is still in college and Grace dropped out, she's focusing on the family business currently," she replied, turning around. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

You shrugged, glaring down at her, "Because Grace is dead, you were the one who asked me to kill her, remember?"

Before she could react, you had her pinned against the wall, using your weight to keep her there. One hand held her own down while the other had her neck in its grip, squeezing just enough to make sure she wouldn't try anything.

"Who's helping my father, telepath?" you questioned her, squeezing tighter.

She dropped her disguise, revealing herself to be Miss Martian and telling you everything you needed. Without hesitation, you released her and let her fall to the ground. You ran a hand through your hair, frustrated beyond belief.

"How did they find me?" you asked yourself pacing around, completely ignoring the incapacitated Martian beneath you. "This chase needs to end right now, I can't stand this frustrating goose chase."

Rubbing your face, you sighed and glanced at the Martian, examining her while she tried to recover her breath. She was a white Martian, which was rather odd all things considering. You couldn't remember if they were outcasts of Mars or something else, but you didn't care at the moment.

"Are they waiting for me at the exit?" you asked, watching as she nodded 'yes'. "Well, I better go greet them."

Continuing down the corridor, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was about to occur. There had to be more than one hero helping them out, there definitely had to be. You had to admit you were slightly surprised that heroes would help the Outlaws, but who were you to judge the heroes' choices. They're always going off about 'discovering your better self' and 'forgiveness is always an option if you mean it' or however it's phrased.

You didn't believe in that crap, and you knew that if someone was trying to kill you, you wouldn't be given those options. You were too dangerous to be kept alive, too dangerous to be around potential loved ones when all you had to hear was a few code words to make you lose control and kill those around you. You couldn't risk that, especially when Talia al-Ghul has a thing for your father's family, your adoptive grandfather if you can even call him that.

You resisted the urge to pull out your weapon as you got closer the exit, making it more difficult to keep your nerves on edge. As soon as you rounded the corner, the three Outlaws could be clearly seen blocking the doorway.

"Unpleasant to see you three again," you stated calmly, examining your surroundings. "Where are the other junior heroes?"

"Somewhere around," your father replied coolly. "Now, are you going to come with us consciously or unconsciously?"

"I was expecting to explain everything before you'd make that decision for me," you answered, remaining vigilant. "If I come with you, death will follow. The League of Assassins will see it as an opportunity to weaken its enemies, and I will not be able to stop them from doing so. So, if you value your lives and the ones around you, I suggest you let me disappear and let go whatever semblance of fatherly instinct you developed. I'm not yours, I wasn't raised by you, I wasn't taught to love or look up to you, we just share a genetic code."

You waited for a response, some sort of reaction from your father, but you couldn't identify anything from his body language. His red helmet obscured his face, which gave him the upper hand in this current situation.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, your frustration grew exponentially as his silence continued, "Are you going to just stand there, or actually respond to me?"

He stepped forward, making your hand instinctively go for your weapon, "The League can't touch you, (Y/N), we'll make sure of it."

"You can't be serious," you said, nearly laughing at his statement. "They are everywhere, no matter how secure it is. If they aren't affiliated with them, they are being blackmailed or have their families on a watch. They know how to break anyone, hell, they broke the great Batman many times."

"I am not Batman," he nearly growled, "and the League will have to go through me to get to you."

"This is exactly what they want," you sighed, knowing what would transpire in the future if you went with them.

Arsenal stepped forward, patting your father on the shoulder before looking in your direction, "Listen, kid, we'll make some precautions if that will ease your conscience. Even if it happens, we'll be able to deal with it."

Gritting your teeth, you punched the wall beside you, punching through to the next room. You retracted your hand and sighed, your anger contained for the moment. Thinking about your other options, you could escape them once again, but they would find you again and again. Dusting off your hand, you stomped toward the three adults and walked past them.

"Let's go before I change my mind," you huffed, hoping that you would not regret your decision in the future.

[afandomroom]

Partners in Crime: Asher fact file

Note- This file contains his canon, RP, and future story information. I will mostly be talking about his canon storyline, however anything that differs in the rp storyline I will be writing at the end of the file. Warning- Brief mention of abandonment and neglect. I never go in detail, but it's there

Edit - fixed a couple things

Full Name- Asher Francis Woodman Birthday- Doesn’t know, goes by January 1st Age: Canon- 19 Search History (rp) - 22 Future- 27 Hometown- N/A (Blood) Family- Thalia Woodman (Mother) (Found) Family- Sage Brooks (Younger sister figure), Marion Nettle (Younger brother figure) (Future) Family- Willow Woodman (Daughter), Cedar Woodman (Daughter), Katlyn Woodman (Wife) Hair- White, to his shoulders, is often pulled into a messy man bun or ponytail Eyes- Dark blue Height- 6”2’

Canon Story- Asher grew up constantly on the move with his “Mother”. She never seemed to care much, and Asher lived with very little restrictions or care. One day, this negligence hit a peak, when his “Mother” decided to leave Asher behind. He was only 8 at the time, and the shock of abandonment resulted in…certain bitterness towards people to take place. He had a “look out for number one” and “I don’t need parents” mentality. This, added with his temper and tendency to lash out, caused him to be alone for a couple years. After two years of wandering and being a lone wolf, Asher found himself in a village with a stone wolf statue in the center. He was looking around, minding his own business, grabbing wallets to pay for his next meal…when he spotted a groups of village kids. He almost paid them no mind, when something caught his eye. In the center of the group, was a small, whimpering street girl. She was being pushed around, teased, so on. For some reason, this caused a change. He felt a need to protect this stranger, and he was seeing red. Rushing over, he fought off the bullies. Later that night, Asher was being chased by a pair of skeletons when the village was attacked by the skeleton horde. He…may have teased them, you can’t prove anything. Just as he thought he was corned, Asher found himself being yanked under a porch, by the small girl he’d saved earlier. The girl introduced herself as Sage, and they both spent the night under that porch, hiding from the horde. The next day, confused as to why he was deciding to protect and help this girl, Asher offered to teach Sage how to live on the streets. They would be partners, relying on each other to survive. They traveled from village to village; pick pocketing and stealing from stall owners. When Asher was 12, he managed to get a job. A thief named Ronin was willing to hire them for their help on a job (Note: not rp canon). While Sage was reluctant, Asher was eager. In an attempt to protect him, Sage joined despite her reluctance, which Asher was quietly glad for. This started Asher’s long life of crime. Ronin (Not rp canon) hired them for a couple more jobs and passed their name onto some clients and fellow thieves. They made quite the name for themselves, well known in the underground as the “Partners in Crime”. Kind of cheesy and cliché, but eh, what you going to do. During the SOG take over, Asher was supportive-ish of Sage’s attempts to help the people of Ninjago. However, he couldn’t deny that it was dangerous, and he often tried to convince Sage to stop and just hide. One day, Sage brought a kid she rescued, home, much to Asher’s surprise. The kid introduced himself as Marion, and unbeknownst to him, he was an EM. Asher did his best to be a supportive and protective figure for Marion. He always tried to keep the kid smiling, and even tried teaching him how to use a katana…a skill he had no experience in. (This next part isn’t Rp canon) Three years later, Sage ended up helping a young man with a green hair streak hide from a group of muggers. She invited him to hide at their home for a while, and he ended up joining the group. He introduced himself as Morro. Morro never took on any thieving jobs, choosing to freelance with lifting and loading jobs instead. He also helped mentor Marion on his element and taught him to be a ninja. He and Asher got along great, often being a pair of reckless idiots together. Asher’s future- When he turns 25, Asher proposes to Katlyn (long time girlfriend at that point) and officially leaves the crime life to settle down with her. He works as a cook in a ramen shop, with the occasional smaller crime job to help boost their income. Rp storyline changes: Ronin isn’t the thief that introduces Sage and Asher to the life of crime. A thief named Seth did. Asher leaves the life of crime at the age of 22 to provide Marion with a more normal life and to make Sage happy. Asher has yet to meet Morro and he does not join the Partners in Crime This hasn’t been brought up yet, but he and Sage did not help kidnap Zane in rp universe The SOG never attempted to hire them in RP universe They never stole Borg tech in the RP universe I…think that’s it? Season by Season: Season 1- Asher meets Sage Asher and Sage were in a village that was attacked by the Skeleton Horde He was in Jamanakai with Sage when Lloyd first attempted to raid the place for candy. Season 2- Asher and Sage continue their partnership, their loyalty and trust has grown quite a bit. Season 3- Asher and Sage begin their lives in crime One of the jobs Ronin hired them for was keeping an eye out while he grabbed Zane. Season 4- Somewhere between 3 and 4, Ronin recommended Asher and Sage to Chen Clouse was the one who offered the job to the partners. Sage convinced Asher to not take the job Later, they were in one of the towns ransacked by the cultists Season 5- Asher and Sage begin to consider themselves siblings They were in Styx when the ninja attempted to steal from Ronin. Asher Soul Archer shoot at Ronin.

Season 6- With the ninja’s rise in fame, stealing becomes both harder and easier. On one hand, they’re too busy to come after them. On the other, cops were alerting them to every crime. Asher and Sage end up laying low. Season 7- When Borg disappears; Asher and Sage are given the job of stealing his tech. Season 8- The SOG gives Asher and Sage a job offer. Steal an Oni mask. Sage talks Asher out of it The SOG doesn’t like them Season 9 – Asher lies low, and tries to convince Sage to not fight the SOG Sage saves Marion and brings him to her place Season 10- Sage, Asher, and Marion hide in an underground bunker during the oni attack Season 11- Sage, Asher, and Marion were not in the city during Aspheera’s attack. Rather, they were trying to remove Marion’s vengestone cuffs. They spent the rest of the season try to help Marion with his abilities. Season 12- Asher and Marion get dragged out of the city by Sage after she hears about the video game disappearances Later that year, Sage meets Morro

Facts: - Has a bit of a temper issue and pretty much used to hate everyone. A lot of that changed when he met Sage, since his focus became protecting her and he became determined to be better for his sister. - Taught himself to use a knife - Stole his retractable knives from Ronin - His strong suit is melee and hand to hand combat. While Sage is watching his back, he’s throwing punches. - Favorite drink is Mountain Dew, favorite food is ramen - His kill count is 10 - He can pick locks, but not as well as Sage...literally anything but handcuffs, he can pick anything but handcuffs. - Has never been in a jail, interrogation room, or holding cell for more than an hour (*cough* he breaks out *cough*) - Learned to drive a car and ride a motorcycle at 16. A fellow thief for hire taught Asher and Sage. - Uses fake names on jobs, gives cops fake names, and goes under a fake name for things like her driver’s license, id, and other such things. Currently his “name” is Mason Baker. - “Mason Baker” has a completely clean slate and no jail records. - Sage dragged him into the library and forced him to research and study with her. - Gets a matching ring tattoo with Katlyn when he’s 22. - Is the only cook in his family - Loves to cook, often trying new recipes and making his own in his spare time

- Is allergic to watermelon