#my self confidence in my work has taken a nose dive

[nixonsshades]

….

[bringerofdeathandtheapocolypse]

Random rant but I really want to talk about this.

I believe with my whole heart that any character that gets a redemption arc (with a couple exceptions I will get into) have their powers and abilities nerfed.

The thunder legion- All shown as strong mages. Freed was able to hold his own for a good while against Mira's Satan soul which is nothing to sneeze at, he was able to keep runes up across the entire city while doing so as well and was also selected for S-class. Evergreen was also selected for this and fought Erza for a decent amount of time, even if she also did loose. And Bickslow, despite not being selected for S-class like his teammates is powerful in his own right, after all he helped fight against 4 Grimoire heart members at once. Then during the Tartaros arc, they are taken out at the beginning of the arc (even though Laxus walks around after inhaling more band particles than them) and then they are taken out at the beginning of the Alvarez arc as well as not even taking out anyone. They took out the robot body of one of the Springan 12. That's it.

The Oracion Seiz- I don't think I need to explain how they were strong in their first arc but I've been rewatching key of the starry heavens for Au purposes and Midnight nullifies Byro's magic. The guy who could stand toe to toe with Gildarts in the same arc. Ignoring Erigor and potluck since they aren't redeemed, three of the four have two types of magic now. Cobra has his dragon slayer lacrima and has basically turned his sensitive hearing weakness into a strength by being able to send attacks from the noise around him. Midnight has his reflector magic and darkness magic giving him both a defense and a offense on top of his illusions. Racer now has his slowing magic and his speed magic and Angel has her summoning magic which were able to square up with someone on Freed and Gray's level. Then the Tartaros arc comes, and putting my rant about Midnight's appearance to one side (like seriously how did his hair go such a desaturated grey, his skin turning sickly and his eyes going from red to grey. That doesn't make sense because he looked way different in Kotsh and Alveraz) Jellal should have had his ass handed to him by the seiz. Also I'm sorry but am I the only one that finds it kinda wrong that Jellal, the guy who had them continued their enslavement for who knows how long and then sold them off to Brain, practically forces then into his guild. And Jellal wasn't being controlled, he was brain washed. He chose his actions based on something he'd been lied to about and manipulated into believing but he had fu control. And he was never that strong and he was beat by Macbeth before but somehow wins against four of them.

Juvia- I feel really bad for Juvia because she isn't basically fawning over Gray, she is a really fun character but.... Yeah. I liked the concept of Gajeel and Juvia no longer working as a team in Kotsh because it was interesting to see two people who came from the same background having drifted apart and not knowing how the other fights anymore but that didn't really happen. So many times Juvia is just used for jokes like it's been forgotten she was S-class.

Gajeel- I am aware Gajeel probably gets the nicest treatment aside from Laxus and Jellal but see, he does still get tossed around some. My problem isn't so much his power takes a nose dive, it's more he's used for jokes so much but like, a lot of them are kinda nasty. Everyone makes fun of his singing where he can hear them but like that probably hurts his self confidence. He's putting in the effort to express himself with something he enjoys and then his guildmates shoot him down. Then when he decides to go train before fighting Laxus after Natsu gets one shot, everyone calls him a coward for running from a fight he realised he couldn't win and Lily even said that he thought Gajeel was a warrior, implying he now thinks less of him. Lily also later is ready to scold Gajeel like an angry mother. But like why is Gajeel considered a coward when honestly that was a smart decision on his part. He took some nasty hits from Laxus during the fighting festival arc and he is a lot more susceptible to Laxus' hits than Natsu. (Then again, the guild had a real nasty streak between the tenrou team return and Kotsh considering there is an episode where Lucy walks into the guild to get help after turning invisible and everyone is shit talking her, including Levy. I would like to pretend that episode didn't exist because that was just horrible in so many ways) then he's just knocked from the Fairies Vs Sabers battle, knocked out of the fight in Kotsh and it's played for laughs.

Sabertooth- The sabertooth mages are also incredibly strong but they just sort of get tossed aside more than a power issue. Yeah sure Sting and Rogue show up regularly and do something and sometimes Minerva and Yukino if they're lucky but we don't really get much from the others. Now I will admit I'm a big Rufus fan just as much as I am a fan of Freed and Totomaru so naturally I am upset that there isn't much content involving him but like they don't even get a proper fight. Rufus, Orga and Dobengal all get crucified and then we see nothing of them later on. Upsetting to say the least.

In short, all the guys mentioned deserve more screentime. You can bet your boots I'm mad we haven't seen anything of Cobra, Meredy, Midnight, Richard and Racer during 100 years quest. Like I want to see what they are doing but nah. Naked Jellal. (Also was it necessary he say to Laxus' that he had been naked. I don't think he needed to know that) and extra mad both Rogue and Cobra never got a secret art because they deserve them.

[egg-on-the-run]

I got my first proper request and I literally accidentally deleted it. Am I stupid? Yes. Did I immediately panic? Yes. Do I remember what was on it?........ mostly.

Haha anon I hope you see this I'm so sorry but ily.

The turtles s/o who's usually very calm but just bursts into anger.

Notes: swearing :) I think it's funny

Leonardo:

He's used to a very calm s/o, you like to meditate together, he's always been good with helping you with breathing exercises.

You both like to keep arguments to a minimum, and even when fights do take place there isn't a lot of yelling

But when your mother came to visit :) that was just :) a lot of pressure :)

And she stayed in your apartment :) for a week :) everything was fine :)

Leonardo hadn't seen you for an entire week, not an overly long time, but certainly not pleasant. And he knew that you got stressed when you couldn't see him often. So as soon as you texted saying you had dropped your mother off at the airport, he immediately came round.

You were already screaming the moment you walked in the door.

"Oh she has some nerve! Some nerve! Speaking to me like that!"

"I'm guessing you're car ride went smoothly."

"She's been bugging me all week! When are you getting married? When are you have kids? I want some grand babies before I die! Ugh! She's obsessed with maintaining this perfect image all because her friend's kids are married and making babies like rabbits!"

He stayed quiet, not exactly sure how to comfort you. It wasn't like he could provide you with these things, and by the sounds of it, your mother would never approve of your huge turtle boyfriend.

"She just can't get that I'm happy! I have my own life and it's perfect the way I want it to be! I have a perfect boyfriend! You're a fucking delight! She–she's just so obsessed with her image that she'd never get that!"

"You... You think so?"

"I know so! She's too stubborn and she'll never get how fucking great you are and it just— UGH! It fries my brain."

"Even though I... I can't give you all those things... I can't legally marry you, we can't have kids."

"Even if you could give me a mansion and a diamond ring, or if all you could give me was a-a fucking walnut! I love you Leonardo, not that prim and proper white satin wedding she's made a thousand Pinterest boards for. I love you, I just wish she would get it."

Leonardo leaned down and kissed your cheek

"I love you too."

He believed in dealing with anger appropriately, but seeing you defend him with such passion made him feel so much more secure.

Raphael:

He's seen you angry before, he encouraged it. He's all about helping you with your confidence, teaching you to not be afraid to take up space and stand up for yourself.

But holy cow. You were mad that night.

He'd warned you not to take the trash out at night, wait to the morning — or better yet, he'll take it out for you when he came to visit after patrol.

But you are Raphael's girl. You are stubborn.

So you take the trash out, and some absolute creep decides that "flirting" in a dark alleyway in the key to a girl's heart.

Raphael swooped in, told the man to scram. But bold and drunk, the man spits back with a "Oh yeah? And would she want anything to do with a freak like you? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Aw, big angry turtle, you're gonna scare your girlfriend away."

It was two of his biggest insecurities. His appearance and his rage, especially in regards to scaring you away. It was a low blow, Raphael should have known to just walk away.

But he clammed up, he'd never admit when his anxiety got the best of him and you don't blame him.

"Oh go fuck yourself. If a vile man like you doesn't scare me, why the hell do you think a good man like him would?"

"A good man? He's not a fucking man! He's some freaky turtle thing, a pretty little thing like you deserves a real man."

"And are you a real man?"

"More real than your little pet."

The next thing you knew, the man was on the ground. You assumed Raphael knocked him out, but Raph's standing behind you and you're the one with your hand in a fist.

"Oh my god. Oh–Oh Raphie I knocked him out! O-Oh my god!"

"Holy shit Y/N! You probably broke his nose!" Raphael is grinning, shaking your shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt him."

"He deserves a broken nose at the least for messing with you! He was an asshole and he needed someone like you to set him straight!"

"I, um, well, I suppose he did! Saying such horrible things about you, I-I guess he did need someone to put him in his place."

Raphael ruffled your hair, "Thank you, my knight in shining armour."

"That make you my Prince?"

"Your Prince who was right about not taking the trash out at night."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He appreciated you standing up for him more than you could imagine. And he found it mighty hot how hard you hit that guy. Seriously! He must be a good self defence teacher.

Donatello:

Donatello loves you so much, loves holding you and hugging you whenever he can. He adores it when you sit on his lap while he works.

But do you like to cuddle when you sleep? Tough luck. Getting him to bed is like trying to lick your own elbow: near impossible.

Regardless, you try. Because every once in a while Donatello is too tired to fight and he will go to bed.

Tonight is not one of those nights.

"Baby, please, just come to bed. Everyone's already asleep."

"I'll be there in a minute, just go on without me."

You sigh, not really seeing the point in fighting. Instead you return to his bed, trying to keep yourself awake playing games on your phone. When half an hour passes, you go back and try again.

"Donnie come on, aren't you tired? I just want to cuddle."

"I just need to put some stuff on a hard drive, April's writing a new article, she needs it for tomorrow."

You sigh once more, "Promise you'll come to bed right after?"

"I promise."

Donatello's bed is comfortable, but it's more comfortable with him in. You force yourself to stay awake; despite your exhaustion you're determined to cuddle tonight. It's all you want.

But it did not take an hour to put some documents onto a hard drive. And he's being awfully loud for just typing away on a computer.

"Are you fucking joking right now?!"

He jumps, almost dropping the box of beakers in his arms, "Hey love... Can't sleep?"

"You're rearranging your lab?! Why are you—since when do you rearrange things, huh? What the hell?!"

"I just y'know, thought things needed a change..?"

"Oh, and now is the time to change things, really? Of all the times to move your fucking beakers you decide to do it in the middle of the night after I specifically asked you to come to bed? Seriously?"

He gives a nervous grin, the kind that usually made you smile in return. But it was late — rather it was early at this point — and you were cranky.

"You can sleep without me, you're a big girl." He teased.

"I want to sleep with my boyfriend! I want to cuddle! Is that so much to ask for?!"

Donatello blinked, "You're right, I'm sorry, but I swear, I promise, I'll be ten minutes, honest."

"You can finish this tomorrow. If you're not in bed in the next ten seconds, I am going to scream and wake everyone else up."

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Ten."

Donatello jumped, quickly moving to shove supplies in cupboards a little recklessly. You continued to count down from ten, storming off back to his bed for hopefully the finally time this night.

By the time you got to the very firm "Three... Two... One..." Donatello was racing to bed, dived in beside you, crashing and knocking your heads together.

He'd never tell you, for fear you'd let it get to your head, but he kind of liked it when you got bossy.

Michelangelo:

Anger and Michelangelo just don't mix. They just don't. He's the king of communication, he's tries his hardest to avoid fights at any and all costs. You've always appreciated his determination to talk things out with you.

But with his brothers? He shuts down, he goes quiet and just accepts whatever blame they put on him: he knows they don't mean it, they only say mean things when they're angry.

But it hurts, hearing his big brothers tell him he's stupid, that he's childish, that he's lackadaisical.

"What kind of word even is that?! I swear Donnie must read a thesaurus as a bedtime story.."

So he's allowed to complain, and you let him ramble when he comes to visit. He sits on your bed and the words just tumble out of his mouth, lets you move around the room tidying up while he rants.

"I just—Raph keeps calling me stupid. And I just—I-I just—You know, sometimes I believe it."

You freeze, sweater only half folded and turn to him, "But you're not stupid. Just because you're not some brainiac like Donatello doesn't make you stupid. If that was the case, then I'm stupid, Raph's stupid, April, Leo, Splinter is stupid. Do you think we're all stupid?"

"Well—no, but—"

"But what?"

"But I... I am a little stupid."

"No you're not! Mikey, how many times has you out of the box thinking saved the day? Y-You were the one who suggested playing friggen buck-buck to take down Shredder! Y-Your skateboarding—hoverboarding skills saved the world. You think your brothers could do that?"

Mikey scrunched his nose up, "That's not smart though. They're right. My-my focus is all over the place, I-I could never come up with a plan like Leo, I could never have half the brains Donnie has, and Raph just—he gets things that I don't and I-I am stupid!"

"I need to have a word with your brothers—"

"And that's another thing! Everyone still treats me like I'm some kid! I don't need you to have a word with them! You're not my mom."

"Then you have a word with them! But sitting here and complaining about things that just aren't true isn't going to change anything!"

He's taken aback. Much like himself, you hardly ever yell, never ever raise your voice at him.

"I am not going to stand here and let them insult you day in and day out! Either you do something about it, or I will!"

He blinks at you, you're aggressively folding the sweater in your arms and grumbling about how you could definitely take Raphael in a fist fight if need be. You mumble something about how nobody gets to speak to your boyfriend like that, and it finally clicks with Mikey.

"Alright. I'm going to talk to them," He's mostly talking to himself, "I'm going to show them that I'm not some stupid, ditzy, lackadaisical kid anymore. I'm your boyfriend, and nobody gets to speak with me that way!"

You beam at him, anger disappearing within the second with his newfound confidence, "Hell yeah! Nobody insults my boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

"My boyfriend!"

"Your boyfriend!"

His brothers' version of a wake up call is to point out his weaknesses, tell him what needs to be corrected. But you much prefer to build him up, point out his strengths.

But jeez, he does not like your angry face.

[calpops]

losing love | c.h.

two: hollowed hearts

series masterlist | my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

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Morning comes with the shadows of dreams lingering in Calum’s mind. A demure silhouette slinks through his waning memory of the night. Sunlight pools in from the open curtains and cuts across the wooden floor in turrets of gold. He’s bleary. Mind working in overtime to put all of the scattered pieces of the previous night back together. There’s only one thing that invades him and that he’s certain of. Everest.

He remembers it in rewind, all of the flashes of her playing backwards in hazy pictures. He remembers her doorstep, the ivy that climbed the stones and the halos of light that pooled in her dark eyes. Headlights blur past his vision, the beams cutting from his car as they sat on the hood and ate fast food, drank milkshakes and she wore his jacket over her shoulders. The party comes back to him, only in the sense of leaving with her. The downcast and forlorn gazes she gave him across the room, the broken syllables she uttered and the pain she tried to hide.

Calum groans, turns himself to his side and wards off the want to bury his head under his pillow and let himself succumb to the feeling crawling across his chest. If he had the heart to do so, he would’ve cursed her, himself, the situation, the fact that he couldn’t forget. The fact that she was his best friend’s date and somehow they had ended the night with each other.

He only pulls himself from the warm comfort of his bed when a knock on the front door jars him. He’s padding down the hallway when he hears the unceremonious squeak of the hinges and feels his heart pick up. Only one person has a key.

Ashton’s taken up a home in the kitchen, hands placed on the marble countertop and eyes patient as they find Calum breaking around the corner. Calum stops suddenly, just the sight of his best friend bringing to stir too many thoughts through his tired mind.

“I saw you leaving with Everest last night,” Ashton says, the words a whip that crack through the air and bring a pain behind Calum’s eyes. He stays quiet save for the painful thud of his racing heart. “She made it home okay?”

Calum nods, wary of where the situation is headed. Nothing happened, he reminds himself. He kept her warm, got her food, brought her home and made sure she made it inside okay. Nothing happened.

The only problem is, he wished something had.

“Yeah, walked her to the door and made sure she got in okay,” Calum says in a rush and finally finishes his way into the kitchen to drop himself onto a barstool.

“Thanks, mate,” Ashton says, the sincerity a little too much to take in at such an early morning hour. “I was hoping you’d swoop in and save me somehow.”

Calum furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side, unaware that Ashton would have wanted him to be the hero.

“I just… did what I could.”

Calum feels a burn in the back of his throat and bites the tip of his tongue.

Ashton lets out a small breath and shakes his head, curls bouncing and dropping into his eyes with the motion.

“I thought I wanted you to get me away but I’m glad you took care of Everest. I think I really needed the closure, and so did she. Horrible timing, but a good outcome?” The hope in Ashton’s voice is palpable, his gaze skirts to the countertop where he drums his fingers in a nervous habit coming to life. “Did Everest seem upset? I tried calling this morning but she hasn’t answered.”

Calum feels a coil of tension wrap through him. He shakes his head uncertainly, trying hard to remember her demeanor about Ashton when they first left. It’s all replaced with moonlit eyes and the smell of honey coming off her hair.

“Maybe a little,” he offers with a small shrug.

Calum’s arms cross over his chest where heat pools on his skin, simmers under the surface and aches with a burning echo from his chest to the pit of his stomach. Ashton nods and blows out a bigger, deeper breath.

“I know it didn’t look good,” Ashton begins and runs a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have let it go on so long. But it made me realize how ready I am to move on, with Everest. I think she’s good for me.”

Calum swallows past a lump in his throat and lets Ashton continue on his spiel of self discovery, of all the things he’s learned about himself since his breakup and meeting Everest. He goes deep and pulls back, dives further and relents. He ends it with the hope that she’ll give him a second chance to prove himself.

“She’s pretty fond of chances,” Calum mumbles and brushes off the confused look Ashton gives him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. She seems nice, understanding.”

“She is,” Ashton says enthusiastically, heart on his sleeve and hope in his eyes. He rambles about her and the possibilities of what a second chance might mean.

“Maybe you should take it slow,” Calum warns before he can think through the foreboding words. He flinches at his own stupidity, face scrunching up as he wishes he could take it back. “It’s just—you’re just coming out of a relationship, she’s just gotten into the city. You’ve only been on what, four dates?”

“Three,” Ashton says around a growing frown. “Slow and steady is better for the long term, right?”

“Sure.” Calum gives a noncommittal shrug.

He’s the last person to be giving Ashton love advice. All of his relationships ended in flames and destruction. And now there is a heat that lives under his skin for the woman he speaks of.

“I think I’ll text her, see if she’s okay, see where she stands with me. No pressure.”

Calum nods. Curls his hands into fists and bids Ashton goodbye as he darts for the door with renewed hope but realistic expectations. Calum follows him to the door and runs his hands over the oak as it closes. He sucks in a deep breath and wills his hands to stop shaking and heart to stop racing. Guilt coils so thoroughly through him he has to remind himself he’s done nothing wrong. It’s only fleeting feelings encouraged by a lurid night that meant nothing to her, and should mean nothing to him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there processing it all; sifting through the moments and trying to forget them, trying to convince himself that all he needs is a little distance from her. All she needs is a little time with Ashton. Then everything will fall back into place. He pushes away from the door and barely makes it to the kitchen counter before he’s called back.

A slight tap sounds from the other side of the door, Calum nearly jumping out of his skin at the sudden noise. It’s soft and rhythmic; taptaptap, taptaptap. He spins himself around on his heel, braces himself for just a moment with his hand on the cool doorknob. He’s not expecting anyone but Ashton’s already made an appearance and disturbed his morning. He slowly opens the door and feels as if he’s taken away with the breeze that sweeps across his skin, feels that the fire comes back to life and wavers in the wind.

Everest stands on his porch, his leather jacket folded across her arms with her gaze cut down to the wooden beams of the floor. She’s poised, stood with grace and her toes turned into each other. She looks up as Calum lets out a breath and grabs a hold of the doorframe to keep himself steady against the wind and the fire warring within him.

“I forgot to give this back last night,” she says with a tiny smile.

She offers over the jacket and Calum is sad to see it leave her grip as he takes it back. But the scent of honey comes in a collision to his senses, spins his world off kilter and ripples guilt all over him. For a moment he realizes that Ashton’s not too far gone; he could be here for her in only a few minutes. He contemplates telling her that he already stopped by and asked about her, worried over the prospect of her getting home safe, confided in him about getting closure and finding happiness and something good with her.

“Do you wanna come in?” he asks instead, the words hot and narrow, closing off the possibility that he might find some distance from her. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

“I don’t like coffee,” she says, scrunches up her nose and then smiles. “But I’d still like to come in.”

Calum laughs, just a little, at the fake out and moves aside to let her in. She sweeps past him in a lurid and quick movement. She’s sure and confident as she enters his world. It’s all too easy to imagine what might have been, what could be, if there wasn’t a ten ton weight of guilt and pressure crushing his chest.

Calum darts his gaze up the hallway, pictures of Everest moving down the narrow space and towards his bedroom infiltrating his thoughts. He clears his throat, hangs his jacket up and takes a big breath in, thankful for the sweetness in his lungs.

“Can I get you anything else?” he questions as he turns and lists off a few of the things he thinks might be within his means. Water. Juice. Hot chocolate. Stale bread, expired muffins. She laughs and tosses her soft hair behind her shoulder.

“I’m alright,” she answers, gaze following him as he rounds the island and comes to make a perch on the side towards the kitchen.

He gestures for her to sit on the stool opposite him then plants his elbows on the marble countertop. She bids his offer and takes a seat, midnight eyes glimmering with curiosity as she peers at him. It’s silent for a beat. Cheeks warm and thoughts waver. Calum purses his lips and taps his fingers on the counter.

“I also wanted to say something to you.” She shifts on the stool, brings her hands up and folds her fingers together. Her gaze doesn’t waver and Calum finds that he doesn’t mind the way she keeps him with her, and finds that he quite likes the feeling of being kept by her so fully. “Thank you.”

Calum tilts his head to the side, unable to understand the gratitude. “For?” he asks, shakes his head and furrows his eyebrows.

“Last night. Bringing me home,” she says and shrugs then shakes her head and back peddles, “for cheering me up and then bringing me home.” She stresses cheering me up with such sincerity in her voice and eyes it nearly knocks Calum off balance. She has a sway in her voice, a way of intoning anything and everything that’s important to her.

“It was nothing.”

Yet, it meant more than it should have to him.

“No, it meant a lot to me.”

Calum’s heart races wildly at the admission. He feels a little faint, cuts his gaze down to the swirling marble and sees that it’s moving through his vision. He’s trying to swim and keep afloat in her honesty but he feels more as if he’s sinking. Sinking and drowning as he looks back up and gets lost in the dark.

“I just did what I could,” Calum says for the second time that morning. He remembers Ashton’s gratitude and the explanation for why it was even needed in the first place. Heat cuts through him. He sighs. “I knew Ashton wouldn’t want you to be upset. He’d want you home safe, too.”

Everest nods, even and unflinching at the mention of Ashton. She doesn’t say anything for a moment. No emotion crosses her face. She’s stoic and calm, eyes as clear as a midnight summer sky.

“He’s a good guy.” She abandons her stool and stands, leans a bit over the counter and puts a hand on top of Calum’s. “But I don’t want to be his rebound.”

Calum’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He chokes it down and fights the urge to envelop her hand in his. He stays still, scared that the moment is so fragile it might shatter if he dares to move. Scared that it might become something even more.

“He said he got closure last night. It made him realize he wants you.”

He doesn’t know where the unbridled honesty is coming from, not when all of the thoughts in his mind are shouting into the emptiness of reckless abandon. He wants to leave Ashton’s name to the wind. To take her hand and close the distance between them. To find out if she tastes like honey too.

Everest pulls her hand away and shakes her head just a bit. “I didn’t know he was so unsure all this time. I didn’t know I was just an option until last night.”

Cold kisses Calum’s skin where her touch abandoned him.

“You’re the one he chose,” Calum reminds and wants to hit himself, bite his tongue, somehow stop the words from pouring out of him.

His loyalty runs deep, his need to defend his best friend heightens with each passing moment but he feels as if all of the stone walls he’s put up at the battlements are starting to crumble. Everest is able to strike through them, to create gaps in the stones and peer through to the other side. She sees the things that Calum would rather keep hidden.

“I don’t want to be a choice. I just want to be… the one, with the right one. I don’t know if that’s Ashton,” she says, voice cracking and gaze finally dropping from his. For all of the cool and calm she once possessed she begins to break, hand trembling and lip jutting out in thought. “I’m sorry, we probably shouldn’t even be talking about this. You’re his best friend. I can’t put this on you.”

“It’s okay,” Calum quickly reassures and wants to reach out to her but keeps his hands strictly to himself. He lets out a breath that makes his chest ache. “You deserve to be the one. But maybe Ashton also deserves a second chance to prove that you are. You’ll never know unless you give him another chance..”

Pain strikes hot and white through Calum, like a crack of lightning lashing against his darkened being. He shuts his eyes for a split second, feeling the sway of the world rocking around him. He brings his hands to his chest without thinking, rubs at his ribs and tries to convince himself the ache he feels is nothing.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Everest mumbles. She nods to herself for a moment, quiet and thoughtful, Calum eternally grateful that he has a moment to recollect himself. “He called me this morning. I should probably call him back. Hear him out.”

“If you want to,” Calum says and realizes how scattered he is with her.

He defends Ashton, pushes her towards forgiving him, then relents and reels her back just a bit. He can’t shake it, he can’t ward off the words that roll from his tongue before his mind can process them. He needs air, he needs that distance he decided on this morning. He needs honey to drift away in the wind and midnight eyes to vanish into the day.

He gets his wish as she leaves him, takes all of the sweetness from his lungs and the darkness from his gaze. Bids him goodbye with another chaste and aching kiss to his cheek. She leaves only the lingering curiosity of what the phone call might entail and the ache he still rubs at in his chest.  He tries to catch his breath as he shuts the door and glides to the window to watch her walk away. His hand grips the leather jacket she gave back to him as she dips down into her car. All he can see is her in the passenger seat with the leather draped over her shoulders. All he can feel is the brush of her lips igniting sparks against his cheek. Guilt swallowing him whole. Emotions stifled. Two hallowed hearts ignored.

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[mostlyscenarios]

Knee Pads (18+)

Summary: Bokuto always looks forward to you being at his matches, you being there gives him a confidence boost and something to look forward to after the game. 

Characters: Bokuto X Reader, short features of MSBY. 

TW & Tags: 18+, PWP(I mean, it doesn’t just dive in?), smut (blowjob)

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: gn!reader. Cosmos SA is a completely made up name, I looked at a picture on my wall and thought of it. I had to take multiple breaks while writing this because I was getting horny. There has got to be a better word for balls and I will find it. 

Please don’t not repost my work anywhere or use any part of it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated. 

After almost every game Bokuto played, there was a reward waiting for him, regardless of whether he won or lost. Knowing you were waiting for him was the best motivation there was, and the reward including you on your knees for him? He could hardly control himself. Trying to keep focused on the game was no problem, he knew the sooner he finished the game the quicker he could get to you. That was his thought process at least, but this game seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time. The MSBY team was going up against Cosmos SA and they were entering the third round. The last two rounds had been thrilling, the team they were up against was a good challenge for them. What MSBY "lacked", their team was skilled in. Maybe under different circumstances the thought of being unskilled at something would be upsetting for Bokuto, but now he enjoyed the rivalry it led to. His teammates didn't have time to deal with him upset like Akaashi did, so his so-called emo mode only happened after a lost game (which you would quickly fix with a good hug and positive affirmations). His character growth since he got out of high school was impressive.

Before the third round had started, Bokuto started searching for you in the crowds. Due to being at a different arena, your usual spot was taken by the opposite teams fans. He found you towards the front row, waving your hands to catch his attention. He swore he saw the glimmer of your silver ring that matched his own. He had to take off his before every game but as soon as got off the court he put it back on. Since you to had started dating and gotten married, you had only missed 4 games total. You support kept him going (yes, even the hyperactive man got tired sometimes). He waved in your general direction, trying to not to call any attention to you in the crowds. Taking his place on the court, he tuned into the team in front of him- ready to win the game for you and his team. 

MSBY won after a series of spikes made by Bokuto went unblocked. He celebrated after each one, glancing in your direction making sure you saw him. That had gone unchanged since you started dating, he wanted to make you proud. After giving thanks to their supporters, he escaped to the locker room, avoiding the reporters hoping to ask them questions. He normally would stay around and answer a few questions but right now he needed to see you. By the time he had got to the locker room you were already in the hallway waiting for him. 

“Kou! You did great out there babe!” You wrapped your arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek at the same time. 

“Did you see my spike get through the one block?! Even Sakusa looked impressed.” 

“I did, I’m proud of you.” You could practically see him inflating, he lived for being praised- especially when the praise came from you.

Bokuto started to lean down to give you another kiss but before he could, the door slammed open. “That damn Atsumu, he could have at least warmed me before that fan hugged me,” Sakusa shuttered, not even noticing you and Bokuto by the lockers and going straight to the showers. 

Bokuto rolled his eyes dramatically and finishing what he had started seconds ago, he found your lips quickly giving you a sweet kiss. “I’m gonna go shower, you can wait here if you want.” 

“I’ll wait outside, I’m sure the other boys will be in here any minute.” 

“Okay,” Bokuto took his shirt off quickly, “I’ll be 5 minutes tops.”

You walked out of the locker room and caught Atsumu’s eyes, “did you two have any fun yet?” Astumu knew about your little adventures in the locker room with Bokuto. He had once caught you getting up from your knees and it didn’t take much to put it together, he had teased you ever since. He tried to tease Bokuto about it too but Bo just got proud and wanted to talk about his sex life and how good you were to him. 

“No, and no you can’t join us.” You answered him, remembering the time Atsumu had half jokingly asked once if he could join you sometime but you rejected the idea without a second thought. 

“Aw man, you got any cute friends you could set me up with?” Atsumu asked, leaning against the wall. 

“I’ll have to think on that. Now go shower, you smell horrid.” You pinched you nose, exaggerating. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Atsumu waved before walking into the locker room, where Hinata and Meian followed only moments after him. 

A few minutes later Bokuto walked out in a fresh outfit, his hair still a bit damp from his shower. He was handsome as always. You could tell that he used the body wash he had got with you after mentioning you liked the way it smelt. 

“I think that was record time Kou. Do we have somewhere to be?”

“No, I just wanted to be with you.” He leaned into you, giving a quick suggestive kiss on your neck.

“Hmm, are you sure you don’t just want something from me?” You grinned letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders. 

“Maybe…” He trailed off, looking around to see if anyone was there. “They will probably be out of the shower soon, you know Sakusa takes a long time.” 

“Follow me.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him to the staircases which were supposed to be staff only. “I think we can entertain ourselves here for a bit.” 

Maybe using the word entertain at this time was not a good idea since Bokuto was getting eager. 

“Why can’t we just do it here?” Bokuto said realizing the secluded staircase was empty, prompting a quick (gentle) slap on his chest. 

“Shush! There may be people around, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“...can we make out then?”

“Koutaro…” You started but changed your mind, “fine. But only a little.”

Thank goodness you two didn’t start your real activity because a couple of staff members walked through. They recognized Bokuto even without his uniform so they didn’t say anything to him about being in the employee only area. Before long about 20 minutes had passed of you chatting, time flew when you were with Bokuto. He chatted about the game; how spiking made him feel, and how great his teammates were. You listened attentively the whole time, and giving him input along the way. He asked you about your morning and apologized for leaving so early. Bokuto always made sure to give you a good cuddle before finally leaving to go to his warm ups. He just loved you so much, he wanted to give you the world. As you talked he started to focus on your lips, a bit shiny from your chapstick. 

He couldn’t help his growing arousal, and you noticed his fidgeting. When you said everyone should have cleared the locker room by now Bokuto literally swept you off your feet. Pushing the doors open, you quickly thanked the higher power(s) for letting the locker room be clear since he hadn't bothered to check before bursting in. He sat down on the benches towards the back of the room; just in case if anyone came in you had some protection. You were still on his lap, lips attached to his, then his neck, his chest, until you slid down on the floor to work your way down to his gray sweatpants. 

“You did so good today baby.” You murmured, gripping the sides of his sweats to set him free. 

“Wait a minute.” He put his hand in front of his crotch and you quickly pulled away; albeit a bit confused. He leaned back to dig in his duffle bag with his gear, then he pulled out his knee pads that he wore in todays game. “Put these on, I don’t want your knees to hurt.”

“Thanks Kou.” You gave him smile and pulled the knee pads up on each leg.

“Anything for you.” He replied, shifting a bit so you sit easier between his legs.

You got back into the same position, but this time comfier thanks to the knee pads. “Now, where were we?”

“Here.” Bokuto was quick, lifting his hips up while you pulled down his sweatpants. Licking your lips, you gently squeezed his thighs making sure to add a few kisses along the way- but still not where he wanted you to be.Trailing your hands over the seems of his briefs, you decided to leave them on a bit to tease him. First cupping him and then kissing his length through the fabric, you made your way back up to his lips pulling him to you so you didn’t have to leave your sitting position. He was getting the full treatment today, he was so patient waiting for the locker room to be cleared out. He could have easily taken you to your shared car and gotten in the backseat, but he know there wasn’t much room (though you two had made it work in the past).  

“No more teasing, please.” He begged, feeling his briefs dampen just the slightest from his precum. After hearing him, you made eye contact with him. He immediately jutted out his bottom lip to give you a pout while giving you puppy dog eyes. 

You wanted to giggle at his pleas but you were in the zone and didn’t want to break your concentration. “Patience Kou. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

Despite your words you gently tugged his briefs down, showing you his cock in its full glory. Feeling the cool air against him was a crime when he could be inside your warm mouth. Thankfully, you answered his wordless plea and put the tip in your mouth, rubbing it with your tongue in a circle then down the center getting a taste of salty precum. Pulling away he let out whine that got quickly cut off when you licked a straight line down his length before taking him in your mouth. 

The sounds made by your mouth while taking him were so erotic it took all his self control not to buck his hips. Using your lips to cover your teeth, you went down again this time taking him all the way. You gagged slightly but held you position. Bokuto hated to see you cry, he would always immediately wipe away any tears that fell. However, the tears forming in the corners of your eyes were nothing but seductive, he liked it. 

“Your doing so good, I promise I’ll treat you when we get home.” You made eye contact with Bokuto as he praised you. Running out of breath you pulled away, making sure to keep a good suction on him so you could make that pop sound he liked to hear. Saliva strung from your lips to his cock, dripping down. Shifting a bit lower, you positioned yourself to get easy access to his balls. You placed the hand that had your wedding ring on top of his thigh to prevent him from moving, and with the other you gently cupped his balls giving them a squeeze before taking one in your mouth. You made a pattern of all the motions he liked, sucking his cock up and down, using your hands as help when you weren’t deepthroating him, lapping the tip like a kitten, cupping his balls- giving gentle squeezes. The way your worked your mouth and hands drove him crazy. Although it had been long since you gave him his first blowjob, you always made him feel like a lovestruck teenager. 

 A loud moan came from Bokuto as you deepthroated him once more. Surely anyone who passed would know what you were up to, if the slick sounds weren’t clue enough. Hearing his moan made a heat light up inside of you that you had been avoiding- wanting to only focus on Bokuto. Bokuto knew he was close, all the pleasure building up as you kept working your mouth. 

Giving into himself, he gripped your chin encouraging you to take his whole length again only moments after you pulled away to give yourself a breath. Taking the hint, you allowed him to guide you exactly where he wanted you to be once more. His hand moved to the back of your head, where he held you firmly as nodded you head back and forth. 

“Y/N,” He moaned, “Let me finish in your mouth.”

You nodded the best you could from your spot, and not even a minute later his cum squirted into your mouth. Bokuto sighed from relief, if you looked at him closely you could see the sweat droplets forming on his head. Removing his hand from your head, your looked in his eyes making sure to open your mouth showing his collected cum. 

“Your so hot, you know that? Wait don’t swallow yet, please let me take a picture.” 

You nodded, giving permission for pictures and Bokuto got out his phone opening the camera app. You had tasted his cum so many times the taste no longer bothered you, and although you weren’t sure if science confirmed it or not, his healthy diet probably helped.

He took a picture of you with your mouth wide open with a peace sign up, then instructed you to smile and say cheese. “Good, you can swallow now.”

Quickly swallowing you wiped your month with the towel Bokuto had gotten out when he retrieved his phone. “Send those to me, will you?” 

“I love you Y/N.”

“You better after that! Cum doesn’t exactly taste great you know.” You teased, getting up from you spot and sitting next to him on the bench. “Let me see pictures.”

Bokuto handed you his phone, the first two pictures were a bit blurry but for some reason it worked. You admitted you definitely did look hot like that.

“We should make a video next time.” You said, cuddling into his side and still catching your breath.

“I have an old tripod, I’ll get out today.”

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full.��

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[dex-xe]

“Can I at least tell my side of the story?” Young mischievous Thomas and Francis crashing his parents’ party?

Thomas & Francis General #40: “Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

(Just fyi,, I haven’t proofread this and it was written at 2am so if it makes no sense I apologise!! XD But yeh,, I enjoyed this one!! Also tiny bit of underage drinking, literally just kids sipping their parents drinks.)

Prompt list

Inbox

“Cousin, this is a rather poor idea!” Little 10 year old Thomas said. He shivered in the cold night as he leant back against a tree, trying hard not to dirty the jacket of his best suit.

“Hush, Thomas!’ Francis clambered up over a fallen tree and reached down to take the young Thomas by the wrist and pull him up. “Won’t it be wonderful: To see, once and for all, what these events are like!”

The boys continued their trek through the woods towards Francis’ home, determined in their efforts to explore the adult world.

Francis was meant to be staying the night at the Thorne’s large country home as his parent’s hosted the party of the season at theirs. He’d been taken to Thomas’ in the late afternoon and ordered to stay; to spend the night playing games with his cousin and get an early night.

And yet, once the servants had shut the boys in Thomas’ bedroom having provided them with warm milk and extra blankets, Francis had pulled Thomas back up, thrown him his Sunday best clothes, and dragged him towards the bedroom window.

“I’ll go first, then you jump after, yes?” Francis had said. He’d lifted the window open with ease and dropped carefully onto the floor below before holding his arms up to Thomas. “Come, cousin! Jump and I’ll catch you!”

“Where are we going?” Thomas had shouted down to him, climbing out anyway.

So they headed through the woods for the half an hour walk to Francis’ house only down the road, twigs and leaves crunching beneath their perfectly polished shoes.

Thomas was well known for following precisely what his slightly older, and much more popular cousin told him to do. As terrible an idea as trudging through the forest in the middle of the night to crash a ball that children were most definitely not allowed to was, Thomas couldn’t help but feel the anticipation mixed with nerves rise in his chest as the glow from the large open windows of the Button’s house came into view through the dappled trees.

The boys jumped the beautifully manicured hedge into the garden of the Button Family’s huge manor house. They tiptoed through the bushes, ducking and diving to avoid the gaze of high-society members talking in the gardens.

Upon finally reaching the ballroom, both boys were struck by the deafening noise of the ton talking and laughing and the delightful undertones of the string quartet playing on stage.

Thomas gazed up in awe at the variety of flowing sophisticated dresses and sharp suits that graced the forms of his society higher-ups, safe in the knowledge that he’d soon be donning his best clothes to join the merriments.

“Here, cousin!” Francis tapped him on the shoulder, breaking him from the transfixed stare he had on the others. “Eat this!” Francis thrust a small jam and cream cake into his hand. Thomas took a bite. He could’ve fainted: if parties were always like this, he never wanted to leave. Forget being a boisterous ten year old, what was that compared to the heaven of flowing music, perfectly delicious food, and the swell of pleasantries exchanged between society friends.

“Cousin!” Thomas was once again awoken from daydream by Francis pressing something into his hand but this time something that thoroughly shocked naive Thomas: a small flute of champagne.

“Cousin, we mustn’t!” Thomas exclaimed.

“Why not? How fun is this?” Francis took a swig of champagne as if it were orange juice around the family breakfast table. Attempting to copy his more mature cousin, Thomas took a mouthful, immediately descending into splutters as the champagne fizzled up his nose.

“Master Francis!” A voice called out. Both boys scrambled to drop their glasses onto the table and smooth down their clothes to look as presentable as two ten year olds in oversized suits at a party well out of their depth could look.

“You shouldn’t be down here, Master Francis!” A man in an elegant tuxedo approached the boys: Lord Seabrooke - one of the most powerful men in the high-society world Thomas and Francis were about to grow into. A firm but fair man, one that two ten year old boys certainly wouldn’t want to cross. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, boys?”

Thomas was about to speak up, apologise to his Lordship before sheepishly hiding behind the drinks table, but Francis got there first.

“Actually, your Lordship, my mother has given us permission to have a little look around,” Francis said confidently.

“She did say that,” Thomas agreed, modding slightly less self-assured than his wilful cousin.

“Did she now?” Lord Seabrooke scoffed. “Pray tell, why would your rather honourable mother possibly allow two boys to wander around her delightful ball?”

“Indeed, your Lordship,” Francis claimed. “Mother has been trying to prepare us for our entry into society. She says we are to observe the ball and study for our entry into society.”

“The pair of you shan’t enter the ton for at least another decade,” Lord Seabrooke commented.

“Yes, well,” Francis said as confidently as ever. “The more preparation the better, and some of us need it more than others.” He turned and glanced Thomas up and down, his eyes burning judgement into his cousin’s form. Lord Seabrooke followed his gaze, his eyes settling on the scuffed hole in the knee of Thomas’ best suit - he must have done it climbing through the woods.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose if your mother has allowed this, I shan’t impose.”

“Thomas Henry Thorne!” A voice screeched from across the hall, her voice rising high above the clamour of the ballroom. The boys whipped around to watch Thomas’ mother, Violet, marching her way across the dance floor fury in her eyes.

“What, in all that’s holy, are you doing here?” She caught a handful of Thomas’ jacket material, swiping at Francis as well as she barrelled the boys out of the room and into a nearby study slamming the door behind them. “What do you think you’re doing, boys! I left the two of you at home under strict instruction! How did you even get here?”

“Well, it was quite the adventure, mother!” Thomas was overcome with the trepidation of his trip through the woods and the excitement and wonder at seeing his first ever ball.

“I care not for what adventures you’ve been on!” Violet hissed. “How did you think this would be a good idea? You know you’re not allowed here!”

“If I may, can I at least tell my side of the story?” Thomas queried. Violet shot him a glare before he started. “You see, we were talking about what parties are like and wanted to see.”

He turned towards Francis, who was also glaring, debating how best to approach his mother’s interrogations. He took a deep breath, bracing himself.

“It was Francis.”

“You fiend!” Francis swiped at Thomas hitting him squarely in the chest. “This was your idea as much as mine!”

“Poppycock! Cousin took me through the woodland and said no one would question us here, which of course Lord Seabrooke, the nosy old git, proved wrong.”

“Thomas Thorne!” Violet snapped. “How dare you, young man! He is a respected member of society, working to ensure that our family are behaving respectfully. He was well within his right to accost you for galavanting around the Button’s party like wild animals.”

“But mother, we are simply preparing for our presentation to the ton!” Thomas cried.

“That is merely the lie you told the Honorable Seabrooke, do not think you shall fool me too!” Violet said. “Francis, I expect this from you.” Francis scoffed and went to object, before Violet waved him away. “But Thomas, this is simply unacceptable from you!”

“Mother, please just let us stay,” Thomas begged, moments from dropping to his knees and praying to her. “It’s just so perfect and romantic and gorgeous. I just cannot wait until we’re presented!”

“I have already requested a carriage, and Alistair has been told you’re on your way back.”

Thomas cringed, well aware that head servant Alistair would not be best pleased with his young master sneaking out the window. In fact, Thomas was quite sure Alistair’s face would turn the most pleasing shade of purple he often did when Thomas misbehaved, working incredibly hard to keep his fury in check.

The short carriage ride back to Thomas’ was spent mostly in silence as the two boys contemplated their adventure out and the reality of being able to one day enter society along with his parents.

Francis finally broke the silence: “it was worth it, though!”

“Oh, utterly!” The boys broke into fits of grins and giggles.

[soniabigcheese]

Just a heads up, and I know I keep saying this time and time again but, my self confidence has taken a nose dive so I'm taking some time out of all social media to ... maybe catch up on sleep? Read a little? Work on the two training courses work has so lovingly thrust upon me? Maybe do some random painting or whatever.

I don't really know, but for now, I shall just be stepping away.

I'll be in and out of private chats, just to keep in the know about stuff. But expect lengthy breaks where I'll just drop off the face of the earth from time to time.

Cheers

Sonia x

[penniesforthestorm]

“I’ve never seen such beautiful horses!”-- Justified Season Three, Episode One: “The Gunfighter”

On the internet, no one knows when you take an unintentional month-long hiatus... (Everything’s fine, by the way; I was just busy.) But I’m back and ready to dive into another season of murder, mayhem, and wisecracking shenanigans. Recaps and notes for Seasons One and Two are tagged ‘#did you miss my heart on purpose’, and I’ll follow the usual procedure here: first and final episodes of the season will get individual entries, and everything in between will be grouped in threes. I’ll confess right off the bat, having seen the show in its entirety, the 3rd season is my favorite, so I’m looking forward to it-- as always, comments, questions, and conspiracies are welcome!

“The Gunfighter” picks up with the aftermath of the S2 finale, “Bloody Harlan”: Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) is in the hospital, being treated for the bullet wound he received in the firefight outside Mags Bennett’s house. Deputy Chief Art Mullen (Nick Searcy) reassures the frantic Winona Hawkins (Natalie Zea) that Raylan will pull through, and, as she attempts to thank him, he waves her down the hall. Three weeks later, Raylan is on his feet again, but still recovering-- after a dissatisfying round of target practice, Art recommends another week of light duty, and, on his way out the door, informs Raylan, “Crowder’s here.”

There are, of course, two conversations happening during the following scene: as Raylan casually mentions that all of Mags Bennett’s marijuana drying sheds have been cleaned out and searched, and oh, by the way, there’s a chunk of Bennett money missing, he’s trying to suss out Boyd Crowder’s potential involvement. (Raylan describes the amount as “somewhere in excess of... ten dollars”. Boyd jokes that, with that kind of money, he’d run off to Mexico. Raylan responds with a more pointed joke: “I don’t think you’d like it. There’s a lot of Mexicans down there.”) Boyd (Walton Goggins) also has an agenda, though we don’t see the full import until the final moments of the episode. As Raylan’s departing, Boyd brings up Dickie Bennett, claiming that a bargain was made: Boyd would let Dickie go with Raylan to save Loretta McCready, and Raylan would leave Dickie at Boyd’s disposal. This inflames Raylan’s self-righteousness, and he takes a swing at Boyd. The camera switches to Art Mullen, on the phone in his office, who looks over his shoulder just in time to see Boyd and Raylan crash through one of the glass panels of the interview room. (Art’s reaction is priceless--something along the lines of you kids don’t make me have to come over there...) The other marshals swarm in to haul Boyd off to jail.

The next scene finds us in the Frankfort office of Emmitt Arnett, last seen agreeing to Gary Hawkins’ land-development scheme. He’s meeting with a stranger (later named as Robert Quarles, played by Neal McDonough)-- an imposing man in an expensive pinstriped suit, all the more menacing for his enthusiastic cheerfulness, expounding on the beauty of the Kentucky countryside. Arnett sits him down, and his pretty secretary Yvette brings in the coffee with her signature gimmick-- offering a “lil’ kick” of bourbon. Quarles refuses, and as he watches Yvette leave, lectures Arnett, telling him, “You’ve lost her respect.” Furthermore, he notes, “Detroit is concerned”-- Arnett’s land holdings have lost value, and Quarles has been sent to collect on a loan: $250,000, to be exact. Arnett tells him the money will be there tomorrow, and, as Quarles leaves, he turns his attention to the other stranger in the room: a lean, dark-haired man in a grungy leather jacket. “You said you were looking for work,” Arnett remarks.

Back in Harlan, we discover what’s happened to at least some of Mags Bennett’s marijuana-- it’s sitting in garbage bags, piled up in Arlo Givens’ parlor and tool shed. Arlo (Raymond J. Barry) and Devil (Kevin Rankin) have called Hot Rod Dunham, to give him the right of first refusal. As Hot Rod and his boys inspect the product, Ava arrives, and Devil brags about the arrangement, claiming to be acting on Boyd’s behalf and more or less shoving Ava aside. Things go south quickly-- Hot Rod informs them that the plants are rotting and attracting vermin, and refuses to take them, and Devil gets snotty. Ava is able to intervene and send Hot Rod on his way, sarcastically noting to Devil and Arlo, “Did that go about like you expected?”

The major business of the episode centers around the wolfish stranger in Arnett’s office-- a.k.a. federal fugitive Fletcher “The Ice Pick” Nix (Desmond Harrington). We find out how he got the moniker in a tense burglary scene-- he ends a standoff over a suitcase full of expensive watches by stabbing his adversary in the hand with the titular weapon and shooting him in the head. Over at the Marshals’ Office, Deputy Tim tells Raylan that he thinks Nix might be linked to Wynn Duffy. Raylan reluctantly agrees to accompany Tim on a fact-finding mission to Duffy’s motor home, where Duffy gives a revealing non-answer to a direct question about Nix, and dismisses them by mentioning his urgent schedule of “watching women’s tennis”. Duffy calls Arnett, warning him that the Feds are on the scent, and sure enough, an oblivious Raylan encounters Nix in the elevator on the way to Arnett’s office. Arnett isn’t there, but Yvette is, and Raylan takes her for a drink at the Sheraton, where she coyly ‘reveals’ that Nix and Arnett will be meeting later that night. As the marshals prepare an ambush, Raylan confides to Art that he suspects Yvette’s information was not on the level.

Meanwhile, Ava has visited Boyd in jail, where he informs her that he’s being transferred to the state facility, and she asks what to do about the weed. Boyd tells her to burn it (Boyd’s disregard for anything to do with marijuana will come up again, much later down the line). As Ava prepares supper for Arlo and Devil, she relays Boyd’s orders, and once again, Devil gets lippy. Ava, carefully setting down a sizzling pan of greens, sweetly advises him that her patience is about to run out. “What’re you gonna do? Spit in our food?” he sneers, as Arlo cackles in the background. (I don’t know how Rankin managed such a beautifully bitchy facial expression, but boy, it’s effective.) Without a second of hesitation, Ava whacks him with the pan, sending him sprawling over backward with a bloody nose. (Don’t hit people with cast-iron pans unless you really, really mean it.)

Raylan’s suspicion of Yvette turns out to be well-founded-- the marshals’ attempt to ambush Nix and Arnett is a bust, though Deputy Rachel Brooks manages to tackle one of the decoys. Raylan drives Winona back to his motel room, and the two of them discuss baby names. (Raylan suggests “Felix”, Winona jokingly supplies “Jiffy Pop” and/or “Palmolive”). They have an unexpected visitor-- Fletcher Nix, who, in his marble-mouthed drawl, introduces himself as “the one with the gun”. Of course, Raylan is also armed, but Nix persuades him to take off his holster and sit down. He tries another round of his favorite game, but Raylan is prepared-- he grabs the tablecloth and pulls Nix’s pistol toward him before Nix has time to get the ice pick ready. (I’m a little sorry Nix didn’t get to stick around; Harrington’s weird charisma fits right into the show’s goon menagerie...) Back in Frankfort, Quarles gives Wynn Duffy quite an introduction: he shoots Arnett and Yvette with a pistol rigged up his sleeve, Travis Bickle-style. Duffy looks genuinely unnerved.

And finally, we get some hint of what Boyd was up to during his seemingly unprovoked spat with Raylan: as he’s led down the hall of the state prison, he passes by two characters with whom he has unfinished business--Dickie Bennett and Dewey Crowe. They appear to have taken quite a shine to each other-- Dewey has been describing the relative pros and cons of getting tattoos in various places, espousing it as one more way to pass the time. Boyd makes no verbal greeting, but the look in his eyes as he marches into his cell speaks volumes--after all, he’s more or less on his home turf now. Stay tuned...

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #393

i’ve got a shitload of surveys backed up, so... get ready, aha.

Have you ever watched the show Bad Girls Club? No, but I adore the Falling In Reverse song, haha. Have you ever purposely made someone jealous? Not to my recollection, no. What kind of shampoo do you use? It's a Dove one for dandruff and I LOVE it. It makes my hair so silky, smells good, and just feels clean longer. Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Not to brag, but I've been told that my whole life. What name do you think is pretty for a girl? "Alessandra" will ALWAYS be my favorite name. If you had to name your daughter after a Disney princess, which one? Hm. Perhaps Jasmine, or maybe Aurora. Do you think telepathy is real? Nope. When you were little, did you ever think you would be a magician? Not seriously, no, but I was OBSESSED with those little magic kits you could get at the Scholastic book faire. What is your opinion on poetry? It's a beautiful way of expression, and I especially love the figurative approach to it. I truly think writing poetry can even help discover things about yourself. What, if any, TV shows do you have on DVD? I have seasons 1-4 of Meerkat Manor, and you can bet your ass I'll get Season 5 once that's available in that format! Would you rather go in a hot air balloon or go sky diving? Hot air balloon, probs. I'm too scared of sky diving. Homework–would you rather do it on a Friday or Sunday? Friday. I like to get it out of the way the day it's assigned. What cartoon character did you have a crush on as a kid? Ash Ketchum, haha. What video games have you beaten? Loads and loads. Who makes the most in your entire family? I actually don't know. Probably Ashley? She's a mammographer, along with other duties. If a cosmetology class was offered at your school, would you take it? No. Do you think plastic surgery is no big deal? If it's done safely and not overdone to the point it affects your health, you damn well go for it if it helps your self-confidence. Your favourite meal growing up? Spaghetti, or as I called it, "psghetti," haha. How many bedrooms in the house you live in? Three. What link was the closest person to you that’s died? If we're talking humans, Jason's mom. If you wanna include any living being, then absolutely my dog Teddy. Anything about your mum that annoys you? She is ALWAYS right. Doesn't matter what it is. What meal that your mum cooks is your favourite? I don't know. Have you ever tried caviar? Can you explain the taste to me? HELL no. What, in your opinion, will cause the end of the world? The universe itself is infinite. If we're talking Earth, completely eliminated, either a gamma ray or black hole. If your siblings are old enough, what do they do for work? I mentioned Ashley already, and Nicole is a social worker with children. I actually don't remember what my half-siblings do for work. Have you ever been jealous of your siblings? I've been envious of them for sure, absolutely. They're actually doing shit with their lives and seem to have themselves figured out. I gotta admit I'm jealous of how close Ash and Nicole are, too. I want to be the third person, but I'm just... not. We're so very different that it's hard to get as close as I want. Do you prefer a proper restaurant to a fast food place? Depends on what I'm feeling of course, but I think like most people, I have a more quality experience at sit-in restaurants. What is the biggest dream of your life? Photograph and come into physical contact with meerkats (whether they climb on me or I pet them, idc) at the KMP. I WILL cry. What is a country you’d never ever visit? Places like North Korea. Have you ever had any trouble paying your bills? I don't have bills. Do you think life should just hand things to you? No. Would you rather live off government benefits or earn your own money? I desperately want to earn my own money. What type of a survey do you skip altogether? I don't like bolding surveys. I like the opportunity to explain in normal ones like these. Do you get nervous before “meeting the parents”? Yep. Do you own a knife? Not any besides your ordinary kitchen knives. What song do you want played at your funeral? I have a few in mind. "Life is Beautiful" by Sixx A.M. and "Angels on the Moon" by Thriving Ivory probably top the list. Do people get shocked by how old you are? I don't know, but probably, given how dependent I am on my parents for like, everything. Do you have any features that people notice right away? As in a mole on your cheek, or a big nose, big teeth, etc? Apparently my lip ring. What's the last compliment you received? The lady that works with me in the TMS office liked my Umbreon shirt. What's the meanest insult you have received? Probably that I'm a martyr (and not in the good way). Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? Yes. Does your best friend approve of the last person you kissed? They're the same person lmao. Do you have any friends with kids? Yes. I feel like most of my FB friends have kids. What was the last thing you spent your money on? I bought my niece her birthday present. Where did you first kiss the last person you kissed? My back porch. Does your favorite song remind you of anybody? Just America in general. Do you have a member of the opposite sex you’ve told everything to? Jason, pretty much. Do you want any tattoos? If yes, what? Oh hunny, I want LOADS. Are promises important to you? YES. Do NOT promise me shit if you're not planning to keep it for sure. If you’re a girl, do you have big hips? Too big? Well, for one, I'm overweight, so. But if you're talking bone structure and spacing or whatever, then no, I'd say they're average. Girls, do you think you look good in dresses or not? Who says only girls can wear dresses? But regardless, nope. Have you ever taken a pottery class before? No. Have you ever had a period in your life where you were on a major health kick and you were really picky about what you consumed? A few times. Is there anything that you’d never do for any amount of money? There's a good number of things. Do you know what your next injection will be? No. Does anyone call you darling? If so who? Sara sometimes. If you had to have a cartoon character tattooed to you what would it be? If I had to, maybe Pikachu? It'd be a nostalgia thing. You have to dye your hair two colours, what do you choose? Two colors at once? Maybe a pastel mix of pink and purple. Or black with orange highlights and layers? What a Halloween vibe. Ever had something stolen? If so what? Yeah; our basketball hoop was stolen from our yard when I was younger. Do you feel the water in a pool before you get in, or do you dive right in? I feel it. Have you ever touched a squirrel? No. What's better, candles or incense? Incense! When's the last time you’ve smelled a skunk? I'm actually unsure if I ever have. Have you ever used a Ouija board? No. Have you ever met anyone who claimed to be a witch? Yes. Does it annoy you when high-schoolers wear Elmo bookbags? Why the fuck would I care? Do you go along with prank-callers, or just hang up? I don’t even answer numbers I don’t know. Would you ever tattoo a lover’s name onto your body? No. Do you own any version of Guitar Hero? I have a lot, actually. Do you use mouthwash every single day? No. Have you ever eaten White Castle burgers? Only those you warm up in the microwave. We don't have the actual restaurant here. What’s the weirdest thing in your body that you can crack? Nothing weird. Do you like chocolate milk? Who doesn't? o: Do you know anyone with asthma? Yeah, my mom. Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? Because she's probably asleep, and we mainly chat on Discord now. Has someone ever called you at midnight on your birthday? Many years ago. Have you ever slept in the same bed as your friend? Yeah. Do you want to see somebody right now? Yes. Do you currently have feelings for anybody? Yes. When was the last time you changed in front of someone? I'm not sure; especially with how I feel about my body now, I avoid it like the plague. Realistically though, probably Mom, passing by or something. Who did you last fall asleep with? If you exclude my cat, Sara. Think back to the last person you held hands with, would you kiss them? That would be my niece Emerson, and I'd certainly kiss her head. Can you be your complete self around the person you like? She's the only person I feel 110% comfortable being my authentic self around. How many tattoos would you get? I want A LOT. Like, more than I'd keep track of. How many bracelets do you have on your wrists right now? None.

[bumbleb-tch]

Fic Masterlist

Series:

Leather and Lace-  Rating: T Word Count: 7,849 Summary: Adrienette, No Magic Au, Tattoo Parlour/Flower Shop AU, 2 works Nearly every day, Marinette left her shop for what he assumed was her lunch break just after Adrien opened, the first few times he saw her were coincidence, but every time she passed she never failed to aim a cheerful wave and smile in his direction-and stop to flirt with Plagg. Without even really noticing it, Adrien stopped taking clients right when he opened, and started getting ready earlier, just so he could make sure he was casually lounging in his lobby when Marinette passed every day. Pathetic? Maybe. Chloe certainly thought so. This had continued for months now, and Adrien still couldn’t pull himself together enough to actually go talk to her, but honestly, the glowing smile she gave him every day through the window was the highlight of his day. Of course, the following minutes where she talked with his cat and showered the goblin with attention was the most irritating part of his day.

A Drunk Chat’s Words- Rating: M Word Count: 6,325 Summary: Marichat, Drunk!Chat Noir/Hungover!Chat Noir, 2 works “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever been blessed to lay my eyes upon,” the voice was cooing, a bit unsteadily, if she was honest, not that it soothed her nerves that much. “Just a perfect little kitty, aren’t you? You’re so good. Your tiny paws? Spectacular. Your adorably pink nose? 10/10 would boop…” The voice continued but Marinette stopped focusing on the words, too focused on the suspiciously familiar cadence prompting her to creep back into the living room, where she was greeted by the sight of her superhero partner crouched on all fours on her balcony. Worst of all, he seemed to be engaged in a rather emotional discussion with her cat. 

Multichapter: 

Just a Shadow of Myself- Rating: T Word Count: 13528 Summary: Marichat, Adrienette, Ladrien, Ladynoir, Soulmate AU, Shadow Swap 23:55 p.m. Five more minutes until Marinette’s 16th birthday chimed. If she was lucky enough to be the younger half of her soulmate pair then her shadow would switch with her soulmate’s until they met, and slowly fade back to her own over time. The way she figured, with all of Ladybug’s luck she would be the younger one, which meant in five minutes she’d be on the start of her journey towards her soulmate. 

Oneshots:

Resonance- Rating:T Word Count: 1495 Summary: Ladynoir, Soul Eater AU If someone had told her a few months ago that she’d be moonlighting as a superhero meister with an overly flirtatious tomcat as her partner, trying to take down what could only be called a supervillain-who despite having failed to defeat them 78 out of 78 times, apparently was so consumed by his own hubris and self confidence that he refused to back down- Ladybug would laughed until she cried. But here she was, 14 year reigning champ of the clumsiest girl alive, going toe to toe with a terrorist on the biweekly, resonating with her partner to a mind blowing magnitude. Ladybug’s belief was that the Miraculous amplified both their ability to resonate, as well as the power of their individual souls. Chat liked to insist that it was because they were partners, destined to be a perfect match-infuriatingly charismatic, as always. Tikki had suggested it might be some of both. In any case, Ladybug didn’t know if she could ever have another partnership compare to this one.

Excuse me, sir- Is this your cat?-

Rating: G Word Count: 1875 Summary: Adrienette, No Magic AU, Cat!Plagg, Dog!Tikki Marinette ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation, making direct, challenging eye contact with him. Seconds passed in silence. She blinked first. The cat seemed smug. Or as smug as a cat who theoretically didn't have more cognitive understanding than a three year old could. Stomping her foot in an indignant and almost childish manner, Marinette scowled, “Look Mr. Noir,” she didn’t think he liked the name very much but she couldn’t just call him Cat, “We need to go to the pet store to try and find your owner.”

The Trials and Tribulations of Adrien Agreste, RA Extraordinaire- Rating: T Word Count: 1595 Summary: Adrienette, College AU, No Magic AU Adrien was beginning to regret his decision to spend the day walking the dorm and introducing himself to as many residents as possible. It had seemed like such a solid plan when he’d finished moving in early and found himself with nothing to do. He was the new RA and he’d felt it would be good to have as many residents know him and what he looks like as soon as possible. Oh how wrong he had been. 2 floors, 3 hours, and 14 phone numbers later, he still had another 2 floors to go, and if Adrien heard one more too high squeal about how glad someone was that such a nice sweet guy like him was the new RA, he would dive out the nearest window.

I just came here for the drugs (so stop your faking)- Rating: T Word Count: 4951 Summary: Adrienette, Sick!Drugged!Adrien “Hey, can you hold this?” Adrien asked, passing her his bag before she could respond. While she held it, blinking vacantly, he dug inside until he unearthed a massive bottle of Nyquil. He set the bottle on the desk and reclaimed his bag, tucking it away before fiddling with the cap of the bottle. Seconds passed as he struggled, seemingly unperturbed by his lack of success. All the while, Marinette was beginning to twitch with the effort to not do it for him. Just as she was about to snatch it from him, the cap came off and he hummed victoriously. Then Adrien lifted the bottle to his lips and tipped it back, chugging long enough to make her concerned. “I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to take it,” Marinette breathed, not sure what else to say when he’d just taken a quarter of a bottle of Nyquil like he was hoping he wouldn’t wake up ever again. --- Adrien has the sniffles and makes the incorrect assumption that tripling his dose of Nyquil will triple the effects. It doesn't. Oh, and he and Marinette are supposed to be doing a project together.

WIPs: 

3 is a Magic Number- Rating: T Word Count: 3818 Summary: Ladynoir, Adrienette, Polyfic (but it’s a surprise), Soulmate AU, Red Strings of Fate AU, 1/2 Chapters She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, first noting Chat frozen in front of her and then quickly turning to her notes to scribble down what she’d noticed so far. Marinette’s fingers tingled with restless energy, and she underscored ‘possible addictive properties’. “Chat? Status update.” The boy sputtered to life behind her, stammering a series of disjointed not-quite-words and landing on, “Uh, this?” Marinette rolled her eyes, “Ten points to Hufflepuff for clarity and precision,” She reached up to brush away her bangs with her other hand, something red drifting into her periphery. “What the hell?” Shooting up, she spun to face her partner, holding her hand up in front of her face. Two neat bows of red string were tied around her pinky, loose ends from each drifting down and away from her. One spanned the short distance between herself and Chat, nearly taut and almost glowing, a low hum emanating from it. The other tumbled to the floor, loops tangling with another string that she chased back up to Chat’s finger, the pair stretching out the window and into Paris. --- Alternatively, a day testing recipes from the grimoire takes a sharp twist of fate

Smoke and Mirrors- Rating: M Word Count: 14385 Summary: Marichat, Ladynoir, Double Akumatization, 9/? Chapters White glinted in the light cast by the door, and Marinette's blue eyes met a colder but equally anxious gaze. Her blood froze in her veins, a strangled whimper escaped her throat unbidden as she was thrust full force into the memory of the last time she'd seen those eyes. Of a broken lonely boy in an empty world and feeling herself dissolve into ash and slip between her own fingers. A fear stronger than any she'd felt facing an akuma clutched her heart in it's grasp, and Marinette realized her cheeks were wet.

love is a bloom, nurtured by my tears(and choked by my sorrows)- Rating: M Word Count: 20051 Summary: Marichat, Coffee Shop AU, Kwamiswap, 5/? Chapters Marinette loved her partner, no question. But at some point in six years, she’d stopped feeling it. She’d stopped feeling anything. And she called love a scam enough times that she actually believed it. So every night, patrol or not, Marinette would go to bed by 1:00 a.m., to get enough sleep for the next day. Every day of her life, she’d scheduled down to the minute. An endless routine that she lived for years, carefully designed to make sure that her life was so full of work and responsibilities and alarms, that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t notice how empty it was. 

[trashyswitch]

Sibling Rivalry

Roman and Remus get into a fight (no surprise), that turns physical after some bickering.

Patton and Virgil, not wanting either of them to get any more hurt, run and dive into the fight to break them up.

It's around here, that the physical fight grows more heartening and playful...

The day had been mostly peaceful. Virgil and Patton could be seen on the couch. They were covered in blankets and watching movies together in the living room. Logan was hanging out in his room doing who knows what, while Deceit could be seen eating Jelly Beans and playing Cards Against Humanity by himself in the kitchen.

However, their peacefulness would soon be interrupted...Because before everyone could truly process the peace and quiet, a pair of twins could be heard shouting profanities at each other as they chased each other.

"YOU'RE SUCH A CHEATER!" Roman shouted as he chased the man in front of him.

"Come ON, Brother? When am I NOT a cheater?" Remus yelled over his shoulder as he ran.

"You could at least TRY to play by the rules!" Roman argued.

"But listen to this:" Remus suggested, slowing down to a stop to explain things. "I was playing by the rules. There is no rule against throwing pillows at your opponents."

Roman growled in fury. "YES! THERE IS! SOCIETY CREATED THAT RULE DECADES AGO!" Roman shouted back.

"Well, I wasn't told about that rule." Remus defended, attempting to act like an innocent toddler.

Everyone practically groaned. "There goes our quiet afternoon..." Virgil muttered.

Roman looked over to Virgil and Patton. "Sorry about the...interruption. We were playing Forza Horizon 4, and SOMEONE shoved a pillow into my face!" Roman apologized and explained.

"Oh...ya, he does that all the time." Virgil replied, remembering the countless times he's gotten pillows to the face while gaming.

"Why are you surprised that Remus is cheating? You know he's capable of it." Patton asked.

"I'm just tired of him cheating all the time. It's never ending!" Roman argued.

"Well, if you're tired of Remus's cheating, then stop playing video games with him." Virgil suggested.

Remus's smug smirk slowly turned into a surprised expression. "Wait, what?" Remus reacted, looking at Virgil.

"B-but...look at that face!" Roman argued, pointing at Remus. Remus tilted his head, confused. "How could you say no to that ugly face?" Roman argued.

Virgil's eyebrows raised in pure surprise. Even as they argue, Roman still cares about his brother.

"You-...So, you want to play games with him. Is that what I'm getting from this?" Patton clarified.

"Yes. I wanna play games with him. But, I don't want him to cheat." Roman explained.

"Well...try asking him." Patton offered.

Roman sighed, and turned to his brother. "Remus...can you please play video games with me fairly?" Roman asked him.

Remus looked back at Roman with a serious face. "...How fairly?" Remus asked.

"100% fairly. No distractions, no hacking, no advancements." Roman explained.

Remus's face fell into a disappointed frown, before an idea came to his head. "How about 30% fair. No advancements. But distractions and hacking against your opponent is allowed." Remus muttered.

Roman growled in anger. "NOOO!" Roman yelled, acting like a child.

"Really?! But Roman, I said no advancements!" Remus argued, unable to understand why Roman wasn't happy.

"But distractions and hacking are ALLOWED?! There is NO WAY I'm playing such a game!" Roman yelled back.

Virgil rubbed the bridge of his nose, before pulling out a coin.

"Boys, how about this:" Virgil called, waiting for their attention on him before continuing. "Heads up will be unfair play, and tails up will be fair play. Got it?" Virgil suggested.

Roman and Remus nodded in agreement, believing the 50/50 chance system would help them out. Virgil flipped the coin once; bad flip. He flipped it a second time: a really good flip! Just for good measure, Virgil flipped the coin one last time. Virgil caught the coin, and flipped it over on the back of his left hand: tails.

Tails up = fair play.

"Tails." Virgil told them.

"WHAT?!" Remus shouted.

"HA! IN YOUR FACE! FAIR PLAY IS BEST PLAY!" Roman cheered, feeling amazing and prideful for winning a game of chance.

Remus let out a low growl. In a fit of rage, Remus pushed Roman onto the ground. Roman fell onto his back with a thud.

"Hey! What the hell man!" Roman protested.

"We get it, you won! Doesn't mean you need to be a b**** about it." Remus argued.

"Oh, quit being a sore loser. Oh no! Luck wasn't on my side! Poor me!" Roman said in a sarcastic voice. Remus rolled his eyes and started walking away. "And let me guess: You're gonna walk into your room and read those stupid magazines until you feel better!" Roman guessed.

Remus froze into place. Did he just-...Did he just bring his magazines into this fight?! With Patton watching?!

"Am I right?" Roman asked, crossing his arms and leaning on his hip.

Remus huffed as anger started to REALLY take him over. And, Remus let it. Remus turned himself around towards his so-called 'brother', and started screaming and sprinting towards him. Roman's face turned from confidence into fear in a matter of seconds, before being tackled to the ground by his heavy twin. Before Roman could process anything, his face was being punched into by Remus's tightened fists.

Patton gasped and covered his eyes at first. He couldn't look!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA, WHOA!" Virgil reacted as his body grew overwhelmed with shock. He's seen Remus and Roman fight before, so that wasn't new. But Virgil had never seen Remus this angry before!

"REMUS! STOP IT!" Patton shouted, finally uncovering his eyes. He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

"He won't. Unless we physically intervene, Remus will keep on going until he's exhausted." Virgil warned Patton.

"You get Remus, I'll get Roman." Patton offered.

"Okay. Good idea." Virgil agreed before jumping in. Virgil reached for Remus's hands and grabbed them once they swung back. Once Remus's wrists were secure in his hands, Virgil wrapped his arms across each other and under his armpits. This was a self-defense move that teachers are allowed to do when children are being physical. Though the child in the hold should be a lot smaller than the person holding, Virgil ignored that rule. This was his friend. They had made a promise years ago, that Virgil was allowed to stop Remus in moments like this. Right then, was a good example.

While Virgil was holding onto Remus, Patton had pulled Roman aside and leaned him against the wall. Roman had a couple red spots on his head, but that was nothing compared to the blood dripping out of his nose. Patton grabbed a box of Kleenex and a cup of water from the tap, to dab it off.

"Remus, calm down." Virgil ordered as he held onto the aggressive man. Remus's fighting was beginning to die down, but still remained strong. He must've felt an intense need to increase Roman's injuries. To be honest, Virgil wanted to as well. Roman had no business mentioning something like that out loud. Sure, it was somewhat okay because Virgil was already aware of the magazines he reads. But with Patton around...Who knows how Remus was feeling? Now, as Virgil's arms grew tired, he decided to start reaching for desperate measures...

"Are you okay?" Patton asked. Roman nodded his head, and looked at Remus. "Don't worry, Roman. Remus is okay. He's with Virgil. He's still fighting, but he's safe. Now, I want you to look up, and breath out of your mouth." Patton reassured. Roman followed what he said, and tipped his head back. Patton plugged his nose to trap the blood and let it clot.

As the two light sides worked on looking after Roman's bloody nose, a sudden bout of laughter had taken over the room. It was surprisingly bubbly, and a little more high-pitched than usual. Patton jolted from the sudden unfamiliar sound, and looked towards the source of the sound. Roman didn't need to do that, though, because Roman had immediately recognized whose laughter it was: It was Remus's!

Patton's eyes lit up as he watched the scene unfolding in front of them; Virgil was digging his thumbs into Remus's hips, and Remus was squirming and laughing in response!

"Is...is he okay?" Patton asked, nervous to approach a man with violent tendencies.

Virgil smirked. "I don't know. Hey Remus! Are you okay?" Virgil asked, raising his voice slightly, so his voice could be heard above Remus's laughter.

"STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHICKLIHIHING MEHEHEHE!" Remus shouted in response.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna take that as a 'yes, please join in'." Virgil clarified for the father figure. And, Patton happily joined him!

"What are some good spots to get?" Patton asked, unsure of where to start.

"Okay, let me think...His feet are ticklish, but they stink to high heaven. So, unless you want the room to smell like rotting corpse for the next week, DON'T GO THERE." Virgil warned him.

Patton giggled at Virgil's reply. One part of him thought Virgil was over exaggerating, but the other parts of him thought; 'this is Remus we're talking about...' It would be no surprise if he wasn't...

"His armpits are also ticklish, but again: stinky. So, go for the back of his knees." Virgil suggested.

"NOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHO!" Remus begged. Unfortunately, Remus's begs didn't stop Patton from diving for his knees, and scratching his fingers on the back of his knees.

Remus let out a squeal, before falling into a fit of cackles. "Awww! Your laugh is so cute!" Patton complimented.

Remus interrupted his laughter with a squeak. "NOHOHOHO IHIHIHIT'S NAHAHAHAHAT!" Remus argued through his laughter.

"Believe it or not, I agree with Patton on this one. Your laugh has always been cute, and clearly, it hasn't changed..." Virgil added before leaning into Remus's ear. "Not...one...bit..." Virgil whispered in his ear. Suddenly, Virgil fluttered his fingers behind Remus's ears.

Remus threw his head back. "WAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHI'M TOHOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLIHIHIHISH! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Remus shouted through his hysterical laughter.

Virgil smiled. "Oh, you're too ticklish? Well, stop being ticklish then! Stop being ticklish, and aaalll your problems will be answered." Virgil replied.

Remus growled in reaction. "IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN'T!" Remus shot back.

"Oh, what's that? You can't stop being ticklish? well, then I guess you're stuck here for a while." Virgil teased with a wink.

Remus's eyes widened in pure horror. How long was Remus gonna be laughing for?! The truth was, Remus liked laughing...on his own! He liked allowing himself to laugh, and wasn't a fan of forcing laughter out of him like a deflating balloon. Tickling was a complicated thing...It forced the man to laugh, but-...

It actually felt good??? It was a feeling Remus couldn't explain...

"...Hey Patton? Do you notice Remus trying to run away at all?" Virgil asked, noticing something about the man.

"Uh...no, actually! He's not running away at all! He's not even trying to get away!" Patton observed.

Virgil placed a curled finger on his chin. "I think...Remus likes it." Virgil theorized out loud, with a wide smirk developing at the end.

Patton gasped, as if he had just found a bed of puppies in front of him. "No way...REALLY?!" Patton squealed. "OHMYGOSHTHISISSOCUTE! AAAAAAAHH!" Patton shouted, repetitively clapping his hands as his whole body brightened up excitedly.

"Wait...Is that what that is? I-I feel...warm? Like, not in a horny sense! I would've told you earlier if I was horny..." Remus attempted to explain.

"Do you feel...calm? Giddy? Overwhelmed with emotions to name one?" Virgil asked, attempting to help the man go through the feelings Virgil felt before him.

"Yes, but...I..." Remus attempted to explain, slowly losing focus and falling into space.

"How about a hug?" Patton asked. Remus looked up, and saw Patton stretching his arms out. "Dad hugs are always available!" Patton offered. Though a little hesitant, Remus allowed himself to hug him.

Patton wrapped his arms around Remus, and squeezed a bit. Remus gasped at the sudden snug feeling, but smiled. "Harder!" Remus ordered in a giddy way.

Patton's eyes widened. "Really?" Patton clarified. Remus nodded his head, showing off his lopsided teeth as he grinned excitedly. "Okay. Come here you!" Patton ordered, pulling Remus into another hug, and squeezing harder. Remus could feel every ounce of breath being pushed out of his lungs! And all his breath came out in leftover giggles! Patton, who rather enjoyed the sound of Remus's laughter, allowed Remus to breath; Patton squeezed Remus harder and started growling playfully as he squeezed. Remus's giggling grew more loud and free! This made the experience all the more worth it!

To add to the adorable scene, Remus began scribbling his nails on Patton's sides, to hear his reaction. Patton bursted into giggles in response, and allowed a toothy smile to show up on his face. Remus tested out other spots as well. Spider-fingers on Patton's ribs made laughter ring throughout the room, and wiggly fingers on Patton's belly made squeaky giggles pop out!

"Awww! Your laugh is so pretty!" Remus admitted.

"I agree." Virgil admitted as well. Virgil knelt down beside Patton's free side, and wiggled his fingers under Patton's armpits.

Patton's arms clamped down on Virgil's arms, trapping them there to, ironically, continue tickling him. "aaAAAAAH! VIRGIL WAHAHAHAIT! EEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHE AHAHARMPIHIHIHIHITS!" Patton pleaded as he began wiggling.

"But Patton! it's a good spot to go for. Wouldn't you agree, Remus?" Virgil reacted.

"I agree!" Remus replied with a smile. Patton's body continued wiggling and kicking as the tickle attack continued. His jacket had untied itself and laid on the ground under the father. Meanwhile, his hair was growing fairly messy the more that he squirmed.

"PLEHEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHI CAHAHAN'T TAHAHAHAKE MUHUHUCH MOHOHOHORE!" Patton begged.

"Would you like lighter tickles instead?" Virgil asked.

"YEHEHEHES PLEHEHEHEASE!" Patton replied eagerly.

Virgil nodded in understanding and stopped his fingers. When Patton's arms loosened, Virgil removed his hands from his armpits and lightly began tracing a single finger on Patton's belly.

"You know who could use an apology and some peaceful tickles right now? Roman." Virgil hinted, giving Remus a wink as a go-ahead signal.

Remus smiled before getting up and heading over to the couch, where Roman was sitting and watching.

"Hi Roman." Remus said.

"Hi." Roman replied.

"How's your nose?" Remus asked.

Roman gave his brother a crooked smile. "It stopped bleeding, which is good." Roman replied.

Remus nodded, and scratched his arm. "Yeah...I'm sorry about that." Remus told him, feeling genuinely guilty.

"Remus, wai-"

"No, I need to apologize. I shouldn't have punched you. Hell, I shouldn't have pushed you in the first place. I should've accepted the loss and moved on." Remus ended his apology.

"You don't need to apologize for anything. I deserve every bruise and every drop of blood on my face." Roman reacted. "I'm sorry for mentioning the magazines in our argument. It was incredibly rude of me. I should've just kept my mouth shut." Roman told him.

Remus rolled his eyes and smiled. "Jesus, you're starting to sound like Anne of Green Gables!" Remus joked.

'Oh, Mrs. Lynde, I am so extremely sorry! I could never express all my sorrow, no, not if I used up a whole dictionary. You must just imagine it. I behaved terribly to you—and I’ve disgraced the dear friends, Matthew and Marilla, who have let me stay at Green Gables although I’m not a boy. I’m a dreadfully wicked and ungrateful girl, and I deserve to be punished and cast out by respectable people forever!" Roman joked dramatically.

"It was very wicked of me to fly into a temper because you told me the truth. It WAS the truth; every word you said was true. My hair is red and I’m freckled and skinny and ugly." Remus acted dramatically. Then, Remus whispered the next dialogue with his hand covering part of his mouth: "What I said to you was true, too, but I shouldn’t have said it." Remus recited in a semi-monotone voice. Roman giggled at the sudden change of voice expression.

Suddenly, Roman continued with his dramatic voice, and uttered the last point of dialogue: "Oh, Mrs. Lynde, please, please, forgive me! If you refuse it will be a lifelong sorrow on a poor little orphan girl, would you, even if she had a dreadful temper? Oh, I am sure you wouldn’t. Please say you forgive me, Mrs. Lynde." Roman begged dramatically.

Remus sighed and shook his head as he smiled. "I forgive you."

"YAY!" Roman cheered excitedly, pulling Remus into a hug. Remus gladly accepted the hug, and also took it as a great opportunity to tickle him! Remus wrapped his hands around his waist, and sneakily started squeezing his sides.

"HA! Hahahahahaha! Ahahare thehehese the peheheheace tihihickles?" Roman asked.

"Ohoho, yes they are." Remus replied as his fingers started digging and wiggling into Roman's sides.

"NAAAHAHAHAHAHA! COME OHOHOHOHOHON!" Roman bursted out.

"What? Is it too much?" Remus asked.

"NOHOHOHO, BUHUHUHUT..." Roman replied.

"Well, then why are you complaining?" Remus reacted. next up, was his belly. Remus gently placed his fingernails onto Roman's soft belly, and began softly dragging all 10 fingernails up and down his tummy. Roman bursted into a mix of nervous giggles, and giddy giggles. He loved it, but he knew things were gonna get a lot worse.

"Whahahahat ahahahare yohohohou gohohonna dohohoho?" Roman asked through his never ending giggle fit.

"Don't worry brother. I'm gonna keep it light. Can I borrow your sword?" Remus reassured.

Roman looked at Remus, who was holding his hand out. "Whyhy?" Roman asked.

"I'm gonna turn it into something. But, it's gonna be a surprise." Remus explained as spoil-free as possible. Roman reluctantly unclipped his belt, and handed Remus the sword. Remus stopped both hands and used them to pull the sword out of its cover.

"Whoa, whoa whoa! Remus, what are you doing with that?!" Virgil asked, raising his voice in an anxious tone.

"It's okay!" Remus reassured him. Remus proved this by using his magic to make the sword smaller in size. Then, Remus placed his right hand on the blade and dragged it across the blade, turning it into a green feather blade. "See?" Remus observed.

"Ohoho bohohohoy...Ihihi cahahahahan't lohohohohook..." Roman said through his nervous giggles as he covered up his eyes. Remus let an evil little smirk take over his face while he lifted up the costume to expose his belly. As his belly was exposed to the air, Roman's giggles became more giddy and frantic. It didn't take long for the feather to start slowly bringing itself down towards Roman's exposed belly.

"Any last words?" Remus asked, pausing to hear his response.

Roman looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. "Juhuhuhust DOHOHO IHIHIT!" Roman begged desperately.

Remus's eyebrows raised. He didn't expect THAT kind of response. "Very well then!" Remus replied happily. He placed the feather right onto Roman's belly button, and swirled in and around the deep button.

"Gahahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha! EEE! Ihihihihit tihihihihihickles sohohoho bahahahahad!" Roman giggled manically.

"Really? Your laugh would tell me otherwise!" Remus teased. Though the laughter that left Roman's lungs wasn't unbearable for Roman, the tickly feeling of the feather against his belly was SUPER UNBEARABLE!

Roman kept on giggling like that for around half an hour. In that time, Remus tried fluttering the feather on all kinds of spots: the abdomen, the neck (that was the WORST!), the armpits, the ribs, the feet (THAT WAS REALLY BAD AS WELL!), and even the hidden spot behind Roman's knees! All of the spots seemed to create endless giggles to fill the entire room with.

Soon, Virgil's laughter filled the room as well! After all, he couldn't play the ler for everyone, without getting bombarded by revengeful lees...

[anastasiaskarsgard]

CR NEWS Bill

Maybe if I just ignore them, they’ll go away. After five minutes, I decide this probably isn’t the best plan. Especially since they can literally see me through the window.

“MOTHERFUCKERS!” I yell as I swing open the door and my PR team hustles inside, nearly knocking my drink out of my hand.

“Are you really drunk at 10am on a Tuesday?” Melissa the lead PR tyrant asks me.

“Two guesses, first one doesn’t count. And for your information .... yes.” I giggle. I keep a steady buzz on the daily.

“What happens today?” A short red head I haven’t seen before demands.

“Who the fuck are you?” I snap.

She blushes and lowers her eyes. Good.

“Be nice! This is Mandy. She’s new, and I’m sure you remember Tristain, Melissa says gesturing towards her slim British assistant.

“So why are you here? As great as it is to catch up, I was trying to be a degenerate and you’re fucking it all up with the judging.” I say as I light a cigarette and head out to the backyard.

It’s a nice day so I think I’ll swim.

“You have that interview in three hours with CR News. The guy interviewing you is really hot too.”

I strip nude and hear Mandy gasp. I turn around and wink at her before diving in the pool. When I come back up Melissa and Mandy are whisper arguing while tristain picks at his nails.

“Has she never seen a naked woman before? I’m told I’m one of the best, so you’re welcome Mandy.”

“Girl you are out of control.” Tristain chuckles.

Mandy storms outside as Melissa turns to me, hands on hips “what did I say about nudity.”

“We are not in public.”

“Let’s add on that you can’t get nude in front of anyone you just met.”

“There goes my sex life.”

“You’re impossible! We are here to make sure you’re ready, on time and sober. That last little stunt you pulled can’t happen again.”

Of course she’s referring to the award show i went to last week in a see through dress. Considering I’m a Victoria’s Secret model, I thought showing everyone my underwear was ideal, but some of the other companies I model for weren’t as enthusiastic.

“Do you seriously think I’d go on a news program in something see through?”

She raises an eyebrow at me and smirks. “We brought you some beautiful outfits to choose from and Tristain is ready to do your hair and make-up. You just need to relax and —“

“Be you’re good little Barbie.” I roll my eyes but allow them to lead me in my house and get me all ready.

CR news is supposedly a new up and coming show. It’s mainly focused on men I think but I’m not positive. I’ve honestly never watched it. I’ve heard that the interviewer is pretty unpredictable and gorgeous which is intriguing.

We are all loaded in the limo, on our way to the studio when I realize Tristain is a liar...

“Where’s the booze? You said there was hella liquor in here, is there like a trick door or..”

“Baby girl, you’re gonna be sober for this interview. Well. Soberish.”

“I thought you were my boy blue? What happened to us? When did it fall apart?” I tease. I’m not really mad, I get it, but dammit, I really don’t have anything to take the edge off?

We pull up to the studio and my stomach is in knots. I drink for my social anxiety. Although I am supposedly one of the most beautiful women in the world, and I parade around nude like it’s nothing, it’s all overcompensating for being afraid of meeting new people. I know it’s ridiculous, but that doesn’t change how nervous I feel.

I get out and follow everyone inside, where I’m taken to a dressing room. Hair and make up people are in there waiting, but I’m already all ready so they just do a once over and tell me I have an hour till everything starts.

“This is why I’m never on time, let alone early.” I bemoan my predicament.

A cute little girl is there looking at me like I’m Jesus, so I say hi and she begins to tear up.

“Oh my god sweetie! Why are you crying?” I say as I make my way over to her and open my arms for a hug. I hate seeing people cry. “Was someone mean to you?”

“No, I just can’t believe it’s you! I am your biggest fan. I think you’re so beautiful, but all the charity work you do is so important and the media tries to make you out like this hot mess but you just don’t care what anyone thinks of you and that’s so inspiring for so many girls out there!” She says as she falls into my arms, clinging to me like a magnet.

See shit like this is why I need a drink. I can never let my fans down complaining about anxiety. When I first got in the business, one of the party girls took me under her wing and we went out, and I was so nervous I got drunk. Of course it was all captured by the paparazzi and I was forever dubbed a wild child. But somehow I am an inspiration and an expert at giving no fucks, which I do standby. so I just maintain that image, eventhough most of the time I’m terrified. Therefore I’ve been drunk pretty steady since last March. Well not drunk, buzzed. I try not to get drunk cuz then I do the dumbest shit, and a lot of it involves nudity.

“You are the cutest sweetest thing! Thank you! That seriously means a lot! Do you want some pictures or autographs?”

“Oh my gosh! Please?”

“Turn on your Instagram and we will make a story.” I mean I have an hour, might as well. The poor girl looks like she’s gonna faint. “You know what? Hair and make up, you’re here. Do her, so she looks her best and then we’ll make a cute video!”

Hair and make up shrug their shoulders and sit the girl down and get to work.

“I need a drink!” I moan.

“Water, coffee, tea, juice-“ one of the assistants starts rattling off.

“I’ll take juice if you’ve got some vodka.” I tell her, and can literally see her judging me. Yuck!

“I’m sorry but we are a smoke free, alcohol free, drug free facility. We judge sinful vices very harshly here.” She states snarkyly.

I turn around and fix my coldest glare on her, and it doesn’t take her more than a few seconds to excuse herself. Probably gonna go tell on me to my babysitters.

“My big brother probably has some.” The fangirl suggests. “He’s just two doors down on the right.”

“Ooh. Think he’ll take pity on me? What’s his name?”

She looks at me like I’m kidding, but it’s pretty clear by my clueless face, I’m serious.

“He’s Bill Skarsgard. He’s interviewing you. I’ll text him.”

She pulls her phone out and texts him, and almost immediately replies. “He says come to his room real quick.”

“Oh my God! I’m your biggest fan now.” I smile at her and quickly make my way to his door and knock. I didn’t want to be seen going in the room with him, so I wasn’t really thinking about meeting him as much as getting out of the hall. When the door opened, I rushed through and closed it, when I am sll of a sudden all too aware of the best looking motherfucker I have ever seen in my life. I’m at least six foot in these heels and he’s still a considerable amount taller than me. He smells really nice but his god damn face is almost upsetting. He’s got the greenest eyes and sharp angles from the best bone structure like he’s the damn model. His angular features are contrasted by some of the softest looking puffy lips and the cutest nose I’ve ever seen.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I reach up and boop him on the nose “boop.” OH. MY. GOD. What have I done?

He blushes and smiles and oh my fuck he’s got dimples. We just stand there smiling and staring at each other like complete assholes but my mind has been overloaded with all his fucking hotness, so I got nothing.

His phone beeps and snaps us out of our awkward staring contest. “Thank you for being so nice to Valerie. You have no clue how excited she was to meet you.”

I still got nothing. I’m looking at his hands and then back up to his face. He was big pretty hands and I wish I was in them.

“Is belvedere ok?” He asks me holding up a brand new big bottle of vodka.

I nod and watch him walk over to a little bar area and make two drinks with his beautiful big hands. They wrap around the bottle and it almost looks as though it’s not the large size bottle but it is. He puts ice in the glass and fills it half way. He walks confidently over to me, and I feel like my legs are going to give out, but I don’t show it. I’m an expert at faking self assuredness. He hands me the drink and holds it up. “Let’s make a toast to new funny beginnings. Cheers!”

I clink my glass to his and then down all the vodka in one shot. He raises his eyebrows and chuckles, taking my glass and refilling it. He hands it back to me expectantly and I take a polite sip. “Just had to take the edge off.”

“She speaks! I was getting nervous you didn’t know how to be anything but adorable.”

“That’s my job. Your job requires talking.” I want to slap myself. I sound so rude and dumb but he seems to be amused with my reply.

“Valid point. I must say though, I’m surprised. From how the media makes you out to be, I was expecting a hurricane.”

“I guess that makes you a shitty weather man then.” God damn you liquid courage, and bless you. He’s actually blushing.

“I knew it was going to be a hot one.”

“Did you now?”

“Mmhmm.” He says as he lowers his face and looks through lidded eyes at me.

Then he bites his lip and slowly releases the damn thing and for the first time in my life, I think I wanna suck a dick. Don’t get me wrong, ive done that plenty of times, but to be nice. Never have I ever thought “I wanna choke on this guys cock’ until today. I feel my face heating up as he closes the distance between us and puts his hand on my cheek locking his eyes with mine.

A little voice in the back of my head warns me that being this attracted to someone is not great but I ignore it. Fuck it.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He breathes seductively. He sets down his drink and pulls me close, pressing his body against me. “Now we cant mess up how perfect you look or hair and make up will kill me, but when we are done with that interview, we are coming back in here and it’s gonna be really really wet.”

Gif : @billksarsgard

[mooksie01]

With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends (4/5)

Chapter Summary: It turns out that the only thing worse than a tense first date in an airship... is an awkward first date in a haunted dust mine.

Or: In which Clover feels like a moron, Elm causes problems, and nobody knows how to deal with a crush.

Warnings: More swearing, canon-typical combat, SPOILERS for V7C3, light angst

AO3 Link: [X]

Link to First Chapter: [X]

Notes: THIS IS A REPOST. Tumblr basically blanked my first attempt at posting this a few hours ago. Hopefully this one will actually show up. 

Long chapter today to make up for the short one yesterday! I hope you all enjoy!

Please like, reblog, and comment if you like this chapter, and thank you so much to all of you who have been! Your support means the world!

(Just to preface, I haven't edited this chapter as thoroughly as I usually do, as I'm currently in the process of packing to go back to college tomorrow. I might come back later and give it another run-over when I have time, but for now, I'm sorry if there are any major mistakes or awkward spots in the chapter!)

---

Walking through the abandoned dust mines with Qrow, Clover can’t help but be… a little distracted.

Up until now, Clover had only ever seen the other man move in a manner so instinctively disconnected and introverted that he’d just assumed that that was how Qrow always was. Now, though, he sees that he was wrong before; beside him, Qrow marches forward, back straight, shoulders carefully held lax in preparation for any possible conflict, head high, and eyes shining with a startling clarity and determination that takes Clover’s breath away.

In short, he’s a vision and it’s a herculean task not to stare.

Still, Clover is a soldier first and foremost, and he doesn’t allow himself to be sucked in so much that he might lose focus on the mission.

After a few long moments punctuated by nothing but his team’s routine check-ins, Qrow speaks up, “Gotta say, ’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.”

Clover glances at him out of the corner of his eye, mentally jumping hurdles in an attempt to figure out what the best route to steer this conversation in would be. He decides to tread lightly--nothing too personal. “But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know. That should be safe.

Qrow sighs softly and his gaze darts to the ground.

Fuck.

Just kill him already.

“Long time ago…” Qrow’s voice comes out sounding gruffer than usual, “I’ve just found working alone tends to be for the best.”

Clover’s heart constricts in his chest. What is he supposed to do?! He’s already upset Qrow (twice, now!), how is he supposed to avoid doing it again?! He doesn’t want him to shut himself off from the Ace Ops just because Clover can’t stop sticking his foot in his mouth! Should he comfort him? He seems like he needs comfort. Fuck, he has to respond. What can he say?!

“Well, I think that’s a shame,” he blurts out, and immediately wants to punch himself.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he is saved from having to ruminate over his social missteps when Qrow suddenly pitches forward, his foot catching on the uneven terrain of the cave floor underneath them.

Clover dives after him, seizing him by one arm and grunting with the unexpected strain of having to pull his partner back to his feet, then moves one hand to clasp his shoulder and make sure he’s steady. He is unsure if he has his skill or his semblance to thank for the feat, but he is grateful nonetheless to whichever it is.

He determinedly does not think about how this is the second time today that he has gotten the opportunity to hold Qrow close. Because that would be weird.

Once Qrow is standing again, they stare at each other for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a split-second. Clover feels like tiny nevermores are making a mess of his insides the longer he looks into Qrow’s eyes.

Then, those incredibly nice-looking eyes narrow into a slight glare and Qrow takes a firm step back. Rather than think about what he’s messed up this time, Clover decides that now would be a perfect time to report in to his team.

“Alpha, here. Give me an update.”

Qrow falls into step behind him as they proceed forward. Once again, the minutes pass mostly in silence but for the intermittent interruptions of their comms. Unlike Squads Bravo and Charlie, they see no sign of any sentinels or the target itself, but Clover has a feeling that they will soon enough.

His comm buzzes in his ear and makes a soft beeping noise, a signal that someone is contacting him through the Ace Ops’ private channel. Clover is about to answer aloud, but stops when a quiet series of taps and drags echoes down the line. It takes him a second to realize he’s being spoken to through morse code. His heart starts racing. They almost never use morse code in the field. Has something gone wrong?

He listens closely.

“ ....  ---  .--  …  /  -.--  ---  ..-  .-.  /  -...  ..  .-.  -..  “

HOWS YOUR BIRD

He takes a deep breath in and steadily lets it out through his nose. Now is not the time to figure out if it’s possible to throttle someone through a comm line. Instead, he tries to discreetly raise a hand to his ear and respond:

“  ..  --  /  --.  ---  ..  -.  --.  /  -  ---  /  ..-.  ..  .-.  .  /  -.--  ---  ..-  “

IM GOING TO FIRE YOU

“Who are we firing?”

Clover startles, whipping his head around to look at Qrow. The other man stares impassively at him, a single eyebrow raised. Clover swallows hard because oh no, he’s hot. “Nobody. Well, Elm, probably.”

“What did she do?” Qrow asks, quickening his pace half a step until he is walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Clover again.

“Fooling around on comms during a mission. Don’t worry about it.” Clover stops walking, turning to face Qrow, who takes the hint and also comes to a halt. “How do you know morse code?”

Qrow shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Just a useful skill for a huntsman to have, isn’t it?”

Clover scrutinizes Qrow for a long moment, detecting that there’s something more to that. Unfortunately, though, he’s not Robyn, and he doesn’t know Qrow well enough yet to pick up on any tells he may have, so he just nods and they continue walking.

“Must’ve been something real interesting,” Qrow says after a few more minutes spent in silence, “to get you to blush like that.”

Clover’s steps falter. His face grows hot as he stares after Qrow’s retreating back.

Fuck.

He isn’t allowed to stew in his embarrassment for long, as their target suddenly phases through the cavern wall and appears right in front of them. Before Clover can even react, Qrow has already drawn his weapon and started shooting one-handed at the geist.

While Qrow keeps the creature busy, Clover shakes himself out of his stupor and speaks into his comm, “This is Alpha! We’ve engaged the target!” He pulls Kingfisher from his belt. “All squads head towards our position!” He extends the pole, and casts out the line, hoping to catch the geist by its ribs and haul it in before it can reach any materials to build a body out of. Unfortunately, his shot misses, the hook clattering to the ground just as the target darts into a giant chunk of ice sitting on the cavern floor.

Pieces of rock and ice begin to float into the air around them, pulled unrelentingly into the geist’s orbit. Clover curses under his breath and rushes forward, hoping to snag the geist and pull it out of its half-formed body before it can finish construction….

...Only to hear Qrow’s panic-filled voice echo from behind him, “Wait, stop!”

Clover looks up just in time to see a large metal beam tumble from the ceiling above. He raises his arms and takes a stumbling step back as it crashes into the ground just a few feet in front of him.

When the dust settles, he peers down into the hole it had made, taking the target with it.

Dammit.

He knows for certain that that beam would’ve done some serious damage if not for Qrow’s warning. He probably wouldn’t have died, but he certainly would’ve been out of commission for more than a little while.

Still, the target got away, and as Qrow runs to stand beside him, he reports in to the rest of the teams, “Target escaped. Last seen headed east.”

He shoots a sideways glance at Qrow, who is staring contemplatively down into the chasm, a strange light in his eyes that Clover can’t quite comprehend.

He looks back into the seemingly-bottomless darkness. Kicks a medium-sized stone into the newly-made pit in an attempt to get a rough estimate of how deep it goes. “Thanks for the call-out,” he says, suddenly remembering that he should probably express his gratitude toward Qrow for saving him an awful lot of injured leave. He props a hand on his hip and shifts his weight as the rock lands below. “That could’ve been bad.”

Qrow sighs heavily next to him, “I wouldn’t thank me….”

Clover is taken aback at the sheer amount of self-loathing and shame loaded into those four little words. He looks at Qrow. The other man is firmly avoiding his gaze, and the strange quality that Clover had noticed in his eyes earlier now registers in the back of his mind as guilt.

This… was not the Qrow Branwen that Clover had thought he’d be dealing with. Just a few hours ago, he couldn’t fathom a world in which such a famous huntsman would be anything less than confident and secure in himself, but it is becoming increasingly clear that that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong, as the intense self-contempt Clover hears seems to settle within a well-worn place in Qrow’s face and voice.

Qrow angles his upper body away a bit more so Clover can no longer see his expression. “My semblance brings Misfortune. Sometimes… I can’t keep it under control.” His voice gets weaker at the end of the sentence. His fists clench weakly at his sides.

Clover’s chest seizes with some unnamed emotion.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course Qrow had been upset this morning--his semblance was literally bad luck and here Clover had been, walking around with a bunch of good luck charms and making luck-based puns.

Reviewing the events of the past hours, more and more pieces fall into place. Qrow’s sudden shift in mood from playful to downtrodden after they’d run into each other, how he’d repeatedly downplayed his hurt feelings as “dramatics,” the way he’d said on the airship that he “couldn’t blame” Clover for--for what?

He remembers the way Qrow had gestured to his ensemble earlier. His world tilts on its axis.

Oh, Brothers, Qrow thought that Clover already knew his semblance and had been wearing all of his charms as some sort of twisted precautionary measure. To ward off him. A human person with thoughts and feelings.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid.

He shakes his brain’s attempts at self-punishment away. What’s more important at the moment is that he now knows what’s wrong, and that he can fix it, and Clover decides in this moment, a million thoughts running through his head, that he no longer cares about the other Ace Ops’ teasing. If hanging around Qrow from here on out is what it will take to boost this gorgeous man’s self-confidence, then that’s what Clover will do.

“That so?” Clover asks, as though he hasn’t been rethinking every single one of their interactions up to this point. When Qrow turns to look at him, eyes wide with shock, having obviously expected a far worse reaction, Clover flashes him the most reassuring smile in his repertoire (and that’s saying something, since he has a lot of reassuring smiles saved up at this point). “Well, hey,” he says, purposefully making a show of glancing casually at his scroll’s screen and extending Kingfisher, “don’t beat yourself up about it.”

(He hopes desperately that this remark comes off as encouraging, rather than callous.)

He pulls down what’s left of the metal beam that had almost crushed him, resulting in a small-scale landslide that just-so-happens to give them a way down with which to follow the target.

He turns to face Qrow, making direct eye contact with the other man, who seems to have frozen in place.

And hey.

“My semblance is good fortune….”

If he can get in a little flirting while he’s hanging around the aforementioned gorgeous man?

“...lucky you, huh?” He gives the other a wink as he speaks. Qrow’s eyes widen. Clover raises his eyebrows and turns away, watching Qrow until the last possible moment.

Well, that’s neither here nor there.

---

More Notes: And there we go! Only one chapter left in this part of the series! I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it so far, and I'm so, so thankful to those of you who have been so kind and supportive in the comments. You're all amazing! Lots of love, fair game rights <3

[pffbts]

hello my baby! are requests still open? can I request a Taehyung imagine where he's been in love with a co worker noona for sometime but he is afraid to confess but finally gets his chance? its ok if you dont answer this request right away! your well being is more important. always remember that I'm here for you 🥰

―genre: fluff; angst; crack; minimal smut.

―characters: kim taehyung x female reader | no supporting character.

―w.c: 2.1K

―author`s note: i, honestly, have no words but this is such a good request i had to like dive in with all my love – i guess. also no, i did not just almost write a sappy kissing scene. thank you for the request, didi. much love

[08:50 PM] [the city during the night times is always the best time for someone to see the outline of someone`s presence]

―the blue haired guy beside your cubicle is out of this world attractive. you know it, the guy who sits in the other cubicle beside this guy knows it, the women of all age in this office know it, your dog knows it, and most importantly, the desktop which sits right in front of him, on top of his desk – knows it, mostly.

the blue haired guy – our shamelessly beautiful protagonist, kim taehyung felt like he had never seen a woman this beautiful in his whole life as if sometimes he can`t even see what is beyond you in his field of vision. it was tempting and satisfying. even though your presence affects him this much, you were completely unaware of his thoughts. but it was only because he is good at hiding it.

you always thought that taehyung is a hard-working guy, who watched anime and read comics during his free times. he`s always the one who greets you first thing in the morning but you didn`t know that he did all this because he wanted to keep in touch with you as long as his time permits him to do so.

to be frank, office workers work late – sometimes the shifts are so late that when you return home, your heels are legitimately giving you nightmares back to back. but things like this are part of your life. but to be given a choice that you can skip such activity then you would probably be the first one to raise your hand up and with that simultaneously, the blue-haired guy because then he`ll probably have no work in the office without your presence beside him all the time.

this is pathetic, taehyung thought. because even he knows there are a thousand reasons why this thing for you of him will not work out. first – you`re older than me and it`s not just by age (four and a half years) but also career-wise, you`re much senior to him; second – his looks, strangely enough, he`s aware of the wavering glances the younger female co-workers give to him, taehyung knows that he has killer looks and to that he thanks his parents every day but then what is the use of such good looks when he can`t even make you fall in love with him. why must he get the such-a-hard-working-junior pat on his head every day whenever he greets you in the morning?

also – ridiculous, this is so fucking ridiculous, like why is that weird breaded man hanging over your head as you speak about this project you`ve taken up while scrolling through the draft and bullet points – like dude, back the fuck up or else, taehyung might lose his good boy persona and that`s definitely not good news.

taehyung clenched his fist – his fingers hovering over the keyboard mid-typing as he watches everything from the corner of his eyes. suddenly, the tie around his neck was suffocating and his toes were twitching with rage inside his shoes. this is impossible. without considering any other thoughts, taehyung jumped in, “sir!”

both you, with wide eyes and the weird-breaded-guy looked at taehyung`s direction.

“yes, mr.kim?”

“sir, i-.”he started, only to be cut off.

“mr. kim you can see i`m currently talkin-.”

“washroom!” a panicked taehyung squeaked in, “can i please be excused?”

well, what the fuck, kim. taehyung felt like if only the ground would open up right at that moment and just swallow him up then he wouldn`t have to watch your face giving him strange expression.

“of course you can. it`s not school anymore, mr. kim.”

even though the breaded guy laughed for a second, taehyung felt like all of his bad deeds since childhood had been relived and he felt helpless under your funny gaze and everyone who had stopped typing and looking at his direction, sly grins on their face and weird whispers from their mouth.

without another glance towards anyone, taehyung got up from his place and swiftly walked away from the secret laughter, away from you whose eyes have softened when you realized something was completely wrong with his face – this is not the taehyung you know. this taehyung is flustered and probably looks like fighting a battle within himself. this taehyung looked like someone had touched a very sensitive part of the reel of his memories.

after an hour and talking about your project sidelines, you looked to his side. the seat was still empty and somehow, you know, you shouldn`t be feeling like this – because there`s really no reason for you to feel like this – you shouldn`t really be missing him. you looked back at your computer screen, waiting for the next word to follow your thoughts.

washing his face vigorously and making a mess of his bangs against his forehead, taehyung looked back at his reflection. why was this so difficult – to just tell you everything and just be confident with it, or was it something that`s not feeling right within himself. taehyung was all at once not confident – not confident enough to look at his reflection, the way his eyebrows are always on the flick, his eyes that has only intensity looming in them, his skin, his lips which is shaped just like a heart. maybe because he`s nervous – to confess his true feelings to you because he fears that if you see his true self, the reasons behind his morning greets, his assuring smile every once in a while then you would completely cut him off from your life.

maybe, you don`t even consider him as a man who is capable of taking over your heart. maybe you see him as a friend – or worst, brother. then, what would he do? will he try to cover up his shattered insides with a white cloth filled with smiles or just leave you and let you give the time to regret your decision?

no! he can`t do that. another splash of water against his face and taehyung inhaled as quickly as the water dripped off his face. he can`t just make you regret something you weren`t even responsible for doing. but, you`re so far away, so far away that sometimes he thinks distance is like snow which melts away no matter what and that it was never a real thing. pushing his hair back, taehyung stood straight up, his shoulders slouched and his jaw lose.

maybe if that`s how it is – then he`ll definitely give it a shot. maybe he`ll give his best and get through this exam without a red mark on his report card. maybe this time he won`t have to come back home with his heart in his hand and no one in front of him without a stretched out hand waiting for him to pass his heart to that person.

it was probably getting quite late and for a moment you thought why not take a breather in the office balcony while watching the night view of the city that spreads itself oh so beautifully under the night with no clouds but stars. pushing your chair, your eyes flickered to taehyung, who was sitting, his body leaning forward and it was clear he was writing something instead of typing. a smile came across your face at the thought of his sudden smiles that he gives often out of nowhere.

getting up finally, you softly padded towards the balcony – the cool wind already making your knee-length skirt flow in soft waves. you walked forward, cutting the air and soon, your hair was flowing on your sides – some of the loose strands over your face. your hand found the purchase of the railing and you breathed in closing your eyes in bliss.

a few minutes later, you stayed still against the flowing air around your body and soon, you heard a voice – and it was such a good voice you tried to remember how it felt like in your ears.

“maybe this is what people mean when you can`t see anyone but the one in your field of vision,” opening your eyes, your eyes flickered on an ethereal looking taehyung, his chin resting on his palm whose elbow rested on the railing, his eyes on you, his lips in a loose pout and his blue bangs messy and moving along with the air. it was such a sight and you still were unaware of his words.

taehyung tried again but this time, he pulled himself up and moved closer to you – so close that the end of your right shoulder met with his sternum. taehyung is definitely a decently tall guy with a pretty handsome face, not to forget his voice was something you would love to wake up every day to.

wait, what are you even thinking? you asked your clouded brain. the air was cool and soon taehyung was eye level with you, a little bit distance and his nose would almost touch you, you thought again.

“i can`t do this anymore,” he started again, his breath falling over your face.

“taehyung, what do you-,” you stumbled on your words and closed your eyes as he leaned in dangerously close to you at once.

“pretending like i just don`t have any sort of feelings for you. as if my smiles are just empty box of gifts, as if my eyes don`t find you every day, as if i don`t call out your name every time you smile back at me.” standing straight up and making you move to face him with his hand on your waist, he leant in, his face almost close to you. this is – why? – what is happening?

in no minutes, you felt a soft warmth against the corner of your lips. your breath hitched and you opened your eyes, to see nothing but the blue of taehyung`s bangs and his inhales and exhales too distinct on your skin.

“noona,” taehyung pressed his lips against the left half of your lips, “no,” a  microscopic giggle, “y/n, i,”pulling himself away from your lips for a second, taehyung looked at your closed eyes, your batted breathe, your stilled body, your hair that tickles his face. leaning in again, this time taehyung completely pressed his lips against yours but before you pull him against you, he pulled away with a “love you.”

“taehyung…”

your arms reached his neck and you pulled him against yourself, putting his mouth on yours again as if this was the kind of breather you were waiting for such a long time.

“i`ve loved you for a long time,” pushing his face against your collar bones, he whispered against the bare skin there, “i`ve watched you for a long time. i love you a lot. i know it`s silly but i really love you.”

looking at the sky right now is like watching sudden spaceships out of nowhere. the air against your body was different – there was a sudden heaviness in it, as if someone filled up a void in it, pushing all of their emotions, their strength into that void to let it be the strongest filled up void. the boy against your throat, the painfully leaning boy looking too drained to keep his head up – as if he has already used up his everything.

and at that moment, you just moved your palm up and down his back, feeling the muscles underneath the white cotton shirt and soon, you`re holding him close against your chest, your face against his hair and a smile there on your face, all over again.