#my one gripe with the game is that I can’t hug my friends PLEASE LET ME HUG EVERYONE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

A Great Treasure

(Jaskier just constantly getting kidnapped by dragons and dressed real pretty? Yeah. I’m into it.)

tw: gratuitous, almost My Immortal levels of outfit description because I am A Ho For The Look, dragons being horny, Geralt being soft as fuck but also kinda horny

---

The next dragon that took Jaskier wasn’t nearly as sneaky. Nor was it green. The great, sapphire-blue reptile swooped down above the road in broad daylight and plucked the surprised bard up with its great talons, disappearing over the tops of the trees before Geralt could so much as think to pull his sword. The Witcher heard Jaskier’s startled cry echo out over the forest and urged Roach into a canter. He departed from the beaten path and took off in the same general direction the creature had been headed. “It hasn’t even been three full fucking weeks yet. Fuck.”

Hello, Jaskier! I’m a friend of Etheid’s, the dragon introduced herself. The draconic method of telepathic communication still bothered the bard a little but the blue dragon’s voice seemed more sing-song than Etheid’s had been. Certainly more feminine. Call me Lythos, or Lyth for short.

“Nice to meet you, Lythos,” Jaskier muttered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. “Let’s talk more when we’re on solid ground, yeah?”

Afraid of heights, bardling?

“Just a smidgen of a little bit.”

Worry not, we’re nearly to my tower.

“Another tower?”

Whatever happened to talking on solid ground?

“I’ve been kidnapped by two dragons in one month. I’m curious.”

I doubt this will be the last time you’re kidnapped by a dragon, either. Not until one of my brethren gives up during their turn or loses the bet.

“Their turn? What bet?! What are you talking about?”

I will explain the situation to you more fully when we land. There is much to be discussed. Many things to plan. Many rules to be determined and recorded for the others.

Jaskier sighed, glad he’d left his lute tied to Roach’s saddlebags today, and let himself be carried off to yet another strange adventure. “So you guys are just going to keep swooping in and stealing me away like this because it’s fun?”

Yes. And because Borch said that you and Geralt are kind-hearted and friendly mortals. We dragons don’t meet many such humans in our travels; we’d like to reward you somehow.

“So you’re rewarding me by kidnapping me?”

That’s why we included the second part of the deal, with the elaborately designed outfits. It’s not just because we enjoy collecting treasures from all over the Continent and squirreling them away to play with later; it’s also our form of payment to you. If you’re dressed from head to toe in silk and gold when Geralt rescues you then there’s no time to stop and take those items off before you ‘escape’. You can keep them or sell them; anything you are given by one of us should be considered payment for services rendered.

“And the service that Geralt and I are providing is...entertainment?”

Correct. It would be unfair to use up so much of a Witcher’s time without paying him.

“You’d be surprised how many people do that, actually,” Jaskier griped. “Village after village, turning him away without payment just because he’s a mutant and a freak. It’s horrible!”

Now you understand why my kin are so desperate for something good in the world. The love between you and Geralt is pure and strong, that is the other reason we chose the two of you.

Jaskier blushed. “We’re just a couple of flimsy mortals that happened to bump into each other and get along. Most of the time. It’s a very human thing to do. There are other couples in need of some emotional urging, if you’re looking to orchestrate a romance.”

No, we wish only to further yours. Now, would you care to look through the clothes I’ve gathered? We have at least another day before your Witcher finds us.

“Less than a day if he chooses not to pause for meditation, the fool.”

He will not risk losing you, Lythos sighed happily. I checked in on him earlier; he is meditating and gathering his strength. He has admitted his love for you now and is determined to prove himself. How dreamy.

“That is absolutely precious! Ugh, I love him so much.”

Then let us make you lovely, so that when he arrives he is doubly excited to see you.

“I can’t argue with that logic. Not from such an ancient and wise creature.”

Flattery gets you everywhere, bard, Lythos teased. She huffed out a thin cloud of steam and Jaskier chuckled in return.

“I know.”

---

“Are you kidding me?”

Absolutely not, the dragon shook its snout. Try them on. Unless you don’t like it, of course; I have other options, too.

“No, it’s all very lovely. It’s just...I get to keep them?”

Of course. I don’t want to make you change your clothes in the middle of Geralt’s daring rescue. That would totally ruin the romance!

“I suppose that would be rather odd. Even Geralt might catch on to something like that.” Jaskier held clothes the dragon had preferred in his hands, glancing once more at the suggested shirt. “What exactly is this supposed to be?”

It’s a tunic, of course. What else could it possibly be?

The bard gesticulated towards the dragon, holding the apparent tunic out for inspection as if he was shocked or surprised by Lyth’s choice. “It’s completely sheer!”

Yes, and it will make you look so very delicate, Lythos urged. Just try it on with the pants. Just once. You can change if you don’t like it, like I said. There’s a whole closet of costumery at your disposal, Jaskier.

The bard sighed and pulled the pants on first. They were made of a deep, peacock blue silk and hugged him in all the right places. He turned back and forth, observing their fit in the full-length mirror Lythos had provided. His legs were defined but the material wasn’t overly tight; it hadn’t bunched up near his thighs or ass like silk of this kind usually did. “Were these tailored to fit me?”

Yes, they were.

“How? I’ve only been here for a few hours and you pulled these directly from the armoire!”

Etheid passed along your measurements to the rest of us so that we could better prepare.

“Right, of course. Dragons. Bets. All that fun stuff,” the bard sighed. He tugged the gossamer shirt down over his head and tucked it neatly into the waistband of his high-waisted trousers. Jaskier glanced towards the mirror again and discovered that he looked...he looked amazing.

The shirt had been designed with a low, swooping neckline that revealed both his collarbones and a good portion of his chest. The thin, almost translucent white material left whatever the shirt did cover still almost entirely visible. When he blushed it could be rather obviously traced all the way down to his mid-chest. The giddy bard mussed his hair a little and did his best pouting ‘rescue me’ face; oh yes, that’s the way to do it.

Jaskier looked downright sinful.

“You are absolutely brilliant, Lythos! Geralt is going to lose his mind when he sees me in this ensemble.”

So you’ll wear it?

“This particular outfit is my new favorite. I’ll have to wait until the next dragon shows up before we can turn a profit from this whole bard-napping melodrama venture.”

There is always the jewelry. I can give you a few extra pieces to sell since you love the clothes so much; I have too much of the stuff sitting around and collecting dust anyway.

“Would you like it if I let you choose all my jewelry? I’m afraid I tend to go a bit overboard.”

Yes, yes! The dragon huffed happily, filling the space briefly with a cloud of steam. I have temporary earrings and bracelets and necklaces. I even have anklets if you so desire.

“Goody!” the bard rejoiced. “I love anklets! I never have good enough reason to wear them, though. This will be lovely. Do you mind if I roll the pants up to my knees? Geralt does so love the sight of my bare skin. I think it would drive him absolutely mad if we showed a little ankle for the Witcher.”

Please do whatever you see fit, my friend, Lythos insisted. You must sparkle for your White Wolf. You must look the part of the treasure he seeks to find!

“Ah, so I’m a treasure this time instead of a damsel?”

Hmm, yes. I think that makes it more interesting. What kind of treasure would you like to be?

“Geralt’s,” the bard breathed dreamily. The large, winged reptile rolled her eyes and huffed again.

Duh, that’s the point. I meant like...pirate treasure? A king’s treasure? I’ve never done roleplay before. Mostly just burning down the houses of rude nobles and kidnapping some princesses upon request. I’m not incredibly familiar with human treasure.

“Oh! I could be your hoard!”

You’re brilliant! Of course! This will be so fun. What if you laid in my tail when Geralt arrived? Like I was guarding you?

“Well then how would he get me away without hurting you?”

I could make him give a speech? Woo you away from me with your words?

“Oh, that’s very clever. Very dramatic. I love it!”

We do make a good team, I think.

“Do you have any makeup? This look would be excellent with some eyeliner.”

You are definitely as entertaining and fun as Etheid promised. I’m sure that Aramaris will enjoy you just as much.

“Wait, who’s Aramaris?”

They chose the next lot after me. Then, after Aramaris has their turn, Vertos would like a chance to partake.

“Hold on a minute. There’s a waiting list of dragons who want to kidnap me?”

And see Geralt come running to your aid, yes. It is rather sweet to watch and we are all very bored. We’re going to see who can make you the prettiest and get Geralt the most worked up.

“So this is just a game to you?”

As I said before, it is both a game and a legitimate matchmaking endeavor. Additionally, we’re compensating you for your time and trouble.

“I suppose,” Jaskier agreed. “Plus this outfit is absolutely to die for.”

Yes, and now to the makeup!

---

Geralt was very confused and very tired. He had tracked the dragon through the woods to yet another ancient, dilapidated tower. Jaskier was hidden at the top, no doubt, probably terrified out of his mind. This was the second dragon to capture his idiot bard in a fucking month, though the first time had been extremely unorthodox. Just plain odd, really, considering Geralt’s previous experiences.

Oh well, nothing he could do now except climb the tower and rescue Jaskier.

---

Jaskier was waiting for his Witcher to arrive while reclining within the coil of Lythos’s enormous blue tail His pants were only a half-shade brighter than her scales and the contrast was remarkably artistic (perhaps by design). The bard was barefoot and his pants were rolled up to just below the knee. Lyth had insisted on decking him out in lots of jewelry since Jaskier was to be her supposed hoard. It will be more realistic and believable if you’re dripping with silver and sapphires, bard. He found himself unable to argue with her logic once again.

Jaskier had a handful of thin silver bands around one ankle, a silver cuff around his left wrist, and another bejeweled cuff at the top of his left bicep, beneath the shirt. Lythos had added a thin silver chain around his neck, which fell to just above his chest hair and ended with a teardrop shaped sapphire pendant. Some kind of crushed gemstone powder had been dusted atop his collarbones and into his hair, making him seem to sparkle in the midday sun. He’d added a light, smudged layer of kohl around his eyes to widen and darken them like he had once at court. The dragon had also demanded that he slide several rings of various styles and sizes onto his long, tapered fingers. It will draw his attention to your hands, she explained. You will thank me tonight, I’m sure.

That suggestion had Jaskier blushing brightly and Lythos had nearly snorted fire from laughing so hard at the young man’s reaction.

Here he comes! She announced, bringing Jaskier’s back to the present. His blue eyes fixated on the thick wooden door that led from the chamber where Lythos lay curled and ‘guarding’ him to the bedchamber where he’d stayed the last two nights. Very shortly after her announcement there was a determined grunt, a heavy thud, and the door crashed open to reveal Geralt.

The Witcher was breathing heavily and his nostrils were flared but he wasn’t wearing his armor. He hadn’t been wearing it last time, either, and Jaskier wondered if he was already onto their little charade. “You know I won’t win if we battle,” Geralt admitted, staring across the room at the lounging dragon.

His eyes flickered to Jaskier for a moment, widened when they took in the bard’s appearance, and then returned to staring down the monster.

I don’t intend to fight you, Witcher, Lythos said, projecting her bored words into both of their minds. Jaskier knew that she was faking the cold disinterest but his heart still picked up speed when one of her large claws hooked beneath his chin and raised him into a slightly taller sitting position. Though I suspect that you’ve come to take back my newest treasure and I am loathe to let it go so soon.

The Witcher nodded, unable to form words. He was nervous for the life of his bard but he was also slightly distracted by the way Jaskier was being forced to arch his neck and tilt his head that way. The bard looked so fucking breakable and soft, surrounded by scales and held partially aloft by such a strong and pointed appendage. His eyes were wide and completely focused on the Witcher, his own peril seemingly irrelevant even as he gasped against the scraping claw. Geralt shook his head to clear it and narrowed his eyes even more. “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s my treasure, Lythos hummed dismissively. I will do with the human lad as I please. Go away, Witcher, and leave us to play.

“He’s not a toy,” Geralt growled. He reached for his sword and cursed when his hand swiped through empty air. He knew bringing a weapon up so many flights of stairs was pointless but he still should have kept it on him for safety. Jaskier made a gentle, nervous noise and the Wicher flinched. “Please don’t hurt him!”

You would barter for the human? For his safe return?

“Take me instead,” Geralt offered. He held his hands up in surrender and took a slow step forward. Lythos lowered Jaskier back down to his lazily reclined position and raised her scaly brow. The bard was shocked; he hadn’t been expecting the Witcher to do something so drastic right away. He’d anticipated some kind of argument first.

You would sacrifice yourself for him? Trade yourself to me in order to save him?

“Of course,” the Witcher scoffed. Lythos could hear his slow heartbeat starting to accelerate. “I love him. I’d do anything for him.”

Hmm. Little treasure, what do you think?

“I can’t let him do that for me. He’s a Witcher, I am merely a traveling bard. The world has more need for him than it does for me.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt half-whimpered. A pleading tone bled into his words as he took another step forward, this time towards the bard, “You foolish man. I know you. You’d grow bored here. You’d grow antsy to travel. You’d try to escape and you’d get yourself hurt or killed or...”

I protect what is mine, the dragon interrupted. He will be safe here. I will keep him happy and entertained.

“Please,” the Witcher sighed. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head forward, white hair falling in a curtain around his ridiculously attractive face. “Jaskier was the first good thing Destiny ever did for me. I can’t lose him.”

I have seen into your heart and know these feelings to be true, Lythos intoned. She spoke as if she was making a very difficult decision and not sticking to a vague pre-determined script. You may take the bard and go, but you must hurry. I may change my mind.

Jaskier clambered out from between the coils of her massive tail and allowed Geralt to sweep him up into those strong, stable arms. He clung to the Witcher’s neck and buried his face to hide his smile. Lythos said her final goodbye to the bard alone; I hope my kin treat you fairly. If they do not, let me know, and I shall take care of it. Thank you for the lovely time.

“Thank YOU,” Jaskier mouthed.

And then they began to descend the winding tower staircase.

---

“I hope I never see another dragon again in my life except for maybe Borch,” Geralt panted, urging Roach into a slightly faster canter.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, smiling a little to himself. “Running into another dragon so soon after two nearly identical kidnappings would be very strange.”

#geraskier fic #geraskier #like 2.5k words i think #soft geralt #geraskier ficlet #in league with dragons #protective geralt #the dragons treat jaskier like a paper doll #let's dress up the bard #and mess with the witcher #that'll be fun #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #ooooh boy #in league with dragons pt 2 #we've kidnapped the bard so now what #how many will it take before geralt realizes something is up?#inhuman jaskier

192 notes · View notes

straynstay · 4 years

Text

Minho - Hybrid AU! (part II)

Happy Easter, everyone! 🐰♥️

part I

for the first time in years you skipped class

all because of your conflicting feelings for Minho

you are still too fragile to see him and Chaewon at school, especially after what happened at the parking lot

seeing them together and so intimate with cute pet names made you realize there’s no room for you anymore

Minho is growing up and becoming an adult, and so are you, and soon society will pressure you both to find a mate

and you know a prey won’t choose a predator to spend the rest of their lives with

so it’s better to end things with Minho now

that’s why you avoided him when he showed up at your house to check up on you after school

you heard him ringing the bell and calling your name, which only made you cry harder, but you remained in bed

he came back when your parents were home, and even with your mom asking you to at least see what he wanted, you fiercely denied

Minho left his class notes with your mom, and at night you cried with the papers pressed onto your chest

you woke up feeling a little better in the morning, despite your eyebags and swollen eyes ruining your face

you placed a cool towel over your eyes 10 minutes before leaving to school and you hoped that would help somehow

walking to school without Minho was weird, but you said to yourself you’d soon get used to it

from today on, Minho would become like any other prey to you

it’s time to remove him completely from your life and you’re ready to do it

-♡-

school days were dreadful

but ignoring Minho was easier than you had imagined though

after he noticed you were being cold and distancing yourself from him, he took the hint and left you alone right away

and it hurt

a lot

because without you around, Chaewon was even more glued to his side

and even though you tried to avoid certain places you knew they’d be at, you still saw them sometimes

walking around together, holding hands, eating vegetables and feeding each other at the cafeteria, laughing at stupid things, being the damn perfect couple you wish you’d be

but since your pain is your own, you never opened your mouth to complain about it to anyone

you just tried to shrug it off and move on, washing away all the pent up anger on the field

and everyone at school was really impressed at how good you were playing lacrosse lately, making them hope for the victory this year

and before you could dwell even more on your self pity, saturday arrived

the big day

the revenge match

you were nervous, excited, worried, angry, and heartbroken

but you were decided to play like your life depend on it

maybe you could become your school’s star player and get a nice scholarship afterwards if you give your best at the game tonight

so you set your mind to focus only on the game and make your team and school proud of you

since the match would be held at the rival school, you had a small gathering at your own school with your P.E. teacher and teammates

Minho was there with the cheerleaders rehearsing the choreography and chants for tonight’s game

you ignored him like you had been doing since tuesday

you even sat beside your coach on the school bus during the small trip to the rival school

the cheerleaders were too excited for your liking, but you didn’t say a thing, letting their chit chat numb your ears

as soon as you arrived, the team went straight to the designated locker room and got ready for the match

you were doing things automatically, barely paying attention to your surroundings

you put on your equipment, helped some of your teammates with theirs, and were ready to play

you waited with your team to be called to the field and when you got there, you were impressed by the amount of people on the bleachers cheering for your school

and then your eyes captured the place beside the field where the cheerleaders were

Minho looked really good with his tight uniform, and you were sure Chaewon had complimented him lots

you rolled your eyes realizing you were thinking about them again and went to your position

as soon as the judge blew the whistle, it was game on

-♡-

you were scoring like there’s no tomorrow, fighting hard to turn the game around

pretty much half of your team’s goals were yours

and everyone was going crazy chanting your name

but the one person your eyes quickly looked for was happily hugging someone else

Minho was spinning Chaewon’s small body around as if she was the one who was making the team win

and you couldn’t stand it

you really couldn’t

you wanted to rip them apart, growl as angrily as you could at Chaewon while showing your huge fangs to scare the shit out of her

but you just clenched your fists, letting your claws almost pierce through the thick fabric of your gloves

if it wasn’t for your mouthpiece, you’d probably let out a loud hiss

you shook your head, griped the stick harder, and decided to solely focus on the game

rage was freely flowing through your veins, boiling your blood and blinding your common sense

you’re gonna destroy anyone who stands in your way now

and you’re gonna take that damn trophy home

-♡-

it felt like waking up from a deep trance being lifted up by your teammates while the crowd chanted your name

it took you awhile to understand what had happened

but when you saw the scoreboard, realization hit you

you won!

you really won!!

it felt amazing raising the trophy up high while all the audience screamed for you

you felt like a celebrity after taking so many pics

a lot of people from your school came to congratulate and thank you for the victory

and it was all too good while it lasted

your heart was roaring inside your chest

you can actually get used to this feeling of being praised for being fierce and untammed

after it all ended, you and your teammates went to the locker room to shower and get changed

you were still being the main topic of their conversation

you heard everything they said you did on the last minutes of the match, but you don’t really remember doing it

you were so blinded by anger that you can’t even recall the rest of the game

but it’s okay cause you won

and that’s all that matters, right?

once you slowly started removing your equipment, you realised how sore you were

your arms felt like jelly, your legs were ugly bruised, your shoulders hurt from all the impact

your ears were ringing from all the screaming and your eyes were sensitive due to the huge spotlights on the field

you just wanted to throw yourself in bed and sleep for three days straight

you put away your equipment in your bag and took your body wash to the shower

it was a quick shower since you couldn't make most of the movements now

so you just washed away the sweat, dried yourself the best your arms allowed you, and started to put on new clothes to go home

“we’re already going to the bus, want us to take your bag?” the captain asked and you agreed

you checked if your equipment was complete in your huge bag, and handed it to your teammates

“I’m finishing, I’ll be out in a sec” you said and heard them telling you to take your time and that they’ll wait for the star of the team to carry the trophy to school

you just laughed at their comments and continued to get dressed

you tried brushing your hair, but your shoulders said no

so you just used water to fix them a little bit

you were so focused on your own pain that you didn’t notice Minho was inside the lockers room staring at you

but once you did, all the emotions you were suppressing came back like a tsunami

and it felt like drowning

“preys aren’t allowed here, go away” you let out an angry growl at him

“you don’t scare me, but nice try” Minho gave you two thumbs up

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” you screamed, tired of having wrong feelings for him

“what happened to you? why are you like this?” Minho took a step closer, but you raised your voice again

“you happened to me, Minho! this is all your fault!”

“what?!” he snared “what did I do?” he crossed his arms staring intensely at you

you got defeated while looking back at him

four days being apart and nothing changed, it only made you miss him like crazy

he was really clueless, wasn’t he?

“what did you do?” you asked tiredly

“you talked to me, Minho, you became my lab partner” you gave him a bitter smile remembering that fateful day

“why couldn't you just be afraid like everyone else?” you inquired through your tears

“I know it's my fault falling in love, but please leave me alone until I get over these feelings for you… please” you never sobbed before in your life, but because of Minho now you did

“no” his answer was firm

“Minho, go” you said again using your intimidating tone

any prey would have ran away for dear life, but Minho didn’t even budge

he did, in fact, approached you slowly, but before he was too close, you backed out

Chaewon was coming, you could smell her sweet scent from the distance

“Minho?” she was calling for him outside the lockers room and she was distressed, you could sense it

“she’s worried about you” you warned, turning your back to him and pretending to still fix your hair

“she has nothing to worry about” Minho replied

“you’re a bunny, I’m an angry lynx, it makes sense to me”

“you're a lynx, yeah, but you're also my best friend and I'm the one who's worried here”

you tried muffling a mewl, but hearing Minho calling you best friend hurt like hell

Chaewon called him louder this time

“go” you closed your eyes, forcing some tears to roll down to your chin

your chest was aching like there was a fire rapidly consuming your heart

and then you heard his footsteps moving away from you

Minho did what you asked him to and left you alone

you sighed loudly, but quickly closed your lips together to avoid sobbing

you were feverish, enraged, sad, disheartened, shaking, ready to lose control

this was all new to you, never in your life your emotions were so over the top

but this is Minho’s effect on you

you just want this feelings to leave you alone, to go away

you rest your head on your locker a little too forcefully, producing a loud bang that echoed through the room

you did it again, hitting your forehead a little bit stronger this time

and again

every time the bang was louder and louder

“you’re gonna get bruised”

“Minho....” you whined hearing him talking to you

he was back, you couldn’t believe it

you turned your head to look at him and tell him to go away again

“I’m not leaving you, don’t even try” he warned reading your intentions in your desperate eyes

“I’m really angry” you said

“I’m not worried about it, I know you’re not gonna hurt me because I trust you and because I know you love me too much to even consider causing me pain”

his words made you cry harder

he was right

Minho noticed you wouldn’t reply, so he got one step closer

he sighed

“but you know... I love you too and I’m hating seeing you like this, so if your pain is because of Chaewon and I, you shouldn’t be suffering”

you scoffed

how dare he say this after all you’ve seen and heard?

“hear me out, ok? I like her, but I don’t like her” Minho quickly explained

“I like her as a bunny, but I don’t like her like romantically even though she’s a bunny and my natural choice of a partner, but who cares about natural selection? we’re made in a lab, there’s nothing natural about it” he shrugged

“I feel like she’s part of my litter. I never met a Mini Lop before, so it’s nice to be around one of my own” he took another step closer

“but not as nice and thrilling like being around you” Minho gave you side smile

“I like living life dangerously, and you keep me high on adrenaline all the time like... will you eat me for breakfast? will you marinate me for dinner instead? should I run now or wait a minute more?” he teased

“shut up” you rolled your eyes

“make me” Minho provoked you, and you moved in the blink of an eye

your lips collided with his in a strong, angry kiss

you felt your entire body buzzing with adrenaline for tasting him after waiting for so long

you pulled him closer and grabbed his neck to deepen the kiss

Minho didn’t fight back and for the first time he actually behaved like a prey with you

you felt yourself getting too excited about it all: his submissive scent, his addicting taste, his soft lips, his hands gripping your hips, his hot body against yours...

and in the heat of the moment you ended up with his lower lip between your sharp teeth

Minho hissed and you broke the kiss, running your thumb across his lip to see if you had hurt him too much

“sorry” you said “I got carried away”

“I don’t mind some love bites here and there” he winked seductively at you

“Chaewon will try to stab me if I hurt you somehow, she likes you waaay too much” you rolled your eyes smiling a bit, feeling somehow a lot more calmer and at ease than before while caressing his long fluffy ears

“she may like me, but I like you and that’s the only thing that matters” Minho stated

“will you give me a cute nickname now?” you asked

“yeah, mine” he smiled brightly “how does that sound?”

“oddly perfect”

#HOPE YOU LIKED IT #♥️♥️♥️♥️#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids hybrid au #stray kids hybrid #lee know #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know hybrid #lee know hybrid au #minho scenario #minho imagines #minho hybrid au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop hybrid au

610 notes · View notes

oddlyhale · 3 years

Text

My Honest Opinion On Clover

[ Note: this is not me promoting hate. I just need to get this off my chest because this has been bothering me for quite some time after V8. This is also a major rambling diary entry. ]

So, just to be honest, but Qrow really should have spent time with James more than Clover.

And I'm not saying this because I think Clover and the Ace Ops are a huge waste of time, but because... well yes, I think the Ace Ops are a waste of time.

But also, after what happened in V8, what is the point of the Ace Ops even being introduced? Retroactively, V7 means nothing after V8. Everything established was for not, and even the stupid team tension was a waste of energy spent on nothing.

I have my own gripe on the new group of characters that were introduced in V7 - the Happy Huntresses are more than worthless, in my opinion - but it felt like it was just pointless.

And to be more honest, Clover was an OK character. Bland as plain bread, but filling. He was purposely created as that wedge between Qrow's development and trying to be more interactive with the story, and his thoughts. But without Qrow, Clover really has no purpose being in the story. They'd have to take him back to the writing room and figure out a new purpose, or simply ax him.

Technically yes, they axed him, but at the worse time.

In my opinion, Qrow and James should've been more than involved with each other during V7. Not spending time on some guy that happens to work for the General. Again, retroactively, it was all pointless to build all the tension between Qrow and Clover, because they just killed him anyway and gave Harriet the stress of crying over him instead.

[ Actually, why didn't they build up that relationship with Harriet? If she truly cared for him as she says in V8, then why wasn't that present in the previous volume? I'm not asking for Harriet and Clover to be in love or something, but CONVINCE us that Harriet really cared for the guy. As a role model or maybe a good friend, or let fans interpret what their relationship was. You can't just throw "boo hoo Harriet" at us and expect us - at the VERY last second - to accept it. That's mercilessly stupid. ]

I understand what they were trying to do with Clover. But, it didn't go through correctly. It was all surface-level and, AGAIN, all pointless in the end.

Qrow needs a friend that can be his beacon of hope, the newfound friendship that could spark Qrow's outlook in the world in a positive light. I have seen this type of character written before in a video game - and it was done with much more depth than looking at it on a superficial level.

That's what Clover was ultimately - superficial.

Which doesn't bring me pleasure to say, because I really do love these types of characters who are trying to help the depressed protagonist. I like what these hopeful characters can learn and also accept the flaws of the protag, and still work together to make things right, to make life easier to handle, and always have each other to lean on. But, Clover wasn't that.

This type of character that Clover was should not have been plastic positivity. To truly be the friend that Qrow needed, Clover would have to take much, MUCH more time and development to look at all the ugly parts of Qrow. Not just scars and some snippets of his drinking problem, but get into the nitty-gritty that has caused Qrow to be such a mess, to begin with. It's not a pretty experience, of course. Realizing how much darkness someone holds is sad and overwhelming for anyone, and it affects them greatly.

Clover should have been the guy that had to look at Qrow for who he was - not just shower him in all that "live, laugh, love," bullshit. And you know? You CAN have a character who greatly understands the hardships of being depressed and wants to help as much as they can, even if they will slowly reveal themselves to all the darkness that the person's been hiding. It's all a matter of having a great understanding of touchy topics like depression, having a sensitivity to problems that are in too deep, and helping Qrow be the better person he needs to be. Not just for himself, but for people around him.

What I mean by "Clover should have an understanding," I don't mean that little compliment he gave to Qrow in the truck.

I mean, he needs to also make himself vulnerable to his own problems. Giving Clover his own backstory about something that also caused him incredible pain can truly cement his understanding of why he wants to help Qrow. He could've lost a loved one tragically, but it's also not as typical as it sounds. It could be much more horrific than that, such as saying he lost his loved one to suicide or in some way that's become a reoccurring thing that haunts him (hell, make a Grimm that represents the lost loved one, it can create the vulnerability he has and it prompts Qrow to start trying to help now,) which caused him to become much more open-minded and helpful, and yet he doesn't overwhelm Qrow with being clingy or hopelessly in love, or being so plastic.

He just wants to be Qrow's friend.

Not only does Clover become a good friend, but he's the character that helps prompt Qrow to slowly start coming out of his shell and trying to be proactive more with his family and friends. Clover's influence has helped him try to be a better person, and while there are still bumps in the road for that process, he is getting there, and he eventually builds back up all that lost confidence that he once had in V3.

Clover would have served his purpose to the fullest extent when Qrow is in a better place. If I may say, this would be where Clover would have to die, but not in such a disrespectful way that the show did. It'd have to be heroic, accepting his death is something he's been thinking about for a while (a flaw he has,) and he has come to terms that he may die one day. But if he had to die, he would go out doing what was right.

If he had to sacrifice himself to save more people, then he should. He doesn't want to lose, even if he knows he won't live to see them survive. But that's been the risk he's been willing to take. And now, Qrow can accept that this is what's meant to be. One life taken to save so many more gives Qrow that deeper message of how much one person can make a grand difference.

So, Qrow can carry himself with heartache, but an ache that promotes his new change. He has days where he will be down and running low on his hope, but he knows he will get right back up and keep going.

But as it goes, Clover was incredibly bland and vanilla. He never had that depth that these hopeful characters should have. He wasn't enlightenment or wasn't the beacon that people looked to for hope. He was just there. And, I do get why people love Clover, because he does/did have the potential to be much more than plastic.

I just find it ridiculous that he happened to be good luck, and Qrow was bad luck. I don't like the idea of him "being the ideal version that Qrow wishes he was." That's not a positive thing, that just makes Qrow hate himself more than he should. He shouldn't wish he was a diet version of Captain America, he should be wanting to be a better version of himself that can do more than be bad luck.

If you MUST have Clover in the story, then I would suggest all the ideas above that I wrote out, but also, PLEASE don't make any romantic hints. If anything, love should be the last thing on Qrow's mind. The only love he should be having is for himself, and for his family that he's been ignoring for the entirety of V8. Relationships come last, everything else comes first.

But because this type of Navi (TLOZ) character takes such a long process to develop and get everybody on board with, they had to make Clover incredibly bland, and only make him interesting if Qrow was attached to his hip. That's not fair to either man.

And what I mean by James and Qrow being more involved with each other, I mean they had the build-up to do so. But the show was dumb enough to misfire and make their relationship worthless in the end.

James is in a weird place where he is constantly bottling himself up, only showing what he thinks others need to see: a direct and authoritative man. He refuses to be vulnerable. Qrow is almost twinning this behaviour, except he is simply refusing to show anything of himself. In a perfect world, these two can help each other come out of their shell.

Qrow knows James, despite that people say about him. He knows James is at the end of his rope with all the responsibilities piled onto him, and he knows James has been terribly alone. That hug signifies how grateful he is to have Qrow back in his life, and Qrow silently accepted that he was wanted. This was the perfect setup for both men to have that healing they both needed.

It won't be perfect, as we all know how messy both men are. But that's why it's worth the risk, to have both men face their fears together and stop hiding from what will burn them. Even if it's ugly to look at, their flaws are theirs that they have to take accountability for, not just constantly sweep them under the rug. In no way did the show give both men the opportunity to finally bond and be each others' friend. The show just decided we were dumb enough to forget all that.

And that's my stupid rambling.

#rwde #rambling

12 notes · View notes

omgjasminesimone · 5 years

Text

Juvenile Delinquents Part 4

Logan x MC

Previous Part: Part 3

Next Part: Part 5

Word Count: 3300

Author’s Note: I was super unmotivated to write this (which is why it’s been like 2 months since the last part), but then I sat down and wrote the whole thing in one sitting! So if it’s bad, that’s why.

“Hey! I was listening to that!” Mona complains, wheeling herself out from under the car she was working on.

“No one wants to hear that heavy metal shit.” Colt insists, turning up the radio now that he’s set it to West Coast hip hop.

“I really wish you had left for college.” Mona gripes.

Colt smirks at her. “You and my mom.”

“Would you guys focus? We have a lot of work to get through today.” Ximena insists, rolling herself out from under the truck she’s working on.

“Ughh, too much work.” Toby complains.

Logan rolls his eyes at all of them, intensely focused as he digs in the open hood of the expensive Maserati a wealthy athlete brought in yesterday night. He’s slightly startled when her arms wrap around his chest from behind, but he quickly relaxes into her embrace.

Ellie places a kiss to the skin just above the neck of his oil stained white t-shirt. Logan turns to face her, careful not to touch her with his hands covered in motor oil. Ellie’s arms move up to wrap around his neck, pulling him close.

She smiles up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” He returns, leaning down to kiss her. He means for it to be chaste, but Ellie deepens it, obviously not caring that they have an audience.

“Ughh, get a room.” Colt complains, tossing the magazine he was reading to the card table housing the radio.

Ellie bites down on Logan’s bottom lip softly before pulling away. “That’s not a bad idea, except that I’m heading out.” Ellie retorts, speaking to Colt but looking at Logan.

“Hanging out with Riya?” Logan asks

“No, me and Darius are going to go check out UCSD. It’s his number one pick for college.” Ellie explains.

“Nerd.” Mona insults, and Ellie turns to stick her tongue out playfully.

Ellie turns back to Logan. “I’ll be back later. But first, one more for the road.” She kisses him again, every bit as passionate as the first one. Logan instinctively starts to put his hands on her hips before he remembers that he doesn’t want to stain her clothes and stops himself. Ellie seems to sense his hesitation, so she firmly grips his wrists and places his oil covered hands on the back pockets of her denim skirt.

She pulls away and grins at him, twisting her head to check out her handy work. Two neat black hand prints adorn her backside. She winks at him over her shoulder after she turns around, giving him a view of his hand prints on her. “Something to remember you by.” She quips before she leaves.

Logan stares after her like a lovesick puppy, leaning against the Maserati.

“She’s been around an awful lot lately.” Kaneko’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t like this.

Logan clenches his jaw. He likes that Ellie likes to stay over. Waking up beside her in the loft is the best way to start his day. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to have guests.” He settles on as a response.

“...We wouldn’t want her to hear or see anything she shouldn’t.” Kaneko presses, eyes hard and daring Logan to retort.

“.....School starts next week, she’ll be too busy studying and filling out college applications to be here all the time.” Logan replies.

Kaneko nods, seemingly pleased with that response.

Logan turns back to the car, getting back to work. He’s been dreading the start of Ellie’s senior year. He’s going to miss her constant presence, but it’s probably for the best. She has a bright future, and he doesn’t want to drag her down. The more time she spends in the garage with career criminals, the more likely it becomes that he’ll ruin her.

...

A few weeks later

“Logan.”

Logan stretches his right arm as he wakes, his left arm wrapped loosely around Ellie. They have less space in her twin bed versus his queen at the loft, but he definitely doesn’t mind being all snuggled up with her.

“Happy birthday to you…” Ellie sings, giggling a little when he groans.

“Happy birthday to you…” she runs a hand through his messy morning hair.

“Happy birthday Dear Logan… happy birthday to you!” She concludes with a kiss to his bare chest.

Logan peels an eye open, looking up at Ellie as she grins down at him from her position resting her head on his chest. “How do you know it’s my birthday?” He certainly hadn’t told her. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to do so, since no one has ever cared about his birthday before.

She kisses him again, on the lips this time. “It’s a public record since you’re a juvenile delinquent and all. Just had to google your inmate number.”

“I thought my juvenile records were sealed.” Logan mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eye.

“They are. Your inmate number doesn’t connect to your name or picture or anything.” Ellie explains. “But don’t get into any more trouble, now that you’re 18 it’s big boy jail for you.” Ellie teases.

“....Does that make you jail bait?”

Ellie pauses to ponder that. “I guess technically, but you know I’d never turn you in. You better hope my dad never walks in on us though. He would definitely make sure you were prosecuted.”

Logan gulps. even though he knows Detective Wheeler is out of town this weekend. He only stays over at Ellie’s when there’s no chance of her father showing up.

They’ve seen less of each other since the school year started. Ellie studies a lot, and the Crew has had a lot of illegal jobs Logan can’t have Ellie around for. So when Ellie invited him over for the weekend, he jumped at the opportunity. He sleeps much better beside her.

Logan gently grasps the back of Ellie’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss. “You’re worth the potential jail time.”

It’s several long moments before Ellie pulls away. “Guess what I’ve got planned for today.” She reveals excitedly.

“Please don’t throw me a party.” Logan pleads.

Ellie frowns. “Why won’t you let me celebrate you?”

“I want to celebrate privately, just me and you Troublemaker, in bed.” Logan reveals, hands ghosting over her curves.

Ellie playfully swats his hands away, sitting up and throwing her t-shirt back on from the crumbled pile on the floor where Logan threw it last night. “There will be time for that later, but Riya, Darius, and your friends are all already coming over for your party this afternoon.”

Logan furrows his brow, sitting up as well. Ellie tosses him his shirt, and he reluctantly puts it on. “My friends? You mean the crew? They’re not my friends. They’re coworkers I get along with.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “They’re your friends, besides maybe Colt. But he’s coming too.”

...

Ellie spends the morning baking him a cake, and decorating the house for the party. Logan is overwhelmed by the amount of caring she’s putting into this. It’s an unfamiliar feeling for anyone to give a damn about him, and he tries not to let himself get too accustomed to it.

Eventually, Ellie’s friends and his coworkers arrive, with food and drinks. Considering how different their ‘friend’ groups are, they all get along surprisingly well.

They’re in the middle of a raucous game of Never Have I Ever, that Ellie was definitely about to lose (she never fails to surprise Logan, he’s learning some truly wild things about her from this game), when Colt gets a text message.

He exchanges looks with the rest of the crew. “Hey guys, it’s my dad. He needs help back at the shop.” Colt says shortly. It’s clearly not a shop thing, but a gang thing.

Logan taps Ellie’s thigh so she’ll slide off his lap, starting to get up from the lazy boy armchair to follow the rest of the crew.

“No way birthday boy, we’ve got this. Enjoy your party.” Ximena insists, hugging him warmly before she ushers the crew out the door, not giving him any chance to protest.

Ellie pouts. “We can’t have a party with only four people.”

Logan shrugs. “That’s three more than are usually present for my birthday party.”

“See? That’s just sad Logan. Now I’m making sure you get a real party. Darius, is Brent still having that thing tonight?” Ellie questions.

“Yep. The annual Brent Vandermeer back to school bash is still a thing.” Darius replies, sounding bored at the mere notion of going.

“You don’t seriously want to go to that, do you? After how last time that’s how Ingrid found out about the drugs and turned you in?!” Riya asks incredulously.

Logan frowns. “This sounds like a bad idea Ellie.”

Ellie rolls her eyes at the concern from Logan and Riya. “I do seriously want to go. Come on, don’t be such wet blankets.”

Logan wants to argue more, but Ellie is already heading upstairs to change and do her make-up, so he knows her mind is already made up.

...

Logan groans as Ellie grinds her ass against him as they dirty dance in the middle of Brent’s colossal mansion. She’s been teasing him all night. “When can we get out of here?” Logan says loudly into her ear so she can hear him over the booming bass. He needs to have her all to himself.

She turns around to face him, kissing him heatedly. “Patience is a virtue.” she assures him.

“Fuck Ellie, I’ve been very patient. And it’s my birthday.” He’s never had a chance to pull the it’s my birthday card before, since no one else has ever cared.

She looks like she’s wavering, but then she spots something over his shoulder. “I’m going to go get you some more jungle juice.” She announces, giving him another quick kiss before walking away.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair. He spots Riya and Darius over by the food and goes to join them.

Logan watches Ellie go up to the guy who she introduced him to earlier, Brent, the spoiled rich kid who lives in this house.

Riya hiccups, she’s had a lot to drink. “It’s cool how you’re cool with Ellie hanging out with Brent.” She slurs.

Logan raises a brow and Darius subtly tries to elbow Riya, but she doesn’t seem to realize she said something wrong.

“Why wouldn’t I be cool with it?” Logan questions.

“No reason.” Darius insists, but Riya speaks over him.

“Brent was Ellie’s first everything, they hooked up for a long time sophomore year.” Riya reveals.

Logan’s eyes narrow as he watches Ellie slip Brent something, obviously drugs. Riya seems to mistake his anger at being about the relationship, so she hurries to continue.

“But don’t worry Logan, after her mom died Ellie was really a mess. Brent was just a phase. And I think she only slept with him because she knew Ingrid liked him. Ellie used to be like that. But now she’s much better! And I think you’re really good for her.”

That makes Logan feel guilty for a moment. Good for her? He’s a gang member who’s dragging her deeper and deeper into a life of crime much beyond selling recreational drugs to spoiled rich kids. But if he’s good for anything, it’s protecting Ellie from herself. He watches her take a pill Brent offers her before he storms over.

“What are you doing?” He asks harshly, gripping her arm.

“Would you relax? It’s a party. Let me get you one so you can loosen up.” Ellie replies.

“I don’t do drugs.” Logan insists.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Gee, think you could say that again, but even more judgmental this time?” Ellie mocks.

“Why the fuck are you still selling drugs? I thought you were stopping, with college admissions right around the corner.” Logan presses, not releasing her arm when she tries to twist away from him.

“I can take care of myself. I know what I’m doing.” Ellie bites back.

But Logan knows she has no idea what she’s doing. The type of circles she’s running in lately. There could easily be a raid on the garage, and if she’s carrying a ton of drugs, she could get serious time. The kind of time that derails college plans.

“Let’s go.” Logan insists, trying to tug her towards his waiting car parked in the driveway.

Ellie manages to free her arm from his hold. “I’m having a good time. Go if you want to. I’ll take a Dryve home.” She storms away from him, and Logan watches her go with a clenched fist.

She approaches another group at the party, discreetly exchanging drugs for cash.

Logan shakes his head, not even wanting to watch this. He storms out to his car, slamming the car down harshly. He winces when it closes roughly. He shouldn’t have done that. But he’s just so worked up.

He just can’t understand Ellie Wheeler. Why a girl with everything seems to be so intent on throwing it all away. He only turned to crime as a last resort, a choice between that or sleeping in a box under the underpass. Whereas with Ellie, she had every choice in the world. But she just chooses to be bad for no reason.

Maybe he should cut ties with her. His heart twists painfully at the very thought, but he can’t afford the kind of trouble she seems to bring now that he’s legally an adult. Maybe at least the night apart will be good for them, give them both time to think.

He’s about to drive away when he notices the police cruisers approaching. they don’t have their lights or sirens on, obviously trying to be inconspicuous, but he’s spent so much time running from the cops that he has somewhat of a sixth sense for them.

He should drive away now, before they breathalyze him and get him on a parole violation of underage drinking. Logan sighs, running an irritated hand down his face. He can’t leave her here.

He slinks out of the car, leaving the door open so he can make a quick escape. Ellie is dancing with Brent, and the spoiled prick has his hands all over her. Ellie seems fairly out of it from whatever she took, and Riya and Darius are nowhere to be seen.

Logan squelches his irritation at the sight, approaching the pair and gently pulling Ellie to him.

“Hey man-” Brent starts to protest, but immediately shuts up when Logan shoots him a dark look.

“Logan? You’re still here?” Ellie questions, speech slightly slurred.

He ignores her question, tugging her towards the car. “We have to go.” He explains.

“But I’m having a good time-” She starts.

“Cops.” Logan says shortly, and Ellie immediately seems to sober up. He no longer needs to basically drag her out of the house, she’s walking quickly now, although she’s a little wobbly.

“Fuck.” Logan curses when they get outside. The cops have started to leave their vehicles, heading towards them. “Run!” Logan instructs, and they take off at a sprint to his waiting vehicle.

“Stop right there!” A cop yells, but Logan doesn’t listen, flooring the accelerator.

The cops start to attempt to close the gate to stop them, but Logan just speeds up, and the cops eventually jump away to avoid being hit as Logan squeezes through the small gap in the fence.

A few cop cars quickly start to pursue them,

Logan speeds through traffic, weaving dangerously in an attempt to shake them, but they’re still on his tail.

“Seatbelt.” He barks at Ellie, and she quickly buckles herself in. He swerves suddenly and flies off the overpass, the cops stopping on the bridge. They hit the road below hard, and Logan turns off his headlights as he tries to blend back in with traffic.

It’s several minutes before he’s confident he’s lost them. He pulls off onto a dirt road of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Ellie giggles, and then starts laughing heartily.

Logan looks at her incredulously.

“I can’t believe we just did that! That was pretty impressive. I’m not sure how the cops caught you on your last joy ride.” Ellie praises, leaning in to kiss him.

Logan turns his head so she gets his cheek instead. Ellie frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“This. This is wrong.” Logan answers, gesturing between the two of them. “Girls like you aren’t supposed to be hanging out with guys like me. Girls like you aren’t supposed to end up in juvie. Girls like you aren’t supposed to be drug dealers.”

Ellie’s eyes well with tears as she glares at him, not letting them fall over to give him the satisfaction of her tears. “You’re constantly judging me. Why can’t you just accept who I am?!”

“I’m not judging you. I’m trying to save you from yourself.” Logan insists.

“That’s funny, coming from someone who can’t seem to even save himself.” Ellie retorts bitterly.

Logan’s eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? That I don’t know what you are? All that time at the garage, you didn’t think I would catch on?” Ellie presses.

Logan’s heart drops into his stomach. “Catch on to what?” He’s not going to say it, hopeful she doesn’t actually know what she’s talking about. If she does, Kaneko certainly isn’t going to like it.

“The crew, or really the gang. The Mercy Park Crew, notorious LA criminals. The stolen cars. The ‘jobs’ you’d run out for. I’m not stupid, and I know everything.” Ellie reveals.

Logan buries his face in his hands “Fuck.” He mutters. This is bad.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. I’d never turn you in. I’m not a snitch.” Ellie insists.

“Your word isn’t going to be enough for Kaneko.” Logan insists.

“But is it enough for you? Do you trust me Logan?”

Logan lifts a shaking hand to cup her face, the adrenaline from the chase running out now. “I trust you with my life Troublemaker.”

Ellie places her hand over his. “Good. Your life is in good hands.” She teases, and he chuckles.

Logan pulls Ellie over the seat and into his lap. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, burying his nose into her hair.

Ellie gently plays with his hair. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you.” Logan continues.

“You’re not that great of a liar.” Ellie retorts, and Logan laughs again. “I’m sorry too.” Ellie adds.

“For what?” Logan questions, pulling back slightly so he can look at her.

“I know that I’m.....difficult. And that you don’t get why I am the way I am. I definitely have my walls up, but I don’t want to push you away. Because....I love you Logan. I know I’ve only known you for a couple of months, but I do.” There’s several moments of silence after her confession, before Logan finally speaks.

“I think I love you too.” Logan whispers, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

Ellie quirks a brow. “You ‘think’?” She echoes.

“I’ve never loved anyone before so it’s hard to be sure, but I don’t know any other words to describe how I feel about you. So, I’m pretty sure I love you. No wait, I’m sure. I love you.” Logan finally concludes, kissing her gently as he hugs her to him.

Their make out session quickly becomes heated. “Let’s go back to the loft.” Ellie suggests. “We’re going to need bigger than a twin bed to properly show how much we love each other.”

taglist: @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @drakexnadira @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @maxwellsquidsuit @lahelable @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @choicesgremlin @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @blades-of-light-and-shadow @justdani14 @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris @mskaneko @anxious-arliah @zaffrenotes @iam-ankita @ohsnapitzlovehacker

#logan x mc #logan rod #ride or die #choices fanfiction

39 notes · View notes

nympsycho-ao3 · 5 years

Text

Three-Player Game

Want to read on AO3? Click here!

You pay a visit to Kakyoin's home to spend some time together before you part to attend university.

You find, though, that there's going to be much more to your time together than just playing video games.

[In which you're double teamed by Jotaro and Kakyoin, joined by Star Platinum and Hierophant Green. They make the most of breaking your innocence one thrust at a time, teasing you further into a side of yourself that you didn't know you had.]

A commission piece.

Hollow ticking noises break up the chipper tune of a midi video game soundtrack. Tense silence between the two players hangs heavy in the air as they tick-tick-tick away at the controllers, leaning into the twists and turns of their respective cars.

After excitable silence lasts far too long between them, energy bursts between them as one prevails as the victor of the race.

“Fuck off,” Jotaro gripes, tossing the controller onto the floor in front of him. He’s such a sore loser.

Kakyoin merely gloats a laugh, the victory screen bright and celebratory. Jotaro isn’t sure which sight he hates more.

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door.

Jotaro looks towards Kakyoin in confusion; at least, as expressive as Jotaro’s face gets. Kakyoin rises from his cross-legged position on the floor.

“Oh yeah. I invited someone over,” Kakyoin explains, striding towards the door confidently.

At Jotaro’s irritated glare, Kakyoin reassures him. “You’ll like ‘em, I promise.”

It’s a tall order to expect Jotaro to like anyone.

The door opens to reveal the opposite of what Jotaro expects. A comely girl steps through the frame, offering Kakyoin a short hug and cordial greeting. Kakyoin’s eyes catch on the sight of the bare skin on your thigh, your shorts and thigh-high socks making way for plush, inviting softness. You’re too righteous to notice. He offers you a drink or a snack, but you’re too polite to accept.

“Jotaro,” Kakyoin calls out to him still seated in front of the television. “This is (Y/N). She’s a friend of mine from school.”

Jotaro doesn’t offer a greeting, merely tolerating your presence with a stoic glare. You worry that you’ve done something wrong, shifting your weight with the awkwardness. You’ve seen him in school plenty of times, smoking cigarettes and sleeping in class. Not once had he ever looked your way. Rather, he didn’t seem to look anyone’s way.

“Um… hi, Jotaro,” you greet meekly, intimidated by the scowl on his face. He shrugs his shoulders to obfuscate his face, turning back towards the TV to click to a different menu.

You don’t know that he’s hiding a blush on his cheeks.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he finally utters, the curtness all that you or Kakyoin could probably ask for in the way of politeness.

“Wanna play F-Mega with us?” Kakyoin offers, motioning towards the colorful display on the screen.

“Oh! Um… I really suck at video games,” you insist, a humble giggle marking your words.

“Eh, everyone sucks at first,” Kakyoin reassures, placing his palm on the small of your back. His hand is so large it dwarfs you, spanning most of the breadth of your body.

“Really, I’d just be a burden to play with,” you contend, your hands rising defensively.

“Nonsense. Please? I’ll show you,” he beseeches. You can’t resist the look in his eyes: excitement and urgency.

“Fine,” you relent with a smile. It charms Kakyoin, eager to show you the ropes.

He seats you in his place, handing you the controller. Your hands find the contours of it quite alien and situate them over the buttons incorrectly.

“Here,” Kakyoin shuffles to sit behind you, straddling your body with his legs. “Like this.” He reaches forward to lay his hands over yours, adjusting your fingers in place. You stiffen with the position, the closeness not uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. You’ve had a crush on Kakyoin since freshman year, and he’s never given you any indication of reciprocation. You convince yourself this is innocent, despite Jotaro’s glare from beside you.

“Take Jotaro’s controller. I’ll play you,” he instructs, sending an authoritative glance Jotaro’s way. He curls his lip at the request, but relents, shoving the controller towards you. You accept it hesitantly, avoiding making contact with his hand. You wonder what you did for Jotaro to be so cold towards you.

Kakyoin knows better. The fact that he gave up the controller in the first place means he at least tolerates you.

Kakyoin takes the other controller from your hand and shuffles through different menus with it. You keep your fingers in place, awaiting Kakyoin’s next command.

He shows you through the game from behind you, his instructions marked by the hotness of his breath against your ear. You can’t relax, the hardness of Kakyoin’s chest and his guidance testing your patience. You try your best, but you still suck, though Kakyoin doesn’t say it.

Jotaro does.

“She sucks. Let me play,” he growls. Kakyoin shoots him a glare, but it goes ignored.

“Fine, we’ll set up three-player,” Kakyoin sneers. “Would you mind getting another controller, (Y/N)? There’s another one in my closet. I’ll try to figure out how to get a third player in.”

You nod without thinking, Kakyoin making a request of you humbling. You break from the support of Kakyoin’s chest to rise, though you realize after getting to your feet that you don’t know where Kakyoin’s room is.

Kakyoin’s keen perception comes in handy. “First door on the left, there,” he leads, his hand motioning towards a hallway. You nod again before ushering yourself away, thankful for the coolness of the air to soothe your blushing cheeks.

Being in Kakyoin’s room feels weirdly invasive, like you’re a child that finds themselves somewhere they shouldn’t be. You smile at the neatness of it, put-together and collected like the boy who resides in it. You make your way to the closet, opening it to reveal an organized series of belongings. You look around for the controller, only for your eyes to land on a clear bin on the top shelf of the closet that reveals the familiar shape.

It’s too high to reach, but you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Jotaro by asking for help. Instead, you balance on your toes, stretching your arms to drag your fingertips across the bottom edge of the container. With each attempt, you bring it closer to the edge, your calves stinging with the exertion.

You manage to get it to the point where it tips, catching it with waiting fingertips.

Your grip isn’t enough.

It comes toppling down, the contents of it tumbling onto you. You let out a shriek, guarding yourself with your hands, but soon you find yourself snared in the entrapment of various wires and cords. You freeze in place, embarrassed, wondering if this is some sort of nightmare.

“(Y/N)!” Kakyoin calls from the doorframe, rushing towards you. He grasps your shoulders, his fingers already working to untangle you. You resign into yourself, too embarrassed to do much else. Kakyoin frees you gradually, one step at a time, his touches lingering on your skin longer after he moves on.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my God, oh… I-it was an accident, ah…” you stutter.

“I’m sorry, I forgot that most people can’t reach that high,” he says frantically.

“It’s alright,” you insist, hoping to usher away his concerns. The way he unwinds you from the cords is captivating, the look in his violet eyes pure protection. When he looks up to untangle a cord from around your neck, he can’t help but let the eye contact last much longer than it needs to.

He doesn’t look away from you as he drops the cord to the ground beside you. You’re too entranced in his eyes to avert your gaze, though every bit of anxiety within you tells you to.

“Thanks,” you utter modestly, unsure what to do as you look up at Kakyoin.

“No problem,” he responds lowly, the closeness between you and him suddenly uncomfortably apparent. Before you can step back, Kakyoin returns his palm to the side of your neck. Kakyoin’s observational skills are your downfall, your adoring gaze bringing a slow grin across his face.

He’s more daring than he’s ever been, leaning down to bring his face close to yours. He assesses your reaction with heavy lids before pressing his lips to yours ever so gently. Though you’re stunned into stillness, your head floods with fluttery panic and enrapturement.

He breaks the kiss after a moment, his expression almost as surprised as yours.

“Sorry,” he utters quietly. “You just looked really cute.”

You scoff an embarrassed exhale into your hands, finally looking away and down at Kakyoin’s chest. You find a brief streak of boldness, gripping Kakyoin’s forearms a lot less forcefully than you think you do. He complies with your gentle coaxing, kissing you again. It’s more fevered this time, your eyes closing with the intensity. You had no idea Kakyoin felt this way at all, as he gave no indication of his affections being anything more than platonic.

With the newfound intensity between you, he swings his leg back to kick the door closed. He captures you in his grasp, the contours of your chest molding into his own. The noise of the door slamming shut is almost unheard, obfuscated by the blood rushing past your ears.

You whine into the kiss as Noriaki gropes the mound of your ass, coercing you towards the bed. You can’t object, nor do you desire to, only a small nagging of anxiety nipping the back of your throat. He situates you onto the edge of the bed, his sheepish and kind nature distant as he gropes and claws at you. He forces himself to separate from your lips to tug your shoes off roughly, tossing them God knows where.

He pushes you further onto the bed, climbing over you as he laps and kisses at the heat on your neck. You squeal under his weight and with the sensation, wholly new to you-- you probably shouldn’t tell Kakyoin that just moments ago he gave you your first kiss. He straddles your thighs, kissing your collarbone and the hollows of it. Your hands grasp desperately at his shirt, grounding yourself.

The influx of alien feelings and sensations that overtake you are overwhelming. There’s an omnipotent aching deep in your pelvis, each kiss and grope bringing it closer to the surface.

Kakyoin thumbs the hem of one of your thigh-highs, playfully tugging it down and following the trail with his tongue. You shiver and whine at the way the air cools the line of spit on your thigh, your hands hovering in the air having lost their source of stability.

“Ah-- Kakyoin,” you gasp, his violet eyes meeting yours though he says nothing. “What about Jotaro?”

“He’ll ditch us for a cigarette eventually,” Kakyoin reassures, winding his way back up to your lips to show his confidence with the statement.

He finds his way between your legs, perched onto his calves. He hunches over you like a predator over its prey, nipping at your neck, learning your ticks. You groan deeply as he grinds his hips into yours, a rolling motion that draws the aching in your gut to your groin.

To steady yourself and bring yourself back down to Earth, you find Kakyoin’s skin under his shirt, hot and soft. He grins into the kisses, bringing himself down onto one elbow to do much of the same. The way he strokes the skin of your belly makes you quiver, something tingling between your legs.

Soon it becomes apparent that there’s no going back. You’re not sure if you want to, but this is all so fast that you can barely wrap your head around the situation. All those years of staring at Kakyoin from across the lunchroom, sketching him in class… and this is what comes of it.

He starts to trail his fingers down to the hem of your shorts, peeking beneath them and assessing your reaction. He’s pleased when you whimper and pant, waiting for what you’re not sure comes next.

Kakyoin’s ministrations are interrupted by a sudden bang and shift in the light of the room. You let out a startled shriek, Kakyoin’s head snapping towards the door with a flick of his hair.

He bucks himself off of you, almost falling to the floor but managing to catch his balance. You scramble to push your shirt down and pull your sock back up onto your thighs.

“What the fuck, Jotaro?” Kakyoin yells, the height in his voice unfamiliar. You realize you’ve never heard the soft-spoken, respectful Kakyoin raise his voice or curse.

“Wondered where you two went,” he grumbles, his arms crossed across his chest. You stare at the imposing figure in the doorway, noting the small glimpse of a barely-there grin. It’s the first time you’ve seen anything but a displeased grimace on his face.

“Ever hear of knocking?” Kakyoin continues, obviously shifting his weight to hide the growing bulge in his pants.

“Why bother? Not like you hide wanting to fuck her very well,” he shrugs, his lighthearted tone almost as unfamiliar as Kakyoin’s angry one.

Both of you stare at him incredulously. You bring the blanket up to cover your chest, finding comfort in whatever decency you can find. You’re hot and overwhelmed, your breathing quick as it heaves your chest.

“Were you planning on being a selfish prick, or were you gonna share?” Jotaro sneers, one eyebrow raising. Your eyes switch between Jotaro and Kakyoin like a slideshow, assessing each one of their reactions.

Wait, what? What did he say?

You finally linger on Kakyoin who seems just as surprised as you are.

Then, a sly grin.

He summons hierophant, though you’re none the wiser; you’ve heard plenty of stories of Kakyoin’s stand, but you’re not able to see it. A part of you wishes you could, but for now, Kakyoin uses that fact to his advantage. He maneuvers a collection of tentacles around you, just out of reach.

“Guess that’s up to her,” Kakyoin shrugs, looking towards you with an amicable gaze.

What? What was he asking you?

You switch to Jotaro, only to see him eyeing you like a piece of meat. In every way that Kakyoin was attractive to you, Jotaro was the opposite; somehow, it works, his imposing and stoic nature making you curious as to what lies under the diamond-hard exterior. The way he looks at you almost scares you, due to the shadow of the brim of his hat casting his salacious gaze darkly. The shadow brings out the emerald of his eyes, something you’ve never noticed before. Probably because he barely looks at you as it is.

“W-What?” you finally ask, stuttering under the weight of Jotaro’s stare.

Jotaro grins at your innocence, the expression foreign to you. “C’mon, if you’re willing to fuck with me around, it’s only polite to include me.”

“When have you ever cared about politeness?” Kakyoin jeers from the other side of the bed. Your wide eyes remain locked on Jotaro.

“Shut up,” he sneers. Kakyoin laughs at the tone, though you’re not sure what’s so funny.

Jotaro finally moves from the door frame, his hulking stature easily closing the door behind him with a twist of his ankle.

You’re stunned into immobility, only blinking as Jotaro takes off his hat. Without it, you can see his entire face at once, and more importantly, the hardness of his features as light is cast on them naturally. It’s an act of kindness, considering Jotaro can’t approach the situation using his words. You can’t help but stare at the curly blackness of his hair, the highlights shining indigo with the light of the sun filtering in through the window.

Your interest is only further captured as he shrugs off his jacket, casting it onto the floor in a slumped heap. You knew Jotaro was huge, but the figure of his muscles widens your eyes. He’s flattered by the expression, resting his hands on his hips to accentuate the pulling of his muscles on his shoulders.

“Hey,” Kakyoin calls, catching your attention from what must have been a stare. His expression is unreadable and unfamiliar to you, but you think it might be jealousy. Kakyoin indignantly unbuttons the clip of his gakuran before yanking it off, tossing it onto the heap that Jotaro’s jacket created. Jotaro scoffs, his eyebrow raising.

You’ve always wondered what Kakyoin wore under his gakuran. A plain white undershirt greets you, exposing the delicate musculature underneath. You’re surprised by the breadth of him, his slim-fitting gakuran doing him no favors.

Jotaro chuckles, raising his eyebrow at Kakyoin. “What, pissed that I’m stealing your girl?”

“You’re not stealing anything,” he asserts in return, pointing his words with a raise of his chin.

“We’ll see about that,” Jotaro jokes.

Seeing Jotaro so lighthearted gives you an enthralling insight into what he must be like under the tough facade. You’re excited to learn more.

“You… you both want…?” you begin to ask, both of their attentions caught by the sound of your voice. You lower the blanket, your hands beginning to feel heavy.

Jotaro huffs. “Do you wanna fuck us or not?”

Kakyoin slaps his shoulder, though the impact makes no difference. “You could be more tactful.”

“Fuck that,” Jotaro dismisses with a wave of his hand. He approaches you on the side of the bed, looking down at you with heavy lids, as he appears to cast aside something from his path. Kakyoin reluctantly retreats Hierophant, clearing the space. The upward curl of Jotaro’s lips is somehow scarier to you than his usual grimace. Jotaro gives you a peek of his midriff from under his shirt, revealing the most statuesque physique you’ve ever seen with your own two eyes. Thick veins bulge at the surface near his groin, a spattering of dark hair illustrating a path downwards from his navel. He’s breathtaking, catching your breath in your throat.

“Like what you see?” he pries, his proximity to you unsettling but also invigorating. He’s never bothered to give you the time of day before. Why now?

You don’t know what else to do other than comply as he takes your hand in his own, bringing it to rest against the muscles of his abdomen. You blush and desperately avert your gaze from his eyes, following the path that he guides your hand along, the hardness and contours of the muscle captivating.

He releases your hand, only for your palm to linger; you don’t know if you’re too stunned to move, or if the thought of taking your hands off of him for even a moment is unfathomable. You brush your fingers across his navel, the smooth warmth of it maintaining your undivided attention.

“Heh,” he breathes, his cocky expression infuriating Kakyoin. “That was easy.”

“Shut up,” Kakyoin gripes, quickly advancing himself towards you. He climbs on the bed, already comfortable due to the familiar surroundings, and situates himself next to you. He almost reminds you of a jealous child, climbing onto the bed and yanking your hand onto his torso.

You dig your fingers into the both of them, the hardness you meet delicious. Kakyoin certainly isn’t as bulky as Jotaro, but he holds himself confidently, especially as he peacocks for you.

Your thoughts are swimming with what feels like a fever. If you had to choose, you couldn’t choose just one, and you know it. Indeed, as they scowl at one another you find yourself lost in a sea of fervor. You organize them just enough to keep yourself oriented.

“C’mon,” Jotaro goads with a sing-song inflection. “You want to be a good girl, don’t you?”

God, desperately.

Jotaro leans closer to you, somehow still looking down at you. “Good girls know how to share.”

The rumbling of his voice settles in your groin. You look towards Kakyoin for some sign of approval, finding only a considerate smirk on his face. He rests his hand on your thigh, the contact hitching your breath.

“I’m… I’m not sure,” you hesitate, despite the pulling in your gut. They inch towards you, kindness in one’s glare and licentiousness in the other’s.

“About what?” Jotaro inquires, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before.

The answer should be obvious, you think. He must be mocking you.

“About… all this,” you answer vaguely with a chuckle, Kakyoin’s fingers winding their way higher up on your thigh. A part of you wants to stop him, but it’s easily overshadowed by the excitement that builds within you.

You return your hands to your side, hesitant. Jotaro takes it upon himself to bring his lips close to your ear, the heat making your tense muscles shiver.

“You are sure,” he insists, his hot breath against your ear tensing your thighs under Kakyoin’s hold. “You don’t want to leave us hanging. You want to make us feel good, like a good girl, right?”

You clench your eyes shut at this words, whining softly. He’s so close to you; you can smell his cologne, and it’s intoxicating. You didn’t think someone like Jotaro would wear cologne.

You manage a nod. It’s true, it’s what some part of you wants, though you’re not sure which part. Primarily, you’re concerned that you simply can’t handle this. You were barely able to keep yourself with Kakyoin alone, how are you supposed to keep yourself composed?

“I-- I won’t… you’re overestimating me, here,” you claim, hoping that the heat that comes from Jotaro’s torso won’t boil your blood.

“No, I’m not,” Jotaro consoles, the swing of his voice quite convincing. You almost believe him. “You’re a dirty girl. You can handle it.”

Kakyoin seems irked at his words, but says nothing. You’re not a dirty girl to him, but he lets Jotaro take the reigns, what he believes to be just this once.

Your thighs jerk upwards as Jotaro palms the heat between your legs. Kakyoin scolds his forwardness, but you can’t pay attention, the pressure desperately needed. Jotaro hums when you roll your hips into it, keeping a harder push just out of your reach. You take in an exasperated gasp, needy and insistent.

“You want more?” he croons, obviously amused with your reaction to his teasing.

“I do,” you finally admit, the words tumbling from your lips without care. You almost regret divulging your desires, but the sudden pressing of Jotaro’s fingers onto your pussy casts that thought away from your mind.

You’re startled by the feeling of what must be ropes of some sort taking your arms and legs into their grasp. Panic is quickly settled with Kakyoin’s reassurance.

“That’s Hierophant, my stand,” he explains, the tendrils winding their way to your abdomen, encircling you. Jotaro sends a cocky glance towards Kakyoin, and he ignores it out of stubbornness. He’s evidently proud he pulled this off.

You keep your nerves together as Hierophant lifts you from the mattress into the air, supporting your weight with ease. The boys rise from the bed as you drift towards the foot of it with the aid of Hierophant, invisible but present in touch.

Jotaro picks up on your discomfort and moves to stand behind you, pressing his chest into your back in support. Having something tangible and visible to support you calms you as much as you can be in this moment. Your knees are bent, positioning you in a pose a bit too lascivious for comfort. Your mind is elsewhere, though, watching Kakyoin approach you slowly.

Jotaro’s arms hook under yours to wrap around your chest. “Your socks are really cute, (Y/N). You should keep them on.”

“W--wha…” you manage to squeak before you watch your shorts get torn in two, an invisible force ripping them from your body with ease. You yelp at the sound of tearing fabric and the burning against your hips as the fabric falls to the floor. Your movements are inhibited by Hierophant surrounding you and the sturdiness of Jotaro’s back.

“My stand,” Jotaro explains. You trust him enough to use whatever incredible power this is for good, though you have no reason to place that trust in him. Too late to consider it now, though.

Invisible hands slide broad fingers up your thighs, plucking the lip of your panties at your hip. You move your thighs to squirm with the extrinsic sensation; it seems you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

You feel terribly exposed, especially as Kakyoin perches himself between your legs. You blush at the sight, though you’re helpless to cover yourself. It would be a shame if you did, anyway.

Noriaki watches your expression as he drags an authoritative finger along your covered slit, grinning at the wetness that seeps through the fabric. He presses on your clit with a teasing prod, the new sensation forcing your eyes closed. His lips find the inside of your thigh, dragging sweet kisses along the muscle of it.

One of Hierophant’s tendrils wraps around the fabric that covers your pussy, pulling it out of the way. You whine at the way that Kakyoin stares, seemingly entranced by the sight despite your embarrassment. You open your mouth to beg him not to, but your head is ushered back by a quick tug of your hair. You whelp, only for the sound of it to be muffled by Jotaro’s lips. Kissing him is a strange feeling, especially the way he commands you with his mouth. He tastes like cigarettes.

Your groan resounds in the hollow of Jotaro’s mouth as Kakyoin touches you raw, no barrier between you and his digit. Your toes curl, the only movement you’re able to muster against Hierophant’s strong grip. He pulls back, a line of wetness connecting the pad of his finger to you for a moment before he swipes it into his palm.

“Did you want this that bad?” he banters, knowing you’re unable to answer as your mouth is currently preoccupied. He doesn’t need one, having all the evidence he needs right in front of him. Jotaro slides his tongue between your lips, the invasion making you wince. You relax soon, though, letting the weight of your head fall back onto Jotaro’s fist in your hair.

Hierophant rips your panties off of your hips with a single tug, your tongue hardening against Jotaro’s at the sting against your skin. Kakyoin glides his fingers against the wetness, exploring the intricacies of it, before settling on your clit and circling it curiously. Jotaro drinks in the moans that you can’t suppress in your throat, his fingers tightening on your hair.

Jotaro releases the kiss suddenly, leaving your lips coated in a mixture of your salivas. You meet Jotaro’s piercing gaze for just a moment before your head is manhandled, forcing you to look upon Kakyoin between your legs.

You want to tell Kakyoin to slow down, to give you a second to absorb all of this, especially as you feel dizzy with the lingering taste of Jotaro on your lips. You can’t, something within you prevents it-- a side of you you never even knew was there.

Kakyoin watches your face as he slides a finger inside you, the bucking of your hips beguiling to greedy eyes. He meets almost no resistance except for the tightness inside, your wetness providing plenty of buffer to the friction.

You feel an invisible pair of hands encapsulating your rib cage, large and imposing. They slide to your abdomen, pecking at the hem of your shirt. Watching the fabric twist with an invisible force is equally terrifying and intriguing as it exposes your midriff. Jotaro’s hands meet the demands of Star Platinum’s, ripping your shirt in two with ease. You writhe into the pulsing of Kakyoin’s finger as it glides in and out, gyrating with Jotaro’s groping of your chest.

He snaps the elastic band of your sports-bra against your skin, a joke in a time when humor is sorely unnecessary.

“Heh,” he chuckles from behind. “So modest. Who are you trying to fool?”

You can’t respond, his hands making quick work of the fabric and casting it aside just as easily as the rest. A chill runs through you, your body completely exposed, though your blood burns red-hot.

Jotaro cups one of your breasts a tad too roughly, a dull sting making you thrash against your restraints. You protest briefly as what feels like an invisible mouth takes your other nipple into it, a strange presence of what must be a tongue flicking the already hard nub between its teeth.

“Oh-- my God,” you cry out, your head falling back onto the security of Jotaro’s chest. Kakyoin’s finger rubs against somewhere deep inside you that spurs a shock through your sex and into your abdomen. He takes your heightened moaning as an invitation, inserting a second finger as gingerly as he did the first. He finds a gentle rhythm, stroking the point he’s found that makes you breathe out delectably. You’re thankful for the kindness as Jotaro twists and pulls on the sensitivity of your breast, the other manipulated by a mysterious force.

“Kak, stop teasing the girl,” Jotaro chastises, the growling of his voice booming in your ear.

Kakyoin gives him an irritated glare, obviously plenty pleased with the reactions he coaxes from you. Jotaro scoffs, releasing your chest, the apparent mouth dissipating curiously. You expect to feel the chill of exposed saliva, only for there to be an unusual dryness.

Another presence replaces Jotaro, larger and broader than even Jotaro’s stunning musculature. Jotaro practically shoves Kakyoin out of the way, grasping your hips to coax you closer to his face, the tendrils apparently cooperative. You gush at the sight of Jotaro eyeing you, wanting to cover your face or at least close your thighs; you can’t, though, leaving you to grit your teeth with parted lips.

Jotaro picks up where Kakyoin left off, just much less considerate. You reel with the sudden penetration of two fingers, groaning gutterally as he glides his knuckles flush with you. Kakyoin watches as Jotaro slows his pumping to accommodate his mouth around the base of your entrance. He slides upwards quickly, not one to waste time, and rolls his tongue around your clit. It isn’t long before he takes it into his mouth, his lips warm and wet exactly where you need it. He kisses you, languidly gyrating his tongue along the underside of your clit until he flicks it upwards and uncovers the bud from its hood. Your feet hurt from how hard to clench your toes, searching for any semblance of control that they’ve taken from you.

“J--Jotaro--” you seethe, the tone of it foreign on your lips. Jotaro looks up at that, his lips curling upwards as he continues.

Kakyoin seems peeved that you’ve called Jotaro’s name and not his, though you’re too invested in other matters to notice. He makes it known to you by side-stepping out of the boundaries of your legs and rushing to your face. He grasps the softness of your neck, using the jutting of your jaw to turn your face towards his before shutting you up with a swift kiss. You’re surprised at the urgency of it, melting with the combination of Jotaro’s sensations and Kakyoin’s tongue lining your lips.

Though you have no idea how to handle the feelings that bombard you from all angles, you do. And for the first time, you allow yourself to truly enjoy it. Jotaro discovers what you like through trial and error, working through your preferences and paying attention to the moans that Kakyoin swallows.

There’s no way this can go on forever, but you want it to.

Kakyoin doesn’t, though. He breaks the kiss sensitively, pointing it with a peck. You breathe heavily, finally able to take a full lung’s worth of air.

“Hey, Jojo,” he interjects, making eye contact but not stopping the rolling and twisting of his tongue. Kakyoin works to unbuckle his slacks, reaching in between the zipper to release his cock from the constraint. You can only assume what he’s doing, raised too high in the air to see.

Jotaro seems to get the hint, pausing to wipe the slickness from his chin with the back of his hand. The light sucking noise makes you self-conscious, but the implication makes you clench your fist. You feel the tension in your muscles ease with the break, though blood pools in your pussy and makes it feel tight with lust.

You scramble to handle yourself as Hierophant's tentacles flip you, your eyes forced to look at the floor. You realize how high in the air you are, then, and panic a little with the height. If you were to fall, if your trust were to be broken, there’s no doubt you’d at least have some bruises.

Kakyoin is quick to comfort you, rising on his own accord to tenderly run his hand down the length of your back. You turn your neck to see Kakyoin’s smile.

“Good,” he praises. “Just roll with it.”

You blink with the sound of praise for you on Kakyoin’s lips. You never knew just how desperately you needed it.

“Can you do something for me?” Kakyoin asks, stroking the length of your hair.

You hesitate before answering. “I can try, I, um…”

Kakyoin ruffles your hair before soaring higher into position, mounds of Hierophant’s tentacles supporting him as he seats himself in front of you. You’re confronted with the affronting sight of his hard cock as he holds it in front of your face, your eyes widening at the suddenness. You’ve heard about how penises look and feel, but now that a real one takes up the majority of your perspective you’re forced to ask yourself how you’re supposed to fit that anywhere.

Kakyoin holds the base of it and angles it towards your mouth, the spongy head wide and strangely inviting with a pinkish blush.

“I… I don’t know how…” you confess, eyes locked on the member in front of you.

“You’ll learn,” Kakyoin reassures, cupping your cheek with a kind palm. Your nervousness falls wayside to Kakyoin’s benevolence.

You decide you can trust him, and offer your tongue for him to prod his head with. He sighs with the warmth and the plushness of it, pushing himself further into your mouth inch by inch. You keep yourself calm, until a pair of brawny hands grips the flesh of your thighs.

Jotaro can’t help himself, even though you’re too high into the air to get at you himself, resorting to using Star Platinum in his stead. A warm, tingling sensation winds it way through your abdomen with an unhurried lick of your pussy, finally settling on your clit and sucking gently. You feel yourself tighten into it, whelping into the meat of Kakyoin’s cock. He soothes you with a gentle stroke of your cheek with his thumb, dragging across the bulge of his cock underneath.

He hums in approval before sliding out from between your lips, only to delve back in slowly. He pushes your limits, prodding the back of your throat; your throat shuts closed with the intrusion, making you choke. He pulls out and lets you spit out your frustrations, looking down at you with a smug-looking smile.

“Sorry,” he says, though it’s not genuine. “You just look so sweet with my cock in your mouth.”

His vulgarity brings an intense blush to your cheeks, heating already feverish skin. The knot in your gut gradually becomes looser and looser as Kakyoin works at your mouth and Star Platinum hits all the sweet spots that Jotaro has become intimately familiar with. Kakyoin finds a steady rhythm, respecting your limits but tempting the boundaries every so often. You find it easier to relax your throat every time he digs his head into the back of it.

Jotaro takes in the sight, tugging his slacks free from the constraint of his belts. You hear the jingling of metal and the sound of a zipper, but all you can see is the tufts of ginger hair that decorate Kakyoin’s groin. Jotaro strokes himself, enjoying the feeling and taste of your pussy on his lips through the connection with his stand.

Kakyoin grunts a gravelly sigh, his hand drifting from your cheek to the back of your head. He keeps your head still with a fist of hair pulling at your scalp, driving himself into your mouth. You force your tongue to lay flat across your bottom row of teeth, despite your primal instincts telling you to do otherwise. Your trust in Kakyoin is absolute as he chokes off your breathing with his cock, the sensation alarming as you realize you can’t take in air through your nose. He thrusts once… twice… before withdrawing in mercy. You suppress a gag and leave his head perched across your lip, sloppy strands of saliva dripping onto Hierophant’s tendrils beneath you as your heaving breath casts them away.

“Kak,” Jotaro says lowly. “C’mon.”

Kakyoin seems to understand, though you don’t. He reluctantly releases your head and begins to descend towards the ground, but not before placing a delicate kiss on your forehead.

“That’s good. Let’s see the rest, hm?” he whispers into your hairline.

You steady yourself as you’re lowered to the floor, reaching out for something tangible. Jotaro fills the void, holding you against him with an authoritative wrap of his arm across your body. Your eyes catch on the flesh that peeks from the frame of Jotaro’s zipper, your eyes widening at the size of it. You hope he doesn’t try to fit that down your throat, seeing as you could barely handle Kakyoin’s and Jotaro’s is even bulkier and longer.

Jotaro has other plans. He guides you to the edge of the bed where he sits, bringing you into his lap. Your legs feel weak, your thighs straddling him as you rely on him to support your weight. He takes advantage of your obedience, gripping the hollow of where your thighs meet your hips. He lowers your pussy against the length of his shaft, enjoying the compliance that you’re helpless to alter. He clenches his jaw as he pushes and pulls your hips into a rolling rhythm, slicking his cock with your wetness. You’re rendered thoughtless, only able to express yourself in airy moans as you support yourself by wrapping your arms around Jotaro’s neck.

An invisible finger startles you, nudging against your clit with a daring circling motion. Jotaro grins as you cry out, digging his fingers into your flesh relentlessly.

Jotaro isn’t one to waste time nor mince words, using Star Platinum to lift you up. You were concerned about fitting him in your mouth, but as he presses the broadness of his head against your entrance, you’re affronted by the possibility that he simply can’t fit. You utter hesitancy into the crook of his neck, but it goes unheeded. He pierces you unsympathetically, driving himself into the warmth and wetness with a hiss escaping between his lips. You dig your fingers into the muscles of Jotaro’s back, fingernails scratching in an act of desperation, his fullness filling you indecently.

“Shh…” Jotaro hushes you into your ear, his hand cupping your ass as he finally stills. “You’re doing just fine.”

His growling voice is hot against your ear, easing you into the wholeness that presses the limits of your body. The aching and stinging make way for the beginnings of pleasure. In an unusual act of lenity, he dots your neck with small pecks, tickling you and almost distracting you from the stretching of your insides.

The kindness doesn’t last long, as he guides you up and over the barrier of disinclination, driving into you as you cry out. He silences you with two of Star Platinum’s fingers thrust between your lips, peeling into your tongue and pressing you into wordless groans. You suck on them to prevent drool from pooling under your tongue, closing your lips around the bulk of them.

As you desperately struggle against your inner motivations, Hierophant winds a consoling tendril around you, starting at your wrist and settling around your neck. It holds you in place as Jotaro has his way, each thrust marked by a breathy grunt resounding in your ear. As it presses into your neck ever so gently, you realize Kakyoin is reminding you that he’s there, as if you could ever forget. As if he’s worried he’s been cast aside, Hierophant winds its way around the roundness of your breast and flicks a textured bud around your clit. Your eyes clench shut with the stimulation, your thighs quivering and weak, supported by the strength of Jotaro’s insistence.

You wish he would slow down or at least show some consideration for your cervix, but you’re rendered helpless with Star Platinum’s fingers choking off whatever words you could hope to muster and Hierophant restraining your body. There’s something to be said for giving yourself completely to them, though, as you allow yourself to fall victim to the twinge of pleasure that aches in your gut. Jotaro grins as he senses your divulgence, your inability to hide just how much you’re loving this endearing to him. You focus on the hollow slapping noises that reverberate against the walls of the room, almost echoing in your florid ears.

“What were you saying about sharing, Jojo?” Kakyoin jeers from behind you.

Jotaro scoffs, the sound of it distinct from his other grunts and groans. He relents, giving a few final thrusts before sliding out of you unceremoniously. You squeal with the sudden emptiness, your pussy overweening from the friction. His sticky cock bounces against his abdomen, marking his navel with your slickness.

Kakyoin would like to give you a moment of respite, but he’s too drunk with the sight of your pussy, eager and waiting. He angles his cock to jut into your entrance, giving you only a moment to prepare before sliding in. He pulls out only after driving himself flush with you, his balls even with your body. You bite the fingers in your mouth as you adapt to the length, Kakyoin’s movements much kinder than Jotaro’s. You close your eyes as he grasps your hips, your lips not doing much to contain the spit that peers from the corner of your mouth.

Though Kakyoin may be slower, he’s more thorough, driving into you with the entirety of his length before thrusting into you again and again. Your hands find Jotaro’s chest, gripping the hardness of it until he chuckles with the pressure and the look on your face. Hierophant relents, sensing the soreness that its tendrils leave lingering under your skin. You relinquish yourself into Jotaro’s chest, his arms coming to embrace you and hold you still, giving Kakyoin leverage. The change of angle hits new tender spots inside of you that make you kick your feet into the mattress in gratification.

“I think she’s enjoying herself,” Jotaro muses, broad fingers combing your hair out of his face as you nuzzle into his neck. The humor doesn’t go unnoticed.

Kakyoin only chuckles as he continues, unrelenting. You slide your hands onto the sheets, gripping them into a mass in your fist. Jotaro hums, stroking your sides and feeling the hollow of your spine, stabilizing you against the repeated jerking of your body with Kakyoin’s pounding. The wet slapping of his thighs against yours rings in your ears, the stimulation deep inside you driving you crazy. You never thought sex would feel this good.

“This isn’t exactly fair,” Jotaro gripes, his bitching making Kakyoin roll his eyes.

He’s not wrong, though.

Kakyoin takes his time sliding out; you’re grateful for the gentleness considering you need to prepare for the absence. Your chest is pried from Jotaro’s, Hierophant raising your torso once again to align you with Jotaro. Jotaro must’ve taken the hint from your pleasurable moans as Kakyoin fucked you, penetrating you slowly and giving you ample time to adjust to his girth.

A wet stickiness drips from above onto your asshole, earning a high-pitched squeal from the back of your throat. It’s not spit; it’s too cold. Instead, Hierophant leaks gobs of green from one of its tentacles. You shudder with the feeling, the coldness dripping onto Jotaro’s cock as he pushes it inside you. It’s incredibly slick, almost like silicone.

You don’t expect the tingling sensation the stickiness brings with it, hectic static winding its way through your insides. It only intensifies the satisfaction of Jotaro drilling into you.

“Stay relaxed, kitten,” Kakyoin murmurs behind you, his instructions causing you more alarm than salvation. Relax? As if you even could, sweat dotting your hairline and pooling in the hollow between your belly and Jotaro’s.

He presses his thumb into the first ring of muscle, slicked by Hierophant’s lubrication. You yelp with the insertion, clamping down involuntarily on both foreign bodies that invade your body.

“Hey, hey,” Jotaro soothes from under you. “Be good and relax.”

You mewl in response, clawing at the muscle of Jotaro’s shoulder. He slows his fucking leniently, permitting you to take in what Kakyoin gives you. He drives his thumb in deeper, his other hand shifting the plumpness of your ass to get a better view. Your hand finds Jotaro’s head, gripping his hair in a loose fist. He grins at that, letting you pull on it as hard as you need.

Kakyoin relaxes you enough to slide out his thumb and replace it with his index and middle fingers. You clench your jaw in response, but suddenly your attention is diverted as Jotaro ruts into you, the pleasure distracting you from the alien feeling of fingers in your ass.

He starts pumping his fingers into you with an easy rhythm, almost matching that of Jotaro. You open your eyes just long enough to see Jotaro grinning proudly, your eyes locked on the sight of your fist entwined with the black curls of his air.

“I think she’s ready,” Jotaro’s brow raises as he sees your irises peek from behind your eyelids. Your eyes widen at the assertion, though you can say nothing as Kakyoin snickers and Jotaro flashes his teeth in a predatory grin.

“H-hey!” you cry out as you feel Kakyoin’s cock press against your hole, trying to crane your neck to meet his gaze, but Jotaro’s strong hand grabs your jaw to keep your face focused on his.

“You’re doing such a good job,” Kakyoin reassures. “I know you can take it.”

Can you? You hesitate to feel so confident, already exhausted by their treatment of you. You’re not sure how much more you can handle, but the decision is already made for you as Kakyoin inches inside with a breath escaping between his teeth.

You force yourself to relax, pleasantly surprised to find that it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Jotaro notices the lustful grin that crosses your lips and drags his fingers across it. You look down at him, embarrassed that he caught you so uninhibited.

Kakyoin grabs your hips as he and Hierophant’s tendrils start to rock you into a rhythm. Jotaro watches your face carefully, relishing in the expression as you adjust away from the tension and start to lose yourself to the pleasure that assaults you from all angles.

Jotaro drops his hands to rest them on your thighs, curling under the hem of your thigh highs. The pressure on your jaw is replaced by an intangible force, craning your head upwards and away from Jotaro. Something slaps against your lips, the sensation familiar though you disbelieve what you’re feeling.

“Go on,” Jotaro asserts. “You know the drill.”

So it is what you feared it was. It’s strange feeling the head of a cock usher itself between your lips when you can’t see it, but you trust Jotaro just enough to maintain what’s left of your composure. You open your mouth to welcome the assertive tip between your lips, but you’re menaced by the sheer size of it. This must be Star Platinum, you think, the size understandable after becoming increasingly familiar with the broadness of his chest and hands. Your jaw stretches to accommodate, your tongue forced into the back of your mouth. The stand doesn’t seem to mind the grating of your teeth, considering it’s impossible to fit him in without at least some contact.

Jotaro sees you through Star Platinum’s eyes, chuckling at the sight of your clenched eyes dotted by tears at the corners. The stand cups the back of your head and pushes you as far down on the girth as you can go, your throat vibrating with the desperate cry as spit leaks onto Jotaro’s chest below. You feel like an object, being used by two men you never thought would even give you the time of day, and some intangible beings that they promise you are there. You’re in no place to deny their existence, considering one of their cocks is in your mouth and the other suspends you between what must be the most vigorous fucking you can handle.

At least, that’s what you think.

“You like being filled by us?” Jotaro asks over Kakyoin’s huffing and groaning.

You give a useless groan from your belly, your mouth currently stuffed by an inhumanly large cock, pressing your limits and not heeding to them. Jotaro moans, the feeling of the vibrations of your whining reverberating through his own cock. He squeezes your thighs to ground you as Star Platinum withdraws, much to your delight as you can finally catch a breath. A part of you misses it though, licking your lips to collect the saliva that slicks across your lips.

Jotaro and Kakyoin muddle among themselves about something you can’t discern as Hierophant lowers you back onto Jotaro’s chest. The sweat and spit that lingers there slathers onto your chest, heating and thickening it.

You melt into him, your lips dragging across his collar bone. He wraps his arms around you again, holding you close. They slow their pace gradually; you’re not sure if you’re more grateful for the break or ready to take the reigns yourself and set the pace.

“I know you want more,” Jotaro drawls close to your ear. “So take it, alright?”

Take what? What more is there to take? You’re already stuffed to the brim, what else could they possibly want from you?

Your musing is interrupted by a dull thickness prodding at the entrance of your pussy against Jotaro’s cock, slicked by your spit and Hierophant’s lube. You crane your neck to make desperate eye contact with Jotaro, begging an answer and a solution from him. He merely tuts, his hands rubbing your sides in a pushy embrace.

You gather the muscle of Jotaro’s shoulder between your teeth and suck, crying out with the feeling of Star Platinum’s cock run flush with Jotaro’s as it pries its way into your pussy. It burns, oh God… it burns and stretches you beyond any reasonable expectation. Only because of Hierophant’s lubrication is this even a possibility.

Jotaro yanks your lips off of his shoulder with a taut pull of your hair, instead taking them against his own. You rely on him to support you and kiss you, muting your choked groans with his lips and tongue.

Somehow, Star Platinum fits, much to the amusement of Kakyoin who has a front-row view. The way you stretch and writhe intensely erotic. As Star Platinum grinds a pulse into you, you roll your eyes and astonish yourself with how good it feels to have your limits not just tested, but blown past without any regard. You break the kiss with Jotaro to nuzzle into his neck, your hot breath flowing across his skin with each huff of your moans.

“F--fuck,” you utter, the bulkiness of Star Platinum’s cock rutting against your cervix.

“I didn’t think you knew such a dirty word,” Jotaro hums with a lilt. He’s mocking you, you know it, but you’re not in any position to do anything about it.

“What other dirty words do you know?” Kakyoin chimes, beginning to pick up his pace again considering you seem to be dealing with Star Platinum quite well.

You hide your face in the comfort of Jotaro’s shoulder. They laugh smugly, the noise bringing you back to reality aside from the pumping of three cocks.

“Let’s find out,” Kakyoin continues when you don’t answer, introducing the tip of Hierophant’s cock alongside his own. You groan and curl your toes in anticipation.

“You want it?” Kakyoin teases, his tone lower and more insidious than you’ve heard before. You whine, not daring to look away from the safety of Jotaro’s neck.

Jotaro sneers, gripping the back of your neck and slicking the sweat there. “It’s not polite to leave questions unanswered.”

The truth behind your desires is too affronting with your personal values. You can’t muster the gusto to say anything, and instead nod fervently against Jotaro.

Kakyoin snickers, goading you with a thrust that you desperately wanted. “What do you want?”

You let out an indignant whine in response. Jotaro pats your sides, insistent, as he and Star Platinum slow their pace. You grind your hips back, but Jotaro holds you firm.

“Didn’t quite hear that.”

Your whining becomes irate, raising your chest off of Jotaro’s to look down at him irefully. His expression frustrates you, the sweat on his forehead accentuating the raise of his brows.

“You look cute when you’re pissed off,” Jotaro derides. Kakyoin wants to see for himself, his hand cupping your jaw to turn your face towards him. You grit your teeth at him, though your eyes cry out for anything at all that he’ll give you.

“You’re right,” Kakyoin grins, the look of it only making you more frustrated.

“Please, stop…” you manage to utter with Kakyoin’s firm grasp on your jaw, pinching your cheeks inwards.

“Stop what?” he tilts his head.

You grumble something under your breath.

“Hm?”

“Please, stop… teasing me,” you spit, breathing with the relief of getting the desire off of your shoulders. You’re infuriated further as they chuckle, Kakyoin’s laugh much more enthusiastic than Jotaro’s.

“All you have to do is say it,” Kakyoin insists. “Tell me what you want.”

You force the lump in your throat to lessen, making way for coherence. “Hierophant… please…”

Kakyoin thrums in approval as he releases your jaw, allowing you to return your gaze to Jotaro’s icy coolness.

“What about Hierophant?” Kakyoin ribs.

You almost scream, pursing your lips to suppress the urge. It wasn’t enough for them? What would be?

“Please… just put it in,” you finally manage to seethe.

Kakyoin grins at the way he can twist you from your innocence, no matter how desperately you clung to it. He awards you with a shallow prodding of Hierophant’s tip, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. You think for a moment that he’ll plunge deeper, but when he holds back, you whine in encouragement.

Your breath catches in your throat as Kakyoin wraps his fingers around your neck, long and stately. He careens your back into an arch, grinding their members against you with a new angle.

“Kak… Kakyoin…” you snivel, your voice groveling as his fingers presses into the softness of your carotid.

“Tell me how bad you want it, you fucking slut,” his abrasiveness startles you, though Jotaro seems amused as his chest bobs with a chuckle.

“I-- I need it! Please-- Ah… Just fuck me!” you bawl, your fist pounding into the meat of Jotaro’s chest. He responds by grabbing your fist with burning fingers and yanking your weight out from under you, Kakyoin releasing your neck as Jotaro pulls you flush with his chest. You don’t have time to relax, Kakyoin making quick work of you with a slap of your ass.

You bite down on the thickness of Jotaro’s chest that you find between your teeth as Hierophant cruelly plunges into you with no hesitation. You’re stretched and gouged, the boundaries of your body tested in the most delicious way. Jotaro picks up where he left off, grinding his cock into your waiting heat. He says something to Kakyoin, but you’re too overcome by your body finally being used as it was always meant to be.

More of Hierophant’s slurry leaks onto your holes and makes a mess of the sheets. You utter jibberish into Jotaro’s chest, the only discernible syllables the desperate calling of both of their names. Jotaro holds your lower back in place, applying pressure onto your mound to grind your clit against the coarse skin of his groin. You dig your fingers into Jotaro’s hair, his forbearing nonchalance infuriating despite alluring you to test it and bring some reaction from him.

You can feel your gut twisting as they pound into you with a chugging rhythm. Kakyoin’s fingers dig into your hips, recoiling you into their thrusts to push their cocks even deeper in. You can feel drool escape the corner of your mouth as it slacks agape, but you don’t care to maintain any shred of dignity you have left. Jotaro grasps the nape of your neck forcefully, prying your face from his chest and sealing his lips on your own once more. You never took Jotaro for a kisser, but you’re glad he is; his lips are softer than they look, and you’re beginning to get addicted to the smokey taste of his mouth.

He smiles into the kiss as you whimper and cry, the stimulation overbearing and all-consuming. You grasp at anything your hands can reach, though it does little to settle your nerves. The tingling sensation that Hierophant provides drives you close to insanity as they have their way with you, your whimpers gradually shifting to heated moans. Jotaro releases your lips to let the sound of them reverberate, much to Kakyoin’s delight.

He rewards your obscenity with an increase in pace, Jotaro following suit. You feel something bubbling inside your pelvis against your will, the tension of it pitching your voice. You claw your fingers into the flesh of Jotaro’s shoulders, your breasts bouncing with each deep thrust that they drive into you. Each time one of their heads bumps into a new ridge inside you, you struggle to contain the bursting of an aching throbbing in your gut.

You don’t believe it, and you’re not entirely sure that what you’re feeling is what you’re supposed to feel, but your head hangs loosely on your craned neck as the aching in your gut flickers into a flame. You choke back a startled whine, your face heating and your legs feeling weak. Jotaro grasps your forearms to steady your weight. Your eyes are closed, but you can practically see Jotaro’s smug expression as he grunts in approval. Kakyoin ruts into your heaving form, stray strands of red hair appearing maroon as his sweat slicks it against his forehead. They push and push against the increasing tightness inside you, almost slipping out of you with the resistance. You can finally release a disgruntled, shivering sigh as you feel your insides relax despite the incessant pounding.

“She just came, didn’t she? I felt it,” Jotaro chides, his voice wispy with the marks of exhaustion. The sound of it renews you, your head spinning.

“I think so. Did you cum, (Y/N)?” Kakyoin asks, almost too out of breath to do so.

You groan in agreement, finally collapsing onto Jotaro’s chest with exhausted muscles singeing deeply against your bones.

“Man, you’re a freak, huh? Always the innocent, cute ones…” Jotaro slurs, sliding his fingers into your mouth. He scissors them on your tongue, filling the last hole you have.

You suppose that if you’re loving this so much, you must be. You feel like you were made for this, your insides contouring to their demands. Kakyoin is too curious to let that comment go.

“You’re a freak, (Y/N)?” Kakyoin pries, his cock buried inside you with a particularly thorough thrust.

You find it within yourself to form words, despite the mumbling caused by Jotaro’s fingers. “N… no…”

“You sure?” Kakyoin asks as he slaps the heel of his hand against your ass. You yelp with the pain, only for one of Hierophant’s tentacles to slither up to the point of impact and rub it soothingly. Even when he tries to be someone he isn’t, his true nature shines through. Perhaps he’s trying to mimic Jotaro and his stoic dominance, feeling inferior. Either way, you reach up to stroke the tendril in an act of gratitude with trembling fingers.

“C’mon, say it,” Jotaro goads, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and slathering the spit on your cheek. The coolness it brings you is unexpectedly appreciated. “Say you’re a freak.”

Jotaro pinches your cheeks with his hand as you lose yourself again, overcome by a second wave of pressure that clamps your insides. You groan, the sound distorted by Jotaro’s mangling of the plushness of your cheeks. It’s music to their ears. As you relax once more, you’re confronted by the unceasing rhythm that tempts you back towards release. Orgasming like this, one after another, tempts the brink of your sanity and your internal locus of control.

“Fucking say it,” Jotaro commands, his tone more dogged as he fights the gasp in his breath.

“I--I’m…” you start but can’t finish, Jotaro’s fingers curling against the bottom row of your teeth in your silence. He jostles your jaw before releasing, spit dribbling down your chin.

“Try again.”

“I’m… a freak,” you finally manage, the sound of the words in your voice foreign and oversexed. You’re glad you managed it though, rewarded by pats on the small of your back by Kakyoin and a throaty groan from Jotaro.

“Yeah, you fucking are…” Kakyoin groans. His thumbs dig into your flesh, his thighs burning with lactic acid.

Jotaro huffs, his chest heaving. Sweat dots the hollows of his muscles, darkening the light purple fabric of his tank top in spots. His pace quickens, and with it Star Platinum’s, and you grin at the sensation of his balls slapping into you. They’re both so deep, grinding against your human limits perpetually.

“Shit…” Jotaro gasps. “I’m gonna cum…”

Jotaro abruptly brings your chest to his with a slap, his arms wrapping around you almost too tightly. He jerks into you with no restraint or consideration, his hot bursts of breath sending stray strands of your hair away from his lips. You feel more like a toy than anything else as he uses you to his full necessity. Your breath is almost knocked out of you; you’re not sure if it’s because of Jotaro’s incredible grasp on your rib cage, or the thought of Jotaro cumming inside you.

His teeth dig into the muscle of your neck, earning a squeal from your diaphragm. As he clamps down, you feel it-- oh God, do you feel it.

Jotaro cums first, ropes of it spurting inside your well-used pussy. You revel in the warmth and profanity of the sensation as he juts his hips against you with erratic pulses. You’re not prepared, however, for the onslaught that is Star Platinum’s orgasm. In every way that Hierophant sent static through your veins, Star Platinum’s cum feels like black matter and stardust. It spills out of you despite the filling of your pussy, the sheer volume of it simply too much to contain. Jotaro reels with the sensation of what’s essentially two orgasms at once, milking his and his stand’s cocks as best as he can against the walls of your pussy. Jotaro finally releases his embrace and the hold of your flesh between his teeth, the entirety of his weight falling onto the mattress. You look down at his parted lips and lazy closed eyes, the mixture of their cum spilling over his balls and onto the blanket below.

Kakyoin rolls his lips between his teeth, sinking himself and Hierophant as deep into your ass as he can manage. He focuses the tightness of the ring of muscle at the base of his cock, pushing himself through it with the rolling of his hips. You wish you could see his expression, but his noises are just as sweet; they’re breathy and… pretty. It’s the only word you can think of to describe the utterances that leave his lips, broken up by heaving exhales.

The sensation of cum in your ass is less prominent, but still fills you with a sense of warmth and wholeness. Kakyoin’s cum combines with Hierophant’s, the feeling of it electrifying you from deep inside. You writhe and twist as your guts tingle, the mixture contained only by the expanse of space available with the usage of your hole.

Kakyoin’s orgasm is more finite than Jotaro’s, ceasing his thrusting after only a few jerks. He’s exhausted and overworked as he allows himself to collapse onto your back, his cheek pressed into the space between your shoulder blades. The new angle forces his still-hard cock out of your ass, spilling voluminous gobs of cum out to drip down onto Jotaro’s cock and pooling on his balls. Hierophant dissipates as opposed to withdrawing, your abused hole shrinking in relief.

The three of you stay like this for a moment, catching your breaths and sweltering in the heat between you. Your muscles twitch involuntarily, sending additional straggling strings of cum onto the blanket.

You find yourself being raised again, up and off of Jotaro and Star Platinum’s softening cocks. You’re accustomed to the way Hierophant twists around you and supports your weight excellently, gently craning your neck to allow Kakyoin to place beneficent pecks there. Jotaro offers his gratitude in his own way, his hands barely raising to stroke the delicate skin of the inside of your forearm. You’re sandwiched between their chests, then, as they heave and drip with the scent of sex.

“Kak,” Jotaro can barely manage to utter. He doesn’t need to continue, Kakyoin getting the hint.

Jotaro can finally fill his lungs fully with air as Kakyoin’s weight releases from his chest. He flops onto the bed next to you, the mattress shaking with the shifting of his body. Hierophant suspends you quickly after, bringing your spent body close to his. You giggle with the tenderness of Hierophant’s tendrils, beginning to genuinely enjoy the way it wraps around you and moves you with its will.

Your arm crosses Kakyoin’s chest as you nuzzle your head into the softness of the inside of his shoulder. None of you pay the mess you’ve made any mind, finding solace in the quietness that only gasping breaths can bring. Kakyoin’s hand molds to the contour of your side, holding you close to him.

Jotaro is less inclined towards such affection, instead jutting his shoulder against your upper back. He wants a cigarette or a beer more than anything at the moment, brushing sweat-slicked curls of hair from his forehead.

You finally have a chance to consider the ridiculousness of the situation you find yourself in, as well as the soreness that’s dulled by Hierophant and Star Platinum’s pleasantly magnetized fluids. A chance to breathe and think, something you’d taken for granted before this, brings you back to yourself. Jotaro and Kakyoin must agree, considering the silence between the three of you as you steady your breaths and allow your blood to cool.

Star Platinum’s careful fingers clear your face from scraggly hair. You smile; if Jotaro was too proud to show you affection himself, Star Platinum seemed more than happy to fill in.

You almost fall asleep with the amount of time that you stay like that, the slurry between your legs cooling and even stickier than before. You’re snapped out of it by Kakyoin’s voice, quiet and tender.

“Wanna get cleaned up?”

You blink at the proposition, the idea of a shower quite attractive in that moment as you find yourself drenched with sweat and doused with stickiness. Kakyoin nuzzles into your hair as you nod, the sweet smell of your sweat closing his eyes.

You don’t have to worry about supporting your weight, considering you have four very capable assistants helping you into the shower. The hot water might as well be holy water, absolving you of your sins and soreness. You support yourself in Jotaro’s sturdy embrace as Kakyoin runs the water over you, introducing a rose-scented soap that reminds you of country gardens. He runs a soft cloth across your chest, bubbles whisked away by the stream of the shower.

“She did so wonderfully, didn’t she, Jotaro?” Kakyoin mewls against the sound of the water battering the shower tile.

“I suppose,” Jotaro groans from behind you, his hands running down your inner thighs.

“C’mon, give her what she deserves,” Kakyoin asserts, sudsing your hair and massaging your scalp.

Jotaro swallows back a snarky one-liner about how he just spent the last hour and a half giving you what you deserve. He scoffs instead. “Yeah, you take dick like a champ.”

Kakyoin tsks, obviously finding Jotaro’s comment disagreeable. You take what you can get though, smiling with the sentiment. The clear-headedness that Jotaro gains from post-orgasm seems to have tightened his lips back to his usual reticent diction.

Star Platinum rinses your hair of the shampoo, keeping it out of your eyes. You close your eyes into the heat of the water and the surprising delicateness of Star Platinum’s ministrations, careful not to snag and tug your hair.

Jotaro’s hesitancy seems limited only to his words, his hands snaking around your leg to cup the soreness between them. You lurch forward onto Kakyoin’s chest, the stinging of the pressure of his fingers throwing a whine from your diaphragm. The noise brings Jotaro’s lips to your neck to sink his teeth into the sensitivity there. Kakyoin scolds him, but Jotaro is obviously unimpeded, his stubborn nature urging him to do exactly what he tells him not to do.

“It’s… it’s alright…” you utter, the stream of water muddling your words almost inaudible. Kakyoin meets Jotaro’s prowling graze, his eyebrow twitching in thought.

“Ah…” Kakyoin brushes wet hair from your face and kisses your forehead. “In that case…”

Jotaro ruts his hips against the small of your back, the hardness running across the hollow of your spine surprising. There’s no way he’s hard already, right?

He holds his shaft by the base and slaps the head against the softness of your ass to assert that yes, he is. His eyelashes balance drops of shower water as he closes his eyes, rocking into you with a roll of his hips. You grind your clit into Jotaro’s hand, the pleasure mixing with pain in a delicious cocktail, inebriating you once more.

Kakyoin brings your lips to his with a suggestive thumb on your chin. He gropes your breast, gently pinching the nipple into hardness before taking the mound of it into his palm.

“I think she deserves a reward for being so lovely for us,” Kakyoin hums into your waiting lips after breaking the kiss for just a moment.

You feel Jotaro growl into your shoulder, his tongue ribbing the indents of his teeth in your skin. He says nothing, his body doing all the speaking necessary. His finger loops around your clitoris, heated by blood and the water running down it. Kakyoin slings the cloth across your bare shoulder, freeing his other hand to slide a purposeful thumb across your lips before insisting its entrance between them.

You stabilize yourself with your palms against Kakyoin’s chest. Hierophant winds its way onto your arms, pressing your weight further onto him.

You think they’d better hurry before the water runs cold.

They don’t, the chippy midi tune from the television reverberating through the sounds of heated whines and grunts. The 'pause' menu flashes in a rhythm, too slow to match the pace of their fucking, awaiting your deferred return. It can wait, though, as you play a different game, one that you find much, much more satisfying to win.

Tags:

Threesome - F/M/M

Standcest (JoJo)

Predicament Bondage

Loss of Virginity

Double Penetration in Two Holes

Loss of Innocence

First Time Blow Jobs

Rough Sex

Rough Body Play

Cunnilingus

Creampie

Biting

Choking

Making Out

Sexual Tension

Explicit Sexual Content

Multiple Sex Positions

Multiple Penetration

Multiple Orgasms

Praise Kink

Pet Names

Seduction

Jealousy

Teasing

Anal Fingering

Double Anal Penetration

Double Vaginal Penetration

Vaginal Fingering

POV Second Person

Finger Sucking

Objectification

Aftercare

Showers

Post-Coital Cuddling

Spit Kink

Pining

#jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #x reader #jotaro x kakyoin x reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #star platinum x reader #hierophant green x reader #star platinum #hierophant green #n/s/f/w

150 notes · View notes

justauthoring · 6 years

Text

No Reason To (17/50)

Prompt: “And I guess… when it comes down to it, I trust you.”

It has come to my attention that by adding links to my posts, it stops that post from being seen in the tags tagged. So, sadly, I will no longer be able to link previous parts of NRT on new chapters. BUT all part can be found easily on my “No Reason To Series MasterList!” found in my bio.

A/N: I did it, lol. I got this part done and ready by Saturday (today) - *insert me patting myself on the back* Hope you enjoy!

Oh, and, as of now, the next part will be uploaded next Saturday, not Tuesday.

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

AGAIN, remember if you’d like me to continue this series, just leave a little comment or an ask letting me know. I will NOT continue the series if no one wants me to.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Stiles x McCall!Reader

Based off of: Teen Wolf 03x09 and 03x10

Hopping out of the passengers side of Stiles’s jeep, the two of you meet up with Scott who’s just gotten off his motorcycle. Almost instantly, Stiles questions; “where is she?”

“Over here,” a distant voice calls, pulling your eyes on Allison and Lydia who are stood just a few feet away from you. Making your way over to the two of them, you shake your head at Lydia, staring down at her in deep concern; “Lydia?”

“It’s the same thing,” she breathes, obviously panicked. “Same thing as the pool. I got into the car heading somewhere totally different, and ended up here. And you told me to call you if there’s a dead body.”

“You found a dead body?” Stiles exclaims, glancing briefly at you and Scott before turning towards Lydia once more.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet,” Stiles repeats, “what do you mean not yet? Lydia, you’re supposed to call us after you find the dead body.”

“Oh, no,” Lydia immediately shakes her head, raising her pointer finger. “I’m not doing that again. You find the dead body from now on.”

“How are we supposed to find the dead body?” Stiles questions, his patience obviously wearing thin. “You’re always the one finding the dead body.”

Something within you, a feeling you can’t explain, spikes, and you turn your head towards Scott. His attention is stolen by something to the left of him, and then suddenly, before you can ask, he’s walking forward. You move your gaze past his shoulder, your eyes widening when you see what he has.

“Guys,” he calls, interrupting Stiles and Lydia. “I found the dead body.”

There, on the Beacon Hills High School sign, is... the dead body.

“Honestly, Scott, i’m fine.”

“I know you’re not.”

Pausing, the grip you hold on your locker door tightens, even for just a moment before you recollect yourself. Plastering a smile on your face, you lean back, shutting said locker door to meet your brother’s eyes. “See,” you call, brightening your smile. “Fine.”

Scott steps in front of you before you can walk off, blocking your path before setting his hand on your shoulder. Guiding you back towards the lockers, he glances around, making sure no one’s in earshot of your conversation before letting his eyes fall on yours once more, his gaze considerably softening when he does so. “This connection we have,” he begins, “it isn’t just physical pain. It’s emotional pain too.”

Sighing, you bite your lip, glancing over to your right.

“What’s the matter?” Scott continues, voice dripping with concern. “And don’t lie to me. I can hear your heart beat.”

“You’re creepy, you know that?” You snap lightly, glaring up at Scott who only offers you a lop-sided smile in return. Sighing once more, you shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest. “Isaac and I broke up... Or, well, Isaac broke up with me, I guess I should say.”

“What?” Scott exclaims, his voice pitching in anger, catching the attention of a few students standing near you. Eyes widening, you grip Scott’s arm tightly, silently telling him to calm down while sending a reassuring smile to those you’re able to catch eye of.

“Scott, calm down.”

“What do you mean calm down?” Scott gripes, “he broke up with you? After we let him stay with us?”

“Scott,” you exhale heavily, “yeah, he broke up with me, but... I probably would’ve done it myself eventually. If he’d given me like a week or two more, to be honest.”

“I don’t understand,” Scott mumbles, shoulders falling. “You two seemed happy.”

“We were... I guess, at one point,” you explain, shrugging your shoulders as you glance up at Scott. “I loved him, I still do, but just not in the same way. Ever since that party,” meeting Scott’s eyes, you tell him all you need to know. “It just hasn’t been the same.”

“But... at the lacrosse game, you and him-”

“He stayed, instead of going with Boyd and Erica. I thought that meant he’d chosen me, and it did, but, I don’t think I ever completely forgave him,” you finish, smiling sadly. “I think, at one point, I really, truly, could’ve loved him. But... not after that.”

Scott just frowns, his hand slipping into your own and squeezing. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure, nodding. “I wanted to break up. Like I said, give me a week or two more and I would’ve done it myself. I just... I want to know why it hurts so much.”

Scott doesn’t answer your unsaid question. Instead, he slips his hand out of yours, opting for a hug. You fall into the embrace easily, allowing yourself a moment of weakness as you let your head sink against his chest.

In some ways, maybe this twin connection was a blessing. Scott had always been able to understand you, you were twins after all. He understood you better than anyone else, just like you understood him better than anyone else. But now, it’s like he just knew, without even having to ask.

He just knew what you needed.

“Why are you even talking to me?”

“Why are we even talking to him?” You retort Ethan’s question, crossing your arms over your chest with a raised brow the boys way. His eyes narrow, falling on your own, and you’re also not oblivious to the glare Scott gives you, silently telling you to play nice. Of course, that’s not who you are. “No, honestly,” you continue, “he helped killed our friend. He killed Boyd.”

With a small twitch of his lips, Ethan takes a step towards you; “you’re right,” he nods, voice lowered threateningly. “I did kill your friend. How do you know i’m not gonna kill you?”

“Are you threatening her?” Stiles snaps before you can say anything, causing your gaze to fall on him, eyes widening in surprise. He shoves himself off the wall, taking a step towards Ethan. “You know what i’m going to do, i’m going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your freaking-”

Scott steps forward, grabbing a hold of Stiles’ arms and cutting him off before he can say anything more. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Stiles. Okay. We get it.” Still, even as your brother pats Stiles’ on the chest, signalling him to step back, you can’t help the smile that grows on your lips. You’ve never seen Stiles that protective over you, in a physical sense, and even though, in reality, you can handle yourself quite fine, it’s nice to know he cares.

You meet Stiles’ eyes, sending him a shy smile to wish he returns before Scott speaks up.

“We’re talking to you,” Scott begins, turning to Ethan. “Because I know that you didn’t want to kill Boyd. And I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn’t do it again.”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head.

“You don’t know what we owe them,” Ethan mumbles, voice soft, “especially Deucalion. We weren’t like Kali or Ennis when we met him. We weren’t alpha’s.”

“What were you?”

“Omegas.”

“What?” You exclaim, “I don’t-”

“In actual wolf packs,” Ethan cuts you off, sighing slightly as he leans against the wall behind him. “Omegas are the scapegoat, the last to eat, the one who has to take the abuse from the rest of the pack.”

“So you and your brother were, like, the bitches of the pack?” Stiles questions, and you can’t help but giggle lightly at his terminology.

“Something like that,” Ethan snaps.

“What happened?”

“They were killers,” Ethan begins, “I mean, people talk about us as monsters. Well, they were the one who gave us the reputation. And our alpha was the worst of them.”

“Why didn’t you guys just fight back?” You ask.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “form voltron wolf, you know? Kick everyone’s asses?”

“We couldn’t,” Ethan snaps, voice raising slightly. “We didn’t know how to control it back then.”

“Deucalion taught you,” Scott concludes.

“And then, we fought. We took down the whole pack, one by one. And by the time we got to our alpha, he was begging for his life. And we tore him apart. Literally.”

Huffing, you twist your face in disgust, “heroes of your own story.”

Scott gives you a warning glare, before turning towards Ethan once more. “What about your emissary?”

Ethan pauses a moment, before shaking his head.

“They’re all dead. Kali and Ennis’ too?”

“All of them. Except for Deucalion.”

“You mean Morrell?” Stiles questions.

Before Ethan can answer, he suddenly gasps loudly in pain, his hand immediately falling to his chest.

“What?” Scott stammers, body tensing. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Not me,” Ethan shakes his head, “my brother.”

Running in behind Scott, you step in front of Aiden, therefore stepping in front of his target as both Ethan and Scott move to hold him and the weight in his hands back and away from Cora. You turn your head slightly over your shoulder, watching as Stiles falls next to Lydia and crouches before Cora, hands falling on her in concern.

“Aiden,” Ethan bellows, as the weight drops to the floor with a clatter. “You can’t do this!”

“She came at me!” Aiden growls.

“It doesn’t matter!” Ethan reminds, dismissing Aiden. “Kali gave Derek until the next full moon. You can’t touch him or her.”

Knowing Aiden isn’t the main threat anymore, you turn around, falling by Cora’s side as she rolls onto her back, moaning out in pain. Leaning forward, you inspect the wound on her head, noticing Ethan leading Aiden out of the room out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey, guys,” Stiles calls softly, “I think she’s pretty hurt.”

Wincing, you hug yourself tightly as you watch Cora wipe away the dried blood stained on her forehead. While you don’t necessarily blame her for being upset, it’d been pretty stupid of her to attack Aiden on her own like that. Still, the wound definitely looked painful.

“You okay?” Scott asks softly, concern.

“She doesn’t look okay,” Lydia mumbles, shaking her head.

Glaring at Lydia through the reflection of the mirror, Cora drops the paper towel in her hand and spins, turning to face the four of you. “I’ll heal.”

She stumbles back slightly, Scott and Stiles the first ones to rush forward, making sure she doesn’t fall. Scott grabs a hold of her arm, to which she quickly pulls away, glaring up at him. “I said i’m fine.”

“Do you realize how suicidally crazy that was?” Stiles questions, narrowing his eyes in thought. “What were you thinking going after them?”

“I did it for Boyd,” Cora cries, “none of you were doing anything.”

Nodding quickly, Scott whispers; “we’re trying.”

“And you’re failing,” she spits, “you’re just a bunch of stupid teenagers running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed.” Meeting Scott’s eyes, you sigh. “But all you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies.”

Turning her back of the four of you, she walks out without saying anything more.

“She’s definitely a Hale,” Stiles comments a moment later, interrupting the silence. “I’ll make sure she gets home,” he finishes, slipping past Lydia and Scott.

“I’ll help,” you call after him a second later, stepping forward. At the looks you receive, you shrug your shoulders, feigning innocence. “Not much else for me to do anyways.”

“Philosophers?”

“And guardians,” Allison adds over the phone, slightly out of breath. “Which after last night has to mean something like law enforcement, right?” Meeting Stiles’ eyes, even for just a second, you’re not unaware to the panic that surfaces. “Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need but you have to get him to believe. Tell your dad. Warn him.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles stammers, “I know.” Ending the call, he inhales deeply.

“What are you going to do?” Cora questions, staring at Stiles.

“I’m gonna tell him the truth,” Stiles breathes, and it’s obvious by the way he’s acting he’s scared. Nervous. But you don’t blame him. “And i’m gonna need the both of your guys helps.”

Sat on Stiles bed, next to Cora, you watch, with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, as Stiles paces back and forth. You can tell with each step he takes, Noah is becoming increasingly more and more frustrated, and you can’t say you blame him. Even you’re getting a little annoyed by Stiles’ frantic pacing and procrastination of what he just needs to say.

But of course, you don’t say anything. You keep your mouth shut, and wait. Wait until Stiles needs you.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Stiles mumbles to himself. Then, “yes, okay.” Spinning to his father, he looks like he’s going to say something before; “no, oh--”

“Stiles?” Noah calls, patience growing thin.

“Dad, i’m sorry, okay? I’m just-- I’m trying to-- I’m just trying to figure out how to start here.”

“Hey,” Noah snaps, “I don’t have this kind of time.”

You meet Cora’s eyes, sighing.

“Um,” Stiles starts, voice shaky. “For the last year, you’ve had all these cases that you couldn’t figure out, right? I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who had drowned him, and all these murders right now. It’s like--It’s like you’ve been playing the losing game.”

“Stiles, the last thing I need right now is job performance review from my own son.”

You wince slightly at the anger and frustration leaking through Noah’s tone of voice.

“I know,” Stiles sighs, rubbing at his forehead before something seemingly catches his attention. “Okay, see, but that’s--that’s just it, dad.” Rushing over to his right, he grabs the chess board off the top of his drawer, taking it over to his desk. “The--The reason that you’re losing the game is ‘cause you’ve never been able to see the whole board.”

He opens the chess board, the pieces stumbling about within before taking a step back.

“I need to show you the whole board.”

“Scott and Derek are werewolves?”

“Yes.”

“And Kate Argent was a werewolf?”

“Hunter,” Stiles corrects, “that’s-purple’s hunter.”

“Along with Allison and her father,” Cora adds.

“Yeah,” Noah mumbles, “and--and my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a Kanima?”

“What?” Stiles explains, face scrunching up in confusion. “No, no, no, no, he’s a druid, okay? Well, we think.”

“So who’s the kanima?”

“Jackson.”

“No, Jackson’s a werewolf.”

“Jackson was the kanima first,” Stiles explains, “and then Peter and Derek killed him and he came back to life as a werewolf. Now, he’s in London.”

“Who’s the Da-rack?”

“It’s the Da-rock.”

“We don’t know yet,” you answer for Stiles, shaking your head.

“We don’t know yet,” Stiles repeats quietly.

“But he was killed by werewolves?”

“Slashed up and left for dead.”

“We think,” you correct once more.

Noah’s eyes fall on yours, narrowing; “and what are you?”

“A witch,” you answer, smiling slightly. “Pinks witch.”

Leaning back against his seat, Noah exhales heavily. “Why was Jackson the kanima?”

“‘Cause sometimes, the shape that you take reflects the person that you are,” Stiles explains, eyes twitching slightly in hope that his father is understand (and believing) him.

“And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier-by-the-second father take?”

Apparently, he wasn’t understanding it so well.

“Uh,” Stiles stammers, “that would be more of an expression, like the one you’re currently wearing.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods, shoving himself up to his feet to walk away.

“Dad--dad,” Stiles calls, desperate as he too pushes himself to his feet. “Would you--I can prove it, okay?” Jumping in front of his father, Stiles points to Cora, “look, she’s one of them. A werewolf. A-And Y/N, she said it herself, she’s a witch.”

“Stiles, Stiles!” Flinching, you bite your lip. “That’s enough,” Noah demands, stepping past Stiles.

“Dad,” Stiles calls, spinning around to face his father. “Can you please just hold on?” Reluctantly, Noah pauses and Stiles turns to you and Cora. “You ready?”

You move to stand up as Cora nods, bracing yourself.

“All right, dad, just watch this, okay?”

The moment Cora stands to her feet, her eyes roll to the back of her head and she drops. You jump, spinning to help her just as Noah comes rushing forward, her body falling to the ground with a thud.

Rolling her to her back, Noah’s eyes widen at the bleeding wound at the top of her forehead.

“Call an ambulance.”

“What did you see the night at the bank when Scott was trying to save Deaton?”

Two steps behind Stiles and his dad, you gnaw on your bottom lip. Even from the back of his head, you can see the patience on Stiles’s father almost gone, and any second now, he’s just going to burst. Not to mention, you want to get to the school as quick as possible and help Scott and the rest try to save the last philosopher sacrifice as Allison had informed you it was teachers now law enforcement.

But you couldn’t leave without Stiles, given that he had the jeep. Not to mention, even if you could, you wouldn’t.

“Nothing,” Noah replies shortly, never wavering in his step.

“Dad,” Stiles sighs, “you saw him healing himself after he tried crossing the mountain ash.”

“I don’t know what I saw,” Noah corrects, holding up his hand.

You feel your body tense with anticipation as Stiles doesn’t relent; “you saw something you can’t explain.”

“Stiles,” Noah snaps, falling stopping and turning around to face his son. You halt to a quick stop yourself, still two steps behind the two of them as you awkwardly glance around, unsure. “I have seen a lot of thing I can’t explain in this town. That doesn’t make ‘em supernatural and it doesn’t make ‘em real. They just found another body. That’s real. And that’s the lead i’m following.”

Noah takes a step back, Stiles quick to follow; “yeah, and another teacher's going to die if you don’t start listening to me.”

“I am listening!”

With a frown, you glance down at your feet, your eyes falling shut as Noah finally snaps.

“I have been listening!” He bellows, everyone growing quiet and all eyes falling on him and Stiles.

“You just don’t believe,” Stiles finally says after a moment.

Noah opens his mouth to say something, but can’t seem to find the right words. Another moment of tense silence, he shakes his head, turning away and walking off. But, just before he can walk out the door, Stiles mumbles; “mom would’ve believed me.”

You suddenly feel out of place. Like you shouldn’t be there, and it isn’t your place to be there.

Noah halts in his step just as Stiles turns to you, walking past you and back the way you came. You only hesitate a moment before following after your friend, but not without a weary and final glance back at Mr. Stilinski.

Stepping into the recital behind Stiles, you fall next to your brother, offering a short smile in greeting before glancing around yourself. Somehow, you meet Isaac’s gaze from afar, stood next to Allison. There’s a moment, where you just stare at him, meeting his eyes before you offer a short smile, turning back to the conversation Scott and Stiles are having.

Something about Lydia not answering her texts.

Once again by Stiles’ side, the two of you rush after Scott as quickly as you can. He’d just suddenly ran off, saying something about how Lydia was in danger before just leaving without another word of explanation. But, the moment you reach the classroom Scott’s in, only having a moment to look inside, Ms. Blake shoves her desk forward, with no strain at all, barricading the door shut.

Stiles immediately begins slamming his body up against the door, it finally registering within you that not only is Scott and Ms. Blake in there, but Lydia and Stiles’ dad as well. But, no matter how hard he shoves, the door won’t budge.

Stiles’ wide eyes fall on you, “can’t you push it open? Do something?”

“I-I...” Words trailing, you step forward, focusing your gaze and attention on the door and only the door. “It might take a while,” you warn Stiles, “I don’t have my full powers yet.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, instead, he slams up against the side of the door, peering in through the tiny window at the top of the door. Bracing yourself, you inhale deeply, your entire body tensing as you let your lips part, trying to force the desk away. You see Stiles flinch from the side of you just as you push the desk back, him running through not a moment later.

Taking a deep breath, you follow in a second later, just as you hear Stiles call out; “dad?”

Looking around the room, your eyes widen when you realize that both Ms. Blake and Stiles’ dad are gone. As if they’d disappeared in thin air.

“They’re already here, aren’t they?”

Stepping around the wall, you narrow your eyes at the sight of Ms. Blake, not to mention stood so closely next to Derek. She hadn’t been your teacher, except for when she was filling in for Mr. Harris, but to think... that it had been her the entire time. Right under your noses. And now Stiles’ father had been taken because none of you had noticed soon enough.

She turns to face the three of you, you, Stiles and Scott, her lips curved downwards into a deep frown. “So...” She starts, speaking to Derek, but her eyes on you. “They told you it was me? That i’m the one taking people?”

“We told him you’re the one killing people,” Scott corrects, his voice pitching in frustration and betrayal.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice tears in Stiles’ eyes. They’ve never left, since his dad had been taken, but still, it breaks your heart to see him this way.

“Oh, that’s right,” Ms. Blake chuckles, “committing human sacrifices? What, cutting their throats? Yeah, I probably do it on my lunch hour. That way, I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense.”

“Where’s my dad?” Your eyes fall on Stiles as he speaks up, your eyes softening when you notice a tear fall down his cheek. You turn to Ms. Blake expectantly, practically willing her to answer that question.

Of course, it doesn’t work. “How should I know?”

Biting your lip, you slip your hand into Stiles’. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t pull away either, and with no words yourself, you squeeze his hand, trying your best to reassure him as your eyes fall back on Ms. Blake. She turns to Derek at your guys lack of reply, pleading; “Derek, tell me you don’t believe this.”

Derek doesn’t reply right away. His gaze flickers past Ms. Blake, glancing at Scott, Stiles and you. For a brief second he gaze meets your own, and shaking your head, you tell him what he needs to know.

“Do you know what happened to Stiles’ father?” Derek questions Jennifer.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head as she takes a step back.

Feeling your anger spike, unable to control yourself, you let your narrowed eyes fall on her. “Ask her why she almost killed Lydia,” you spit, just as she turns to look at you.

“Lydia Martin?” Jennifer exclaims incredulously, “I don’t know anything about that.”

“What do you know?” Derek snaps, pulling Jeniffer’s eyes back on his own.

“I know that these kids,” you scoff, “for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story.” Turning to you, her eyes flare; “and one they can’t prove, by the way.”

Raising the container held in his hand, Scott rebuts; “what if we can?”

Confidence wavering, Jennifer swallows nervously; “what is that?”

Stepping forward, Scott slowly begins to unscrew the lid. “My boss told me it’s a poison and a cure... which means you can use it... and it can be used against you.”

“Mistletoe?”

Scott throws his hand forward, throwing the mistletoe, as Jennifer had guessed, towards her, a gasp immediately leaving her lips. When the smoke and mistletoe clears, you revolt at the small images that flash of Jennifer’s true appearance and the screaming that comes along with it.

Derek backs up, eyes wide with betrayal and hurt as Jennifer recollects herself. Then, just as she runs forward, attempting at escape, Derek catches her by the neck, his claws out as she begs; “Derek, wait, wait!” He listens, halting. “You need me.”

“What are you?”

“The only person who can save your sister,” she groans, clutching at the wrist of the hand wrapped around her neck. “Call Peter. Call him!”

Doing as Jennifer says, it doesn’t take long for Peter to answer Derek. You can’t hear the conversation, but, by the end of it, all you hear is Derek whisper; “mistletoe,” before hanging the call up, looking at Jennifer with great pain in his eyes. Jennifer lets out a gasp of pain the next second, Derek’s grip obviously tightening.

“Derek,” Scott calls out, panicked. You take a step forward yourself, just as Scott continues; “Derek, what are you doing?”

“Her life--it’s in my hands!”

He raises Jennifer by the neck, gasps of pain leaving her lips.

“Stop,” Stiles begs, taking a step forward. “Derek, stop!”

“Hey!” You call, your voice booming as you glare at Derek. “Stop. You can’t kill her!”

“Stilinski,” Jennifer breathes, “you’ll never find him.”

Taking another step forward, you move so you’re in sight of Derek. “I know you’re angry,” you breathe, “I know you’re hurt. But we need her alive, like it or not, to save your sister. To find Stiles’ dad. So, you need to stop this. Now.”

His face twists, his body tensing.

“Derek,” Scott calls, “Derek!”

A moment of tensed silence later, Derek finally lets go of Jennifer, practically dropping her to the ground. She groans out in response, placing her hands before her as she pushes herself up, groaning. “That’s right,” she says after she’s collected yourself, “you need me. All of you.”

“I don’t know, something feels wrong about this.”

Leaning forward, you gaze at the side of Stiles’ head. “How so?”

“We proved it to Derek,” Stiles begins explaining, nodding. “But she still had this look like it didn’t matter. You know, like it was all still going according to plan. You guys saw it, didn’t you?”

Meeting Scott’s gaze, you sigh. You did.

With quick steps, you follow Derek’s pace and direction, next to your brother. You keep your gaze carefully trained around yourself, unsure of what would happen once you reached Cora. Jennifer obviously wanted something, or had some kind of plan, you just didn’t know what.

“Scott! Y/N! Hey!”

Pausing, you turn at the sound of Melissa’s voice, both you and Scott just managing to turn as she’s running up to you. Slightly out of breath, she shakes her head; “What are you doing here? The hospitals evacuating.”

Briefly meeting Scott’s gaze, you turn back to your mother; “we’re here for Cora.”

“What, all of you?” Melissa breathes, letting her gaze fall on the rest before stopping on the bat in Stiles’ hand. “Why does Stiles have my bat?”

“Mom,” Scott calls, “just trust me on this. You need to get out of here.”

Taking a step forward, you nod; “right now.”

Shuffling backwards slightly, Melissa nods slowly, “the building is supposed to be clear in thirty minutes. We’ve got two ambulances that are coming back. Once’s ten minutes, the other’s twenty. Cora needs to be on one of those. They’ll be picking up in the basement garage.”

Nodding, you shuffle back towards the rest as Scott confirms; “got it.”

“Okay.”

As you fall in step with the rest, you glance back, noticing Melissa watching after you and Scott. You offer her a small, reassuring smile, before turning your attention head on.

Stepping out of the elevator, you glance up at the lights briefly in response to them flickering, raising a brow. You shrug it off, coming to a stop when you notice Derek has, only for your lips to part, brows to furrow at the sight of an empty hospital bed and some black liquid that looks like it’s been spit of the floor. And a lot of it.

There are a few blotches that continue forth, creating a path.

“Derek,” you call, eyes on the floor. He turns to look at you, before following the direction of your gaze, eyes falling on the double doors in front of you. Soon, sounds of grunting and thuds can be heard, and all five of you just stand there, waiting to see what’s on the other side.

Soon enough, a body comes sliding through. It’s Peter.

“We got a problem,” he pants, raising his head. “A big problem.”

Raising your head, your eyes widen at the sight of the twins-combined, stood before you.

Almost instantly Scott and Derek transform into their werewolf selves, Derek taking charge of the situation as he positions himself in front of the twins. You step off to the side with Scott, hands at the ready, just in case, as Derek lets out a warning roar before running forwards.

He grabs the twins around the waist, shoving them back a few steps before the twins, in return, digging their elbow into his back. Derek delivers a hit to the stomach, but the twins easily gain the control, grabbing Derek by the back of the neck and hitting him repeatedly in the head. Scott, quick to help, lets out a roar himself, rushing forward.

Snapping out of your stupor, you step forward, finding a decent side bed to the left of the twins, and waiting for Scott to be out of the shot, you send it flying towards the twins. It knocks them back, allowing Scott to get back up to your feet. But before you can do anything else, Stiles and Peter are suddenly running past you, Stiles grabbing a hold of your wrist along the way and yanking you forwards.

Just as the twins slam Scott up against the wall, you, Stiles and Peter fall by Cora’s side, gently turning her onto her back to make sure she’s still breathing.

“Ethan, Aiden, stop!”

Turning your head, your eyes fall on Scott as he continues; “you don’t know what you’re doing!”

“All we want is her!” They growl in return, and instantly, your eyes turn backwards, falling on Ms. Blake, who, having seen her chance, is now retreating into the elevators.

“No!”

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Running past Stiles, you turn to help Peter get Cora through the door before Derek calling Stiles’ name interrupts you. Spinning, your eyes widen when you realize he’s started walking back the way you just came, instead of following after the five of you.

He positions himself behind the right door, the twins combined stepping through a moment later. Your lips part when you realize what he intends to do, and before you can try to stop him, he swings his bat around the back of the twins head, it immediately cracking in half in response. The twins growl at him in response, to which Stiles stumbles back in fear, going along the wall to reach you.

Grabbing a hold of Stiles, you yank him back as your brother jumps up, breaking off the light panel from the ceiling and slamming it towards the twins.

“Where’s the big guy?”

“He’s close.”

“What about Ms. Blake?”

Turning to Derek, you bite your lip as he slowly turns to face you, Stiles, Scott and Peter at Stiles’ question. Stiles’, after receiving no response from Derek, turns to Scott who only shakes his head. Sighing, you frown, just as Stiles begins to panic; “what do you mean? Like, she’s gone? Scott, are you kidding me?”

“Shh,” Derek snaps, “quiet.”

“Me be quiet?” Stiles huffs in response, taking a step towards Derek. “Me, huh? Are you telling me what to do now? When your psychotic, mass murdering girlfriend--the second one you’ve dated, by the way--has got my dad somewhere, tied up, waiting to be ritually sacrificed?”

“Stiles,” you breathe, stepping up beside him. “They’re still out there, okay?”

“And--And they want her, right?” He asks, “which means now we don’t have her either, so my dad and Cora are both dead!”

“Not yet,” you remind, meeting his eyes. You don’t say anything more, but, just by looking at him, he stops, letting out heavy breaths as he tries to calm his nerves and frustration.

Scott meets your eyes, before making his way over to Peter with Cora; “is she really dying?”

“She’s definitely not getting any better.”

Exhaling heavily, Scott shakes his head; “there has to be something that we can do. We have to help her.”

Your head snaps to the door on your right as it slams open, eyes widening when you see Ms. Blake step through. “You can’t,” she pants, “only I can. I can save her, and I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is. But there is a pack of alpha’s in this hospital who want me dead. So i’ll help you... but only when i’m out of here and safe. Only then.”

Without a second to wait, Derek lunges forward, intent on attacking her before Scott grabs a hold of him, pulling him back. “Derek, wait!”

Raising his hand, Derek points at Jennifer menacingly. “She was trying to get out!”

“I was trying to keep myself from being killed,” Jennifer defends herself, voice pitching. “You can’t blame me for that.”

“If you want to show you’re one of the good guys,” Stiles speaks up, taking a step forward as he points at Cora. “Then heal her.”

“Not until i’m safe.”

“I’d like to volunteer a different method of persuasion,” Peter offers, “let’s torture her.”

“Works for me.”

“For once,” you growl, eyes narrowing dangerously, “I agree with Peter.” You move to step forward, Scott calling out your name, before the sound of the P.A. system squeaking catches your attention. Halting in your step, your eyes widen considerably when you hear your mother’s voice.

“Um, can I have your attention? Mr. Deucalion--excuse me, just Deucalion--requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the E.R. reception.” Heart sinking, your shoulders fall, ignoring Stiles’ gaze which falls on you. You hate the shakiness of Melissa’s voice, so obviously scared and you hate imagining what kind of danger she’s in. “Do this, and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes.”

“He’s not gonna hurt her,” Jennifer says almost immediately, clearly thinking of only her own safety.

“Shut up,” you growl, taking a leap step towards the woman. You feel your nails dig into the palm of your hand, your body shaking with worry and anger as she turns her narrowed eyes to your own.

“He won’t,” she insists, before letting her eyes fall on Scott. “Scott, you know why. Tell them it’s true.”

Turning to Scott, you meet his eyes.

“What does she mean?”

He takes a step back, remaining silent.

Huffing, Jennifer sighs. “You’re not the only one he wants in his pack.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Deucalion doesn’t just want an alpha pack,” Jennifer begins, “he wants perfection. That means adding the rarest of alpha’s to his ranks.”

“A true alpha,” Peter finishes, causing your eyes to fall on his.

A moment of pause then, “what’s that?”

“The kind that doesn’t have to steal his power from another,” Peter answers Stiles, “one that can rise by the force of his own will. Our little Scott.”

Derek looks at your brother, to which Scott only shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he dismisses, “we still need to get her out of here.”

“Scott, our mom-”

“Our mom,” Scott cuts you off, eyes meeting your own, “said there’s one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes. And I don’t think we’ve been here that long, so if we can get down to the garage, get to the last ambulance, we can get out of here.”

“The twins aren’t just gonna let us walk out,” Peter reminds.

“I’ll distract them.”

“You mean fight them.”

“Whatever I have to do,” Scott assures.

Taking a step back, you shake your head, rubbing your hands over your head.

“I’ll help you,” Derek promises Scott.

“Um,” Jennifer speaks up, “sorry, but i’m not going anywhere without you, Derek.”

“I’ll do it,”

You blink, turning to Peter in surprise as he lets out a smirk; “but i’d prefer to be out there with an advantage.”

“An advantage like what?” Stiles asks, “you mean like a weapon?”

“Something better than a baseball bat.”

Helping Derek and Stiles set Cora down, you shuffle backwards, making room. Your hands gently set the girls head down, making sure it doesn’t slam, before turning to Derek. You do best to ignore the pain that floods you, guessing it hasn’t something to do with Scott and the fact that he’s currently fighting the twins.

He’s losing the battle. You can tell by the amount of pain you’re in.

“Derek,” Jennifer calls, “over here.”

Stepping back, Derek peers over the edge of the doors, before moving to where Jennifer is. Briefly glancing at Stiles, you make your way to the back exit of the car, stepping off the ambulance and following after Derek. Your lips part, hands falling to your lips when you see the dead police officer before you.

Derek and Jennifer slowly creep forward, but, feeling weary, you stay put, clutching onto the ambulance door. Sure enough, a moment later, you hear Kali’s familiar voice call out; “Julia,” with the followed sound of keys jangling before as she steps before Derek and Jennifer; “it is you.”

You jump when Stiles’ hand falls on your wrist, tugging you forward and pulling your eyes on his. Understanding his meaning, you crawl back onto the back of the ambulance, as quietly as possible, helping Stiles shut the doors behind you. Turning the Stiles the moment the door is shut, you pause, wondering if that was the right thing to do.

You should be out there helping Derek.

“I have to help him,” you whisper, shaking your head and turn back towards the doors.

You hear Stiles mumble something under his breath, grabbing you by the waist and yanking you backwards. Because of the small size of the car, you end up practically in his lap, staring up at him with wide eyes. “You can’t,” he whispers, before pressing his pointer finger against his lips, signaling you to remain silent.

You do without argument, too busy trying to ignore the racing of your heart.

Before you know it, the shadow of Derek and Jennifer running past pull you from your stupor. Eyes widening, you sit up, lips parting.

Well, now what?

Watching Stiles lock the doors out of the corner of your eyes, you shake your head.

“I should’ve helped him.”

“And what?” Stiles questions, sitting back down in front of you. “And get yourself killed?”

“A lot better than being stuck in the back of an ambulance, doing nothing,” you snap, clenching your fists. “Stiles, he has my mom.”

“I know,” Stiles whispers, “but trust me, Scott won’t let anything happen to her.”

Meeting Stiles’ eyes, the sincerity and certainty in his own gaze, despite his own predicament, reassures you. Letting out a soft, small smile, you let out a heavy breath, nodding your head. Scott will protect your mom, just like he always has, and for now, you can protect Stiles and Cora if anyone comes around.

“She’s not breathing.”

“What?” You exclaim, eyes falling on Stiles before lowering to Cora. Pausing a moment, you feel your chest tighten when you notice the lack of movement of Cora’s chest. “Wait, what? Stiles--”

He leans forward, tilting his head to the side so his ear is towards her chest and listens. You remain silent, gnawing on your lip just as Stiles pulls back, panicking. “Oh, God, oh no. Oh, no, no, no, no.”

“Why isn’t she breathing?” You exclaim, shifting in your seat. “Come on, Cora. Breathe!”

“I’m gonna give her mouth-to-mouth.”

“What?” You exclaim once more, eyes wide as you meet Stiles’ gaze. “Do you even know how to give mouth-to-mouth?”

Pulling up his sleeves, Stiles shrugs; “it can’t be that hard, can it?”

“Can’t be-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Stiles grabs Cora by the jaw, gently tilting her head back before, pinching her nose with his pointer finger and thumb and leans forward. Your entire body tenses as he presses his lips against her own, blowing, pulling back, and repeating the process.

“Come on,” you whisper, “come on, Cora. Come on.”

He continues the process multiple times over, and, despite yours and his mumbling of encouragement Cora’s way, you feel your heart fall, hope dwindling when nothing ever changes. Just as the realization that she’s most likely dead hits you, Cora gasps loudly, coughing immediately afterwards.

Stiles throws his hands up in the air, lips curving into a small, victorious smile as you mimic his own.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, letting out a small laugh, “you just saved her life.”

“I just saved her life,” Stiles repeats, clear disbelief in his voice.

Smiling brightly, eyes twinkling, you meet Stiles’s gaze, unable to help yourself as you laugh out.

“You’re a God damn hero!”

“You just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Blinking, you raise your head at the sound of Stiles’ voice. After the both of you knew Cora was safe, silence fell over the two of you, just stuck there waiting. It’d been like that a while, so the sound of Stiles’ voice surprises you, even more so when you realize he’s talking to an unconscious Cora, rather than you.

“Trust me, if there’s anything that can get us out of this, it’s Scott.” You frown at his words, watching as his face widens, and he chuckles half-heartedly. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

It’s then that you meet Stiles eyes, and though he’s still talking to Cora, he never leaves your gaze. “You know,” he continues after a moment, setting his head in his hands. “I actually used to be the one with the plan. Well, or at least a plan b.” He pauses, sighing; “well, I don’t know, now i’m thinking maybe you were right. You know, maybe--maybe we are pretty much useless. Maybe all we really do is show up and find the bodies.”

You don’t reply, you aren’t sure how to at first. Stiles lowers his gaze to Cora, and you can tell that even though he’s just spoken the words, they’ve been bothering him for a while. “It’s not true, you know,” you say after another moment of silence, causing Stiles to turn to you once more. “What she said. It isn’t true.” Flickering your gaze upwards, you nod determinedly, “we’ll find your dad and we’ll save Cora. We have to.”

“Y/N,” Stiles whispers, his voice cracking. “I don’t want to find my father’s body.”

“You won’t,” you reassure, leaning forward and taking his hand in your own. Squeezing it tightly, you promise, with no hesitance; “I swear to you that i’ll do everything in my power to save your father.”

There’s a moment of content silence between the two of you before it’s interrupted by a distant banging. Stiles and yours eyes widen, immediately becoming alert as you both make your way to the back doors, peering through the windows.

Your heart falls when you see the twins.

“Stay here,” you whisper, “I can distract them.”

“Are you insane?” Stiles exclaims, his voice hushed as he grabs a hold of your wrist, practically yanking you back. “If Scott and Derek can’t even fight them, how are you suppose to?”

“I never said i’d fight them,” you shrug, eyes narrowing. “I’ll run, distract them that way you and Cora stay safe.” Though, guiltily, your main concern is Stiles. It’s always Stiles.

Stiles lips part, and then, he’s adamantly shaking his head. “No,” he refuses, “you’re not doing that. You could die.”

“Stiles-”

“No,” he cuts you off, meeting your eyes. “I won’t let you.”

Leaning back, you let out a sigh, body tense. The twins, without even seeing them, you know are somewhere close. You and Stiles remain in complete silence in the moments that follow, unsure and frightened, anticipating the worst.

A few moments later, you sit up straight the moment you notice Stiles pressing his ear against the side of the car, obviously having heard something. His eyes meet yours, silently telling you that something was wrong, which is followed by distant footsteps, this time, ones you can hear. Snapping your head around to where the doors are, you slowly inch forward, mentally preparing yourself for the worst, when Scott suddenly appears before you. A nearly-unconscious Peter is in his hands, and he’s rapping against the windows, glancing at you and Stiles. “Open the door, open the door!”

Instantly, you and Stiles rush forward, unlocking the door and then pushing open each of the doors. “Help me get him in,” Scott says the moment the doors are open, and reaching forward, Stiles grabs Peter’s arm, pulling him into the car beside him.

“Where’s Derek and Jennifer?” Stiles asks.

Shaking his head, Scott mumbles; “I have to go back for them and my mom.”

“If you’re going back for mom,” you speak up, stepping forward, “so am I.”

“No,” Scott instantly argues, eyes falling on you. “You need to keep them safe,” he gestures to Stiles and Cora. “Stay here.”

“Scott-”

“There’s two problems,” Stiles cuts off, causing your lips to part. “Kali’s got the keys to this thing, and I just saw the twins, like, thirty seconds ago.” Followed by his explanation the distant sound of banging, no doubt coming from the twins, can be heard.

“Stay here,” advises Scott, stepping back to shut the door.

“Scott,” you call, ready to argue that you come with him. But, the moment you meet his eyes, you pause, sighing. “Just... bring back mom, okay?”

He nods, shutting the door behind him as you slump against the wall in defeat.

“All right, come on, come on, come on!”

Stepping back, you help pull out the bed with Cora on it, moving out of the way of Peter and Stiles as they prepare to carry her over to Isaac and the car. Peter eventually just takes Cora in his arms, taking lead of the situation as you move to help Stiles shut the door. You shut the one in front of you, turning to Stiles expectantly, only to pause in confusion when you see him halt.

It’s obvious something has caught his eye.

“Stiles,” you call, taking a step forward. His hand is on the sheet in front of him, a sheet you’re guessing parents have to fill out if their child is hurt. Though, his hand hovers underneath the section made for parents or guardians to sign. Then, it clicks. Parents... or guardians.

“Stiles! Y/N!” Your eyes fall on Isaac who’s waving at you to follow; “come on!”

Glancing behind him, seemingly past you, the gears in Stiles mind seem to work quickly and then suddenly he’s running past you. You hear, in the back of your head Isaac call after him, and you feel stuck. You know what he’s realized, and you know what you need to do. So, turning, you move to run after Stiles, only for the sound of Isaac calling after you causing you to halt.

“Where are you going?” He exclaims, “we have to go!”

“I need... I need to,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I just-” You say no more, ignoring Isaac this time as he calls for your name, picking up the speed in your step to catch up with Scott.

After a while of running, directly behind Stiles, your eyes widen when you see Scott hastily turning the corner, bolting off despite Stiles calling after him. Stiles, in return, slows to a stop and you nearly crash into him, grabbing a hold of him as your eyes fall to the elevator before you, where Derek lays unconscious.

“Mom,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. In the next second, you find yourself running, Stiles calling after you and then his footsteps can be heard. But you don’t slow down. Don’t slow down to think. When you reach the rooftop, you feel your heart plummet when you see Scott slowly inching towards Deucalion.

“Scott,” you cry, your voice pitching. “Please Scott.”

Stiles falls next to you then, out of breath. “Scott,” he calls, “Scott, don’t do this. Don’t go with him.”

Turning his head slightly over his shoulder, Scott shakes his head; “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Please,” you whisper, “we can figure out another way.”

“There’s got to be something else,” Stiles adds, nodding in desperation. “We always--we always have a plan B.”

Turning around, with tears in his eyes, Scott cries; “not this time.” Then, he moves to turn back around, only to be halted by Stiles calling for him once more. “I’m gonna find your dad,” Scott promises Stiles, before his eyes fall on your own. There are tears in your eyes, threatening to fall out as a hand falls against your lips.

Not only has your mom been taken, but the thought of Scott joining Deucalion, feeling so hopeless, breaks your heart. You can’t...

“I’m gonna find mom. I promise.”

let me know what you thought?

part 18?

Tag List: @potterheadbbc - @sunsetblake - @mythicalamphitrite - @loverofwaytoomanythings618 - @minuteandahalf - @mnk - @gazebros- @colie87 - @quilliamfears - @quellum - @pessimisticbullshite - @desired-love- @kaylinfayezink - @maiabiovillage - @tr1chst3r - @arkcangel - @quirkytwinkles - @thegirlwhoimagined - @noones-girl1980 - @illumminated - @fairchild345 - @all-will-be-well-love - @animemes-trash - @starryrevelations - @literallyhelpme - @theskytraveler - @jinandton1c - @ilovemymoose-blog @bibliophilesquared - @stilessarcasmqueen - @mersuperwholocked-lowlife - @newtsshelbys - @wyattgoleft - @pancakefancake - @saturno-in-the-night - @pizzamelon7384 - @riskregretting - @mdgrdians - @ravenclawnerdfromnarnia - @franchisefan14 - @lovingpeterparker - @audreysduvxl - @kararanae23 - @alioop3818 - @a-gir1-has-n0-name - @andyl394 - @sclestial - @jayymocha - @2ptonpt - @itsfangirlmendes - @deafeningmusicdetective - @alex–awesome–22 - @nicholerodz - @kellbell44 - @serrahruby - @agentmarvel13 - @egg-in-a-spork - @nickigv - @vxidnik - @marvelousgab - @emmaleighrose - @danielag1969 - @digicharr - @shantayok - @cherry3bombshell - @thatprofessionalfangirl - @itsjaynebird - @grippleback-galaxy - @dafukbish - @randomfanfictiontime - @unicorn-sparkles123 - @sammyrenae68 - @myfanficlibrarium

742 notes · View notes

quirkydeaky · 5 years

Text

Life is Real {Chapter Three}

ROGER TAYLOR

how will Roger cope when he finds that his new best friend, whom he’s falling in love with, is slowly dying?

HI! So I’m back and hoping this series will not flop, lol. A few people have been interested in seeing this, so here I am with what people want! If you want, drop a comment or send me an ask and I’ll add you to my tag list. Mwah!

{p.s - send me asks cause i want mutuals and my ask box is open! eek!}

Also… This story is a multi-part fan-fiction with heavy, mature themes. The Original (and Main) Female Character has a type of Cancer. The type will not be mentioned, but there may be some scenes with heavy implements of medication, treatment or heavily implied scenes at a hospital.

I DO understand that this topic hits close to home for a lot of people, and if this angst-based series is not something for you, please ignore. Thank you.

W/C: 2.6k+

Warnings: Fluff, Angst.

Main Characters: 80s!Roger Taylor, MammaMia2!Lily James

[so, basically this chapter has a lot of dialogue, but this is where Lillian finally become completely honest with Roger about her deathly illness. This is where things are finally beginning to take place in the plot. Enjoy honey’s xxx]

"So he actually threw your maracas into the audience?" Lillian questions after hearing the magnificently odd story of how Roger stole his maracas after hours of searching, only for Freddie to throw them into the audience.

"I'm not joking!" He said as Lillian burst into another fit of laughter at his exasperated tone. "You should've seen me, though... I was ecstatic after finding them, and for him to throw them into the audience like that for one of our audience members to take home? I was fuming!" He exclaimed, throwing his free hand that wasn't connected to the steering wheel and resting dangerously close to Lilly's thigh into the air.

"Any other stories I need to hear about?" She questioned.

"Heard about that time I trashed my kit? Pretty sure it was '74, Rainbow Theatre?"

"No! But why would you even consider, let alone, do such a thing?"

"Terrible night that was. Don't get me wrong, though... a great performance from the four of us from the circumstances we were put in, the electricity cutting in and out constantly I think pushed me over the edge, along with some other things."

"Sounds interesting. Can't believe I'm in the car with the actual Roger Taylor."

"Oh, 's nothing, really. Quite the opposite of how a lot of fans would actually react, I guess. You're the type of down to earth that I really appreciate."

"That's nice to know, I appreciate the compliment."

"Wait- don't get me wrong... you are actually a fan, right?"

"Yes, I am, Roger. Don't think you're boasting about your one of a kind, crazy talented band to someone who really isn't listening or appreciating the stories, because I am, really."

"You have our albums?"

"Every single one. From Smile's first 45 to The Game that was released a little over a month ago. Love it all."

"Even Smile's first release? Wow, you've stuck around a while, have you not?"

Nodding in agreement, she replied. "I have."

"But, why don't you know about some of our stories, and stuff? Like, that story of me trashing the kit, almost everyone in London knows about it, not to mention holds it against me, to this day, almost six and a half years later!"

"Well, I- don't really know. At the start when you guys became famous after Killer Queen, I was just graduating Uni at the time, and was busy with trying to find some temporary work, but then had to drop that job as some other things got in the way."

"What kind of things?" Roger questioned.

Roger's eagerness really didn't go unnoticeable. He was in a form of desperation to find out about his new, so called best friend that he needed in his life. He knew this friendship was really going to work, basing it off already being able to tell that the trust and communication was there between the two. But Roger really didn't realise that he could press this somewhat introverted yet extroverted woman too much.

Ignoring his previous comment, she continued.

"And as of recent times, I've picked up a one-shift a week part-time job while working and focusing on the creative aspect of my life-"

"As I mentioned before, what kind of things got in the way?" He pressed, eyes flicking over to her before regaining focus on the road, making Lilly shift in her seat and lean more towards and against the locked door of the travelling car, feeling a blush creep up her neck and towards her cheeks.

"I- I can't really explain. Not right now."

"If it's something explicit or something that has or is scaring, even hurting you... you can tell me. I have no one to tell, if that's what your wondering."

Its not that Lillian wanted to hide such a massive part of her life that was impacting almost everything she did from Roger. It'd be an act of cruelty and dishonesty, having and letting him open up when she hasn't done the same.

"I- yeah, I guess. Okay."

"Okay? You'll tell me?"

She nodded, nerves and fear encasing her voice so much she was afraid to speak. "When is the next turn off?"

"In a couple of minutes, love. 'Want me to just pull into a park or something just outside London?"

"Yeah, just do that."

"Okay. You're going to get the truth, obviously," Lillian begins as they step towards a park bench after stepping out of the car not long before, about to get down into the nitty gritty before being interrupted.

"I would hope so."

"Right. Do you want this the light or the hard way?"

"I'll take either, as long as you're comfortable." Roger says with a shrug as he sits on the seat, patting the space next to him to invite her.

Sitting down, she continues. "How easily d'you take me being upfront and probably confronting?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay," She starts, turning and facing him, gaze ripping away from the empty, large space in front of them. Crossing her legs, Lillian fiddles in her bag before taking out three small bottles of different medications, two bottles being almost full as she only collected them from the pharmacy two or so days ago, another being half full.

While Roger stares at the bottles now laid out in front of him, he's lost for words, many assumptions being made in his head that were now not only crammed with lyrics, beats, things to do and his slowly failing marriage, but now his poor, new best friend's health and safety.

"So, what... it's the fourteenth of July, 1980, and doctor's aren't really sure if I'll make it to my thirtieth birthday... that's in April of 1983."

Roger is still speechless, mouth now agape. He doesn't know how to respond to that. Like, this woman who he's already in admiration of, slowly becoming his new best friend, one he is already developing small feelings for, is dying?

It's not what he expected.

What she didn't expect, though, was a response from him. And she hadn't received one yet, and she was fine with that.

It was what she expected. Not to receive a response.

Another thing, though, was how surprised Lillian was with herself. She didn't even have the heart to consider how she, herself, would feel telling Roger all of this. She knew she was comfortable with him the minute they began that proper conversation at the end of his driveway, but having him as the first person to know about her cancer was something entirely different.

Yet, she was okay with it.

"I'm so, so sorry, Lil. I- wow," He says.

Lil. That was new.

She liked it.

"I can't even explain how apologetic and bad I feel."

"And you don't have to, Roger." Lilly said, shaking her head.

"I've been dealing with this on my own for a little over three years. It's cancer. I didn't know it ran in my family, I don't think it does. But it can happen to anyone, at any time. People just need to accept that, and after a while, I learnt. I learnt how to accept that I had the cancer tag that no one knew I walked around with everyday. I didn't have anyone to tell. Mum? She's off with some new bloke, forgotten about me. Don't even know where dad is. I'm an only child and have no friends, except you. Roger, this may be confronting, but I need- god, I need you to understand and accept me for who I am."

"Lil-"

"Please." She begs, in desperation for a little love from someone in her life. Platonically from Roger, of course. He had a wife.

His wife that was slowly becoming further and further away from him, that was.

"Lillian, listen to me." Roger began, griping her shoulders, surprising her with the action and making her chin lift, gaze locking on his.

"I will accept you for whoever you are. The fact that you have cancer? That matters so much to me, in the aspect of me looking after you, driving you to treatment, appointments, whatever. I don't care what I have to do. You have me. I understand, I'm the first person you've had in a long time, and knowing that? I simply can't leave you on your own when you need me most."

Lillian was crying at this point, the realisation of finally having someone who not only will treat her right, but not verbally abuse her like both of her father's. Not a person who will leave her alone, like her mother or that so called friend Sophie. The realisation that someone will finally realise of her existence.

The realisation that someone will love her.

Her tears were flowing freely, Roger cooing and wiping them away as he brought her in for a hug.

Only her second hug in however many years. Both hugs being from Roger.

With the bottles of medication forgotten, she latched her arms around Roger's neck forcefully, knocking over one bottle and climbing over the other two to have a more meaningful hug with the man she now called her best friend.

The touch of his skin on hers lit a fire inside of her, almost instantly craving the small amount of affection she hadn't received in so, so long, with the same happening for Roger.

She wasn't the only one that was craving affection. He was too.

With a slowly disintegrating marriage, how could he not? His wife was now settling for divorce papers. Fights at home become common. Returning to an empty house came even more often then not.

Roger hadn't had a proper, genuine hug in over a year; small side hugs from his three best friends not surfacing even close enough to a real life display of the comfort he needed of so much in his life.

But he had Lillian now. Even if it wasn't for as long as he needed.

The loss of affection, god, Roger didn't know how much it would draw him closer to this new person in his life. One who hadn't experienced affection, comfort, anything of that sort for so long.

The hug lasted a while, sobs still eliciting Lilly's throat as Roger rubbed her back. The small amount of affection that they were both on the receiving end of automatically drew the two closer together, their desperation untameable.

They both wanted someone to love them, and they both wanted to love someone.

That's exactly why when Lillian's head lifted from his shoulder where it lay seconds beforehand, that they both didn't make any effort to pull any further away from each other, Lilly basically resting on his crossed legs.

Roger took a moment to admire the girl's tear stained face, her pretty, sculpted cheek bones blotched a beetroot red, taking the attention away from where her wet eyelashes rested upon her skin where freckles gently lay, eyebrows crinkling as she admired Roger in the exact same way.

She narrowly avoided being caught by Roger as she admired his flawless skin, pale skin a little flushed from the light breeze that blew through the park on a late Summer afternoon, probably also flushed from the intimacy and close proximity of the two bodies in the hug they shared. His breathing was ragged as it escaped his pink, thin yet pillowy lips, a little chapped from gnawing at them in between sentences as he talked up a storm in the car.

His piercing blue eyes caught her own hazel shaded ones as her eyes flicked over his face for the last time, her gaze almost catching something else in motion behind him, all to avoid him, yet what she wasn't giving him, he wanted.

Attention.

He wanted her attention. He wanted her admiration.

Bringing his hand to her chin, he grasped it between his thumb, index and middle fingers, drawing her gaze back to his, eyes locking with one another. Even though he wasn't originally planning to get go of his grasp on her, he did. Only to replace his fingers to fiddle with the only ring he wore.

His wedding band.

"Roger," Lillian started as her eyes caught his actions as he began pushing it up and down is finger, a contemplative face present on his gorgeous features. "What are you-"

"She treats me like shit," Is all the man said before regaining focus on Lillian, stopping his actions and shifting a little closer to the twenty seven year old woman. "Fights with me constantly," He mumbled. "Could say the woman hates me and wouldn't even feel a rid of guilt."

"Roger, I'm-"

"Don't bother, she's settling for divorce papers, and the worst thing? She's not even upset about it. Always says in our fights that she can't wait to get out of the toxic life I've always given her. She hates me. Hasn't loved me in over a year. Haven't felt love from anyone in over a year." He recited, as if the story was what he had told numerous times to different people, or even to himself. Maybe that's why he has no guilt. Only desperation and sadness.

"But no one sees how desperate I am for love to be shown in my direction. The love you receive from friends as they continuously support you hasn't even lasted me long enough. Don't know what to do with myself."

While Lillian was listening and trying to understand the concept of the message Roger was trying to convey, she was interrupted as her body jerked at the sound of church bells ringing in the distance, signalling the beginning of a new hour of the day. Eyes flicking to her watch that she wore on her wrist, it read six p.m.

Her gaze refocused towards the sky after that, ears still perked at the sound of the continuous church bells, still ringing. Breathing in the fresh air and being out in the brisk hours of the beginning of the night was something she rarely got to do, so she focused her eyes on the slowly darkening blue of the sky, searching for the moon to appear at any moment.

Her gaze dropped to the seat the pair were sat on after hearing a light clutter noise. Looking up and seeing Roger with his mouth slightly parted, breathing ragged and increasing as the seconds passed.

The thing Lilly had missed was the way Roger looked at her, trying to succumb and make a decision as she was distracted from his presence. He couldn't help himself, but in the short time the two have known each other, he was beginning to develop feelings for her, and while it was oh so wrong, it felt so, so right, too.

That's why the light clatter noise drew the attention of Lillian. It's exactly what Roger wanted. Her attention.

Her own lips parted at the sight of Roger, and the sight of what caused the clutter noise on the metal bench seat.

His wedding band.

And even if Lillian could only experience three of the main senses at that current time; smelling Roger's cologne, feeling the goosebumps on her skin appear because of Roger's close proximity in his presence, seeing Roger with wide, hazel eyes, that's when she was privileged to feeling and tasting.

The feeling of his pillowy and slightly chapped lips.

The taste of his cigarette.

Roger had kissed her. And almost nothing had felt so right in his life when he felt Lillian kiss back, only for her to pull away seconds later, opening her eyes slowly out of pure bliss before widening them in shock and oblivion.

And at the same time, their mouth opened, spitting out both the obvious, and the not so obvious.

"Roger! You have a wife." "I'm not hers anymore."

TAG LIST: @rogerinathehystericalqueen @toger-raylor @jennyggggrrr @xox-talia-xox @hottestofspaces @stormtrprinstilettos @devil-in-those-eyes @redspecialty @brian-roger-deaky-and-fred @ogrogerbattle @im-addicted-to-queen @killerqueenbucky @xgoingdownx @benhardyisdaddy @luvborhap @loveandbeloved29 @deacytits @loversoon

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #brian may #brian may x reader #john deacon #john deacon x reader #freddie mercury #Queen #queen band #lily james #angst #fanfiction #quirkydeaky

13 notes · View notes

apolloappreciationblog · 6 years

Note

What do you love about Trials of Apollo and why? How'd you get into the series? What do you hope/think will happen in books 4 and 5?

Thanks so much for asking! This got really long so I’m putting it below. I guess it’s also sort of like an about me also in regards to the fandom, for anyone who wants to talk Trials (please do, I’m obsessed)

How did I get into Trials?

I read PJO a long time ago back when it was new, fresh, and super popular, and instantly fell in love with the series (like everyone else) but fell off the boat a bit after the first Heroes book came out (I guess, also like everyone else). It’s not that I didn’t like it, I was busy at the time, and since The Lost Hero had just come out, I lost track of waiting for the next books to come out and somehow just forgot about them as a whole (No I still haven’t read them all (oops). Yes, I’ve been stuck on the “It’s Percy! Oh my gods he has amnesia!” cliffhanger for years now).

It’s been a long time since then, and I thought I’d pretty much made peace with the series. But for some reason I was smacked over the head with nostalgia after someone I know mentioned how fun it would be to play a powered by the apocalypse game in a PJO setting (I’m a pretty huge tabletop rpg nerd). Naturally that thought sent me down a rabbit hole and I decided I was going to literally build a big homebrew system for PJO (which I still am, currently), despite the fact that I hadn’t engaged with the series in years. My memory was far from perfect, and I ended up doing a ton of research-sifting through wikis and even rereading some parts of the books-and while I looked around I noticed there was a new series being written. I read the synopsis and instantly fell in love. I’m a huge fan of the tropes present in trials, and the more I thought about what ridiculous shenanigans were possible from the idea, the more I absolutely could not resist reading them. I came to be entertained and stayed for the heart wrenching character development, but I’m sure we’re all the same.

Which brings me to your first question! What do I love about Trials?

First and foremost I am a real sucker for the whole general concept. Like, taking one of the gods and making them a pathetic mortal teenager?? Making it PJO’s Apollo of all gods??? I don’t think I would have ever said I needed that absolutely horrific and yet genius concept, but here we are. I was also under the impression this was a freakishly fun spinoff series (RIP me), and I mean, it kind of was, for like…half of book one.

And then, oh gods, I realized Rick had made this self important asshole likeable. In fact, even more than that, he had made him a sympathetic and compelling asshole. Where it was completely fine and fun to relish in Apollo’s hilarious punishment in book one, suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore (ok maybe just a little)-it was heartbreaking (Rick you monster, stop making him wet his pants!). But hey, that’s good writing for you.

So basically I really love the concept and, well, I just really love Apollo. The books are executed so good you don’t even realize you are completely rooting for the kid you were laughing at two books ago (because, like YIKES man, that ego!), and gladly die for him (No? Just me?) and the character development is such a subtle and delicate change, but it’s noticeable, really effective, and extremely compelling (and heartbreaking, mostly, in a good way). The comedy is on point (Sometimes it’s hard to tell if Apollo’s taste in pop culture is just bad and cringey or if it’s Rick. The truth is that it’s both and thanks, I hate it) and all of the characters, both new and old, are nostalgic and fun, and there are real reasons you can understand for every action they take and thing they say. The plot doesn’t let you down with twists and turns, but also easy to grasp and follow, and keeps you turning the page even if it’s 3am and you have class at 8. I found that TOA’s books seemed to be more focused, every encounter, no matter how seemingly random, pushes the protagonists in a way that progresses something meaningful, whether it’s the plot or their own development. It’s also really nice to see Rick return to his first person roots, especially when he does it so damn well.

It’s a fresh take on a series I grew up with and it’s just as enchanting now as it was when I was a kid. I do have some gripes with a few things in the series (Listen, I didn’t even read HoO but I loved Jason) but overall it does what it’s set out to do really well, and Rick sure knows what he’s doing (for better or worse).

What are my hopes or predictions for the rest of the series?

Oh boy. Honestly, the overall plot of Trials being “Will Apollo be restored to godhood or not?” is probably the worst plot for my heart, since I don’t even know, ever? We all know it’s going to be a yes, but at the same time…

I didn’t read HoO, though I know the general plot of it, so I can’t really do any elaborate theorycrafting in regards to Camp Jupiter or the roman demigods, but here are my thoughts on the big plot themes:

Promises Kept: Rick’s made it really clear that Apollo didn’t give a flying hoot about promises or oaths before Trials, but it’s quickly evolved into one of the biggest themes in the books. Apollo will keep his promises, maybe even regardless of the cost, and I think we’ll really see that shift in the next two books given the ending lines of book 3. This sort of also bleeds into Apollo considering the weight of life and his own heart, and the whole idea of him trying to change to make amends for his past behavior. I think by the end of this, we really might just have #1 Dad (and God) Apollo (I’m very hopeful).

Choice of Mortality: Heavily foreshadowed in book 2 (looking at you, cal), there’s going to be some crazy stuff in the coming books regarding this. We got a small glimpse of it near the end of book 3 when Apollo was questioning that, if given the option, would he go back to Olympus and abandon his friends in that moment? With circumstances debating, it’s really the heart of the plot and the series and I think we’ll see him questioning Olympus in general. The similarities between Zeus and Nero, and in turn, Apollo and Meg, are made incredibly clear in the series. Apollo would never let Meg return to Nero-it’s his goal to help her to free her from his influence and guide her through her trauma-and yet Apollo is in the same exact situation, the stakes are just, arguably, a lot less black and white. Meg will most definitely not return to Nero and overcome his manipulation, and in turn, I think it will inspire Apollo-making the choice harder than it already is.

There’s no doubt Apollo will ultimately return to Olympus, but that doesn’t made the ride any easier. While there’s no hope of Meg coming to terms with Nero (And I’m not saying there should be (please kill Nero)), Zeus is a problem that isn’t going to go away, and I hope that at the very least, Apollo can overcome his abusive relationship with his own father at the end, and maybe even revolutionize Olympus. It would make a great resolution to the series, and I think that’s what it’s pushing for and heading towards, the complete opposite of what the gods are doing now, and Apollo may just be the one to start it.

Misc predictions and wants:

>Meg and Apollo will HUG (godsdammit, even if I have to force them myself!) And for the love of the gods, can we please get a clear cut reference to their relationship regarding the SUN and PLANTS. LISTEN MAN,

>Someone else is going to die. If they don’t, they will come extremely close, and be saved by Apollo (solidifying his character development regarding the effects of his actions on others) in some intense true self sacrificial way that can’t be debated (i.e., Apollo’s excuses for being able to stabbing himself in the chest). And…the Styx is hungry.

>I have no idea what Annabeth’s up to in MC, but I’m hoping that she will make an appearance (and hopefully along with percy?). I’d also guess that camp jupiter and half-blood will come together again, but that’s just purely hoping (Don’t look at me like that, I have no idea what funk was in HoO).

>REUNION WITH ARTEMIS. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS.

>I really want more camp half blood life. I really, really, really do. We’re sure as hell not going to get it. But oh, what I wouldn’t do for Apollo’s extended stay at camp, or even just, camp in general for anyone. Please!

>Everyone is going to hate the shit out of Apollo for Jason’s death (arguably, they should be upset at Rick and not my stupid, stupid son…) and oh boy is he going to have a fun time with that. I initially thought that Apollo didn’t react nearly as strong to Jason’s death as he should have (was it just me or did he mourned Crest harder than Jason?? You could argue unreliable narrator, but come on), but oh boy, I think it may be because the worst is yet to come regarding that.

>Probably some shitty forced romance for Apollo. I do not want this. I really do not want this (does ANYONE want this???). But the arguments predicting this are pretty darn hard to refute, sadly. One can only pray.

At the end of the series I really want Apollo to be like “Fuck you guys, I’m the god of demigods now. Fuck you. Especially you Zeus. I’m protecting everyone in this bitch. You can’t stop me.” and proceed to aggressively aid demigods everywhere wearing the camp half-blood shirt. Also if he moved in to camp, I sure as hell would not complain. I also wouldn’t complain if he gave driving lessons to his kids in the sun chariot. Or if he made amends with everyone he’s ever hurt. Or if he kept aspects of Lester’s appearance (like those love handles) because hey, he doesn’t have to be insecure anymore and you know what, it’s cute dammit, abs are so out. Or…well, you get the idea I’m gonna stop myself there.

That was long (LIKE, FOUR FREAKING PAGES LONG) but I hope I answered your questions!

#asks #about me

34 notes · View notes

missklou · 6 years

Text

Good angel {Hoseok Smut}

Make sure to check my masterlist here.

Genre: Smut with plot, a sequel? I dunno yet, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, a bit of angst

Pairing: Hoseok X reader

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, oral sex (giving), dirty talk, no aftercare, power play, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering, voyeurism.

Song reference: My medicine -The pretty reckless.

Jin Hyung 2:43 PM Ow, come on man!

Jhope 2:44 PM Hyung, you know it's not that easy, it's a three hours flight! I can't just drop everything and go...

Jin Hyung 2:44 PM Okay, look, I get that it's hard but please! It took so long to finally find a date that suited everyone and to even convince them in the first place! Plus I promised that you would show up, they will be very disappointed if you don't.

Jin Hyung 2:44 And your family misses you, it's the perfect excuse to come and visit them.

Jhope 2:45 PM Yeah, I guess... Look I can't promise I'll go, but I'll think about it.

Jin Hyung 2:46 PM K, luv you Hobi, please come!

Hoseok rested his phone on his thighs, leaning back to take another look at the invite on his email with solemn eyes.

The computer glowed with the short and cheerful message. "Hey Hobi, I know you moved out of the city but I was wondering if you would come to our night out reunion next weekend, get the group back together.

It's going to be on Saturday, we are meeting at Jimin's like always and we are getting fucked up on that club we used to go, like the good ol days. Please, please, please come, it won't be the same without you!"

Hoseok would be lying if he said he didn't miss his friends. The unswerving group of seven teenagers he once made part of hasn't met in years and Seokjin was right, he had to pay his family a visit at some point.

But it wasn't that easy anymore, adult life had caught up to him, work and responsibilities he didn't feel confident enough to just drop to party with his friends, as much as he would like to.

Just thinking about it made him feel weary, In all honesty, he felt lonely. By himself in a big city, with no friends or family to lean on when bad thoughts overflowed his mind, just working to his bones, trying to make a better living, trying to keep moving.

It has been almost six years since he left the little town he came from, originally to attend university and become the performer he always dreamed to be, later, what got him to stay was much more domineering.

At some point during that time, Hoseok met a woman he was too innocent not to fall in love with.

She was reckless and fierce in ways that enticed his inner "small town" boy and being with her felt like standing at the edge of the world, looking at something so great his hands could never grasp.

It lasted three years during his second to fourth -and last year- of uni, and she taught him so many different things, from smoking weed for the first time, riding supermarket carts in the middle of the night, to murmuring soft "I love you's" after having sex on the beach, drunk out of his mind.

It ended the same way it had started, like a derailed train.

One night she was lying on his chest, it was cold outside, very cold, and she was about to fall asleep as he watched, absentmindedly, to shit shows on TV.

Things had been so stressful at the time, Hoseok was barely surviving his senior year, running on energy drinks and antiosyolitics and she effortlessly became an anchor, the only thing keeping him sane.

So, as he thought about the exams he had coming up and the work that was slowly sucking his life, Hoseok felt the icy cold sensation running through his veins, paralyzing, fixed gaze.

"Let's get married."

He pleaded that night.

She stared at him, wide-eyed and griping a piece of cover.

She was gone by the time sun rays inundated the oppressingly cold room, taking with her the candidness of the beaming boy he once was.

Two years had gone by, two full years of reasoning with himself about giving up and going back to his city, getting closer to his family again, forget all about his dream and just fall into the sad reality.

But he insists that it would be unbearable, even the loneliness and his exhausting job had to be better than going back to that life, with the same people, the single-minds and the shallow dreams.

That's why he decides to take Seokjin on his offer. He needs an excuse to go back, see just how much have changed and come back to his ridiculously small apartment, motivated to keep following his plans and not look back.

An hour later he texts Seokjin to let him know of his decision and clears his agenda, not giving a fuck about responsibilities, thinking it's about time to enjoy himself. The next week Hoseok packs a dirty old bag and leaves to the airport with nothing to lose.

Hours later he finds Seokjin waiting for him with a small sign that read "hoseokie" with bold letters and decored with many hearts.

-Okay, tell me what happened to the others. -He requests, with his heart-shaped smile adorning his face, while he searches his phone for another song to play.

-Do you want the short or the long version? -The older man asks, also smiling but with his eyes glued on the road, focused on driving.

-The long one, give me all the details so I can tease the shit out of them.

They laugh out loud, Hoseok feels his heart swelling with how much he had missed his best friend for the past six years, and how natural things still felt between them, even after everything they have been through.

-Okay, let's start with Yoongi then, he started working on his music, he also moved away and it's actually getting big, he got here last week just to hang out with us.

He went on and on about their friends, updating Hoseok on all of the things that happened and never once crossed his mind.

Namjoon fell madly in love with a girl he now lived with and said they were planning to travel the world together. Jimin had just finished college and was opening his own dance academy, teaching and administrating it at the same time. Taehyung never went to college, he too moved to a big city and was striking modeling gigs. Jungkook was still in college and getting noticed for his singing and editing abilities on his growing youtube channel.

Everything looked the same, each corner being recognizable, every store holding memories of their drunken escapades, still, nostalgy sat heavy on his tong, dislocation leaving an unsettling feeling on his chest.

Seokjin left him at the doorsteps of his childhood home, wishing him good luck and saying he'd be back by ten to pick him up.

Hours later, after being washed in love by his family, Hoseok actually felt rejuvenated, like that was all he needed to regain his strength and charge his energetic personality. In a few hours, he was back to being the loud, comical person the city knew him for, and he regretted not coming back sooner.

Ten came by and Hoseok couldn't control his body, he was almost jumping on his feet with excitement to see his friends and go out, enjoy himself and get a taste of the happiness he thought he couldn't have back.

Hoseok had the tendency to forget things he did while being drunk.

He once got naked in front of a whole party in a game of truth or dare, kissed a random guy thinking he was a girl and got punched in the face shortly after, fell from a counter into a table of beer pong, breaking it in two.

He couldn't remember shit the day after, which only made him less conscious about doing shit, and the fact Jungkook actually dragged their asses to a frat party of all places, packed with strangers, only gave him the confidence to drink his soul out of his body.

But Hoseok was no longer the college kid he once was, frat parties, sorority girls, even drinking wasn't so exciting anymore. Getting drunk became a goal other than enjoyment, the girls that approached weren't that interesting, the music was too loud, the minimal details bothered him.

Old Hoseok would've loved that party, he would be in his element for sure, but that wasn't old Hoseok, it was the Hoseok from the little, quiet apartment, the lonely nights, and the draining job.

Disappointed with himself, he takes a seat on the couch to watch others for a minute, trying to convince himself he had to quit making up excuses to justify his grumpiness and admit it was no one's fault but himself. During that time he noticed his friends too acted differently from their college selves.

Old Namjoon would've been drunk by one AM, throwing inspirational speeches, but now he was in a corner, talking to his girlfriend and enjoying her laughter.

Yoongi and Seokjin were the quiet ones a few years back, Yoongi would've been composedly laughing at them on the couch, away from the commotion of people, and Seokjin would've been cracking dad jokes to the girls that approached him, but now they were both upstairs with girls they knew little about.

Taehyung was actually talking to the giggling group of girls hitting on him, and not being an arrogant ass like his past fuckboy self, and Jungkook, the shy bunny, the baby of the group, had his legs spread on the couch, feverously making out with his said "fuck buddy".

Nothing made fucking sense.

He laughs to himself at his observation, late night thoughts going through his head, the ones he only had when he had too much to drink and was most definitely not remembering shit the next morning.

A smile still lingers on his lips when his eyes aimlessly meet yours, locking gazes immediately, like you were opposite poles of a magnet.

He unconsciously stands up the moment you walk in through the front doors, your eyes are still glued on him, sharp and firm as if he's a prey, something you wish to put your fingers on. He watches the way your black dress hugs your every curve, thighs exposed, hips moving in the most hypnotizing way.

He blinks repeatedly, wondering if this is some sort of mirage since you stand out so much from the people around you, he can't help but wonder if you are really there or if it's just his wishful thinking, a drunken frenzy.

His shoulders drop with disappointment the moment you face away, making your way into the kitchen, leaving his sight completely. It takes him a few seconds to get his feet moving, taking his body to the room you just walked in with excitement buddling in his chest.

That was absolutely everything he was looking for, the first time in years he felt this enthusiastic over someone, and he was most definitely not letting it go. He needed that fire, was eager to get it.

To his surprise, the room isn't packed like the rest of the house, a couple making out by the counter, a young boy spilling his guts on the sink and you, leaning against the fridge with a red cup in your hands, so full it threatened to spill, eyes meeting his immediately as if you were expecting him to follow.

-Hello. -You greet him, eyes unfazed and mysterious behind the cup and he hates how drunk he is at the moment, he hates to know he won't remember every second of you, every word you let out with the velvety tone.

-Hello. -He lets out, putting all his effort into making his voice as steady and clear as possible.

A smile quivers in your dark red lips as you can see through his frangible composure and it amuses you.

-What are we going to do? I can see why you came... -You pondered, pouting slightly and raising an eyebrow at the content of your cup. -But I just got here, and I want to dance. -He watches in astonishment as you throw your head back and empty your cup in one go.

Hissing at the burning sensation in your throat, you point him his own glass, motioning for him to do the same, and so he does, wasting no time to please you.

In a matter of minutes, you have his hand in yours, guiding him through the dance floor to find the best spot while meaningless songs play one after the other and as they finish Hoseok fills your cups again.

As he watches you move in the dimmed lights room, swinging your hips and turning your head to grin at him, it is as if your lips are bragging his bewilderment.

You are the complete opposite of her, and he wants to get high on the feeling of you.

Her eyes meant nothing but troublesome, with a cheekiness that said "I don't know what I'm doing but I'm still doing it", while yours draw him as if they held the secrets of the universe, eyes that said, "I have done this all before".

She used to laugh at things he wished she didn't, getting easily distracted, while you made him feel like the two of you were the only thing that mattered. Back pressed against his chest, hips meeting his, resting your head on his shoulder with closed eyes and synchronized movements, it felt like you were in another universe entirely.

Yet another song ends with a fading note and Hoseok glares at your mouth when you spin around and press your chest to his, his hands find your hips automatically like he had done that his whole life.

-Another drink?

You nod in agreement, but then the guitar chords take over the house and the most perfect song for the moment takes over the frat party, your hands dive to his hair, clutching the silky strains and pulling him closer.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-No! Stay for this song... "somebody mixed my medicine"

He presses his body against yours, the scent of smoke and cheap alcohol mixed with your perfume is intoxicating.

"Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry Got a woman to your left And a boy to your right"

Finally, it becomes unbearable and Hoseok leans in to clash your lips to his, to find out you are as eager as he is, feeling your hunger for him by the way you take control over the kiss, biting his bottom lip and pressing your nails into his neck.

"You start to sweat so Hold me tight 'cause..."

At that moment Hoseok realizes just how much he had to drink because he is going for your neck, kissing, biting and sucking at the soft skin, not minding that you are in public, not minding the purple marks that are going to decorate your neck later. He is addicted to the way you expose your neck to his touches, hands falling to squeeze his shoulder.

"Somebody mixed my medicine I don't know what I'm on"

His head spins the moment you push way, only enough to whisper in his ear.

-Let me be your medicine Hoseok...

Your pupils are dilated and you look beautiful breathless, the only thing he can focus on his blurred, drunken vision.

"Somebody mixed my medicine Now baby it's all gone"

You guide the way out of the dance floor, pushing people out of the way to reach the stairs.

"Somebody mixed my medicine And somebody's in my head again"

You turn around to check on him as you make your way up the stair, eyes libidinous.

"And somebody mixed my medicine again, again"

-I need you. -You stated, turning around on the last step to the second floor, taking advantage of the height difference to kiss him again, his body responds promptly, squeezing your ass firmly.

"Well I drink what you leak and I smoke what you sigh See you cross the room with that look in your eye"

-I need you. -He mumbled eyes closed, face ethereal.

"Got a man to his left and a girl to his right You start to sweat so Hold me tight 'cause"

It didn't take long for you to find an empty room and once the door is shut, Hoseok lets out a sign the little self-control he had left quickly dissolved, and he pinned you to the wall, lips meeting the red marks on your neck once more.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-Make me dirty. -Your voice sends chills down his spine, blood running down to his dick, he stares into your deep, meaningful eyes one last time before turning you around.

"I don't know what I'm on"

Warm chest meeting the cold wall, your ass deliciously pressed against his bulge, he wraps your hair around his wrist and pulls your head towards him, the pleasing pain forcing a muffled moan out of you.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-You are driving me crazy -He growls in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses all over your neck and shoulders before letting go of your hair, one hand goes to massage your breasts and the other cups your sex, hips grinding into yours.

"Now baby it's all gone"

The way you gasp and throw one of your hands back to caress his hair and bring him closer makes his hairs stand, he realizes you are the hottest thing he has ever seen when your hips syncronize with him, dry humping on the most sinful way as the song plays faintly downstairs.

"Somebody mixed my medicine Somebody's in my head again And somebody mixed my medicine again, again"

-Ah fuck! -He moans at the sight of your bodies connecting and watch your ass bounce on him, he feels the dampness of your panties only from his fingers. -I want to fuck you so good, you are so wet...

"There's a tiger in the room and a baby in the closet"

-Please do. -You beg, velvety voice dripping arousal.

"Pour another drink mom I don't even want it"

He gives you another hard suck to your neck, feeling the intense need to spread his marks all over you and blood rushes to your core, he takes your dress off, leaving you in your underwear and heels, dripping wet from his touches.

"Then I turn around and think I see someone that looks like you"

-You are so beautiful angel -He breathes to your ear, chills running down your spine as he spins you around to face him again, wasting no time in kissing you.

"Well you hurt where you sleep and you sleep where you lie Now you're in deep and now you're gonna cry."

-So, so beautiful, my good girl -He grunts when you part, lips brushing yours. -You are so good for me, ruining your panties, asking me to turn you into the dirty girl you love to be. -Hoseok raises one of your thighs to his waist, clothed cock brushing your clit in the most delicious ways.

"Got a woman to your left And a boy to your right"

-Let me make you feel good. -There's not a trace of shame in your voice when you reach to palm him through his pants, taking great joy from his blown wide pupils and vocal response.

"You start to sweat so Hold me tight 'cause"

-On your knees then kitten. -He kisses you before you follow his command, dropping to your knees and pulling at his pants while he takes his shirt off, abdomen contracting and relaxing, muscles on display at eye level, your hands itch to touch him.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

When you manage to pull his pants down you feel the weight of his phone on the back pocket, ideas buddle in Hoseok's mind when he sees the device on your hands.

"I don't know what I'm on"

-Can I take a video angel? Can I record your pretty mouth around my cock? -His eyes are glowing with craving and you feel your panties getting impossibly sticky.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-Do it. -You consent, a smile growing in your swollen lips, the desire in his eyes set your skin on fire, the alcohol you just had makes you lightheaded.

"Now baby it's all gone"

You get rid of his boxers, watching as his dick springs free, hard and glistening with precum, your mouth waters at the sight of him stroking his cock.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

His eyes roll back the second you press a kiss to his tip, groaning when you wrap your warm mouth around him and slowly lower your head, taking him inch by inch.

"Somebody's in my head again, again"

Light hits your face, you raise your eyes to see he's holding his phone, recording as you take his cock in your mouth, his groans get significantly louder and you can't help but take one of your hands to tease your clit, moaning around him.

"And somebody mixed my medicine"

Hoseok grabs your hair, controlling your movements as you swallow around him, the vibrations of your moans drive him crazy. Soon you are barely moving, just keeping your mouth open to receive him as he fucks your face with a firm grip on your hair.

"Again, again, again Again, again, again Again, again, again"

Each word is punctuated by his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your gag reflex kicks in and you control your breathing, tears forming and falling down the corners of your eyes, you scratch the back of his thigh with your free hand.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-What a good girl you are, touching your pretty cunt while I fuck your face. -He caresses your hair, slowing down his trusts.

"Somebody mixed my medicine"

-Put on a show for me, won't you? Open your mouth, tongue out. -He orders and you stare straight at the camera, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, giving a few teasing licks at the tip of his cock.

"Somebody mixed my medicine again"

-Get up, I need to fuck you right now. -He lifts you up effortlessly, caring you to bed, phone still in his hands. -Hands and knees for me, hold that ass up.

You do so, following his every command, feeling like your skin is on fire whenever he touches you.

-So good. -He leans in, bitting your left ass cheek, squeezing the flesh of the other cheek. -So beautiful, such a good kitten, you are so hot, you make me so hard.

Every praise goes straight to your core, you can't help but push your ass back, looking for his touches, aching from the lack of stimulation. He seems to read your mind, stroking your clit softly through the fabric of your panties.

-Do you like that angel? You like when I touch you like that? Say it. -His thumb makes circular movements, the knot in your stomach grows, you want nothing more than to follow his orders.

-I love it! -You are breathless, fucked out, your throat is sore from being face fucked. -Please fuck me, fuck me and make me cum on your cock. -Your cries seem to have an effect on him because he is soon pushing your panties to the side.

He takes a deep breath, hands tightening at your sides.

-Look at that pussy, soaking wet from sucking my cock. -Hoseok adjusts the angle of the phone so that he can film your clenching pussy next to his hard cock. -Let's prep you hm?

His thumb finds your clit again and the direct contact makes you see stars, muffling a moan with a pillow.

The hand immediately leaves your clit, pulling your hair so roughly you jump in place, pushing your ass against his hips.

-Don't you dare, I want to hear every fucking moan that leaves your mouth, do you understand?

-Yes!

-Are you going to behave?

-F-fuck yes -You moan this time when his fingers leave your hair to tease your entrance, stretching your walls and reaching deep inside you.

-Louder! I want the whole party to hear you! You’d probably love that, wouldn’t you? To have everyone listening as I fuck the shit out of you.

He curls his fingers to hit your G spot, earning yet another long, tortured moan.

-Please fuck me already! I need you to... -His fingers catch speed, hitting all the right spots mercilessly. -I need you to fill me up Hoseok, please, I want your cock so bad!

-Yes angel, beg for my dick, fuck yourself on my fingers, this is so fucking hot. -His fingers slow down, focusing on the movements on your clit. -Why is your bra still on? Take it off and turn over so I can see those perfect tits while I fuck you.

Soon your last piece of clothing hits the floor and you are fully exposed to him, chest rising and falling with your heavy breathing, sweat sticking your hair to your face.

The flash is still on and it only makes it the more intense, Hoseok is also shining with sweat, his muscles are firm under your fingers and his eyes are darker than they have ever been, his hair is pushed back and messy, his mouth is red and swollen just like yours probably is.

He reaches for his pants, taking a condom out of his back pocket and resting the phone, still recording, on the nightstand, quickly sliding the condom on and aligning his cock with your entrance.

His head stretches your walls and he slowly fills you up, giving you a few seconds to adjust before pounding into you in sharp, hard movements that make your legs weak.

-So full... -You mumble incoherently, your drunken breath hits his face and he can't help but lean in to kiss you, firmly pressing his lips to yours as his trusts hit deeper, you let out a scream of his name, scratching the skin of his back.

-What is it angel? Is my cock making you feel good? -He grinds his hips in a way that has the whole bed moving, he hits your cervix with every trust and you roll your eyes to the back of your head, the lewd sounds of your arousal fill the room.

Hoseok kisses you again, moaning into your lips.

-Touch yourself for me, use those fingers on your clit, make yourself cum on my cock. -Your fingers find their way to your sensitive bud, not daring to disobey him.

Your screams get louder, he only goes faster, encouraging you to be loud.

-Yes! Keep fucking me Hoseok, I'm so close to cumming! -You throw your head back, closing your eyes and applying even more force to the hand that is pressing your nails to his back.

His trusts get erratic for a moment, he is getting lost in your pleasure, letting his head down to watch where you two connect.

-Fuck ah! Cum for me baby, let me feel that tight pussy clenching around me!

You can feel your sanity crumbling at the feeling of him hitting your G spot repeatedly, filling you to the limit while you rub your clit and raise your hips to roll against his.

-Fuck fuck fuck Hoseok! -Your cries are desperate now, you open your eyes to find him staring at you from behind his soaked bangs, eyes hungry and sensual.

Your climax hits you full force, sending waves of pleasure through your body and blurring your vision.

-Good girl, good baby. -He chants under his breath, fucking you through your orgasm until your legs are quivering and crushing his hips.

A few more strikes and Hoseok is spilling into the condom, panting and shoving his face in the crook of your neck.

It takes you two a long time to recover.

Two days after the party and Hoseok is excitedly putting his bags on the trunk, getting ready to go back to his apartment and start over.

-Everything alright? Sure you are not forgetting anything? -Seokjin throws his jacket to the back seat to as Hoseok sits in the front.

-Yeah pretty sure I got everything, thanks for the ride. -He gives his hyung one of his signature heart-shaped smiles while buckling his seat belts.

-Sure thing, no need to thank me. -Jin begins to make his way to the airport when he eyes the back seats through the mirror and suddenly turns his heat to see the yellow package. -Oh, do you mind if we stop by my house? I was supposed to leave this there and ended up forgetting about it.

Hoseok's brows furrow, also looking at the package.

-No, no problem!

On their way, Hoseok's mind wonders off to the video he watched at least a thousand times through the course of two days. He can't help but think about you, about how he passed out and woke up to an empty bed, how he wished he had asked your name, how he wished he could have said goodbye.

Jin pulls at the blue house they used to play all the time when they were kids, turning to take the package.

-I thought you had moved out of your parent's? -Hoseok asks, looking at the windows and thinking about all the memories they had.

-I did, I just have to drop this here. -The older leaves the car, jumping the front steps and ringing the bell.

A few seconds later the door is open, Hoseok can't see because of Seokjin's wide shoulders.

Jin leans and Hoseok gasps when he sees that it's you that Seokjin is placing a kiss on the cheek.

Your eyes lock on him, unimpressed but as intense as the night of the party, he is completely frozen, unable to act upon his shocked state.

Jin turns away, getting back in the car while mumbling a random song.

-Who-who is she? -Is all Hoseok manages to ask, eyes not leaving you for a second as you are still watching him from the doorframe.

His friend furrows his brows, chuckling at the question.

-Has it been that long since she had that childish crush on you? That's Y/N, my baby sister, don't you remember how she used to follow you all around?

Hoseok's mouth goes dry, Jin starts the engine.

-I guess she got over you in middle school, thank god, she would never shut up about you!

"I guess she got over you"

Hoseok remembers how he crushed the white rose you once offered him.

"Get over it already, can't you see we will never be together? I don't like you!"

After breaking your heart for the first time, he watched as you cried and begged him not to treat you like that, asking him to be nice like he always was, to see you as he did the other girls, to care for you the way you did for him.

He did, god he did like you, but he could never do that, he could never be with you.

"If any of you ever hit on my sister I swear it's over, I'm never talking to any of you ever again, understood?" Said Seokjin once they all became friends, and those words burned Hoseok's mind while your tears rolled down your face and he wanted nothing more than to clean them.

Now his mind was flooding with the memories of you two days ago, the way you moved, the way you talked, how your eyes burned the sadness and the emptiness from his chest, how he felt alive for the first time in a while.

There, freaking out in silence, he stared at you, wide-eyed, until your brother, his best friend, drove away.

193 notes · View notes

flowerfan2 · 6 years

Text

Ain’t No Sunshine

McDanno, M, 2600 words, A03

Since Steve almost died, Danny’s been as attentive as ever. But something is missing, and it hurts worse than any gunshot wound.

Set after the end of season 6.

**********

Steve leans back against the pillows and pushes the sheet down to his waist, exposing the healing scars from his gunshot wounds and transplant surgery. He knows Danny has a matching scar, though he hasn’t seen it in weeks. Which is sort of the problem.

Not that he’s got a thing with scars, necessarily, or that he wishes he could make sure that Danny was healing okay, which, yeah, there’s a little of that. But mostly it’s that he hasn’t seen much of Danny’s body at all lately, or vice versa.

Although this thing between them was relatively new before the mess that nearly took Steve’s life, they had fallen into a comfortable routine. It honestly hadn’t changed much from before they got together – evenings hanging out in Danny’s living room or on the lanai at Steve’s followed by half-hearted protests at spending the night together. Except their debates about casework and early mornings were resolved with kisses and lazy sex, instead of just more beer.

But things have been decidedly different since Danny landed the plane on the beach, saving Steve’s life by not drowning him and then doing it again by giving up half of an internal organ. Sure, they still spend time together, although a little less so now that Danny has returned to work and Steve is on the bench for a few more weeks. But Danny is as attentive as ever, checking in with Steve multiple times during the day, making sure Steve takes his meds, and coming home as quickly as he can in the evenings.

It would all be fine, except that it’s not. For one, their sex life seems to have disappeared along with the now forbidden beer. Now Steve isn’t actually an animal, and he doesn’t actually need sex per se. But it’s not the lack of sex itself that’s the problem. It’s the distance that lies between them at night, when Danny tucks Steve into bed and then goes out to the couch to read a book, claiming that he doesn’t want to keep Steve awake with his tossing and turning. It’s the hurt that flares up when Steve reaches for Danny and his partner turns away.

It’s the ache in his chest when Steve lies in bed like he’s doing now, freshly showered and shaved, waiting in vain for his best friend to slide under the covers and smile at him, make some stupid remark about the craziness of their day, and curl up against his chest to let sleep overtake him.

Steve has tried to talk about it with Danny, but the words just won’t come. He thinks Danny feels it too. Danny’s great at powering through, at shouldering the world’s burdens, and he has apparently decided that Steve’s recovery is on the list of things he’s responsible for. He doesn’t even complain – Danny never complains about things that really matter, like caring for Grace and Charlie and going out of his way to help his 5-0 Ohana. Sure, he’ll gripe about the traffic on the way to the doctor’s office, but he’s never once failed to accompany Steve to an appointment. Taking care of the people in his life is a labor of love for Danny, and Steve is grateful for it. But it doesn’t take the place of what’s missing.

Steve hears Danny turn off the shower, and readies himself for the inevitable – Danny shuffling through the bedroom, sleep pants already on, saying a quick good night before excusing himself to do paperwork in the study, or unload the dishwasher. Steve can’t help but let a bitter laugh escape – his kitchen has never been this clean.

“Take your meds?” Danny asks, rubbing a towel over his hair and turning to get a clean t-shirt out of the drawer.

“Yup.”

“Okay, well, Jerry said he was sending me some more information on that weird break-in at the marina, so I’m going to-”

“It can wait, Danny.” Steve sits up in bed and gazes at Danny, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

“Nah, it’s okay, I’m not sleepy. It’s no big-”

“Danny. I mean it. It can wait.”

Danny must hear something in Steve’s tone, and he turns to really look at him. “Steve, is something wrong?”

Steve resists the urge to back away. It’s time. “You know it is.”

A flicker of fear passes over Danny’s face, and then he’s back to teasing again. “If this is going to be another argument about going surfing this weekend, the doctor has been perfectly clear about that, Steven, and I for one am in total agreement.”

Danny’s got his hand on his hip, but in the silence that follows his attempt to diffuse the moment, he lets it fall.

“Steve?”

Steve swallows hard, and pats the bed next to him. “Come here.”

Danny looks like he’s going to protest, but thinks better of it and sits sideways on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “What’s going on?”

“We need to fix this.”

Danny looks around the room. “Fix what?”

Steve huffs. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

They’re so far removed from okay that Danny doesn’t even attempt to make a joke about how everything is harder in bed, or any of the ridiculous things he might have said if this evening was going where it would have, before…

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve,” Danny says quietly.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Danny stands up and waves his hands, getting upset. “Then why don’t you come out and say it?” he demands. “Stop playing games with me, I can’t take any more of this. I’m trying as hard as I can and if it isn’t enough…” he trails off, and Steve catches a glimpse of tears shining in his eyes.

He’s out of bed and standing in front of Danny in an instant. “Hey, that’s not what I meant at all, not at all.” Steve takes Danny gently by the shoulders, relief flooding him when Danny doesn’t pull away. But Danny still won’t meet his eyes.

“Danny, do you think I’m breaking up with you?”

Danny shakes his head, but a tear escapes and slides its way down his cheek. Steve swipes it with a finger, and turns Danny’s face to his.

“I’m not, okay? That’s the farthest thing from my mind. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Danny chokes out, scrubbing a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath, and steps back, out of Steve’s hold. “Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Steve looks down at his hands, now empty, and motions at the space Danny has just put between them. “This.”

Danny’s face closes off. He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You’re still healing.”

“Hardly.”

“Hardly, he says. Haven’t you been listening to the doctors? It will take months before you’re one hundred percent. Months.” Danny paces as he speaks, hands waving. “I’m not going to risk hurting you, Steven. I’m not. I won’t.”

“But you are.”

Danny’s head snaps up, his eyes flashing. “What?”

“You don’t think this is hurting us?” Steve steps closer to Danny and holds out his hand. “I miss you. I miss us. And I’m willing to bet you miss it too. We can’t keep doing this.”

Danny presses a hand over his mouth, face crumbling. “Steve…”

“Come here,” Steve says, and wraps Danny in a hug. Danny relents, burying his face against Steve’s shoulder. Steve keeps his hold light, one hand on the back of Danny’s head, the other softly circling his back. “Will you let me try something, Danny? Will you trust me?”

Danny lifts his head, his blue eyes wide. “Always.”

“All right.”

Steve leads Danny back to bed, and Steve arranges them so that they’re stretched out on their sides. They’re facing each other, not quite touching, which is fine with Steve for what he has in mind. Cuddling will come later, hopefully, if all goes well.

“I want you to know there’s nothing to worry about. That I’m okay.”

Danny bites his lip. “I don’t know how to stop worrying. In the plane… you told me you were dying. You actually said it. And you were shot…”

“It’s not the first time, not for either of us.” Regrettably, this is true. They’ve both been shot far too many times.

“I’m aware,” Danny says, but with no heat in it. “Enough so that I could tell it wasn’t like the other times. This was bad, Steve.”

Steve takes Danny’s hand from where it’s resting on the bed between them, and tangles their fingers together. “I want you to try something.”

Danny gives him a questioning look. “Okay.”

Steve takes Danny’s hand and places it on his chest, right on the long scar from the transplant. “Check it out. I’m okay.”

Danny is trying not to pull his hand back, Steve can tell.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Danny. I promise.”

Danny relaxes his hand, letting it lie carefully over Steve’s skin. Steve puts his hand on top of Danny’s and presses down, but this is too much for Danny and he whips his hand away.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

Steve gives him a moment, and then takes his hand again and puts it right back. “I’m all healed there, Danny. There’s no pain when you do that. Nothing’s going to break, or bleed. Not there, and not on the others.” Steve moves his hand to the messy gunshot wounds. “You were there for all the doctor’s visits, you know this.”

Danny closes his eyes, letting out a long breath. “I should know it. But it’s hard to forget what I saw. There was so much blood…”

Steve knows he passed out in the plane, knows Danny thought he might actually be dead, that they couldn’t find his pulse. Knows that Danny didn’t give up, risking his life to land the plane on the beach, hoping he could save Steve. And he did. Steve isn’t going to give up, either.

“Try, Danny.” Steve runs his hand up Danny’s arm, slides his fingers under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and then back down again. Danny shivers, the gentle touch somehow more intimate than any they’ve shared in weeks. “Please.”

Danny nods, opening his eyes and meeting Steve’s. “Okay.”

Danny starts moving his hand, looking down at Steve’s body as he does. He circles the scars, then touches them, checking up with glances at Steve’s face as if to make sure he really isn’t hurting him. Then, to Steve’s surprise, Danny leans over and kisses each one, gently tracing the puckered gunshot wounds on his side and shoulder, and drawing his lips softly over the long surgical incision from the transplant. Finally Danny rests his cheek on Steve’s stomach, his hand still tracing the scars.

“I was so scared, Steve,” Danny says softly. “I’m still so scared.”

“I know, Danny. I know.” Steve pulls Danny up his body and pushes his hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Their eyes meet, and Steve rejoices as Danny leans in for a kiss. It’s gentle at first, just a brush of the lips, and then Danny squirms tighter against him and open his mouth with a low moan.

When they pull apart, Danny’s smile has returned, and it’s like the sun finally coming out from behind the clouds. They both laugh, relief and happiness and love all there together, more emotion that Steve ever thought he could stand.

“I was an idiot,” Danny says, humming in pleasure as Steve slides his hips against Danny’s, their legs weaving around each other until the pressure is just right. “Why’d you let me be such an idiot,” he mumbles, breath coming faster as Steve mouths along the sensitive skin on his neck.

“You’re my idiot,” Steve replies, pulling back just long enough to divest Danny of his t-shirt. With a quick look at each other they tug off their sleep pants and boxers. Danny gazes appreciatively at Steve, running his hand down his hip and pressing their bodies back together, and Steve grins right back at him, taking a moment to nuzzle into the fuzzy hair on Danny’s chest.

“I take it you’re all healed up, too?” Steve asks, sliding a hand between them to touch Danny’s most recent scar, almost a twin to his own.

“We can play doctor later, babe,” Danny pants out, his own hand snaking down to stroke Steve, who is hard and leaking. “Focus, Steven.” Steve obliges, finding Danny’s cock and lining it up with his own, both their hands stroking and tugging and generally feeling awesome.

“You make me feel so good, Danny,” Steve praises. “It’s so good. I…” Steve loses his train of thought as Danny does something with his fingers at the tip, causing a flare of pleasure. Steve rides the sensations, treasuring the sounds Danny makes, his hot breath against his skin, the feel of Danny’s hands everywhere.

“Fuck, this isn’t going to last long, is it?” Danny says, a laugh in his voice as Steve grabs his ass with his other hand and squeezes. Steve doesn’t even have the breath to respond, his reply purely physical as his release hits him. Danny follows seconds after, and Steve just hangs on, overwhelmed and so, so happy.

Steve doesn’t know how much time passes before they recover enough to untangle themselves from the damp sheets and wiggle away from the wet spots, but eventually they are sliding towards sleep, Danny curled up against Steve’s good side, his hand roaming over Steve’s chest. He slows over a scar, one fingertip prodding it gently.

“You’re really okay?” Danny whispers, barely audible.

Steve’s heart skips a beat, and he answers quickly, his voice in his throat. “I’m really okay.”

“Let’s never do that again,” Danny says.

Steve isn’t sure if he means getting shot at (which is pretty likely to happen again, given their track record) or keeping away from each other out of fear. He’s fairly certain it’s the latter.

“As long as we end up here, it’ll be alright.” He means it. Shit’s going to happen. It’s life, it’s not going to be smooth. It’s what you do when it gets rough that counts.

Danny pushes himself up on an elbow and blinks at Steve. “You can be very wise, sometimes, you know that?”

“I have my moments.”

Danny snuggles back down against Steve, and Steve wraps an arm around him, holding him close. They’re going to be okay.

“We are, Steven,” Danny mumbles, “we are.” Apparently Steve’s inner ramblings weren’t quite as internal as he believed. “Now go to sleep.”

“Love you, Danno,” Steve can’t resist one final kiss to the top of Danny’s head. And the last word. Because frankly, he did a good thing tonight.

“I’ll give you a gold star in the morning. Or a blow job. Just stop mumbling and let me get some rest.”

Steve laughs, and Danny joins in, and somewhere in the midst of it all they decide they aren’t that sleepy after all, and blow jobs ensue. Because why put off until tomorrow, etc. etc.?

It’s hours later that they are finally fading into sleep, even the joy and relief at their reunion unable to keep them awake any longer. Steve’s doze is interrupted by one last, nervous question from Danny.

“What would you have done if it didn’t work? What you did tonight, if it didn’t fix us?”

Steve isn’t really fully awake, but he knows the answer without having to think about it. “I’d keep trying.”

“Yeah? Promise?” Danny sounds worried, and Steve can’t have it, shifting to plant a kiss full on Danny’s lips.

“Promise.”

********

Title from Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine.

#mcdanno #H50 #hawaii 5-0 #Steve McGarrett #Danny Williams #My fic

34 notes · View notes

mattzerella-sticks · 6 years

Text

Heavenly Bodies (a Dean/Cas fanfiction Ao3)

The Met-Gala theme this year has Fashion pairing up with Catholic Imagination. But is there more to this trendy Garden of Eden then meets the eye? Will it be the place where a new covenant is born - one between Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak? Read more if you want to see if they take a bite of the apple...

Dean’s eyes were starting to burn, the camera flashes coalescing to form one giant sun he stared into for too long. Thankfully, the saving touch of an attendant pushed him along, away from the photographers and further into the event. He released the breath he had been holding – the one that kept his body slim for the cameras – and shook loose the aches that built up from posing for too long.

Normally modeling clothing wouldn’t put too much of a strain on his body: walking the runway his bread and butter. But today’s outfit was more constricting than the suit Sammy forced him into for his wedding. Then again… that was the year he wasn’t getting hired. And all those rejections made the ice cream in his fridge look all the more appetizing.

This time he had no one to blame but his designer. And while it looked fantastic on him, Crowley’s measurements cut too close. The silver vest buttoned too tight, pushing his chest and the bedazzled cross on it outwards. His pants, the same silver shifting towards a deep crimson in a captivating ombré, hugged his thighs. The buttons of his shirt nearly bursting at the seams – especially at the cufflinks where two glittering crimson crosses were adorned. Only his cape – blood red and fastened at his shoulders by two firm silver shoulder pads – seemed to flow easily; its tail fluttering and tapping against his lower back.

“Dean!” Charlie, his friend, manager, and date for the evening, sidles up beside him, “You need to see this!” Her pale blue dress fans out into a ball gown, little doves fixed to the tulle. A long white mantle covers her usual bright hair.

“Charlie, can’t it wait?” he whines, “The sooner we get inside, the closer I get to unbuttoning this torture device.”

“Trust me,” she says, “you’ll want to keep it on after you see him.” Dean’s curiosity is piqued, but he still summons the minimum amount of disgruntlement as she drags him past celebrities and models and towards another crowd of photographers, the shutters like gunshots, each striking their target for the kill.

“Okay, okay,” Dean gripes, yanking his arm free, “What is it you want me to… to…”

Dean’s eyes lock onto the center of the crowd, where the people part and a miraculous light shines down on the focus. Standing there was a literal angel – and not because of the ethereal, dark wings sprouting from behind. The man’s outfit, besides the avian accessory, was a simple elegance. A sleek, tan coat would fan behind him as he twisted into another pose. His head was adorned with a simple halo, glittering with each flash of the camera. And his cane, glossy, polished chrome, seemed to stab into the ground with how sharp it was.

“Who is that?” Dean asks, gaping at the sight.

“That’s Castiel Novak,” Charlie tells him, “He’s a designer – apparently out of the game for awhile. But when he heard what the theme for the Gala was, it got his creative juices flowing. He designed that gown we saw Billie wearing.”

“Billie?” Dean parrots, “Billie Rapier?” She had received probably similar treatment as her friend Castiel was getting. Dean remembers passing by, nearly tripping at the picture of sacramental beauty. The electric blue gown perfectly draped across her body, the waist pulled tight by a golden bodice. Across the chest, a bejeweled heart – sewn into the fabric – bled rubies. A crown of gold crosses decorated her head, matching the golden jewelry winding its way like vines down her arms. “He did that?” Dean asks, blinking.

“Yep,” Charlie smirks, “And that’s just the start of his new line… word is he’s looking for a muse for his male collection. A… Righteous Man, so to speak. Now ask yourself… who’s more righteous than… well, you?”

“Ugh, do not bring that up,” Dean groans, “That was a one-time campaign for Michael… the douche.” A cologne named Righteous… made sense when you got to know Mr. Godson. But the artistic direction – Zachariah Adler should never have been allowed behind a camera. Thankfully, recent allegations have come to light that will keep him far from the fashion industry.

“Paid well, at least,” Charlie shrugged, “Even if I got only twenty percent of that fat check. Anyway… you’ve been looking for a fresh start. And there won’t be many of those now that you’re older –”

“Charlie!” Dean says, “Do not bring up the ‘o’ word!”

“What… older?” Charlie asks, her grin growing wider with Dean’s groan, “Should I maybe say thirty-ni -!”

Dean clamps a firm hand across her lips, shooting his friend a dark look. “Don’t,” he warns, “Press finds out how old I really am then it won’t just be me out of a job, missy.” She rolls her eyes, but takes a vow of silence. He releases her, wincing down at his hand. “Might want to check your make-up,” Dean tells her, “Sorry.”

Charlie pulls her phone out, checking the smudges and huffing. She shoots him a dark look before stomping away, each of the doves on her dress somehow ruffled. Dean watches her leave, unaware of the shadows that have fallen overhead.

“There is beauty in anger,” a deep voice rumbles like thunder from behind, “Like a storm that passes over an empty field…”

Dean startles, twirling towards Castiel, who had somehow approached him without his notice.

“Oh!” he says, blushing, “Um… I didn’t see you –“

“I know,” Castiel continues, finally tearing his blue gaze away from Charlie and towards him, “You were very preoccupied with your date. I hope your small inconvenience won’t come back to haunt you later on in the evening…?”

“Dean,” he says, smiling, “Dean Winchester. And no, Cas, it won’t – I mean, not in the way you’re probably thinkin’, because Charlie there is about as straight as I am… which is not at all – I mean,” he notices the other man’s strange head tilt, and dread crawls further up his throat, taking control of his vocal chords, “I don’t know why I just told you that – not that I’m ashamed I mean, you saw Lena Waithe right? Totally got a selfie with her and her amazing cape it’s just – we only met today and… I should stop talking, right?”

“Cas?”

Dean blinks, short-circuiting at the path Castiel had chosen to take given the multitude his ramblings had presented the designer.

“Oh, are you not a nickname kind of guy?” Dean asks, “Sorry – it’s a habit. My brother, Sammy – he prefers Sam – tells me it’s gonna get me in trouble. Like that time I nearly slipped with his ex, calling her ‘Demon’ instead of Ruby. Not like the love was long-lasting, but I’m sure that didn’t help.” He catches sight of Castiel’s face again, this time much softer, laughter bubbling to the surface. “I really need to stop running my mouth.”

“No, it’s fine,” Castiel says, patting Dean’s shoulder, “The rambling and the nickname. It’s a welcome change from ‘Mr. Novak’ and ‘Castiel, the angel of Fashion’.”

Dean snorts, “A little presumptuous, aren’t they?”

“They’re not far off,” Castiel – ‘no, Cas’ – admits, “I mean, my name’s origins are heavenly, except the real Cassiel was the angel of Thursdays, not fashion. And even then, who wants to be the angel of loincloths and tunics?”

“Loincloths!” Dean giggles alongside Cas, “That’d be a sight. I can see Gucci now – each selling for 500 bucks a piece!” Their mirth doesn’t go unnoticed, a pack of paparazzi already forming, fingers itching for the perfect shot. Dean, trained to notice the glint that shines within every photographer’s eye when the perfect image comes to mind, slips into his model headspace.

“You might want to smile, Cas,” Dean whispers, “We’re about to make every gossip rag and Buzzfeed article about the Met Gala.”

“I wonder what the headlines will read?” Cas muses, moving to tuck Dean’s arm into his, bringing him closer, feathers tickling the base of his neck, “Angelic Designer woos Holy Crusader at Met Gala?”

“Hey!” Dean pouts, “Who says you’re doing the wooing?”

“Let he who hasn’t been flustered once this entire conversation cast the first woo,” Cas says, glancing at the other man with mirth. Dean frowns, the blush eating away at his foundation easily proving his point.

“Anyway,” Dean says, carrying on, “It looks like my date has left me at the altar, so to speak… would you maybe like to accompany me inside?”

“From now to the foreseeable future, Dean Winchester, I would love to worship at your altar.”

“…That’s not what I said.”

“I’m an artist,” Cas smirks, walking forward, “I can take creative liberties.”

The duo continues towards the Met, halted every couple of inches by the cameras being shoved into their faces. Dean doesn’t mind, each picture made more enjoyable by the man by his side.

“Dean! What the hell? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sammy please… I’m severely hung-over, up way to early, and sore in places you wouldn’t want to know –“

“I just mean, I think as your brother I deserved to find out from you instead of the Internet that you ‘ve been involved in a secret relationship for nearly a year with some designer.”

“What! That’s not… where did you hear that?”

“TMZ.”

“Jesus, Sammy, I have not been in a secret relationship with Cas –“

“Dean, keep it down I drank too much to be awake this soon.”

“Dean… who was that?”

“…Can we pretend this never happened and I can call you later?”

“Dean!”

“Hey, this ain’t confessional – I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Dean so help me God –“

“Breaking up – krrsh – going through a tunnel – krrsh – talk to you soon, bye!”

“Dean! He better not be going through your tunnel –“ Click!

He sighs, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand and slipping back under the covers, Cas already waiting to wrap him up. “Who was that?” the other man asked, peppering Dean’s neck with kisses.

“Just my brother,” Dean giggles, “Apparently our chemistry was so amazing that people think we’ve been seeing each other much longer than just last night.”

“Well you know what they say,” Cas says into Dean’s neck, “Miracles do happen once in a lifetime.”

“Yeah,” Dean hums in agreement, “That sounds about right.”

They don’t leave the bed – or deal with the media frenzy from last night – until the next morning.

#Supernatural #Spn #Supernatural fanfiction #Spn fanfic #Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #Destiel fanfic #Dean Winchester #Castiel

46 notes · View notes

foxofsunholt · 6 years

Note

I need to start by saying every time I think I can't love this game more, Camille suddenly attacks! Or Addie does something cute and I'm like, well need to raise the bar again, is anyone headed to Venus anytime soon? I also wanted to point out that spirit son is missing a hobby, jenja-blocking the Mc!Also I wanted to ask (I hope this hasn't been asked) how would the RO's react to the Mc coming to the rescue and saving them from something dangerous/getting hurt doing so? Much love and good vibes

I really love the Jenga has become a thing now lol

It hasn’t been asked! I’ve put my answers under the cut because they got kinda long haha-- hope everyone likes

Adelaide

Adelaide hates being rescued, she can’t stand the idea of being made to feel like she needs help. And princesses needing to be saved? A cliche Addy could do without. So she’s there, steaming, until the MC barrels in. She forgets about her gripe with recusing and is just so happy to see the MC. She knows deep in her heart that the MC would never once make her feel inferior, so she doesn’t feel like a damsel in distress but like an equal....who just so happened to need some help.

And then the MC gets hurt, saving her no less. She’s out for blood right at whoever/whatever hurt the MC but then she’s getting the MC out of there as quick as she can and tending to their wounds as she goes. She’s apologizing the entire time; “I’m so sorry you got hurt”, “this is my fault I shouldn’t have..”, “I’m so sorry”.

She’s by the MC’s bed, she sleeps on the floor and forgets to eat.

She doesn’t let the MC out of her sight for a couple of days, clinging to them out of worry. She needs a bit of convincing to realize that the MC is okay...but once she gets it, she’s the happiest she’s ever been.

Mars

Mars is pretty embarrassed he got himself into any sort of situation in the first place...but as a knight, he’s accepted the idea that he might just be expendable. He doesn’t hope for anyone to help him, and for the first time in his life since childhood, he prays. He prays that his friends will be okay, that the MC will be happy and that they will somehow know the breadth of his care for them. He thinks he dreams the MC coming for him, and he goes along with it. Maybe it’s what you see before you die...he doesn’t know. In his mind, the MC is an angel coming to take him and he’s okay with that...

Until the MC gets hurt, and Mars snaps out of his daze. He might be injured himself, but fueled by pure adreneline he carries the MC to safety, not stopping for a single second. He shields the MC will his body, and won’t listen to a single word anyone says until he knows for certain that the MC is okay.

He was just about ready to die, but at the same time he learns that he can’t go. He needs to be able to make sure the MC is okay, is happy.

He leans to live for them....and plans the most eleborate vacation for them as both a thank-you and a please-don’t-get-hurt-again.

Camille

Camille would rather be left to die than have to face that she couldn’t do something by herself. As she’s being rescued, she’s complaining. She’s arguing. She’s letting the MC know that she could have done this herself. Deep inside though, she knows that’s not true. There’s a part of her that has to reconcile that she wasn’t good enough. And what does that mean for her and the MC? That she’s just not good enough? She’d rather be left to die than for the MC to ever realize that they could be doing much better than her...even if that might eventualy happen, for now, she just wants to be a little selfish.

When the MC gets hurt she forgets all about her insecurity. She makes sure the MC is safe before she burns whoever did this to the ground and then burns their ghosts ten times over. When she gets back to the MC, she is exhasted, but not enough to cast as many healing spells as she knows before she eventually faints.

The path to recovery is hard for them both, but Camille is there for every step.

Every fight following, she takes special care to watch over the MC (more care than she was giving before...which admitaedly was still probably a lot of care). She learns how to cast shields, how to make protective charms. She spends days learning how to protect and help instead of scream and burn.

When they’re both better though, she makes sure to tell the MC what an idiot they are.

Sid

Is no stranger to nearly dying, or even having to be pulled out from sticky situations. And somehow, even when he’s in danger, he always gets himself into more trouble. The journey to help Sid is needlessly complicated, but when the MC does save him there’s a big smile and a hug waiting for them. He believes wholeheartedly in the MC and their ability. If the MC wanted to move mountains, he believes that they could...and he’d be right there to help.

But when the MC gets hurt he’s a little unsure what to do. He’s no stranger to seeing people get hurt...and maybe that’s the issue. He thinks of the worse-case scenario and is flooded with fear. He does everything in his power to get the MC to safety, to help them in every way he can.

He isn’t there when the MC wakes up...or the day after...or the day after that.

But one day he stumbles in, bloody and bruised but grinning like a madman. “I got ‘em,” he says, and he lets the MC know that he made sure the people/thing that hurt the MC won’t be bothering them again...which probably earns him a stern yelling. But he smiles and he picks up the MC and swings them around despite the pain in his back.

He buys them flowers as an appology and cooks them the greatest feast they’ve ever had as a thank you. He makes up for lost days by being there in anyway the MC wants/needs.

Faith

She’d probably get herself into dire situations just for the hell of it, or to fawn over the MC as they come get her out of whatever pickle she’s got herself into this week. Faith is thankful, of course, and there’s a part of her that knows that one day the MC just won’t come. She might sound like she’s joking when she calls the MC her hero, flirting rediculosly with them, but she is very serious. No matter her injury, her situation, she plays it off like a joke.

But she’d never do that if the MC were hurt. She’s the one first by their side, wishing that they hadn’t come to help her. She’s quiet as she tends to the MC, no jokes or suggestive remarks. She simply mumbles “why” every so often. Why did the MC come for her? Why does she care so much? Why did they have to get hurt? Why did it have to be them?

She hovers awkwardly as the MC heals, refusing any invitation to stop standing by the door like a maniac. She’s gentle with the MC, fueld by confusion and concern. She’s not sure what this means, she’s never cared so much about someone getting hurt.

But she is willing to find out, and maybe she can start with letting the MC know just how genuinly thankful she is.

Yoon

Yoon would never really need to be saved. If he gets kidnapped by bandits, he somehow becomes their leader. A dragon hunts him down? Suddenly it’s his best friend. There’s never a situation he can’t talk himself out of, and he’s cocky for it. If the MC comes save him, he doesn’t think he needs it. He jokes about how the MC “ruinied his fun” or how he was “just getting to know the prision guard”.

The MC gets hurt, for his sake, and that’s not something he could ever talk himself out of. He panics, and delegates a small army to getting the MC to safety and tending to their wounds. He gets the MC into the best clinic, with the best bed with needlessly fancy slik-sheets. There are trinkets scattered all around of Yoon being unsure what the MC might need...a mirror, a deck of cards, a puppy....

For the first time, the MC sees a side of Yoon that isn’t confident. He visits every day with flowers and poetry he’s written. He says he’s sorry for getting them into this mess in the first place, that next time the MC should just leave him and run.

When the MC tells him they’d never just leave him behind...Yoon learns what love means, and that’s something that talking just might be good for.

Of course, there are other ways he can use his tongue, if the MC wants. And Yoon is pretty good with his tongue...for...speaking purposes...of course...

#asks #evernightsshadow

71 notes · View notes

ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 7 years

Text

Savage Truths-Platonic!Grace Burgess Imagine ft. Tommy Shelby

Requested: YES

Warnings: some mentions of violence

To say that the liquor was flowing at Catherine Holton’s party would have been an understatement. There was so much champagne, whiskey, wine, and rum in the enormous flat in West End that it could have filled the English Channel twice over. Unfortunately, all the liquor in the world couldn’t soothe either Grace nor Tommy.

Their marriage had hit quite the rut ever since Grace accused Y/N of having an affair with her husband. When the woman smartly advised Grace to talk to her husband about it, she tried and it had gone horribly wrong. It had resulted in a shouting match between the two of them that made Grace sleep in Charlie’s room and Tommy leave the house altogether. Unfortunately, he had made the ill decision of seeing Y/N, who was much less than pleased to see him.

“What are you doin’ here, Tommy?” Y/N asked.

“Grace thinks I’m interested in you,” Tommy said.

“I know, but I haven’t the faintest idea as to why.”

“Neither do I.”

After a moment, Tommy admitted to Y/N that he couldn’t go home that night and Y/N was clear that there was no way on this side of hell that she could let him stay. Y/N wrapped her dark silk robe tighter around her body and huffed.

“There’s a decent hotel about three miles east, called the Milton. Ask for Raymond and tell him you do business with me. You’ll get a free room for the night, half price every night after that.”

“I can pay for my own room.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Refusing my offer is like spittin’ in my face. You’ll take the bloody room and go to every meeting you have tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

“I think I have the right to considering you came over here in the middle of the night, woke me up, and asked for a place to say. Should be grateful that I decided not to bring my rifle with me.”

Y/N’s usually light tone was harder, but she looked at Tommy with concern. However, Tommy couldn’t tell whether it was because she felt bad about his situation or if it was to benefit her.

Reluctantly, Tommy took the room but he didn’t sleep at all that night. He spent half the night organizing for the next day’s meetings and the other half upset that Grace would accuse him of having an affair. He’d stopped enjoying the company of other women as soon as he and Grace got serious again----he had become a father after all. Grace hadn’t been jealous of any woman since they got married until Y/N. Of course, Tommy had noticed how fetching Y/N was, but it was hard not to. She had pretty y/e/c eyes, a mouth that seemed to always be in a smirk, and wildly curly hair that never stayed in place. She was also smart, irritatingly smart. Y/N was one of the few women that could match wits with Tommy. The only reason they spent so much time together was because they were partners, and Tommy couldn’t understand why Grace couldn’t understand it.

Now, months after their fight, the Shelby couple respectively conversed with other British gangsters at the rich American woman’s party. Catherine’s father was one of the main bootleggers in Chicago and became extremely rich because of the alcohol he would import from England. Somehow, Catherine had convinced her father to allow her to throw a New Year’s Eve party in London and invite every gangster and their wife, girlfriend, or mistress in England. All the men wore black tuxedos and the women wore jewel-toned dresses that were made from either wool, silk or satin along with an obnoxious amount of jewelry.

The entire Shelby clan had been invited as well as the Y/L/Ns. When Grace learned the Y/L/Ns had been invited as well, she made an expression as though she’d bitten into a lemon rather than an orange. Fortunately, Grace agreed to be civil and when they arrived at Catherine’s place, Y/N was nowhere to be seen, but her brothers were. They quickly got on with Tommy’s brothers and were currently splitting their time between playing drinking games and dancing.

“You’re still in the horse business, right?” Samuel Fields, a racketeerer from Manchester, asked.

“Yes,” Tommy said. “But we’re mostly concerned with other areas of business.”

“Right, you lot expanded,” Samuel said with a nod.

It was one of the most boring conversations Tommy had ever engaged in and it seemed as though Grace felt the same even though she was smiling it off. She dusted an invisible dust particle off the skirt of her gold silk dress and smiled at Samuel’s platinum blonde fiancee.

The fact that Tommy and Grace were able to be in a room together and act civil was a miracle in itself. Tommy had spent nearly a month in London conducting business all while hearing pleas from Polly, Arthur, Ada, and John for him to go back home. Grace would call once in a while, but she couldn’t use Charlie as a reason for Tommy to come back because he made sure to see Charlie as often as possible. Unfortunately for Grace, it was Y/N that got Tommy to go back home.

“Tommy, this is ridiculous,” Y/N had said in her office.

“You’re gettin’ the same amount as always,” Tommy had replied.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at Tommy. “You know good and well that I’m not talking about the money. It’s been a month since you’ve been with your wife. You’ve had enough time to lick your wounds, you need to swallow your pride and go back to her.”

“My marriage is none of your business.”

“It is when I’ve been dragged into the middle of it.” Y/N’s deft fingers wrapped around her shiny cigarette case, pulled out a cigarette, and plopped it between her lips. “I know when I’m speaking out of turn and now is not one of those moments.” She lit the end of it. “Your place is with Grace and Charlie, and at the head of Shelby Company Limited. This is no way for a married man to live.”

Tommy would have spoken up if it was anyone else, but he stayed quiet for Y/N, egging her on.

“You’re supposed to protect your family, right? How much protection are you offerin’ ‘em down here? You’ve made them sitting ducks.”

“I have men watching them.”

“Sabini can pull an inside job, you never know because you never look too deeply into your employee’s backgrounds.” Y/N took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke into the air. “I’ve seen a lot of couples in my time and what you and Grace have shouldn’t be thrown away, I know you lot can sort it out if anyone can.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but the trust between Grace and me has been damaged.”

Then, Y/N leaned forward. “Tell me, Tommy, are you in any way attracted to me?”

“No.”

“Have you thought about having sex with me? Have you thought having sex with me while you were having sex with Grace?”

“No.”

“And have you told Grace as much?”

That was when Tommy hesitated. He hated it when someone else was right.

“Go back home and tell her as much and be real specific so she cannot miss anything.”

Her advice had worked and Grace and Tommy had made up, but he had been careful not to mention Y/N around Grace because whenever he did, Grace would get a strange look in her eye. Therefore, he didn’t tell her anything about how Y/N persuaded him to go back to her.

Now, here he was, playing the part of the professional husband. He should be happy and satisfied, but he was neither and he didn’t really know why.

“Oi, there she is!” Christopher Y/L/N shouted and began shoving his way through the crowd.

Tommy followed his gaze and saw Y/N walking in on Alfie’s arm. He was surprised to say the least, especially at how much Alfie was grinning. As soon as Christopher reached them, he picked Y/N up in a hug and swung her around.

“Put me down, you git!” Y/N snapped, smacking her eldest brother’s broad shoulders.

Alfie chuckled at the man’s antics as he set Y/N down. William, Patrick, and Elliott Y/L/N tried to do the same to Y/N, but she gave them a look that could have killed a man.

“Well, look who’s arrived,” Grace said.

She looked both intrigued but Tommy knew that she couldn’t have been happier.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tommy said.

“We should say hi.”

Tommy agreed and they excused themselves from the boring conversation and walked over to Alfie, Y/N, and her brothers.

“C’mon, Y/N, can’t you take a joke?” Patrick asked.

“Can’t you act as though mum didn’t drop you on the head a dozen times when you were a baby?” she griped back.

Y/N fluffed out the skirt of her ruby red sequin Chanel dress and wrinkled her nose at her brothers.

“Alfie, I didn’t think you liked parties,” Tommy said.

Y/N almost immediately straightened up when Tommy spoke and brushed a straightened piece of y/h/c hair behind her ear.

“I don’t but I heard the hostess is a bit of a nutter as well as her father. Didn’t want to deal with both of ‘em.” Alfie turned to Grace. “Evenin’, Mrs. Shelby, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, Alfie.” Grace looked at Y/N. “Evenin’, Y/N.”

“Evenin, Grace.”

“So, how do you two know each other?” Grace asked, her smile getting wider with each passing moment.

“Oh, Alfie’s a friend of the family, practically,” Elliott interrupted.

“He needed a date for the party and I agreed,” Y/N said.

“You never mentioned that you knew each other,” Tommy said.

“Never came up.”

For the rest of the evening, Tommy found himself casting glances at Alfie and Y/N. She talked him into dancing with her at some point and at another, they were off to the side, drinking. Then, she said something that made Alfie laugh and Alfie never laughed. However, the sight of them together made Tommy both angry and sick. It was strange seeing his business partners flirt with each other, but rather than feel uncomfortable, he was irritated.

Grace didn’t bring it up until they started dancing to a slow song. “I’m glad we came to this party tonight.”

“Me too.”

“It makes me feel as though we’re back to normal.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m glad that Y/N seems to be havin’ such a good time with Alfie.” Grace looked up at Tommy.

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you have to say about it?”

“What else is there to say? It’s just strange.”

“Why is it strange for two single people to enjoy each other’s company?”

“They’re both partners of mine, just kind of strange seein’ ‘em like this.”

“Well, they are also people.”

When Tommy stole another glance at Y/N and Alfie, they were walking out of the main room and into a hallway. Y/N had slowly gotten merrier as the night progressed even though she’d once told him that she preferred to keep her head at parties. He wanted to follow them, to make up some excuse and steal Y/N away.

Why did he care about Y/N and Alfie together? Why couldn’t he be happy that he was back on good terms with his wife? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Y/N?

His thoughts plagued him and his drinking only made his thoughts more frequent. Tommy could barely enjoy Arthur’s drunken toasts or John’s teasing him for them. He nearly missed the count down to the New Year, but snapped out of it when Patrick mentioned Y/N.

“Where’s she run off to?” Patrick asked.

“Haven’t seen her in ages,” John replied with a shrug.

“Well, she wanted a name of a man in Spain for some reason or another and I just got it. I don’t have time to look for her because I’ve got a girl waitin’ for me.”

“I’ll give her the name tomorrow,” Tommy offered.

“Great.” Patrick handed him the paper. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

Then, the muscular man disappeared into the crowd and Tommy’s drunken mind tried to come up with an excuse to look for Y/N. Before he could make one up, everyone around him screamed “Happy New Year!”

He kissed Grace as hard as he could, but there was no passion on his end. There used to be so much there, but it felt like whatever passion was left in him had gone away. Tommy couldn’t tell if Grace noticed because when he pulled away, she smiled wistfully at him.

“Happy New Year, Tom.”

“Happy New Year, Grace.”

Tommy finally made up an excuse to leave and with all the people kissing and dancing, no one noticed him slip down the same hallway as Alfie and Y/N had hours ago. He didn’t have to walk far to find them.

There they were, in the middle of the hallway, Y/N pressed up against the wall with one leg wrapped around Alfie’s hip. They kissed feverishly as though if they weren’t together for a moment, they would lose all oxygen. Y/N’s manciured hands cupped the back of Alfie’s neck while the older man clawed at her clothes.

Tommy was furious and angry that he’d gotten so upset at seeing them. He wanted to look away but he couldn’t. It was like a bad dream that he couldn’t wake up from. When he finally walked away, he was shaking and slowly calming down. For a split second, his mind cleared and he realized that he fancied Y/N.

He really hated when someone else was right.

#tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #requested

100 notes · View notes

chronicfangirling · 7 years

Text

Re: thigh highs and twisted fairy tales

+ “*M/N’s whore house, how may I help you?” (Member’s name) + “Sometimes I just can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

Pairing: Jin x Reader (feat. BTS kids as the best wingmen ever) Genre: Angst/Smut/Fluff in that order (Fuckboy!AU) Words: 4222 Requested by: @cupcake7592

written for my 600+ Followers Drabbles Event

"Y/N-noona!" Jimin and Taehyung chorused when you walked through the main door of the dorm and into the living room. The three youngest members of the group were playing a game but they paused it; apparently your first visit in a long while was more interesting.

Jungkook smirked. "Is today the day? Is the white princess finally going to succumb to the temptations of the dark prince?"

You felt your cheeks heat up, but covered it up by demanding: "Jungkookie, who's been teaching you these things?" You felt a familiar hand slip around your waist, and you deftly stepped out of his grasp. "It's you, isn't it?"

Jin raised his hands over his head, his eyes wide and innocent. "Why are you so quick to blame me, Y/N? I'm hurt."

"The dark prince has arrived," Taehyung rumbled in a voice even deeper than normal. Jungkook cawed like a raven.

"The white princess swoons in his arms." Jimin waggles his fingers as if he were casting a spell on you.

"Yeah... I don't think so." You turned your accusing gaze upon Jin again.

"You're all making this worse," Jin griped, seizing Taehyung and Jimin by an ear each and kicking Jungkook on the bum. "All of you, out!!"

Jungkook covered his mouth with his hand, looking scandalized. "Hyung, I know this is going to be your first night and all, but do you two need the whoooole dorm?" He waved his arms expansively.

"There's not going to be any sort of first on this night!" you clarified.

Jin glared and shook Jimin and Taehyung, making the younger men yelp and hold on to their ears. "Leave, now!"

The three of them scampered out of the dorm, but not before Jungkook turned back to deliver one last quip: "Don't forget to use protection, it's too early for Bangtan Juniors!" He shot the most suggestive finger guns from his hips, and dodged when Jin hurled a throw pillow at him.

In the youngest members' wake, the dorm went very quiet, such that their words kept ringing in your head. You felt yourself flush again, so you ducked, staring at your slippered feet. "They get dirtier and dirtier by the day."

Chuckling, Jin lifted your chin by one finger. "They're men now, Y/N. You tend to underestimate our... preoccupations with the earthier pleasures."

You stepped back as he loomed towards you. "No... I'd never underestimate your preoccupations, Kim Seokjin--ack!" You took one step too many and hit the end of the couch, ending up splayed on your back, your knees propped on the armrest, and your dress hiked almost to your hips such that your thigh high stockings were on full display. You swallowed when Jin hovered over you.

He scooped you off the couch and set you back on your feet, your body sliding sensuously along his as he let you down. He bent towards your ear, and you gasped at the warmth of his breath on your neck. "Good for you," he whispered. He pulled away, leaving you relieved and yet strangely disappointed. Then he took your arm and said: "Come on, let's go to my room."

Reluctantly walking with him, you muttered: "We have the entire living room to ourselves, we don't have to go to your room..."

"But it's soooo much more comfortable." He winked. "You know I took special care to make sure my bed is suitable for the delicate physiques of ladies."

You ignored that last part, not wanting to encourage him, and said: "I don't want to disturb Yoongi."

"Yoongi left to stay at his studio overnight when he heard you were coming over."

"Why would he need to do that?" you asked, trying not to squeal in nervousness.

"He was being considerate." Jin looked down at you with shining puppy eyes and a kissable pout. "He thought it would be better if we could talk undisturbed, since it has been a while since we've seen each other... you were too busy dating all those guys."

It was an underhanded ploy to make you feel guilty, but it worked anyway. "It was two dates," you reasoned, sounding inordinately guilty for a single lady who had every right to be dating around. Caught off-guard, you entered Jin and Yoongi's room without further protest, and let him sit you on his bed. "And anyway, that wasn't the reason I stayed away. It was because Hanui took issue with me being around you, so I thought it would be better for the two of you."

"There wasn't a 'two of us.'" He looked up from arranging pillows and untucking the sheets to hold his arms in an 'X'. "We were hanging out."

"Hanging out?" Raising an eyebrow, you snickered at him, despite yourself. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Yes, hanging out. And if a woman decides to show her appreciation of me as a man by means of her body, who am I to refuse?" He smirked.

"Riiiight." You grabbed a pillow and tapped it against his smug face, unable to stop yourself from giggling.

"How could you hit my handsome face?" he lamented with a dramatic sigh. "To think I have a present for you."

You perked up when he pulled a shiny plushie from a gift bag on his bedside table. "Oh! It's Alolan Vulpix!" You took it from him gratefully and hugged it.

"Hmm, I can't believe how much I want to be your plushie right now." Grinning, Jin slouched against the headboard and watched the plushie being squished upon your breasts.

Instead of smacking him for his lewd comment, you smiled and said: "Thank you, Jin. This one's my favorite."

He straightened up, flustered by your sincerity. "It's, umm.... no big deal, r-really..." he stammered, turning red from his neck up to his ears. "I was in the arcade a lot a couple of weeks ago and I happened to catch it, so..."

Your smile grew wider. How could you have been so wary of him just a while ago? No matter how handsome he was, how seductive he could be, and how many girls he bedded, he was still that same nerdy Kim Seokjin under that fuckboy persona that was his second skin.

Your hesitations forgotten, you curled close to Jin as you chatted and watched anime movies on his laptop. The idyllic moment was shattered when Jin's phone rang. He peered at the screen, then turned it over and pressed play on the movie again.

You glanced from the still-ringing phone to Jin's face, with his brows furrowed in concentration as he forced himself to focus on the movie. "Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"It's Hanui," he explained.

You paused the film and narrowed your eyes at him. "This is how you're breaking up with her? By refusing to answer her calls?"

"It's not breaking up if we weren't in a relationship," he quickly pointed out. "Anyway, she's too pushy to be reasoned with, this way's better."

The current call ended but the ringing started anew almost as soon as it ended. You patted his shoulder. "She's not going to leave you alone until you talk to her, Jin."

"Then can you answer the phone?" he batted his eyelashes at you.

"What? No!" you protested.

"Please? Hanui's different when it comes to you."

"She hates me, you mean. And she's going to hate me more if I answer your phone."

"As if you care about that," he snorted.

"No, I actually don't," you agreed with a chuckle.

"But you care about me?" he prodded, his voice dripping with sweetness as he turned the puppy eyes on you again.

Your heart was fit to burst at Jin's soft gaze. "This is emotional blackmail!" you complained, hoping he couldn't hear your heartbeat.

"Pleaaase--my precious, lovely friend?" he wheedled, nuzzling against your neck. His lips brushed against a sensitive spot under your ear and you flinched. He didn't seem to notice and continued his begging.

"Fine!" You raised your hands in defeat, mostly to ward him off your neck. "You owe me, my manipulative, cunning friend."

"Yes indeed, my whole heart is yours," he affirmed, blowing you a kiss.

You snarled at him to be silent then answered the call: “Kim Seokjin’s whore house, how may I help you? Yes, it's Y/N--no Hanui, I'm not banging him behind your back..." You rolled your eyes and slapped Jin's chest when he bit his lips lasciviously. "I'd also like to point out that you weren't a couple in the first place, so even if I were, that doesn't make me a slut--"

Jin snatched the phone from your hands and said in that earnest-seeming voice you knew better than to trust: "Hanui... remember how I told you about the love of my life? Well, you didn't even come close to helping me forget her." He fixated upon you and traced his fingers along your jawline; you couldn't help but shiver. "She came back, and with her beside me right now, I realize that I would never want to anyway, so thank you and goodbye." He ended the call and when the phone started ringing again, he took out the battery and stowed the disassembled phone under his bed.

You sulked up at him and wagged a finger close to his nose. "How many times have you used me as an excuse when your conquests get too clingy?"

Something seemed to shift in him at those words; his eyes darkened, he pushed your finger away, and he rolled over you, taking you down and pinning you against the bed. "Princess--you are much more than an excuse."

Despite the charged air--and the hardened planes of his body heavy against your smaller frame--you thought you could lighten the mood again by bantering: "An accessory to crime then?"

"I'd never let you be dirtied like that," he murmured as he brushed kisses against your forehead and cheeks, delicately, almost reverently. "You're the most precious to me... the only woman who ever mattered."

"Jin," you whispered, your palms pushing at his chest, afraid that he'd do something to change things between the two of you irrevocably.

He shifted his weight on his elbows, letting you breathe. “Sometimes I just can’t control myself when I’m around you.” He stroked your thigh, fingers dancing along the lines of your stockings. "These things are especially bad for my self-control..."

"Jin, what are you doing?" you squeaked in mild panic. You could feel exactly what he was doing--he was shuffling between your knees and nudging them apart so he could settle between them.

He gazed down at you and there was none of that gentleness now; his gaze was sharp with desire. "Do you remember the first time I fucked and fucked over a girl?"

"Why would I remember that?" you retorted, though you did remember.

"Because it was during that one winter break. We cuddled under one blanket in your room. You let me get on top of you and kiss you--with tongue." He licked his lips as his eyes flickered towards your own lips and your entire body grew heated along with your face this time. "Then when I pulled out my dick, you cried." You winced at the embarrassing memory of your naivete, but Jin patted your cheek reassuringly. "It's alright, I understand... we were kids then."

He continued: "I ran and ended up seeing Baek Jaera and her friends at the movie theater. And I sweet-talked her until she let me fuck her in the back row."

"Even then I already knew that something was wrong with me. I wasn't content just looking through my brother's dirty magazines and porn folder--I always needed a real body. And I could never stop myself from fantasizing doing all sorts of things to you." He glanced at your prone body under his. "Things that you weren't ready for. I had to take my urges out on all those other girls."

"Are you blaming me for everything?" you asked, a little resentful. It hadn't been easy seeing him with all those other girls and continuing your friendship with him, considering how you felt...

"No," he said. "It's not your fault that I'm wired this way. It's not your fault that I'd destroy as many other women as I needed to keep you unbroken and safe. From me."

You took his face between your hands, staring at him sadly. "Jin... I never--I never asked you to do that."

"You didn't have to. They were just willing pussies with forgotten faces. But you... you're the love of my life," he declared. He leaned down and kissed you on the lips, slowly and tenderly, though you could sense his thrumming hunger. He coaxed your lips apart and teased you with light swipes of his tongue, trying not to overwhelm you, but you were soon moaning both for breath... and more of him.

When he pulled away and allowed you to collect your composure and your wits, you remembered that this was a bad idea. "That's just your excuse to Hanui--"

"Princess, it's real. You know it is." he affirmed. "I can't hold back anymore. I think you're ready and I know I can do right by you now. You're the only one I ever truly wanted, Y/N. I love you."

"How many girls have you said those words to?"

"Too many to count. But I only meant it with you."

You slipped into a sitting position, attempting to leave. "Which is what you've said to all of them--"

With a cat-like smirk and cat-like grace, Jin pounced on you, trapping you under his body again. "Let me tell you, I know your body well by now..." He nuzzled against your neck again, but it felt far less innocent now. "All the places to touch to get you to say yes."

"Ahh--no, Jin!" you cried when he nipped below your ear. "Not my neck!"

"It has been so hard, all these years of touching you little-by-little, making sure that I won't spook you again," he hummed against your sore skin as he lapped it soothingly. "I've catalogued all of your body's responses in my mind--things that you like, things that you don't like, things that make you go crazy..." He parted your legs wider and pushed his hips against yours so you could feel his erection.

"Mmm!" Your legs trembled from the sensation and it was all you could do to restrain yourself from bucking against him.

"I'll make you feel so good... no one else would be able to do this as well for you. Only me." Pain crossed his features for a moment, but he schooled his expression into a flirty smirk. "It was hard to see you go out with other men, but I knew that no one could love and pleasure you like I would and you'd end up right here in the end. You belong with me."

He lifted himself off you, kneeling between your legs, and you blinked at him in dazed confusion. But then he pushed up your dress and drew the thin lace of your panties aside, sinking two fingers into your heat. You threw your head back and moaned.

Chuckling, Jin watched you writhing as his fingers pumped steadily. "That feels good for you. I realized that my crooked fingers tend to bring a lot of pleasure to women."

He was right; the friction was so intense you could hardly breathe much less think. It had never felt like this with the few men you tried to date while Jin was busy with all those other women. The way his fingers reached deeper than your own could was making you pant with wanting. Imagining how much better it would feel if it were the impressive erection tenting his jeans... but you couldn't. It would ruin the tenuous friendship you had managed to maintain through the years. "Jinnie..." you murmured between moans. "Please, don't do this."

"Don't because you don't want me?" he asked. "Or don't because you know once you've done it with me, no one else would do? Because you know you'll have to face the fact that you've always felt for me as I've always felt for you? Lust, but love as well?"

"........." You looked away from him, overcome with the sensations.

"Of course, if you still hesitate..." his voice sounded uncertain and his fingers started to withdraw.

Your hand shot out to touch his wrist. "Jinnie... please..."

"Please, what?" He hooked his fingers, causing a jolt of pleasure so intense that you arched against his hand.

"Oh God!" you whimpered, tears of sexual frustration and anticipated regret gathering upon your lower lashes. "Please, fuck me..."

"Y/N..." he wiped away the tears with his free hand and kissed you. "I'm not going to fuck you. I'm going to make love to you."

You almost believed him.

Jin licked his slick fingers and reached for your dress; when you shrank away, he smiled and gave you a comforting kiss. He stripped off his own clothes and when he had tossed his boxers aside, you let him peel off your dress. He took care with your dainty lace bra and panties, setting them on his bedside table. "Let's keep these on you," he snickered as he skimmed the tops of your thigh highs.

He plucked a condom from his bedside drawer and you stopped him before he could tear the package open. "You don't have to if... you'd rather not," you suggested.

His mouth dropped in surprise. "Are you sure? I know you're on the pill but you'd let me...?" When you nodded, he discarded the condom and pecked you on the lips. "Thank you, Y/N. This is always how I've wanted our first night to be."

Shifting between your legs again, he asked: "Do you need me to prepare you some more?" He had no shame about it, that you ended up blushing in embarrassment. You almost wished that he just started thrusting into you without warning. He pulled your hands off your face. "There's no need to be shy, my princess, tell me what you want."

Blushing even hotter, you admitted: "No, I'm... I'm ready. I want you inside me."

He exhaled with a growl. "You're making it difficult for me to be gentle with you." But even as he said that, he was mindful to prop himself on his elbows and push his cock in you at a calm, unhurried pace. When he was seated fully inside, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead upon yours. The tension in his clenched jaw was palpable.

"Jinnie, it's okay." You pressed kisses along his jawline. "You don't have to be so gentle."

"No, but I want to be." He brushed the stray strands of hair off your face. "I had promised myself that I would always treat you with gentleness."

He began thrusting languidly, the stiffness of his hips betraying how much he was holding back. It was only when you wrapped your legs around his waist and urged him on by bucking against him that he drove into you at a pace that had both of you crying with pleasure.

How could it feel so good? How could he feel so good? He was a little too big for you, but you were so aroused that you felt only bliss as he filled you completely. He adjusted his position and angled his thrusts upwards, striking all the right spots inside you.

You didn't even have time to warn Jin; you came suddenly, gasping, and he groaned as your inner walls squeezed him. His brows drawn in determination, he moved with long, steady strokes to help you ride your orgasm then liquid heat filled you as he came too. He looked ready to collapse against you, but he held himself up and smiled down at you.

Giving you a long kiss, he said: "I love you, Y/N."

You knew better than to take the words of a man that hadn't even come down from his high to heart, but you were starting to feel sleepy and you couldn't lie. "Jinnie... I love you too."

He lied down beside you and gathered you in his arms. You braced yourself--knowing his habits, he wouldn't be satisfied with that one time. But Jin covered both of you with blankets, seeming content enough to hold you, and as he sang softly, you burrowed against his warm chest and fell asleep.

When you woke up the next day, there was no moment of blissful ignorance; you knew exactly where you where. "This is Jin's room." Looking around at the shelves of Nintendo merchandise, the guitar on the desk, the dangerously comfortable bed you were laying on, and of course, the very obvious absence of Jin, you slapped your cheeks. "You idiot... why couldn't you keep your legs closed?!"

And just like that, you would lose Kim Seokjin as so many women before you had lost him.

You noticed the Alolan Vulpix plushie perched on his bedside table and cringed, covering its eyes as you cradled it close. "I'm sorry you had to see that, baby."

Hauling yourself off the bed with a sigh, you realized you were wearing Jin's hoodie and boxers. Your clothes were nowhere to be found, except for the damned thigh highs that you were still wearing. Idly thinking that you could escape into a cab anyway, you exited the room carelessly, taking it for granted that you were alone in the dorm. When you heard voices--seven distinct, familiar voices--you caught the door before it could slam shut.

You attempted to tiptoe past the kitchen where all the guys were eating, but ended up locking eyes with Jungkook, who first gawked at the bare skin between Jin's hoodie and your thigh high stockings, before shaking himself and shouting: "Jin-hyung! She's up!"

You started backing away, but Jimin had maneuvered behind you and pushed you into his own seat. "Hyung's preparing your breakfast, so wait a little, okay?" He cleared his plates and glass, and the other guys started to do the same.

Except for Taehyung who had been leering you up and down since you sat down beside him. He sniggered, staring at the plushie resting on your lap: "This is such an amazing look on you, noona--ow! Hyung!" He made a teary face at Jin, who only slapped him upside the head again. "Fine, I"m leaving!"

Jin didn't even acknowledge him; he beamed fondly down at you and transferred dishes from the tray he had carried on the table. "Did you sleep well, my princess?"

"Uh..." you glanced away from him, waving back at Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook as they passed by and said goodbye.

Yoongi and Namjoon had helped Jin bring several other dishes from the kitchen. "Hyung," Yoongi muttered. "I'm going back to the studio, so if you need to use the room again..."

You blushed at those words. Yoongi and Namjoon patted Jin's shoulders and nodded politely at you. Meanwhile, Hoseok had an ear-splitting grin as he looked from you to Jin. "So does this mean you're an actual couple now? Y/N-noona, you're finally giving Jin-hyung a chance?"

"Please take him with you," Jin said to Yoongi, though he kept his smile on you.

Hoseok yelped when Yoongi and Namjoon grabbed his sleeves and hauled him all the way to the front door.

"I know you like breakfast food, so I made a lot." Jin sat down next to you and started piling food on your plate--a couple of hashbrowns, a sunny side-up egg, crispy bacon strips. He presented you with two stacks of pancakes. "I didn't know if you were in a strawberry cheesecake or chocolate chip mood so I made both--"

"Jin." You touched his arm before he could put pancakes on your plate.

He took your hand and squeezed it, that soft smile never leaving his face. "Jinnie."

"Jinnie..."

He giggled at the nickname and stood up. You stared after him, puzzled, when he went to the living room and peered into the bookshelves. He grabbed a folder and placed it beside your plate. "Sex addiction," he said casually as he sauntered into the kitchen. "Turns out, that's a real thing and not just something that horny leches made up. I'm getting counseling for it."

You had put down the plushie and was still looking through the folder when Jin returned from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. He placed one on the table before you. "Jin... that's very good..."

"But?"

"But I don't think..."

"You don't think this could work?" He put down his coffee mug and kneeled beside your chair, one arm draped around your waist and his free hand stroking the bare portion of your thigh. It was probably meant to be a comforting gesture, but as with everything Jin did, it was sensual. "I know this would work. Do you know why?"

You shook your head slightly, gazing at him with questions and apprehension.

"Because it's you. The one I've loved before I knew what love was, the one I wanted before I understood wanting..." His declaration made your heart twinge... if only you knew for sure it was real. "I'm not saying that I'll overcome my issues simply because of your sweetness and love, but that I'll work at overcoming them, so you'll stay by my side. Forever."

"Jin... it's not that easy..." You fiddled with the hem of his hoodie.

"Jinnie." He cupped your chin in one hand, forcing you to look up. "And I'm not saying it would be. But I can make this work. We can make this work. Y/N, I love you with all my heart. You love me too, right?"

"Yes, Jin--Jinnie...of course, I love you." You took a deep breath and asked: "So you really meant everything you said last night?"

He placed a hand on his heart and nodded. "Every single word."

You leaned forward and he met you halfway. Gripping his shoulders, you allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and responded as he kissed you deeply. When you broke the kiss, you caressed his face. "Let's make this work."

He returned to his seat and tugged at your arm, pulling you into his lap. "Now why don't you have some of these pancakes I made especially for you?"

You moaned a little in appreciation of the flavors and you felt him twitch under you.

He laughed nervously. "Please, ignore that. I... I'm still working through it."

Throwing your arms around his neck, you snuggled against him. "Thank you, Jinnie. For trying."

You felt him shake his head and press a kiss against your temple. "No, princess. Thank you, for giving me a chance. I'll make good use of it. We'll live happily ever after, I promise."

Sitting up, you tilted your head and asked playfully: "That's what the dark prince wants?"

He squeezed your cheeks between his hands. "The dark prince will dye his wings pure and bright for the white princess if he must."

You stroked his hair and giggled. "Baby steps, my dark prince."

116 notes · View notes