#not even getting into hook echos and shit but like basic 'this is what those colors mean' and i only learned bc i was a very

[bunnyb34r]

There better not be a fucking tornado while I'm sleeping, or I'll be so pissed

[ymiwritesstuff]

Dangerous Dance

OK OK HERE’S THE MAJIMA FIC AAAAAAA HE’S SO HOT I’LL DIE! This is just a very random “simp fic” so to speak. Basically, reader is down bad, Majima is down bad. Very suggestive because of course it is. This takes place during Yakuza 0, also, please remember that I have NOT FINISHED THE GAME!! So please don’t spoil anything!! Anyway, I really really hope you guys like this. Please enjoy!!

Yakuza 0

Goro Majima x Reader

Summary: The last few days have been rough, so you decide to unwind by visiting a familiar disco club. What you don’t expect however is meeting a stranger who is so alluring, you are not sure how to react.

Notes: Usage of alcohol, drunk reader, mild swearing, suggestive themes, allusions to smut (not the act itself, y’all let me know if you wanna see that tho 👀), reader down bad, Majima down bad lmao, FIRST TIME WRITING FOR MAJIMA, KEEP THAT IN MIND PLS

Also posted on AO3!

What a day. 

You were more than aware that your job wasn’t the most excellent, hell, you could say you had gotten fairly used to the worst parts of customer service. Rude customers had little to no effect on you anymore, kicking drunken assholes out was but a tiny inconvenience, and your poor legs had become numb to the pain of standing in one place for multiple hours.

Recently, however, it had been shit. And you didn’t know why exactly, maybe you were just getting tired of living the same routine over and over. You just needed a break. And a really good one.

The loud booming music at the disco was almost deafening but in the best possible way. It left your head no room to think of anything but the pounding sounds you could not only hear but also feel. Maharaja was not foreign to you, in fact, you felt you were somehow far more familiar with Sotenbori during nighttime. The whole city became an entirely different place, it sprung to live, even. You frequented the disco whenever you felt the need to have a good time, get drunk, or maybe even hook up with somebody. You never knew what would happen, and that’s why you loved it.

With a drink in hand, you moved with the music, occasionally letting out a yell or two when a particularly nice song began to play. You could feel the effects of the alcohol you had consumed, your head felt light, and your vision was slightly shaky, but dear Lord you were having fun. You absorbed the energy of the partying people around you, forgetting all about the reason for your late-night visit, washing it away with a strong lime and gin.

The tunes echoed in your head and lingered there and the screams and yells of others kept you from floating to a world of your own. Still, your attention was scattered, eyes going from one place to another to being fully closed. There was a dance battle or two at some point. Who won those again? You had already forgotten, the memory was lost somewhere and washed away by the alcohol.

You downed your drink, as you danced, catching a glimpse of a young couple from the corner of your vision. They were all over each other, drunk, barely able to keep up with the beat. Despite that, they looked like they were having a good time. A wonderful time. Immediately you felt something stick to you.

Envy.

You stared at your now empty glass and let out something in between a laugh and a scoff. You’d need another drink. And someone to spend your time with.

Being alone was no issue, you sometimes even preferred it. But you would be flat-out lying to yourself if you claimed that some company wasn’t wanted. Parties were always better with others anyway. All kinds of people all over Sotenbori came to Maharaja, surely there had to be someone who was willing to exchange a few words or even dance with you. Though deep down, you perhaps desired more than that. Something... Wild. Your expectations in that regard, however, were quite low. A good dance would do just fine.

The bar counter was mostly empty, which was no strange sight. People much preferred to spend their time on the dance floor and the only time they stepped off was when their mouths desired the bitter taste of alcohol, you being living proof of that. That was precisely what you were doing after all.

With slightly uneven steps you approached the counter, the effects of the previous drinks very much apparent. You were nowhere done, though. Nowhere near drunk enough. You had made it your goal to get as wasted as possible tonight, almost out of spite. The last few days had been so awful. You weren’t religious by any means, but if there was some higher power out there responsible for all the shit you had endured lately, tonight, you’d be giving it the middle finger by allowing yourself to have a good time for once.

Your eyes drifted and noticed someone sitting at the counter. Strange, you weren’t expecting anyone to anchor themself here of all places, the music barely reached this part of the disco. Maybe he was waiting for somebody, you thought.

You eyed the man carefully, taking in his appearance. From your angle, you couldn’t see his face, but he was well-dressed, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a firmness to him, his shoulders appeared tense and something told you that he was perhaps already aware of your presence.

In one hand, he held his drink, while the other rested on the counter. He appeared to be lost in his thoughts, but you could see his finger tapping to the faraway beat against the table.

You looked back at the dance floor and then at the man again. Screw it. You were rather intrigued and seeing that no one else seemed to be as secluded as this stranger, you approached him with something akin to slight nervousness attaching itself to you.

“Out here alone?” You yelled over the music. The stranger turned to you and immediately you felt something in your chest, your eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight of him. His face was neutral, tired even as if he hadn’t had enough sleep for days. Yet his lips turned slightly upward as he looked at you. It made your stomach turn. What was perhaps the most shocking part of his fierce appearance was the eyepatch covering his left eye. Your legs trembled the tiniest amount. He was unbelievably handsome.

“Yeah, I am,” he replied in what was possibly the most attractive voice you had ever heard. More than happy with his answer, you sat down beside him, eyes briefly glancing at his slightly exposed chest and the gold necklace adorning it. Some part of you knew he noticed, as you hazily noted the way he let out a suppressed chuckle. In your slightly drunken state, however, you had no shame.

“Want some company?” You asked with a slight smirk, placing your empty glass down. “Parties are no fun alone, are they?” Yet another chuckle left his lips and he quickly looked down before locking his only visible eye with you once more.

“Yer right about that. But makes me wonder,” he took one sip from his drink, your eyes gluing themselves to the way his lips parted as he drank before continuing. 

“Whatsa pretty thing like you doin’ here all alone?” He challenged your smirk with one of his own, that deep voice of his resonating deep in your ears and lingering there like smoke. His words made you giggle and you leaned in, slightly shortening the distance between you two.

“Well, I’m not alone anymore, am I?”

There was the tiniest shift in his expression and something about it told you that he may not have expected your response to be so bold. And to be fair, you didn’t either. A few stronger drinks do wonders for one’s courage. He hummed in agreement, silently accepting your company. Score.

“What’s yer name, gorgeous?” You found yourself breaking eye contact at the nickname he used that was so effortlessly carried by his voice. He was no stranger to flirting, that much was clear. And it was working, as the flush on your cheeks was no longer only due to alcohol.

“(Name).” Something poked at your insides, something you could only describe as enthusiasm. You were eager to talk to this man, the more you looked at him, the more it felt like he was reeling you in. The bizarre feeling could only be compared to a high schooler talking to their crush. You didn’t complain though.

“(Name), eh? Fits ya well.” A laugh escaped your lips and if you had been more attentive, you would have noticed him glancing at them. “I’m Majima.”

Something clicked within you as soon as he said that, and your smile got replaced by an expression of realization. Was he..

“Goro Majima..? The manager of Cabaret Grand?” You looked at him with widened eyes, trying to process what you had heard. He raised a surprised eyebrow at you, likely not expecting you to know of him.

“Haw? How’d ya know?” His shock was understandable, and now that he had confirmed your suspicion, you were over the moon. In your excitement, you laughed.

“Anyone who has spent enough time enjoying the nightlife of Sotenbori has heard of Goro Majima,” you began. The hushed whispers of the Grand’s highly efficient manager did not go unnoticed by you and the things you had heard about his feats were truly something to marvel at. You never expected to meet him though and his refined and at the same time intense looks now made slightly more sense to you.

“I’m surprised to find you here, though.” You brought your palm to your face and leaned on it, that smirk you first put on remaining on your lips. “And without company too.” Given his reputation, you assumed men, women and everyone in between would be all over him, sticking to him like moths to a flame, yet you had found him alone at the most deserted spot of Maharaja. A part of you was quite ecstatic about that, not that you would ever allow yourself to admit that.

He laughed, noticing the underlying flattery in your words. It was funny to him but he chose to accept it even if it was only because he did not dare to extinguish the flames he saw in your eyes. 

Majima gulped down the last bits of his drink, enjoying the way it flowed down his throat. You could not take your half-lidded eyes off him, the distant music becoming all the more apparent and louder, which made you turn your head towards the dance floor.

“Hey, can I get ya a drink?” Majima asked, pointing to your empty glass on the counter. “Just order whatever ya want. My treat.” You turned to him upon hearing his question and noticed the knowing grin on his face. Your eyes shifted from his eye to his lips and you came to a conclusion. You were at Maharaja, the wildest disco in town, and there was only one thing you were craving and the thriving sounds around you only fueled that desire.

You promptly stood up, to which Majima raised his brow.

“How about we dance first? Or were you planning to just sulk here all night?” You asked teasingly, but there was some seriousness to your question. It was still bizarre to you that he would choose to isolate himself in a place like this.

It didn’t take long for Majima to stand up in front of you, and you felt yourself stumble ever so slightly. His height impressed you, and he looked down at you with a clearly teasing smirk. You were sure he did it on purpose.

“Sure, show me what ya got, darlin’.”

He was so close to you, it was almost suffocating, but in a good way. You caught a whiff of a cologne he was wearing, he smelled as good as he looked. You tilted your head upwards at him and stood up on your toes in an attempt to get your face as close to his as possible. You wanted to let him know exactly what he was making you feel.

“Try to keep up, Majima-san.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and Majima was more than happy with the fact that you didn’t know just how many chills ran down his spine upon hearing your words. You were certainly something.

The brightly lit dance floor was buzzing, filled to the brim with people dying to dance and sing their hearts out. You were no different, you were hungry for a good time, especially with someone like Majima.

Once you reached the floor, you turned to him. His tense posture seemed somewhat more relaxed and there was a sense of underlying anticipation in him, almost like there was something inside of him just waiting to be let out. Most curious.

With a final glance at him, you began to sway with the music, just letting your body move on its own and closing your eyes. You felt the beat in your being and relished it, bringing your arms into the air. The music and lights enveloped you, and all your worries just melted away with every step you took.

Majima followed suit, allowing himself to get lost in the moment. He truly enjoyed dancing, which some might have considered surprising. At the same time though, he could not help but glance at you every now and then. He was fascinated by how fluidly your body moved with the music and how nice of a smile you had the whole time.

He would be lying to himself if he said he did not find you extremely attractive like this.

You caught him staring, and smirked at him right away. His burning gaze was unlike anything you had experienced and somehow you could feel both his eyes hungrily watching you, despite one of them being covered. You adored how it made you feel. And you knew he was more than enjoying the view.

With every roll of your hips and every snap of your head to the beat, Majima found himself more and more entranced and his own movements became wilder. He matched your energy perfectly, dancing his heart out, letting a laugh or two slip his lips occasionally. You noted how effortlessly he moved with the music and how much he seemed to be enjoying himself. He was a good dancer to be sure, he definitely had a talent for it. The bright lights adorned his already stunning face and brought out his features perfectly. 

Running a hand through your hair sloppily you stepped closer to him, with a potentially dangerous idea suddenly taking over your head. If you were sober, you would have never allowed yourself to even think of something like this, but now it seemed like the perfect idea, partially because you were already so addicted to the way this stranger looked at you.

With your face mere inches away from his, you eyed his parted lips. You could smell the remains of the drink he had consumed just moments ago, but there was something else in there too and it didn’t take you long to figure out what. Cigarettes.

It filled you with something, a desire that you weren’t sure you had felt towards anyone else. Once you locked eyes with him, you were almost caught off guard at the intensity of his stare. It was fierce, starving, and almost unhinged. 

You smirked and prowled closer to his lips, hands ghosting over his arms while swinging your body with the harmonious sounds that had filled your mind. You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but the way your heart raced was exciting, and you became even more excited when Majima matched your movements, bringing his head lower and closer to yours.

That was the response you were looking for, and it served as a sign that he was willing to play along. Perfect. Your smirk and gaze became mischievous and you quickly turned around, with your back facing him. You somehow heard the slight groan that rumbled in his throat even from under all the commotion.

In this new position, you made an effort to get him as worked up as possible. The song playing was perfect, the melody was sensual and enticing, yet the beat was still on-brand for disco. You swayed your hips, flipped your hair, and even ran a hand along your waist and chest all so you could wordlessly tell Majima what he was about to get. And it was working.

Majima could not keep his eye off you. He followed your movements and got completely lost in the sight of you. His breath hitched every time you looked back at him, those half-lidded, glossy eyes sending sparks throughout his being. His own dancing lost some of its passion as he was too occupied with feasting on you with his gaze. It traveled up and down, taking all of you in and letting his filthy imagination run wild.

You leaned against him, clearly catching him off guard. With your backside pressed against him, you continued your dancing, feigning innocence by looking at him with an expression so cruelly seductive that Majima wasn’t sure how long he could hold back. From the corner of your vision, you noticed his hand move toward your waist, an action you long predicted and expected.

However, before he could make contact with your body, you grabbed his wrist, denying his silent request. For a brief second, Majima feared he had crossed the line by attempting to touch you, but once he heard that cursed laugh of yours, he understood the situation. No touching. Not yet.

Still, he would not stand for being the only one getting messed with. That was not fair, was it? Carefully, with your back still turned to him, he lowered his head to your ear, barely touching it with his lips, his hot breath sending multiple sets of shivers down your spine. He saw you visibly let out a shaky breath as your dancing slowed down at his actions. He chuckled.

“Ya teasin’ me, darlin’?” His voice made you weak. It was low, husky, and just barely audible through all the music, but you heard it loud and clear, and it set you aflame. The grip you had on his wrist loosened, though you knew even with your tightest hold, he would be able to break free and turn the tables on you. The image alone almost pushed you over the edge.

Letting go of his hand, you finally turned around, your dancing reduced to just light swaying. The alcohol played its part in it too, you assumed. You looked at Majima dead in the eye, expression filled with lust.

“And what if I am?” You challenged his statement, which he found most amusing. Your hands found their way to his broad shoulders, dancing along the area right next to his neck. Despite the lack of fairness, Majima kept his hands to himself, which you exploited by having yours all over him. 

The music had become mute in your head, the only thing raging in there were the sinful thoughts you had let loose by getting so close to this man. You were sure it was the same for him, his hot and bothered face told you all you needed to know.

“We’ll see how far that’ll get ya.” You jumped and let out a slight noise when you felt his hands on your hips, the tightness of his grip surprising you. He brought his face close, so close you felt like you were about to faint. “My patience’s runnin’ thin.”

Truthfully, so was yours. 

You slid your hand down his toned torso, feeling his abs through his thin shirt, stopping at his belt, the feeling spreading the fire all across your being. With your lips on his hot cheek and your hand on the other side of his perfectly sculpted face you spoke in a low voice:

“Then, should we go get those drinks somewhere else?”

Majima tightened his hold on your hips, chuckling once more, but this time, there was something in it you hadn’t noticed before. It could have only been described as wickedness.

“Eager, ain’tcha?”

You looked up at him with a sly smile, which was all the encouragement Majima needed to start retreating from the dance floor. Filled with excitement, you followed, more than eager to spend the night with him.

“C’mon, let’s go. Ya still haven’t shown me all ya can do, have ya?”

You giggled. He was right.

What a night this would be.

~

Support me on ko-fi!❤️

[themidnightguardian]

Day 1: Carried to Safety -- Uchiha Obito

gen or pre-KakaObi | AU: rescue after the Kannabi Bridge Incident | content warnings: Obito being held against his will in the cave with Madara, implied injury severe enough to prevent walking

Whumptober Masterlist

---

After the cave had collapsed on top of him, after giving his eye to Bakashi and telling them to go, to leave him, Obito had figured that would be the end. His injuries were severe—half his body crushed—and he thought that meant death would be quick to come.

No.

He’d been unconscious for most of what happened after, but Madara had told him during one of those long, long days in his hideaway—it was a cave, Obito thought, but Madara refused to call it that—that Zetsu had discovered him, that Madara and Zetsu had healed him, that Obito was lucky and should be grateful.

Obito did not feel lucky. He felt trapped.

Oh, the Zetsus tried to be good company, but they weren’t human. And Madara was a man who’d spent years in practical solitude, stewing in his bitterness and hate. Obito was bed-bound, unable to do more than twitch his fingers most days, and the longer he stayed—the longer he wasn’t allowed to go home—the more he worried that he would never leave.

Not when Madara was so angry towards Konoha. Not when Zetsu was an extension of Madara’s will.

(Not when Obito had told his team to leave him behind, and they had no reason to think he was still alive. No one was coming. Obito was alone.)

He couldn’t have guessed at how much time had passed. Surely it had been weeks at least. Maybe months. Obito had no idea how long he’d spent basically comatose at the beginning, and Madara had never told him. He tried to keep track of time, but it was hard. The days blurred together. The weeks melded into an endless cycle.

It was dark in Madara’s hideaway, and Obito had fallen into yet another restless sleep—he always dreamed of being buried alive, of dying—before a sudden crash echoed throughout the cave. He jerked awake, but his mobility was still shit and he couldn’t move, could barely lift his head to see. Madara was shouting, and Zetsu was…fighting? Who—

 “Obito. Obito, oh Kami, you’re here.” Kakashi was leaning over his bed, eyes wet but not quite crying, though the sharingan was bleeding a little at the corner. “You’re alive. I knew—”

“Bakashi?”

Kakashi all but threw himself over Obito, not enough to hurt, just enough to punch the breath out of him. Kakashi wasn’t very heavy, but the weight of him was…nice. The warmth of another person after so long of just Zetsu touching him felt like how he imagined sitting out in the sun would: a welcome heat after so long of being locked inside.

“—you hurt?” Kakashi was saying, and Obito realized he was shaking. He couldn’t do much, but his fingers clenched in the fabric of Kakashi’s shirt, trying to ground himself. “We need to go. Sensei’s taking care of…that,” Kakashi nodded over at the other end of the room, “but we need to leave.”

“I’m—Kakashi, I can’t walk.” He was barely able to stand on his own on a good day.

Instead of being deterred, though, Kakashi just nodded. “I’ll carry you. At least until we get outside. Then Rin can help me. Or Sensei.”

Obito jolted. “Rin?”

“She’s just outside,” Kakashi soothed, sliding one arm under Obito’s legs and hooking the other under his armpits. For a moment, Obito thought for sure it wouldn’t work—Kakashi always seemed kind of…small, though Obito knew he’d lost weight and muscle mass himself in the time during his recovery—but then Kakashi lifted him, and even if there was a bit of a strain, Obito felt oddly secure. “Just…hang on. I’ve got you, Obito. I’m not leaving you ever again.”

Obito tried to catch a glimpse of the fighting happening as they left, but all he could see was a blur of yellow light bouncing around in the darkness of the cave. Kakashi moved onward at a steady pace, careful as he held Obito, and then they were outside.

The fresh air had never tasted so good.

“Obito!” Rin was by his side in an instant, her palms glowing green as she scanned him. Unlike Kakashi, she was openly crying. “Kakashi said he knew you were alive—and we looked everywhere, so many caves, and I was starting to think—but here you are. I’m so…I’m so glad!” He could barely focus. Later, he’d have to get the full story—how Kakashi had known, how they’d even found him—but right now, all he could do was lean into Kakashi’s hold, enjoy the way Rin fussed over him. Things he never imagined he’d get to have again.

[tooweirdforyou]

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

-

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

-

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

-

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

-

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

-

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

-

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

-

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

[obeymeluv]

Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 2 - Lucifer]

So originally this was supposed to be multiple brothers per part but this got unexpectedly long and I only had the energy to get through Lucifer. I’ll definitely get to the other brothers. This project may take priority over the others until I get them all out. I know what I’ll be doing for Mammon’s, sort of for Levi’s, definitely for Satan’s, definitely for Beel’s, and I’m not quite 100% on Belphie’s or Asmo’s. Honestly, they’re not all supposed to get this long, but this one had some lead up + Lucifer. The other ones will probably be a couple of paragraph’s, maybe a page at most.

Note: The Thrall/The Call is something that came up in a Diavolo piece forever ago. Can’t even remember which one because I had to go back and find it myself. It’s basically one of their tell-tale signs they’re trying to seduce someone or flirt with someone.

Some of these kiss scenarios will get a little NSFW because the bros get to kiss you, have a crush on you, and are excited dorks. Everything under the cut just to be safe.

Any bolded italics are your/MC’s thoughts since you can’t currently speak.

Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 2]

--

After a few awkward moments of the brothers standing around, their hearts squeezing in their chests as they tried to hold back their individual Thralls to make your choice more neutral, they realized their wouldn’t be a choice. There couldn’t be. The lip color was too scrambled to work in such a small space with that many people. You’d just barely blinked and the brothers skittered off at inhumane speeds that made your skin crawl; in your human brain it was very much those ‘distant echoes of horror movie noises one should never hear.’ Lucifer turned so abruptly his cape snapped; he melted seamlessly into the natural darkness hiding around the House of Lamentation.

That was the starting gun for the others to disperse.

Belphie exploded into black wispy shadows, sinking into the floor. Asmodeus stretched his wings again, flapping leisurely towards his room as he blew you a teasing kiss. Satan’s eyes, somehow greener and more bewitching than ever, hesitated to leave you as he retreated up the steps, made it about three before deciding to jog, and finally teleported towards the top and around the corner, hints of his horns and a brief whip of his tail following him. A skin-prickling rumble sounded soon after; the fourth-born had embarrassed himself.

Levi sought the privacy of his room, as to be expected. He would die if he kissed you ANYWAYS, but to kiss you in front of his brothers?! He’d rather have a conversation with a stranger! Gross! He was more than happy to get his red face out of view and mumble…whatever he was talking about…into his handheld console.

Only Beel and Mammon remained.

You looked at them curiously, brows raised. Beel gave you his casual smile, a little humming laugh at this situation, and promptly picked Mammon up by the collar of his jacket as they walked away from the foyer area. It was clear the second-born would lounge around and maybe try to sucker into kissing him first. You’d like to think Beel was forcing him to hide so the lip color could give you an accurate reading, but you’d always wondered if the kind, ever-hungry brother got jealous. If he did, he never showed it (and for a guy with six brothers, that was impressive).

Brain and body calmed by the emptiness, by the fact that they were somewhere in the house, you set off on your quest for a kiss. No one’s going to believe this, you rolled your eyes, starting towards the right wing when a gust of cold air overtook you. A chilly numbness set in, nipping at your fingertips and pulsing in your lips and face enough to give you a headache. Not that way, you turned away sharply, the cold receding as you moved in the other direction. Some people have really cute ‘how did you meet?’ stories and mine was getting tricked into magic demon makeup that my boyfriend had to free me from, as you found yourself in the middle of a random hallway an aggravating realization set in: the House of Lamentation was so ornate and old that all the hallways looked the same.

Same walls, same tone of polished furniture, same light fixtures, and the carpeting was a given.

Hadn’t you already been down this hall?! Why was it when you really needed to find one of SEVEN people, you couldn’t find any of them?! You felt like you’d walked the whole house! The House of Lamentation was far bigger than it looked on the outside (was that even possible?) and now you were beginning to think the brothers picked the very corners of the house! You were honestly surprised the brothers hadn’t come looking for you. Some small part of you was too amused and couldn’t help but smile at the fact that centuries-old demons were freaking out and pacing in their hiding spots like schoolboys fixing to go on an overnight trip with their crush.

You shuffled forward, wondering what a positive response felt like. Time alone to just think was really odd, especially with how chaotic the Devildom could be, but it led to some really interesting thoughts. No one would believe the ‘magic demon makeup’ part of your story but you could lie and say it was a really intense game of Hot and Cold. Any of them would make good boyfriends, you admitted to yourself, glad none of them were around to see the pink in your cheeks. If one of them popped up, you’d just lie and blame it on the warm tingle prickling at your lips.

A warm tingle?! That was a lot like what you felt when your lips were sealing shut! You spun in a startled circle, not sure when the feeling began, and desperately tried for a stronger reaction. A prickle became a tingly bubble, like a glass of champagne going to your head too fast, and soon your body felt like it was floating, rolling on waves upon waves of a butterflies-in-my-stomach that washed you up in front of a door.

Inside you found…

Lucifer sitting at his desk, half-heartedly pouring over paperwork. You pushed the heavy door open, feeling like you’d pulled the curtain back on a privacy charm, and wiggled past the old wood. The lazy tapping of whatever he was writing with stopped, the eldest perking up like someone had set him free of the eternal coil of paperwork. If you hadn’t been looking at him while trying to pull your other leg through, you would’ve missed the boyish glow of hope, the they picked me! It’s me!, that was promptly devoured by his blossoming pride.

Face propped up on a gloved wrist, now lounging confidently back against his chair as his other wrist dangled off the arm, Lucifer invited you in with a sly smile and a beckoning roll of his fingers. You rolled your eyes. We both saw your heart stop. You don’t need this ‘tall, dark, and dom’ fake allure, you waved your hands about to emphasize the ‘allure’ as you flashed him a well-meaning smile. You felt pretty confident knowing you could fluster the first born, the one with the sin of pride.

It was actually really heart-warming to know he was so eager to be yours.

“This is no act, I assure you.” Lucifer abandoned his cloak on the back of the chair, undoing it with one hand as he rose to meet you. His wings unfurled slowly and softly, ever majestic, and feathered out to their full length. They shuddered and fluttered, blowing a gentle air about the room. His eyes, normally a gradient of red and black, looked completely red. Lucifer’s pupils had taken on some slit-like appearance that had flecks of black rimming the sides.

A purr rolled in his chest, something quiet but confident, enticing, as he waited for your hand. You found yourself hypnotized by his eyes—maybe for real?—dropping your hand delicately into his. The leather folded around your skin and you couldn’t look away, even as he brought it close to his chest and then higher still, like he’d put it on his shoulder. To pull you into a kiss as dramatic as this—in the quiet only surrounded by the sound of his wings and a purr and the fire crackling in the back of the room—was very Lucifer.

You stood on tiptoe, looking up at him expectantly. Hell, you even batted your eyelashes to really get at him.

WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Lucifer’s lips brushed your knuckles again in a stuttering kiss. He placed a few more open-mouthed kissed up your finger before the laughter took over him again. He knew exactly what he was doing, just like he knew what he was doing when he smoothed his hair back away from his face. “Have I left you speechless, my dear?” he’d started to stand to his full height, shit-eating smirk on his lips. His voice was wrapped in a sultry purr that was undoubtedly the first sin mankind ever heard.

That cool façade was strangled in the grip you had on his folded collar, bringing the first-born nose-to-nose with you. Lucifer was hardly intimidated by your glare but oh you were very darling.

BECAUSE YOU CAN’T AIM! Your nostrils flared as you pouted a bit. You’re supposed to kiss me HERE! You pointed to your lips.

“I can’t aim?” Lucifer’s wings twitched, probably in indignation. Were you implying he couldn’t do something? His lips twisted upwards in a little huff, the beginnings of a sneer even. All of that melted away when that large hand cupped the back of your head, fingers twining in your hair. You’d just registered the sensation when he brought your lips to his, head tilted and savoring the kiss.

It was a long with a slight suckle, the eldest truly indulging in this minuet of a moment compared to the usual chaos of his daily existence. He felt you sag against him, hooking his other arm around your waist to stumble towards his desk. You were an awkward clatter of bones against him, chest-to-chest, and one leg falling out of the chair, but you managed.

“This was how it was supposed to be,” Lucifer confessed softly, sitting you in the space he’d cleared for you. Literally. You just now realized the scant space on his desk was big enough for you to sit. He dragged the chair forward, your legs naturally coming to rest against the padded backing on either side of his waist. Lucifer tucked some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek. “I wanted to kiss you this way,” but my pride got the best of me, he didn’t dare finish saying it, but he thought it.

You felt your lips open, swollen and beautifully tender. To breathe through them felt weird. They still tingled with the after-effect of the enchantment. Lucifer watched you lick your lips experimentally, draw in a breath, and allowed himself to be drawn in, too. You shared a few more languid kisses before his D.D.D started to go off.

You saw Mammon’s icon pop up, then Asmo’s. The brothers were looking for you. “That reminds me,” Lucifer patted your thigh before pushing himself away. He stole another kiss before rounding the corner of his desk. He opened the door just slightly, stepped out of the room, and bellowed something in demon tongue that had a clear message of finality ringing in the house. Whatever he’d said made him lock the door to his study with a quickness, a crimson spell burning into the wood.

Looking very much like a smug older brother, Lucifer dropped himself elegantly back in his chair. One hand situated your legs just as they had been, the other one pulling you close for good measure. He coaxed you into a few kittenish kisses, flinching against your lips when the banging started. You could hear Mammon complaining outside the door. A spell fizzled against the door; seems like Belphegor or Satan had fired one off. Content and exhausted, he found purchase in the curve of your neck, enjoying the silence and your scent.

“We’ll get through this.” You combed your fingers through his hair. You’d have to face the brothers eventually.

“I look forward to it.” Lucifer kissed your shoulder.      

[weareallstoriesintheend]

As Long As You Need (Reader x Adam Sackler)

Summary: Adam and Reader are hookup buddies. Adam gets concerned that you don't want to see him for a few weeks and comes over to check on reader. Reader is struggling with anxiety/depression and Adam comforts them through a panic attack.

Warnings: Depression, anxiety & panic attacks

Note: This was the fic I wrote for the Summer 2021 @adcuficexchange for LondonID!🥰 I hope this fic is something that resonates with people, I know mental health is a vast and personal subject but I hope something hits home. Even if it's just some beautiful care from our favourite gremlin 💕

The light of the day was fading slowly and the grey cover of dusk was slipping its way into the room. You lay in bed, head tucked against the pillows, body exhausted with the expense of the energy anxiety was taking from you. You felt empty and yet full to the brim, your mind weighed so heavy that you could barely move most days. The second you heard the loud thumping knocks on your front door you jolted as if waking up from a bad dream.

“Kid you in there?” Adams voice came, muffled by the thick wood of the doors between you, booming through your silence. You realised in that moment that you hadn’t spoken to him or seen him for a while and as someone who was a pretty regular occurrence in your life it suddenly felt strange to hear his voice after such a long time, you pulled your phone out from under the pillow and unlocked it. Your eyes screwed shut at the blinding light, but peeking through your eyelashes you checked your messages. Your last text to him had been nearly 3 weeks ago, then the page was just filled with him texting you again and again. All of which, in the haze of your mind, you had ignored. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him; you craved his cheeky smile, soft hair and adorable galaxy of freckles that smattered his skin. It was just the thought of having to explain the tornado that was tearing you apart that felt like a crushing pressure you couldn’t bear. Basic daily life was enough, sometimes too much, so anything on top of that you had shut out.

You curled yourself into the sheets a little more, pulling them around your shoulders. Although they were soft cotton the brush of them across your overly sensitive skin felt like sandpaper dragging over a raw exposed nerve. You stayed as still as possible whilst his knocks continued to echo through your apartment.

In a way you wondered if you had any obligation to him at all, you guys just hooked up every now and again after meeting at a mutual friends birthday party a year or so ago. Nothing serious, no dates, just fucking. He scratched an itch for you so you didn’t have to brave the dating world that daunted you. He was fun, he made you laugh but he didn’t pressure you to spend any more time with him than coming over to hold you face down into your mattress allowed.

The knocks turned to bangs of a fist and you pulled your blanket over your head, maybe he’d just go away if he thought you weren’t home. Your body thrummed with the disturbance of your comfortable silence and it made you uneasy. A slight nausea rippled through your throat. “I know you’re home” his voice bellowed, you closed your eyes and didn’t respond. “Open the fucking door kid” he shouted, he didn’t sound angry but you couldn’t quite make out the tone. He’d never used it before around you that’s for sure, he almost sounded worried. Then there was more thumping on the door, “Kid, for fucks sake your sweet old lady neighbour is looking at me like I’m fucking nuts, open the door”

You sighed and slung yourself off the bed onto your feet. The rush of movement made your head spin; your muscles and joints ached with a lack of energy. You tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the main room of your apartment, hoping that he couldn’t hear your deliberately soft padding footsteps. With your eyes trained on the door you didn’t notice the chair sticking out from the table and you bumped it as you passed. You froze dead still waiting to see if he’d heard it.

“I can hear you rustling around in there. Just open the fucking door and talk to me”

“I don’t want you to see me” you replied hesitantly, not raising the volume of your voice too high knowing he could hear you through the door now. The croak of your voice finally speaking was crackly and broken. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t look great” you looked at yourself in the reflection of the painting hanging on the wall. In the glass you could just about see yourself looking back; your hair was greasy and dishevelled, your eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red and dark circles created a deep shadow underneath them. You suddenly balked at how awful you actually looked, you hadn’t showered in a few days and it really showed. Your face looked kind of gaunt with the limited food and sleep you’d given yourself for the last few weeks, mind always racing with one thought after another. The racing thoughts only leaving space for the basics of working at your laptop for 8 hours a day and activities to numb your mind till a restless bedtime. “Are you kidding?” he scoffed, thumping his fist once against the door, “I’ve seen you sweating, crying and covered in my cum… I don’t think you looking a little messy is going to be bother me” You cringed at how loud he was talking and in your embarrassment you frantically pulled the door open, “Jesus Adam don’t say that so loud my neighbours will hear y-“ you paused mid-sentence when you saw how he was looking at you. He was shocked and trying to hide it but his eyes were wide with sympathy. You instantly went to close the door on him again but he put his overly large foot in the way.

“Nope, no way! You opened it, I’m like a vampire, you’ve got to let me in now” he smiled cheekily. You sighed and let go of the door walking away from him. “Listen I don’t know why you’re here” you said, voice trailing behind you as you made your way to the couch hearing him step inside and close the door behind him, “I don’t really think I’m in any fit state to be fucking anyone” “I’m not here to fuck you” he retorted, for some reason that kind of stung. “Then why are you here?” you said, nestling into the couch cushions as he firmly placed himself standing in front of you. Adam was staring down at you with that intense glare he always seemed to have and you squinted your eyes, hurting due to the light from the windows, to look up at him. “Why am I here? You haven’t talked to me for like… three weeks. What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I thought I was going to find you rotting in the bathtub or some shit” You rolled your eyes “I’m fine” “Oh right this…” he paused, flailing his arms at the quite frankly disgusting state of your living room, “… this is ‘fine’?” “This is as good as it gets” you muttered under your breath. He scoffed and you looked up at him, you took a second to take him in. He’d clearly run here, the beads of sweat were trailing gently down his temples and had matted the curly little front pieces of his hair. The outfit he was wearing, a dark blue cut off tank top, grey knee length shorts and heavy tan work boots over cream socks, would look kind of uncoordinated on anyone else but something about Adam always just… made sense.

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Nothing” you rolled your eyes again, “You know you can just go right? I don’t even know why you’re bothering”

“What are you talking about kid? I wanted to make sure you were alright. You went all ghost on me and I was worried about you”

“Worried?” now it was your turn to scoff, you could feel the sickening panic rolling around inside your stomach and you needed him to leave.

“Yeah kid… worried” Adams voice suddenly had a tinge of anger behind it and it made the panic swirl harder around inside you.

“Well I don’t need you to worry about me. That’s not your job, your job is to fuck me and leave. And you’re good at that. So you do your job and I’ll do mine”

“Not true” he retorted, face screwed up a little against the harshness of your words.

“You were the one that set those rules Adam” you replied, frustration tainting your words “You don’t need to act like you give a shit”

“Hey when I commit, I really commit” “Commit to what?” you shouted, losing a little of your patience as your ears started to ring and the blood pumped through your body like a steady beat of music. “Commit to you!” he yelled back “We may not be dating or whatever but when I want someone in my life I work for that. Clearly you don’t…we are supposed to be fucking friends after all!”

He had every right to be mad, you had barely treated him like a human being lately and the wash of guilt made your heart start to jump in its rhythm. You could feel the brush of heat up the back of your neck and your pulse thudding in your ears. You shook your head wishing away what you knew was happening; the panic of the overwhelming sense of everything was rising up from your toes. He couldn’t see you like this, it was too embarrassing.

Although your breath was basically coming out like gasps you looked up at him and firmly said “Please leave”

He shook his head “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re avoiding me. Did I do something?” You stood up from your seat on the couch but didn’t get very far, your body felt over stimulated and you couldn’t get your mind clear enough to decide where to go to escape him. So you started pacing back and forth, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides.

“Adam please just go” this time your voice betrayed you even further, the tell-tale break in your speech giving away the tears that had begun to brim in your eyes. You pushed the base of your palms harshly into your eye sockets, rubbing away the tears. “Hey hey hey” he said softly, reaching out for your wrists and you flinched back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Please just leave!” you shouted, panicked breath coming out of you in heavy pants. “I can’t breathe” you whispered to yourself turning away from him. Your tears, now virtually unstoppable, cascaded down your cheeks as the panic truly set in. You swayed slightly as you began to feel light-headed.

“Tell me what you need” you heard him say, but his voice felt like it was miles away from you even as he stood mere steps away with his hands outstretched slightly in your direction.

This was it, you were officially going crazy. You couldn’t even handle a simple conversation or own up to your shitty actions. You stole a glance at Adam, his eyebrows were pulled down with concern watching you and a wave of nausea rolled up into the back of your throat. He was going to think you were insane after this, this was the last time you were ever going to see him and this was how you were acting. You felt your cheeks heat up, burning with panic and embarrassment. One of the only things that kept you afloat, the only thing had made you happy as of late, was going to walk out. You could imagine him telling his friends about the crazy chick he used to fuck on the side, “She just totally flipped out on me, honestly man fucking nuts” you could practically hear his voice already, full of mocking vitriol towards you.

Then you really started to hyperventilate, chest aching with the weight of your gasps, but something in the back of your mind gave you respite… that wasn’t Adam. That wouldn’t be how he would act. He was kind. You glanced up at him as your hands began to shake violently.

“I-I’m sorry” you stuttered out, you felt your body collapse underneath you as the room began to spin around you. He dove forward to catch you as your body buckled down to the hard wooden floor.

“Come here” his voice was gentle and barely audible to you but he held you tight, this time you didn’t flinch and he quickly gathered you into his arms in the fear you would move away from him again. “It’s just a panic attack, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, it’ll be over soon” As he pulled you into his chest, seating himself on the floor with you, he stretched his long legs out around you so his whole body was caging you against him. Your breath instantly started to slow down as the warmth and closeness of him soothed you. He didn’t speak too much, he just calmed your mind with hushed whispers of “Shhh” and “You’re going to be okay”.

You clung yourself to him, vibrating with the force of the trembles that were wracking your body. Your teeth chattered in your head causing you to screw your eyes closed in pain. Your fingers wound tight in his shirt as your breathing finally began to even out. Your body released some of the tension that was winding your muscles tight and you leant a little more into his chest.

“H-how did you know?” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper as you regained your breath.

He shrugged “My mom used to get them… and my sister for a while. I’m used to it.” he smiled softly, lips merely twitching up at the edges as he gauged your reaction. He stroked his large hand through your tangled hair, massaging his fingers over your scalp as your body relaxed and you sighed. “Better?” he asked, placing a careful kiss to the top of your head. You nodded, the scent of his cologne and sweat drifted over you as you kept yourself gripped against him, not quite ready to be moved from his warmth.

“You didn’t have to do this” you croaked, looking up at him now. He shook his head and rolled his eyes jokingly, a smirk coming over his lips as he does it.

“You know we don’t just have to fuck right? We can be more than that.” he chuckled, holding your face gently with one hand, “We can also talk, we are friends right?”

You nodded again, looking up at him with wide glassy eyes. He kissed the tip of your nose and you scrunched it.

“Listen maybe we’re just friends for a little while. We can… get lunch or walk through the park when the weather gets better. Whatever you want” he shrugged, you smiled at the level of effort he was so clearly trying to give. Adam hated stuff like that, lunches out and walks in the park; he often said how trivial it all seemed to him. He liked to be at home in his own little world. So the fact he was offering to make you feel better was more than enough to bring a smile to your face. You nodded and giggled when he pumped the air with his fist in celebration.

“And you know, if you need someone to come with you to therapy or whatever I can do that too” he mumbled clearly unsure how you would respond, “You still go to therapy right? I know you mentioned it a while ago and I figured-“ he began to ramble nervously. You pressed your hand into his chest and nodded.

You pushed yourself up a little and placed a kiss to his cheek, “That would help, thank you”

He shuffled a little and rose to get to his feet before extending a hand out to you. You clasped your hand across his, so much smaller in his grasp, and used his body weight to pull yourself up on unsteady legs. He wrapped his arms around you a little bit, his body hunched over yours protectively.

“But first, you need food… and a shower” he paused for a moment, making small grunt-like thinking noises as he looked you over. Then all at once he dipped and gathered you up in his arms, you squealed loudly and wrapped your arms around his neck “What are you doing?” you protested through unsure giggles.

He didn’t say anything but started walking towards your bathroom. He kicked the door open with the toe of his boot and swung his arms so that your head just missed the door frame. He propped you, sitting upright, on the edge of your bathtub before reaching up and turning on your shower. He gestured for you to stand as the water began heating up behind you. Soft clouds of steam quickly started to rise up around the room and he nodded with satisfaction. He tentatively tugged at the base of your oversized-hoodie and you raised your arms above your head. He slipped your hoodie off in one swift motion and dropped it to the floor beside you both. You self-consciously crossed your arms over your now bare chest and he smiled down at you. He placed a kiss to your forehead before kneeling down to wriggle your panties off your hips and down your legs. You shuffled shyly, despite the fact he’d seen you naked so very many times, and stepped out of them as he reached your ankles. He tossed them on top of your hoodie, placing a tender kiss to your stomach as he knelt in front of you, before standing back up to his full height “I’ll get you fresh stuff and wash those” he noted, almost to himself as he spun you by your shoulders so you had your back to him. “You get in there” he pointed to the steady stream of hot water creating billows of steam in the small bathroom, “And I’m going to make you some soup, you still have cans of that chicken one you like?” You nodded once and he placed a firm kiss to your shoulder. With his hands on your waist he placed a final kiss to the top of your head before his touch left you completely. You smiled at his constant need to show you physical care, it was like he understood how even simple affection could heal even the worst of the pain your brain could throw at you. You turned to look over your shoulder as he left the room; like he sensed your hesitation he stopped and turned to look at you with a sweet smile…

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me too”

[randombubblegum]

just. okay. this whole parasocial twitter trashfire is so..... stupid. lol 😐 just the fact that it COULD have been a turning point for how awsten and the fandom interact but he just refuses to learn, refuses to change, and is in fact dedicated to ruining his own life? apparently???

like sure okay all the twitter parxies are going after this one suckup big parxie for being a shitty person, WHICH SHE OBVIOUSLY IS, but theyre completely letting EVERY OTHER PERSON who does the exact same shit as her off the hook?? and even like agreeing with and sucking up to them. these other “big parxies” do the SAMEEE SHIT and just bc theyve turned on their former friend (pretty indicative of what awful ppl they are to gang up on a friend to save their skins but i digress) doesnt mean they havent spent years doing the exact same stupid shit acting like awsten was their friend and overstepping parasocial boundaries and starting fights and drama in the fandom for clout????

and all this started bc awsten expressed negative fan interactions take a toll on him!!! and then what did awsten do immediately after chaos broke out in his little parasocial enclave? thats right, he pretended to give himself a matching tattoo w another “big parxie” who fights for his attention and thinks theyre friends 😐😐😐 like howww HOW do you not see you are causing your own problems!!!! how do you refuse to understand that you should not be close with specific fans and single them out for increased attention from you? do you actually not see that you are fueling these interactions by offering a reward for incessant attempts to get your attention? WHY do you refuse to understand that that is what fuels the toxic parasocial fandom that you claim to hate so much. are you genuinely that fucking brain dead? or are you just unwilling to examine and change your own behavior??????

so now what weve got is the dunces on parx twitter struggling (granted, closer than ive seen them come before) to reach the logical conclusion that everyone with a brain and basic understanding of parasocial relationships (or human interaction in general) has had for years: that awsten should not be singling out specific fans to make them feel like his personal friends because it gives them a god complex and allows them to run rampant in his already insane fandom. and people who see that and want the same attention will suck up to those fans and create this toxic hierarchy among chronically online individuals that then spirals out of control and the blowback then hurts awsten and parx.

and yknow what? it makes being a fan of parx unfun. it sucks!!! even here on tumblr where most of us (most. not all) are sane and understand fan boundaries and why unchecked parasociality is bad, im having a bad time!!! all i do is repeat the same logic, like a broken record in an echo chamber, and bc i refuse to engage w the weirdos causing shit on twitter it never reaches the ppl who need to understand it most. and it sours my view of awsten and quite frankly ruins the enjoyment of engaging w parx?!!??! like how am i supposed to keep writing my silly little fics we all have fun with when i KNOW hes out there on twitter as we speak digging himself a deeper hole. like bitch this is the grave YOU DUG and the fans youve enabled are just the ones to push you in

anyway i dunno its just really sapped my affection towards parx and i like cant enjoy anything they do lately lol :/ like ill see awsten get travis on stage and ill be like “ok cool......... anyway” and it sucks tbh. i want to like parx. i do like parx? but awsten genuinely makes it so hard to be a fan of him and his band lately it is insane -__-

[descendantofthesparrow]

Soulmate au! Countdown - Harry Hook x Reader -oneshot

soulmate au idea sent in by Anonymous 

=

Everyone in the world was born with a watch, not on their wrists or anywhere attached to them, just a simple watch that would appear when a new soul was born into the world. Doctors would blink, and suddenly, next to the new babe, was a watch.

A watch that had a set date of years, months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until the new soul would meet their soulmate, the one destined to love them forever.

Some watches were simple ones, a simple leather band with a plain clock attached to go around their wrist. Some got more…exotic clocks, one person, whose soulmate was an astrologist, watch had planets instead of hands to tell the time.(luckily for the person, who didn’t know how to read the time by looking at planets, there was still a small digital timer in the middle just above the sun) some had intricately carved pocket watches, some had sundials.

Prince Ben’s watch had confused some people, being a pure gold and silver watch, rusted slightly (and unable to be buffed to perfection as so many tried) with a horned dragon decorating the top, the back engraved with thorned vines. It wasn’t till years later, as Ben locked eyes with Mal, the daughter of Maleficent, did the watches ticking stop (small A/N; Ben and Audrey don’t date since they know they aren’t meant to be already. Okay let's get back into it!)

Audrey’s watch hung off a silver necklace, the top cover being diamond-like glass that seemed to shine like magic. Her watch had stopped when she met Chad at only six months old, his rose gold wristwatch stopping at the same time.

Doug's watch, a gorgeous gold-plated pocket watch decorated with heart-shaped red rubies, had stopped when he first locked eyes with Evie, daughter of the Evil Queen, who for a small while had denied that her own watch had stopped ticking, and had only admitted it after she and her friends had proclaimed their decision to turn their backs on their parent's evil ways.

Most people your age had met their soulmate already, you knew some who had yet to meet theirs but mostly everyone had already been found.

Not that you personally knew that.

You hardly talked to anyone really, so how were you to know if someone had found their soulmate yet or not.

You were just a regular person in a school of the descendants of heroes and royalty, a loner at that. The only interesting about you was your watch.

It was a gorgeous gold watch with thin black paint under the gold curved detailing that looked like waves, surrounding the outer rim of the cover, with an anchor and a ship's steering wheel in the middle of the cover, the back was a carved compass, the entire thing connected to a strong bronze chain.

You admired it every day, excitement and anxiety running through you as every second passed. And those feelings were amplified recently.

The clock now read seven days, seven hours, eight minutes, and forty seconds. It was only that until you met your soulmate.

You only hoped they wouldn’t think you weren’t worth their time…as everyone else did.

-

Harry had been born with a pretty plain-looking pocket watch, smooth and silver metal protecting the gears.

You could imagine the surprise he felt when he finally opened it for the first time. The inner works of his watch were beautiful, the silver metal had turned to gold, curving details surrounded the hands and timer, a shining scale texture covered the inside of the cover, never leaving a residue on his finger when he traced it.

Many villain kids were told to never open their watches, being told that it was pointless to even look since they would never need their soulmate in the first place.

Some obeyed, some, like Harry, had gotten too curious and looked anyway, and some just looked because they could.

And Harry couldn't say he regretted looking, every day he grabbed his watch and popped it open, smiling as the ticking hands signified the ever-coming day of meeting his soulmate.

Like now, it read seven days, five hours, three minutes, and seven seconds. Coincidently, it matched the same day he would be going to Auradon prep, seven months after king Ben had invited the original four to Auradon.

His closest friend, Uma, had a plan to get the wand and do what the original four couldn’t. but Harry had another plan.

He wanted to meet his soulmate, he knew they couldn’t have been on the isle, he had met basically everyone on the isle, there was no other explanation than for his soulmate to be in Auradon.

He looked up from his watch to gaze at the bright lights of Auradon, his breath visible as he let out a sigh and leaned against the rails of the lost revenge. “you ready for next week?” he suppressed a flinch as Uma suddenly appeared next to him, joining him to look at  Auradon.

“aye” he simply muttered back, clenching his pocket watch in his hand. He looked away slightly as Uma turned towards him, her brow quirked.

“…you want to find them, don’t you?” Uma asked, turning back to Auradon and resting her chin in her hand.

Harry stayed silent.

Uma reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder “I won't stop you from doing that, I know our parents told us that soulmates are bullshit but I could give less of a fuck, if you decide not to go through with everything because of them, I’ll leave you two alone…” Harry sighed in slight relief and turned to Uma.

“even if it would ruin yer plans?” Harry asked softly, laughing as Uma grumbled a bit.

“yeah yeah…if you’re happy im happy” Harry tossed his arm over Uma’s shoulder and pulled her into his side, grinning as she quietly complained at the hug.

“Thank yeh Uma” he whispered, closing his eyes as Uma sighed against him and hugged him back.

“you’re my best friend Harry, I would do anything for you” Harry smiled against her hair, squeezing her shoulder a bit before letting her go as she started to bat at his chest “Alright alright that’s enough, come on we got night shit to do” Harry snorted and shook his head a bit, grabbing his hat from the milk crate next to him and flipping it on, whistling slightly as he followed Uma off the ship.

-

You looked up from your summer history essay as a group of girls rushed up to the window, giggling to themselves as they pointed out whatever it was they were talking about.

‘oh right’ you mentally sighed, closing your book and packing it away, knowing that the study hall you were in was going to be filled with the laughter of these girls for who knows how long ‘the new vks’

You spared a glance back at the girls, sighing wistfully to yourself as they smiled amongst each other.

What you would give to have friends like that, but you had always been closed in on yourself and always froze up when someone tried to talk to you, that you had never gotten the chance to make friends.

You shrugged your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the study hall “where to go now” you whispered to yourself, taking out your pocket watch and smiling slightly at it, rubbing your thumb against the wheel before popping it open.

Six hours, forty-five minutes, and seven seconds.

You would meet your soulmate today.

You closed the watch and held it against your chest, letting out a giggly sigh and walking towards the other end of the dorms to get to the other study hall so you would write your essay in peace.

Behind you, you heard king Ben talking, taking a glance back you saw a flash of a scarlet red coat pass by the entrance to the hallway you had just entered. You brushed it off and looked back in front of you.

-

One and a half hours, ten minutes, and forty seconds.

Harry stared anxiously at his watch, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor of his new room. “you know if you just sit and stare at that thing it's not going to go any faster” Gil offered, setting his new laptop down and sitting next to Harry, reaching out to close the watch.

Harry blinked back into reality, pouting at Gil slightly. Gil just gave him a look and pushed the watch towards Harry's chest “sitting in here won't help you find them either, go explore or something, you might find them easier” Harry huffed and grabbed his watch, sticking it in his pocket and walking out of the room “you’ll thank me later!”

-

You groaned a bit as you rolled your shoulders, you had finished your essay, along with a handful of other projects, and had decided you needed a break. So it was off to your “secret” spot near the dorms, it was well hidden by the forest and you had to cross a hanging bridge to get to it so hardly anyone knew about it.

You shrugged off your top and pants, kicking off your shoes and setting everything next to your towel and watch before diving in.

Underneath the water your body shimmered, your legs turning to a transitioning (f/c) and (f/c) tail with a strong fabric-like tail, scales the same color as your tail appeared next to your eyes and trailed down your cheeks, your shoulders being covered as well.

You let out a soft sigh as you swam through the clear water, trailing your fingers across the smooth rocks that lay at the bottom of the lake.

You picked up a particularly shiny clear and black one, swimming back up to the surface and examining it, humming to yourself as you waded through the water.

-There once was a ship that put to sea/ And the name of that ship was the Billy o' Tea/ The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down/ Blow my bully boys blow-

You started to sing one of your favorite sea shanties aloud, closing your eyes and letting yourself drift across the surface of the lake as your voice echoed around you.

- Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum/ One day, when the tonguing' is done/ We'll take our leave and go-

-

Harry sighed quietly as he walked around the grounds of Auradon prep, tubbing his thumb against the smooth metal of his watch as the comforting -tick tock- of its gears rang in his ears.

He sighed again as he stopped in the middle of a pathway, running his hand through his messy hair. He pulled out the watch and quirked his brow.

three minutes, forty seconds.

Suddenly something caught his attention, he turned his head towards the forest, his lips separating as a lovely drifted towards him.

He started walking towards it, entering into the forest and pushing past the bushes that covered the main path. He quickly walked over the hanging bridge that led him directly to a sparkly crystal-clear lake.

And wading in the water of that lake was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen or heard.

- No line was cut, no whale was freed/ An' the captain's mind was not on greed/ But he belonged to the Whaleman's creed/ She took that ship in tow -

As he walked closer to the mermaid, he didn’t notice the timer on the watch tick down to the seconds.

3…2...1.

Suddenly the mermaid looked up from their rock and gasped, her glowing (e/c) eyes locking with his ocean blue.

The ticking stopped.

The mermaid squealed in embarrassment and ducked under the water, Harry quickly snapped out of his stupor and ran towards the edge of the lake, kneeling at it and looking around for the mermaid who had suddenly disappeared. “where did yeh go?” he whispered, yelping and falling back on his butt as the mermaid suddenly popped up in front of his face and tried to reach for her items behind Harry.

He watched her struggle to reach toward them before she groaned and flopped on the ground, her top half lying pitifully on the dry ground as her tail angrily hit the surface of the water.

Harry let out a soft chuckle and looked behind him, spotting a gold pocket watch resting just next to a (f/c) towel, he glanced back at the mermaid for a moment before reaching out for the watch and gently handing it to the mermaid.

She quickly popped it open and gasped.

Harry watched as the mermaid just stared at her watch, then slowly look up at him. He took out his watch and popped it open, stopping as he realized the clock had stopped.

00:00:00:00:00:00 blinked rapidly

Harry looked back at the mermaid and turned his watch towards her. She reached out slightly, looking at him for permission to take it.

He pushed it into her hand and she set it next to her watch, a smile growing on her face as the blinking of the timers synchronized perfectly. Only soulmate watches could sync perfectly as they did.

She looked back up at Harry with a wide grin, Harry's heart fluttering like crazy as she did.

“I found you” she whispered in the most melodic voice, squeaking a bit as Harry stood and started to strip out of his clothes “what are you doing?!” she yelled, pushing off the edge and diving down under the water a bit, only her eyes and the top of her head above the water.

“joinin’ yeh,” Harry responded simply, kicking off his shoes and pants and tossing them aside with his shirt, jacket, and belts.

Once he was down to just his underwear, he jumped into the water next to his soulmate, closing his eyes as he sank into the surprisingly deep lake.

Almost immediately after he jumped in, arms wrapped around his waist and kept him afloat. Harry cracked open his eyes to see the glowing ones of his soulmate, their pupils slanted as they stared back at him.

Harry let a smile grow on his lips as he and his soulmate floated under the water. Then Harry's body proceeded to realize he was underwater and that he needed air.

His soulmate watched him look up, realize what he was doing, and grabbed his face. Harry looked at them and let out a muffled squeak as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

He snapped his eyes shut and felt his face burn with a blush as she licked his lips and opened his mouth, breathing into him.

She pulled back and giggled, which oddly wasn’t muffled. Harry opened one of his eyes and pouted slightly as his soulmate covered her mouth with one of her hands as she laughed at his expression.

He took a breath to say something, but then realized he was breathing underwater. He gave her a wide-eyed look and she giggled again.

“mermaid kisses can let the person breath and speak underwater” her voice purred, grabbing his hands and pulling him up to the surface. Harry shook his head, smirking as his soulmate squealed a bit as the water droplets hit her.

“I’m Harry” Harry spoke first, swimming slightly closer to his soulmate and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek “Harry Hook.”

“(y-y/n) (l/n)” she squeaked slightly, Harry smirking at the heat that burned against his lips as he pressed another kiss to her cheek.

“I think” he pulled back and pressed a kiss to her other cheek “you and I are going to get along very well~” he purred, grinning as (y/n) set her forehead against his.

“whys that?” she hummed, pushing her lips together as Harry tightly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him.

“a pirate and a mermaid? What's a better match than tha’?”

-end-

Short but sweet, might do another one of the suggestions! Thanks for reading!

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @remembered-license

@random-thoughts-003 @jatp-rules-my-life

@verboetoperee @imtryingthisout @thecaptainsgingersnap

@rintheemolion​

[honeymoonjin]

pairing: namjoon x jimin genre: smut, 18+ readers only word count: 5.1k

summary: namjoon has worked as a bodyguard for an upscale BDSM dungeon for long enough to know that jimin is the most sought-after dom there. it only takes one miscommunication for namjoon to discover firsthand why that is.

warnings: unedited, sexually explicit content, power bottom!jimin, sub top!namjoon, unprotected sex, degradation, light pain play, BDSM dynamics, kinda temperature play, i think that's it but i'm so out of practice so i apologise if i missed something

a/n: this piece came to fruition thanks firstly to the @armyadvocates AAPI Justice and Advocacy initiative, and secondly to the kind commissioner @goldenwallsvol6 on twitter who requested this (i'm so sorry for not including everything you asked for, i got a little carried away kdsjfdssk). please check out the AAPI initiative here, consider donating, and check out the resources that come with it.

-----

Clocking in to work has become such a routine for Namjoon that he often finds himself switching his brain off, preoccupied with half-thoughts as his body runs on autopilot.

He signs in, uses the staff changing room to replace his sweats with the company standard uniform - a tight t-shirt and slim fit jeans, the belt of which he hooks his keys on. He doesn’t actually start his shift for another couple minutes, and so he ducks to the bathroom, chews a breath mint, and stretches before heading out of the office and down the narrow hallway that leads to the den.

In fact, it takes him a few steps into the dungeon before his automatic schedule is disrupted.

It appears Namjoon is entirely alone in the facility.

His steps, taken with heavy-duty boots, echo around the hollow space with nothing but the walls to absorb them. It’s a Thursday night (he consults his phone just to be sure) and he was on the closing shift. On any usual day, he’d be starting work right at the bustling high of the BDSM dungeon, yet he finds himself wandering alone.

Shaped in a rough X, the center of the dungeon is open-plan, with more private spaces forking off. The wing he’s in is generally full of swingers and kinksters making use of costume changing stations and a room full of cleaning supplies and disposables like condoms or wet wipes. It was always the calmest section, but never dead like this.

In a daze, Namjoon glances inside the rooms anyway, half-expecting the place to burst into life at any given moment. But it stays undisturbed, and in no time he’s in the central atrium, weaving through bolted-down couches, benches and racks until he can sink onto a stool at the bar.

Coherent thought escapes him. His brain flails for a reason, but the absurdity of an entirely vacant sex dungeon has him lost for words. After a moment, in restless futility, he stands back up and goes behind the bar, back further into the mini storage/kitchen that he knows features a window.

Outside the narrow, slightly dusty frame is an empty parking lot. His heart sinks, feeling sorely left behind and out of the loop, but a glint catches his eye. Pressing his nose to the glass, he squints and peeks a somewhat familiar vehicle, pulled into the closest park to the entrance of the dungeon.

Namjoon stares pointedly at the Hyundai, racking his brain. God, who was it that had a-

A wooden scrape from behind has Namjoon jumping in violent fright, catching his forehead on the protruding frame of the window. Cursing, he whirls around and glimpses movement further inside. Another drawn-out scrape is followed by a very human-sounding huff.

Heart still racing, Namjoon makes his way out of the storage area and stands behind the bar, seeking out the presence.

“Oh, shit, you gave me a heart attack!” Park Jimin stands off to the left of the room, hands on his hips and head tilted back in relief. “I thought you were a burglar.”

“No,” Namjoon states redundantly, mouth not quite working beyond that. He knew he recognised that silver SUV - every Thursday he watched Jimin hop into it and pull away after a long night of scening. The two had exchanged words often, more than Namjoon could say for most patrons. Being the bouncer for a sex dungeon didn’t lead to that much genuine conversation, but he always appreciated the effort Jimin would put in, hair wet with sweat and lips curved with happy exhaustion but still asking Namjoon if he’d managed to work out whether it was birds or the neighbour’s cat eating his strawberry plants.

He forces himself to check back into the present when current-Jimin cocks his head with a slightly sheepish grin, awaiting an actual explanation. “I, um,” Namjoon stutters, having to avert his eyes to construct anything coherent, “I didn’t realise the club was shut, I’m honestly a little confused.”

Jimin’s smile drops, plush lips rounding in surprise. “Oh, really? Hoseok-hyung said he sent out emails to all the staff. There was a pipe leak so we called off our whole calender until Monday. Did you not get it? We’ve had troubles with work emails getting stuck in spam; something about a sex dungeon really seems to set off the detectors,” the man quips with a jovial lift of his brow.

Namjoon bites down on his tongue, offering up a silent nod of acknowledgement. He’d seen Jimin more times than he could count in black, red, royal purple. In the club he favoured leather, not buckled and studded but sleek and tight, often decorating his lithe body with harnesses, gauntlets and heavy rings instead. More often than not, he’d boast unsmudgable smokey eyes with sharp liner, cheekbones as harsh as they were dewy. It had taken a while, but Namjoon had eventually grown used to the sight, able to prevent chubbing up at the mere sight of his ass as he bent to open his car door.

For some reason, seeing him outside of that whole persona is far more intimidating. Still covered in a light sheen of sweat, that’s the only linker to the Jimin Namjoon is faced with today. He’s got chunky white sneakers weighing down his feet, long overalls rolled up at the cuffs to let some air reach his ankles. The overalls prove particularly problematic to Namjoon, as they don’t seem to have anything underneath. Namjoon can see collarbones, glorious collarbones, and the lean bare sides of Jimin’s torso. If he bent over, Namjoon would probably get a glimpse of his nipples. The thought dampens his mouth with need.

Jimin himself seems unaware of, or at least unbothered by, the way Namjoon stares  him down. Instead, he reaches down to push a cardboard box as tall as his waist across the hardwood floor closer to the bar one shove at a time. “Anyway, you’re welcome to head home. I’ll get Hoseok to add half an hour to your payslip for your troubles.”

“What are you doing here then?” Namjoon asks reflexively, cringing at how loud he’s accidentally pitched his voice.

Jimin’s face is surprisingly round without the stroke of makeup to emphasise dimensions, and when he beams at Namjoon, it softens his whole face even more. “I’m taking advantage of us being closed to install some new furniture. D’you wanna see?” He seems to reconsider, shooting Namjoon a worried look. “It is sex stuff, though.”

“I wasn’t expecting a bookshelf,” he answers honestly, and is rewarded with the bubbling sound of Jimin’s laughter, drowned out prematurely by another shove of the box. “Here,” Namjoon says suddenly, darting out from behind the bar, “let me help.”

At first, Jimin pushes while Namjoon pulls, but after a few grunts of exertion, steps back and lets Namjoon take over, not disguising the way his eyes linger on the way Namjoon’s biceps and pecs flex under his t-shirt sleeve. Obediently, Namjoon lets the bleach-blonde guide him to an open space near the centre of the room, depositing the weighty box there.

With a satisfied hum and a lingering glance at Namjoon’s body, Jimin bends over with a pen from his pocket, using the nib to pop and rip the tape on the box lid, yanking back the flaps with ferocious enthusiasm. He lets out a delighted cry upon lifting a frame of styrofoam out of the box, revealing the goods inside.

One at a time, he takes out oddly-shaped plates of metal, plastic baggies of bolts and screws, and some rubber caps. Kicking the empty box away, Jimin slots his hands back on his hips and grins at Namjoon. “Can you guess what it is?”

Namjoon takes a moment to consider the different sections of stainless steel. The largest isn’t flat, but a rectangle with a slight curve to it, the gentlest arc. The rest come in mirrored pairs, most just for structure, but four of them featuring heavy-duty O-rings. Though he works outside the play area, Namjoon can guess what those are for. “Something for bondage?” he ventures, stomach flipping when Jimin eyes glint with thinly veiled interest.

“A breeding bench,” Jimin explains, squatting to let his fingers trail down the side of one bar, “the metal feels sterile and cold for those that like it. Have you used one before?”

Namjoon feels unsteady on his feet. “No,” he answers, but the softness in his voice betrays his lack of aversion to the thought. But Jimin might think he was a dominant, too, Namjoon worries. Everyone else tended to. “Not yet,” he adds after a moment.

Jimin sucks in a silent but sharp breath, chin lifting. “I could use a hand setting it up. Would you mind…?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, no problem.” Namjoon tries to clear his throat, but the lump of anticipation remains. “Happy to help.”

“Excellent,” the dom beams, fishing around the pieces of styrofoam to locate the printed instructions, handing them to Namjoon. As Namjoon begins to make sense of them, looking over the basic diagrams, Jimin sits down on a nearby ottoman, intended for viewing the other stations, but continuing to face his new help instead. “I’ve been wanting to get to know you more anyway,” he divulges in a honeyed tone.

“Really?” Namjoon glances up from the instructions, feeling the heat of Jimin’s gaze. Even in worn overalls and unstyled hair, the man strikes a gorgeous image, and his posture screams distinguished dominant down to the curl of his fingers. His mere presence has Namjoon feeling off-balance in the most electric way. “There’s not much to know.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jimin replies immediately, deadpan. “Why are you standing outside every night when you’re just as kinky as those of us indoors?”

“Excuse me?”

Jimin leans forward, legs splayed wide and elbows on his knees. His eyes are intently focused, blazing. “For a while it drove me crazy,” he starts, “you looked so familiar. I saw you every evening and couldn’t put my finger on it. But you used to scene here, didn’t you? Years ago.”

Namjoon’s heart stops beating, sitting heavy behind his ribs instead. “You- You’re not meant to approach people you know from the dungeon outside. It’s against the rules.”

“We aren’t outside,” Jimin counters. “I want to know why you stopped. You don’t look happy, Namjoon, seeing others come and go while you’re stuck to your post. Help me understand.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Namjoon stays silent, opening his mouth seeming too daunting a task. After a moment, Jimin swallows hard and sits back again, giving up the inquisition. Namjoon chooses to continue the task at hand, consulting the instructions.

The bench itself is a relatively simple setup. There’s two long cuts of steel in an X below the main panel for stability, four legs with the O-ring bars at either end, and the rubber caps on the bottom to avoid scratching the floor. As he putters around with the nuts and bolts, using a tiny spanner provided in the baggies to tighten them, he feels Jimin’s curious gaze on him. Silent.

Eventually, the silence has its desired effect, and Namjoon lets his internal thoughts vocalise. “I played here for a while. My partner and I ended up going our separate ways, and I wanted to give him space.” He doesn’t make eye contact, pulse thudding and heating the pieces of metal he fiddles with.

Jimin takes a short moment to reply, but it feels cavernous. “It’s been years, then. Hasn’t he had enough space yet?”

Namjoon’s eye twitches. How many nights had he stayed up with that exact question in mind? “It doesn’t feel right anymore. People would know me for who I was then. And I’m- I’m not that person.” His partner, an eager sub with a need for a firm hand, had asked Namjoon one day if he was sure he was really happy being a dom, and it had entirely dismantled the place in BDSM that he’d cultivated for himself. That sub was right, and he didn’t know how to adjust his course to fit his true desire.

So he’d pulled away entirely, unable to fully leave this world, but unsure of whether it still had a spot for him inside it. He just wants to feel what it’s like to let go in the way his subs did.  And as his hands focus on constructing the heavyset bench, his mind wanders deeper in this vein, loose-lipped enough to confess it all to Jimin.

Jimin listens without judgement, not even seeming surprised when Namjoon admits to feeling more submissive, and the lack of reaction is liberating in a way he couldn’t have expected.

It’s not until the final bolt is fastened in place and Namjoon leans back, slightly breathless, that Jimin stands up and approaches him again. He crouches in front of Namjoon, eyes tender and hesitant, reaching out a hand.

Confused, Namjoon holds his out, palm-up, and Jimin takes it carefully, circling his fingers around the narrowest part of his wrist. Still, it’s too meaty for Jimin’s fingertips to connect. He squeezes lightly, carefully, before locking his gaze with Namjoon again, who swears he’s no longer breathing.

“Do you want to try?” Jimin asks. His voice is low, soft but full-bodied. “Do you want to try to let go? Club rules would apply.”

And Namjoon is nodding, and the grip on his wrist is tightening, restraining, and Jimin’s surging forward, lips on his.

His free hand comes up to hook around the nape of Namjoon’s neck. He’s held there, unforgiving, as the dom deepens the kiss. There’s no space between them, just skin on skin, tongue on tongue. It’s uncoordinated on Namjoon’s part, but so calculated and thorough on Jimin’s, like he knows the exact way to unwind him.

Jimin’s fingers scratch up into Namjoon’s hairline. He’d been growing out the length a little for winter, just enough to cover his ears, and it provides leverage for Jimin to grip on and tug, tug, tug in sharp bursts, timed unevenly enough that Namjoon is never ready. Every pull sends an electric shock down his spine, right between his legs.

He’s hard already, achingly so, and it just worsens when Jimin shifts his weight, bringing a foot forward and over Namjoon’s thigh, half-caging his body flush against his.

Jimin’s body is hot, even through the denim overalls and searing when it’s skin-on-skin. Namjoon can hear himself panting when their mouths split apart briefly, but he can’t stop his head from spinning long enough to care.

Before long, a rumbling growl escapes Jimin’s throat, and his teeth find Namjoon’s lower lip, scraping and nipping at the flesh. It’s not until Namjoon’s hand is shaking in Jimin’s grip that he pulls away, eyes wild and alight.

Namjoon must look utterly debauched, with swollen lips, hazy eyes and rucked-up hair, but his cock is screaming to be touched, and his breaths become infused with pleas for more, begging Jimin to touch him.

“God, you greedy little thing,” Jimin remarks in wonder, and a shudder takes over Namjoon’s body. Jimin quirks a brow. “Good? Bad? I don’t know what you like.”

“Good,” Namjoon insists without shame, “oh my god, good. Say m-more like that.”

Jimin hums with a grin, hand on Namjoon’s neck slipping around front to fist his shirt, yanking it suddenly. “Up, then,” he barks, standing himself, “I want you on the bench you built for me. Thank God that body is good for something; it’s not much fucking use now, is it?”

Namjoon’s breath leaves him in a rush, and he gets up shakily, almost tripping over his own feet as he lowers himself back down on the end of the bench. It’s chillingly cold even through his jeans, and he trembles at the thought of touching it with bare skin. Jimin has no such qualms, however, planting his palm on Namjoon’s chest and pushing him backwards, insistently guiding him down without knocking his head on the metal.

His teeth chatter briefly, but it’s nothing compared to when Jimin clicks his tongue and reaches down to strip the thin fabric of his t-shirt off with one fell swoop, the stitches breaking as they’re forced over the broadest part of his shoulders.

Ice erupts across his back and he gasp, shooting up. Jimin’s hand prevents him from getting far, and his breathing grows loud and sharp, shivering violently as his body fights to warm up the steel. The slight arch of it slots perfectly into the divot of his spine, meaning every inch is flush against him.

“You stay where I put you,” Jimin scolds, flicking at a nipple in punishment. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? You, lying here, asking to be degraded by somebody half your size? Pathetic. You’re lucky I’m a giving man.”

“Th-thank you,” Namjoon offers up with wide eyes. He doesn’t know the protocol, doesn’t even know how he should be acting as a sub, let alone as a sub for Jimin. He can barely believe the situation he’s ended up in, but he’s never felt so alive. The cold steel is a wakeup call to sluggish veins, his blood rushing faster than ever, most of it going straight to his dick.

Jimin huffs like he’s not quite pleased with the response - even as his eyes crinkle and glint with satisfaction - and simply hooks a finger into the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans, frowning. “Can’t even get undressed yourself. For goodness’ sake.”

Namjoon’s cheeks burn, and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling so overwhelmed. Though it was years ago, the habit of being in control hasn’t left him, and part of him feels anxious being so vulnerable. Closing his eyes eases that, and Jimin lets him, briefly reaching up to give his upper arm a squeeze, a lilting hum asking the unworded question.

“I’m okay,” he breathes to the darkness behind his eyelids, and the squeeze returns before Jimin straightens up again, fingers yanking impatiently at Namjoon’s jeans, undoing them and yanking them off, taking his briefs with them.

The new level of nudity sends another shock of cold to his system, but this time Namjoon welcomes it with a groan, tilting his hips up so that his cock rests on his lower stomach. His fingers twitch, aching to wrap around himself.

His desire is answered, not with the delicious grip of fingers, but with the hard press of the heel of Jimin’s palm, pinning his hardness down without mercy. A moan dies in Namjoon’s throat as his body tries to curl inwards. A second hand holds him down still, leaving him unable to escape the heavy pressure.

He pants, writhing and toes curling, but Jimin just sighs softly, like he’s more relaxed than ever. “Such a waste,” he drawls, his voice blooming with all the flourishes of a Disney villain, “wanting to be treated like a slut, but what am I getting out of this? Hm?”

“U-uh-” Namjoon has no idea what to say, cracking his eyes open to seek out the comfort of acknowledgement above the level of the scene. His breath is taken away at the sight. Jimin, above him like an avenging angel, golden-haired and glittering with sweat, still fully clothed (as fully as you could call a single piece of denim). He finds Namjoon’s searching gaze and sends him a calm, dreamy smile of encouragement, before twisting his palm against the base of Namjoon’s dick, wringing a strangled groan out of the man. “You can take me,” he pants, filled with the urge to provide, to serve, “take what you want.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side, like this proposition is worth considering. As he makes a show of pondering, he taps his fingers lazily against his cock’s dripping head. Namjoon swallows the whimpers that threaten to bubble up, and forces his hips not to budge. “I’ll be honest with you,” Jimin says finally, “because you don’t deserve sugar-coating. If I was here with a fleshlight or a dildo, I would’ve come already. You’re wasting my precious time, sweet boy. I don’t want you to lay here and simper, I want you to be a good toy for me. So what’s it gonna be?”

Namjoon’s muscles are trembling; from his lips to his toes, he feels like he’s vibrating slightly, restless down to the very atoms that make him up. Jimin is patient, lazily drawing sticky patterns of precum on Namjoon’s abdomen with his pinky finger. Namjoon fights against the primal part of his brain for something coherent, replaying his words. Fleshlight or dildo. Be a good toy. Jimin was offering him the choice to top or bottom, Namjoon realises, and his cock twitches, feeling liberated and thoroughly taken apart with that heady mix of submission and power. He was giving control to Jimin, but never losing his choices.

For a moment, he does consider what it might feel like to let Jimin take him. He’d never bottomed before - at least not for anyone but his own fingers in his experimental years - but if anyone could make him feel safe, he suspected it would be the dom leaning over him. It’s once he really thinks about it that he knows he’s not ready, a thin strand of dread winding around his lungs that won’t go away until he’s stammering to Jimin that he can have Namjoon’s cock if he wants it.

Jimin sucks in a slow, pleased breath, a smile curling at his lips as he lays the weight of Namjoon’s length across the palm of his hand, looking it over. The chill of the steel beneath him is nothing compared to the iced shiver that runs through him upon being inspected in his most private area. Second most private, he corrects. Baby steps.

“I suppose,” Jimin declares finally with a sigh, “this should do. Not winning any awards, though, is it?” Namjoon’s cheeks burn with shame at the comment even as his face scrunches up in disagreement. If there was one thing to be proud of physically, it was that he could always bring his partners pleasure with the equipment he grew into.

Jimin sees the unfiltered reaction on Namjoon’s face and suddenly claps his free hand over his mouth, turning away. The giggle, impish and delicate, doesn’t get as muffled as he probably intended. “Dammit,” he mumbles, “stop being funny, that’s not fair.”

Namjoon blinks, still stark naked and hard as rock beneath the clothed and chuckling dom. “...Apologies,” he says after a pause, “but do you want to- um- are we-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin says, clearing his throat and wiggling the muscles in his cheek to force the smile down. His fingers reach nimbly for the straps that hold his set of overalls on, and undresses down to skin as he takes some deep breaths as if to hype himself back into character. Once he’s done, he swings a leg over the metal bench and straddles Namjoon’s thighs with a swiftness that takes his breath away.

While it may take Jimin a second to slip back into his dom headspace after the break in mood, all Namjoon needs is the feeling of Jimin’s plump ass cheeks settling onto hs lap and he’s being smacked in the face with submission, ready to beg to feel it more intimately.

Jimin doesn’t wait for him to beg, however, rolling his body forward and down, all the way until their cocks are pinned together between their stomachs, and their noses bump. Close enough to kiss, Jimin stays right there, a breath away, and Namjoon freezes, unsure if he’s allowed to close the gap.

Pleased with the restraint shown, Jimin smirks, eyes wandering over Namjoon’s face in pure bemusement, slightly cross-eyed with their proximity. “Most toys can’t kiss back,” he mentions, a hand sliding up Namjoon’s forearm and shoulder to thumb at his jaw, tilting his head back and holding it in place, “so I figure I might as well treat myself.”

“Most?” is the final worried exclamation Namjoon manages to get out before lips are descending on his, and heat erupts.

There’s no way Namjoon could keep up. Not when his face is pressed tightly to Jimin’s, lips nipped at, tongue sucked at, and mouth thoroughly explored. Not when every inch of his front is pressed to Jimin’s, the latter’s nipples hard against the soft, relaxed flesh of Namjoon’s chest. Not when he becomes aware of slow rocking, Jimin grinding their cocks together.

It takes him an unknowable eternity of this to realise that the slow, indulgent groans passed between them aren’t all his, and that Jimin’s shifting motions are brought on by the way he’s reached behind himself with a finger slick with their shared spit, working himself open.

It’s that realisation that becomes the last straw for any of Namjoon’s reserves. He feels so - so passive, not even prepping the man who’s about to take his cock. He’s lying on unforgiving steel, body used as a grinding post and mouth deeply plundered, just a mindless toy, dumbed down to pleasure and need. He isn’t even really aware of his own body where Jimin isn’t touching it; he isn’t too sure where in space his hands are, or what his feet are doing. His lips are for Jimin and his cock is for Jimin and that’s enough to make him light-headed.

When Jimin sits up, Namjoon grunts a bit and fights for some clarity to help line himself up against Jimin’s awaiting body, but the dom just tuts and rebuffs the advances, suiting himself. Part of his weight is on Namjoon’s right shoulder as he props himself up, slowly bearing the rest down so that the head of Namjoon’s cock pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Jimin’s mouth is enough to make Namjoon’s bones shake, wishing he could hear it on repeat, and the dom certainly seems to be doing his best to make it a reality with the enthusiastic way he works his hips down in tight circles, clenching around the intrusion.

Namjoon feels like he’s floating, the hard edges of steel no longer grounding him. He doesn’t lift his hands up to hold onto Jimin, he doesn’t fuck up into him, he’s barely even looking at him with how low his eyes are lidded, but there’s liberation in that inaction.

The pressure to perform is entirely lifted, and he feels the pleasure twofold, once from his own sensation and then again like an echo with every sigh and groan that leaves Jimin’s lips.

The dom has the stamina of an athlete, lifting a leg up onto the metal base beside Namjoon’s hips to gain better leverage, and Namjoon has a front row seat to the way the muscles in Jimin’s thighs flex. They’re corded and thick, such an erotic contrast to the softness of his ass, and Namjoon feels drunk off of it.

He lets Jimin take what he wants, and he feels, and that’s all.

He doesn’t even think, not really, nothing deeper than mindless observation.

Jimin is beautiful, like nobody he’d seen before, and the lack of makeup and unstyled hair certainly doesn’t change that. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and that he’s sharing this experience with Namjoon. He sits up, leaning backwards with a hand on Namjoon’s knee instead of his shoulder, and the first time he plunges down, his whole body is wracked with a violent tremor.

“I’m close,” he pants outs, eyes flicking down to Namjoon, a lazy grin appearing momentarily, onto to be knocked off by an expression of pure euphoria as he swaps the bouncing out for grinding. He rocks his hips back and forth, Namjoon buried deeply inside, and seeks out his own end irrelevant of the body that cock belongs to.

Namjoon doesn’t care, loves the near out-of-body experience he’s having, and wills the pleasure to simmer long enough for Jimin to come first.

When Jimin gets really close, he loses some of the fluidity in his movements and becomes jagged, seizing up more and more until he’s stock still, breaths staccato and mouth wide open. The physical release follows soon after, and Namjoon shudders as hot white paints the underside of his chin and his chest.

Jimin has a hand around himself, tugging out every last drop as he sucks in desperate lungfuls of air, slowly curling in on himself until his burning forehead is on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, chest heaving.

Namjoon reaches his end without even noticing. The pleasure throughout his whole body is so electric that an orgasm is barely a notch higher, more so a spreading warmth throughout his body. Wet where Jimin’s still joined to him, and damp everywhere else with perspiration, but it’s blissful nonetheless.

Jimin heaves himself back upright after a brief interlude, brows furrowed as he glances down at Namjoon. “Did you- oh,” he remarks, shifting a little and seeing the cum that’s split around the base of Namjoon’s cock. He lets out a deep sigh, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he tips his head back. “Okay, bye-bye dom.”

Namjoon’s mind slips back into awareness at a snail’s pace, feeling first the way his throat has dried up a little and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth. Then his voice comes back to him, and he coughs a little, blinking up at the dom above him. “Does dom have a return date by chance? That was… fucking incredible,” he admits.

Jimin laughs, the action causing him to clench around Namjoon. With playful fingers, he reaches down and lightly pinches the fat of Namjoon’s cheeks. “You’re too cute,” he declares, before lifting himself up and off, clicking his tongue at the rush of wetness that drips down his legs. “Far out, it’s like you haven’t nutted in a year.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks heat against his best intentions. “That’s just normal.”

Jimin sends him a sharp look, searching his face. “Holy fuck,” he muses, stalking over to the nearest station to raid a small drawer of wet wipes, “and you’ve been letting that beast sit out in the cold every night instead of coming in here? Masochist.”

It takes all the energy left in his body to sit up, but Namjoon gratefully accepts a fresh wad of wipes and begins to clean himself off. “The beast doesn’t pay the bills,” he quips, already feeling more casual with Jimin after their intense shared experience.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to enjoy its company on your free time,” Jimin offers up, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze with what appears to be a shy streak as he dresses himself.

Namjoon smiles, appreciating the gorgeous sight of Jimin’s body before he covers up. Appreciating even more the way he feels so comfortable in his presence, enough to let go the way he did. “I’d like that.”

[tedisnotdead]

The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.  

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.  

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.  

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.  

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.  

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.  

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.  

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.  

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.  

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.  

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

[let-them-read-fics]

Yours Truly (Pt. 2)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Here's the second and final part of the imagine, gang. I hope you enjoy the adventures I wrote for you! Let me know about your fav part(s)!

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 1 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

5.) Epiphanies

A Week Later

"Yuqi, why the hell did you drag me here? I'd so much rather be writing…" you shove your hands further into the pockets of your hoodie and look at her with a scowl. Rows of people fill the bleachers around you, everyone excited for the football game that's scheduled to start soon. Happy couples sit together all around the stadium, and the sight only works to remind you of how weird things are with Jisoo right now.

"One: it's a Friday night and you need to let loose, and two: I wanted to come, so you have to tag along by default. The rules of friendship are very simple, Y/N," she trails off, tilting her head at you with a smile. 

"Well I am gonna go get some food," you imitate her, "Do you want anything?" You stand from the bench and look down at her, noticing how her permed hair sticks up in a few different places. You smooth it out for her as she answers, "Nachos, please." 

"Alright, dork. I'm sure the line's kinda long, but come look for me if I'm not back in 20." She pats your butt as you leave, and you just shake your head with a smile. 

"--I know! Did you hear about Lee's new girlfriend? I heard she got in a fight with his ex last ni--"

"I'm fucking starving bro."

"Yeah, they totally hooked up at Jackson's party!"

Various conversations work their way to your ears as you walk towards the back of the line, but you attempt to not get too invested in the gossip. As welcoming as your school tends to be, even it has its fair share of scandals and drama. You've never been one to care about rumors though, and you don't plan to start now.

"I heard that Jisoo likes someone." 

Funny how plans can change in an instant, don't you think? 

You can't find it in yourself to ignore the childish desire to eavesdrop, so you listen in as the line slowly shifts forward with each new customer served, doing your best to be inconspicuous. 

"Supposedly she's been into them for a while but they don't know about it. I guess Lisa is planning to get them together tonight or something, I don't know." You recognize the brunette speaking as Seulgi, a dance major that you share a couple classes with. She's talking to Yeri, whom you've seen a few times in passing. 

That must be why she was defensive about the kiss; she has feelings for someone else. 

"Ooh, that'll be interesting. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, though; now Jisoo's gonna be off the market." The shorter girl frowns, basically reading your mind with her statement. You've never fooled yourself into believing you have a chance with Jisoo, but knowing that she'll be whisked away by some lucky classmate of yours definitely isn't an easy pill to swallow. 

You pass the remaining wait time by imagining who that person may be. Jisoo has a lot of friends, but you've never seen her around campus with any particular love interest; she always puts her studies first, deciding that her education is far more important than any potential relationship.

You remain lost in your thoughts until it's your turn to order.

"Hey Y/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier greets, resetting the register as she grins at you. 

"Hi Yeji," you smile back, happy to see your old friend again after what feels like forever. Your busy schedules have kept you from hanging out much lately, but seeing her now is something you're grateful for. "I'll take two waters, a medium nacho, and 1 hot dog, please." 

"You want everything on it?" She asks in reference to your last request, assuming you still stick with the order you used to go with in your childhood. 

"You know it. And make sure to--"

"--spread the toppings out well. I remember, girl." She says with a wink, turning around to get started on your order. The familiar interaction warms your heart, aided by the idea that some things never change. After she packages your things up in a convenient little container, you thank her and pay, walking away with a promise to meet up at the school's café next week.

About halfway back to your seat, something unexpected happens.

"Rosie, we can't buy out the whole place. This is the 4th trip we've taken back here and the game hasn't even started yet!" You freeze as you round the corner, almost dropping your food as Jisoo's low voice sounds off nearby. 

"Unnie, I didn't even get to eat much of the other stuff at all! Lisa and Jennie stole it and shared it with everyone else," the artist pouts, rolling her hands into fists at her sides like a toddler. 

"Fine. But this is the last trip I'm taking." She warns, rolling her eyes when the Australian attacks her with a flurry of kisses. "Yah! Let's go before we miss something." She says, pushing her off of her with a smile on her face. 

Even her voice makes your heart ache, and it reminds you of what her kiss felt like against your lips. It was short, no doubt, and barely there; but the sparks remain, waiting to be reignited anytime she's around. Maybe you're just destined to pine.

----

"There you are! I was literally about to go steal some food from Shuhua because you were taking so long." 

"Yeah, yeah," you say, sitting down beside Yuqi with the cardboard box in your hands. "You're lucky I love you enough to pay for this. Now I'll have to survive on 3 grains of rice and ramen for the next few weeks." 

"Oh, the struggles of being a broke college student." She says woefully, clutching her hands together in front of her chest to add to the effect. 

"Precisely," you agree, scooting closer to offer her some nachos. When she tries to greedily take the whole tray of them, you're quick to stop her. 

"Ah, ah, ah," you warn, pulling her wrist back down. "We're sharing, chica." She huffs, but eventually settles down and decides to shove her face full instead of protesting anymore. 

Now, with your best friend happily eating, you relax and begin to prepare yourself for the match. 

--

"LET'S GO!" You shout with Yuqi, chanting together as your school's anthem echoes throughout the stadium. The rival team has been behind the entire game, but they closed the gap in the last few minutes and now it's neck and neck. Your band plays loudly to encourage your team, and it seems to be working; they manage to repeatedly hold the others off and keep them from scoring. 

It's the start of the fourth quarter now -- the home stretch. With their spirits still high, your team continues to keep victory out of their opponents hands. The black paint underneath their eyes is really streaked now, showing all the effort and sweat that they've put into the game so far. A beautiful sunset just previously gave way to a rapidly darkening evening sky, allowing some stars to peek out now.

"My high school team sucked; this is epic!" Yuqi says, making you laugh. You tear your eyes away from the heated game to say something to her, but all thoughts soon disappear from your mind and you stop mid-sentence. 

She notices your sudden silence and looks at you, only realizing what's happening once she follows your line of sight. Jeong is standing against the metal fence that borders the track, mingling with everyone at the bottom of the bleachers. That doesn't bother you, but what you see next certainly does; you spot Jisoo beside him, giggling at something he said as he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. 

"Oh shit," Yuqi breathes out, fully grasping the weight of the situation now. She doesn't even attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he knows how in love you are with Jisoo and yet there he is, flirting away. He's the only other person besides Yuqi who knows of your feelings for the brunette, and you really trusted him with it. Clearly that was a mistake. You blink a few times and set your jaw, quickly looking away as he moves closer to whisper something in her ear over the noise of the crowd. 

"I'm gonna head out to the car. Just let me know who wins," you mumble, brushing past her on your way toward the exit. You know there's no way you'd be able to focus on the game anymore after seeing that, so going is your best option. She catches your arm before you can slip away, and says, "Wait, I'm coming with you. And don't even try to tell me no; I can always watch highlights later. I'm not gonna let you be alone right now." 

Knowing it's pointless to argue anymore, you nod once and wait for her to gather up her trash and coat. "Let's go," she says, taking your hand after tossing her garbage in the can conveniently placed at the end of your row. She squeezes it a few times for reassurance, and a bittersweet smile works onto your lips at the gesture. 

You don't notice how Jisoo's eyes follow you, every fiber of her being yelling at her to go after you. She hates seeing you sad, and although she isn't 100% sure of the reason for it now, all she wants is to cheer you up. 

"So, Jisoo. Do you have any plans after the game?" Jeong smirks, quirking a brow suggestively at his own question. Jisoo grimaces, saying, "Yeah, I do. I have to study." She tries to find you in the crowd again, but it seems that you've already slipped away. 

"We're throwing a party tonight, you should come." He leans a little closer to her, but she takes a step back. The only reason she's even talking to him right now is because Lisa introduced them, and it would be impolite not to. She turns him down, yet again sneaking a glance around the stadium. 

"No wonder Y/N's too chicken to ask you out; you're hard to get, but I don't mind a challenge." Her head whips around at his statement, heart regaining that familiar uptick at the mention of you. "What?" She blinks, not believing her ears. Surely she was just hearing things. 

"I said I don't mind a challenge," his words come out slightly slurred, and the effects of the alcohol he's been drinking are beginning to show themselves in all the wrong ways. The more he talks, the less Jisoo can stand him. "Look, Jeong -- I'm not interested. I'm sure there are other girls here that would love to get to know you, but I'm not one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, turning her body to the side to maneuver around him and get to the stairs. He lets her go without another word, his pride too bruised to come up with a more fitting response than a muttered insult. 

She makes quick work of getting to the parking lot, where she spots you approaching Yuqi's car, head hanging a bit. Seeing you upset saddens her, and she's determined to find out what's wrong. 

"Y/N! Wait up!" The shout catches your attention, and you slowly spin around. Jisoo begins to jog out to you, and a scoff slips past your lips (though you don't put much effort into stopping it). You're hurt, and half of the reason for your pain is staring right back at you like nothing happened. 

"What do you want, Jisoo?" You sigh, not looking forward to where this conversation will most certainly go.

"I want to talk, Y/N." She's in front of you now, scanning her eyes between yours to gauge your reaction. 

"What is there to say? Just go back to talking to Jeong; you looked like you were enjoying yourself." She can hear the jealousy laced in your tone, and things finally -- finally -- begin to click for her. 

"Is that what this is about?" She asks in reference to your sadness. The question isn't accusatory at all; she's genuinely trying to piece things together. 

A disbelieving laugh leaves you at that. How is she still so oblivious? "Yes, Jisoo, it is. I just had to witness someone who I thought was my friend flirt with my crush. So yeah, that's what this is about." Sensing that she doesn't know what to say, you decide to conclude things for her. This is already pitiful enough, and you'd rather spare the both of you from having the "it's not you, it's me" talk. 

"Look, I get it. You don't like me back, and you were only trying to be friendly by inviting me to the rehearsal that night. Just please, for the both of us, forget it even happened. Forget all of this. It was a mistake, and I won't do it again."

Jisoo hates that you're jumping to conclusions without even knowing her true feelings; you automatically think that she couldn't possibly feel the same, and you use her moment of silence as a form of evidence to prove that. The complete opposite is true, though you'd never give her enough time to straighten out her jumbled thoughts and tell you that. 

She finds her voice when you turn away, and she reaches out to touch your hand. "Stop, you've got it all wrong." Your eyes glance down to your intertwined hands, but you wiggle out of her grip with a heavy sigh. Over your shoulder, you shakily say, "You don't have to pretend for me, Jisoo. I'll be alright. If he makes you happy, then so be it." 

With that, you get in Yuqi's car and tell her to drive away, leaving Jisoo to deal with the sinking feeling in her chest that worsens as the car's tail lights grow dimmer and dimmer in the distance. You're gone, and she really has no idea how to come back from this. 

6.) Broken Hearted

The next few weeks were hell. You avoided Jisoo as much as possible, too embarrassed to face her after what happened and too weak to be close to her again. You'd surely fall even harder if you allowed yourself to grow any closer, so you didn't take the risk. How could you? Falling alone isn't an enjoyable experience, and you've been teetering on the edge of no return ever since that afternoon at the daycare. 

It was hard enough to escape her hold -- her face was everywhere, plastered on ads and bulletin boards all throughout campus, on reminders and sign ups for student council. You used your sick days in order to hide away in your dorm and block out the world, only being comforted by Ryujin when she wasn't busy with her own life or Yuqi when she could spare a few hours. They always made sure to care for you as much as they could, knowing first hand how tough heartbreak can be -- especially with the added stress of schoolwork. 

One person you thought about often was Jeong. Every time he'd cross your mind, dirtying up your brainwaves with the mere notion of himself, you'd grimace. He didn't deserve the attention, and yet you couldn't help but question why he did that to you. He hadn't reached out since that night, likely due to Yuqi giving him a piece of her mind after the game. He made it clear that he wasn't sorry, and that if given the chance, he'd play his cards even better and hopefully score a date with Jisoo. 

Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Hearing that it hadn't just been a stupid thing he did because he was drunk; he realized the weight of his actions, and he'd do it again, over and over, without caring about how you fit into the equation. That football game was simply a turning point, hidden in plain sight as an unassuming night for you to hang out with Yuqi. But you learned more then than you had ever intended to; Jeong's selfish, and he probably never even cared for you in the first place. The idea of that makes you feel dirty -- like you wasted so much of your time with such a horrible person, sticking up for him and defending his name when he wasn't around when he never even deserved that in the first place. You wish you would've known who he really was back then; you would've stayed away. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo was struggling much like you -- minus the whole "betrayed by a best friend" situation. Every time that she showed up in class, she hoped with every piece of herself that you'd walk through the door and grace the room with your presence. You seldom ever did, though -- but when you ran out of free days of absence and were forced to attend class in order to keep your grades up, you never even uttered a word to her. She'd make it a point to ask questions in class, hoping that hearing her voice would bring something out of you, as yours did to her. She longed to talk to you again, if only for a minute; but your resolve remained strong, and her determination grew weaker as the days went by. 

Being the person she is, though, she knew giving up wasn't an option. After a few weeks of that cycle, greeting stands were placed at the front doors of each complex on campus, manned by different members of the council. She came up with a story for the administration on the fly, using her people skills to convince them that it would be good for student morale and getting more people to join clubs. It was a great effort, but she underestimated your avoidance skills; you thwarted her plans again, slipping right through her strategically linked fingers. 

Eventually, she lost hope. She exhausted every option she knew to try, and the girls ran out of new ones as well. Seeing their unnie so upset saddened them, and they did all they could to cheer her up in any and every way they knew how. 

7.) Premiere Night

"Y/N, get up. You're gonna shower and get dressed if I have to force you to do it myself." Yuqi commands, blasting into your room and flipping on the overhead light that shines far too bright for your liking. 

"Mmm," you groan in protest, not even bothering to roll over. 

"I mean it; don't test me, you know I'm true to my word."

"Why, Yuqi?"

"Because we're going to the performance tonight. The big show that everyone has been going on about is premiering, and you're coming with me to see it."

"I can't do that." You say, her words sobering you up from your sleepy stupor.

"I know who the lead is," she informs, already knowing about your reasons for being hesitant, "and that's precisely why we're going. You can't keep living like this, so either go get your girl, or agree to be friends with her and work past what you're dealing with." 

"You sound like a mom at the end of an 80s movie."

"80s movie moms are valid, so I'll take that as a compliment. Now go!" She shouts, shoving you off the bed. You tumble to the floor in a heap of blankets and pillows, still managing to hit your funny bone as you let out a pained groan. 

"Remind me to slap her later, Ryujin." 

"Will do." She salutes, reaching a hand down to help you up. With one last glare at an annoyingly bubbly Yuqi, you head to the bathroom to shower. 

----

"How do I look?" You ask, looking yourself up and down in the skinny mirror attached to the wall. 

"Is it gay if I say I'd ask you out?" Yuqi asks with a smile, fanning herself animatedly when you strike a pose. 

"Very much so, yes." 

"Well, hand me the rainbow suspenders, then." 

You push her over with a laugh -- the first real one you've shared in a while -- and wrap her in a hug. 

"Thank you, for real. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." You say against her shoulder, pulling back to look at your roommate and add, "Either of you." The three of you settle in for a group hug and tell a few more jokes before Yuqi finally drags you out of the dorm. 

----

"How does it feel to be back in society?" Yuqi whispers, leaning in close to you to read the seat numbers printed on your tickets. 

"As lame as ever." You add, amusingly unenthused. 

"You're never gonna convince Jisoo to date your dumbass with that attitude." She retorts, feeling a little guilty when she sees your expression change upon hearing her name. You're afraid to see where the two of you will stand at the end of the night, so saying it's still a sore subject is the understatement of the year. 

"I'm messing with you, dude. If she doesn't want to be with you, then it's her loss; but I highly doubt that's the case. I've heard she misses you a lot." For once, Yuqi's words are halfway encouraging to hear, and you let out a light smile. 

"Well I'm prepared to worry about that whole situation later. For now, let's find our seats and enjoy the show." Your best friend quickly agrees, and the two of you squeeze through the crowds in the aisles to get to your row. 

----

"Jisoo, I promise you'll do well. You've been practicing for months; you've got this," Soo-hyun says, rubbing his co-lead's back in reassuring circles. The certainty in his deep voice gives Jisoo some semblance of security, and she stands to look at him with one final, nervous sigh. Stage fright has never been this big of an issue for her, but the size of the crowd and the idea that you might be out there scare the hell out of her. She wants you to be there with all of her heart, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle watching you walk away again. The past few weeks have been torture, and she misses your presence and witty remarks more than she ever thought possible. 

"Thank you, Soo-hyun. I'll meet you out there in a couple minutes, just let me collect myself."

He nods and says, "Take your time. I'll let Mrs. Choi know," before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Now alone again, Jisoo digs through her personal bag that lays neatly on the small futon of the dressing room. When her fingers come in contact with that familiar material she's spent hours staring at, she bites the inside of her cheek and unfolds it for the millionth time. Multiple poems and blurbs litter the page, accompanied by cute doodles and cartoons here and there that give it a personal feel. She's spent the time away from you methodically working through the different writings, restraining herself from reading all of them in one setting so that she can have new content from time to time. 

She's down to the last one, now, and a surprising sort of realization hits her when she reads it. It instills within her a sense of determination -- determination to get you back and set things right, one way or another. She makes a plan to find you after the performance.

-- After The Performance -- 

It was even more spectacular than you ever imagined it could be. The school spared no expense in getting the best props, employing the most skilled technicians on hand, and recruiting the best artists that the school had to paint the backdrops. Everyone behind the scenes worked tirelessly to produce the best show possible, and their efforts really paid off. 

And, of course, you can't forget the actors. 

The entire cast was incredible, their talent matching some of the world's most sought-after stars. Every part was played to perfection; even the smaller, supporting roles were acted with passion, really bringing the piece together as a whole. The production left you wanting more, too inspired and awestruck by the amazing performances to be content with just seeing it once. So, after numerous calls for an encore, the cast returned to run through a few of their key scenes. 

---

As the cast takes their final bow, large cannons placed on either side of the stage shoot out bursts of colorful confetti, and you watch it flutter down around them. Some try to catch a piece or two to add to their scrapbooks, wanting to have a trinket from their college years, while others just hug each other and twirl around with content smiles on their faces. The crowd continues its loud cheering, and eventually you find the courage to sneak a glance at Jisoo.

To your surprise, she's looking right back. 

Her eyes hold a mixed softness; she's proud of herself and glad that you came to support her on such a big night, but part of her wants to escape the busyness of it all and tell you everything she's been feeling. She'd be content with looking at you forever, she realizes, as she studies you. You're the true star in her eyes, always shining so bright and making everyone feel at home whenever they're around you. She hopes you know how special you are. 

Mrs. Choi approaches the cast from stage right, gathering their attention to congratulate them and commend them for their performances. Jisoo reluctantly looks away from you, unsure if it's the last time she'll be seeing you tonight. The thought upsets her, but there isn't much she can do about it right now; so, she gives her attention to her professor and flashes that smile that makes everyone weak in the knees. 

You knew it was just a matter of time before she'd be pulled away and immersed in some conversation about the show, but the selfish side of you never wanted her to look away. No matter how confusing things may be because of all of your unresolved issues, she still looks at you like she always had before -- her gaze is kind, albeit bittersweet, but it's full of care. Seeing her like that makes you feel like even more of an asshole than you already do -- maybe you should have just listened to her at the game. Running away was an immature choice, rooted entirely in your own sadness in that moment as you deprived yourself of any explanation she could've offered, though you can't judge yourself too harshly. The situation is complicated, and you still don't know whether to hate yourself for running or go easy on yourself in light of what happened. 

When Yuqi sees you stand up and shuffle towards the end of your row, she sends you a warning look. 

"Dude, I'm not gonna run away. I'm literally just gonna step outside for some fresh air, I promise." She visibly relaxes, no longer having to prepare herself to wrangle you back into the seat. 

"Fine. But if you aren't back in 15 minutes I'm coming to track you down. You really need to talk to her." 

You sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, trust me. Just let me get my thoughts together first." She sends you off to do just that, but not until the two of you complete the special handshake you made up all those months ago. 

---

Brisk air rushes over your skin in waves the moment you exit the side door of the building, automatically sending goosebumps to raise in its wake. It feels nice, though; it grounds you, and works to cool off your heated skin. The atmosphere inside was thick with the tension you've been feeling ever since what happened that night at the game, and its effects were only heightened by the raw performances of the evening. Passion and longing were the driving factors of the play, ironically, and many of the scenes drew eerie parallels to your current situation. So, it's no wonder that you're thankful to step away from it all for a bit.

You greet a few stray audience members that're puttering around outside as well, opting to walk down a little further away from them and lean against the building. The wall's brick material feels rough against your back, lightly scratching it whenever you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You don't mind it, though; it's oddly nostalgic, somehow. 

When you hear the door open again, you think nothing of it. The metal hinges latch just the same as they had for you, so there's really no reason for you to even look up. However, that all changes when you feel someone's eyes on you.

Unprepared is leaps and bounds away from being a fitting statement to describe how you feel in that moment; Jisoo stands merely 10 feet away from you at most, right next to the stage door that she just came out of. Her hands fiddle with the drawstrings of her costume, seemingly always needing to be occupied when she's nervous or unsure of herself; it's a habit you've picked up on after seeing it so many times. 

The longer you look at her, the more you want to look away; she's so beautiful it hurts, and the silence is eating away at you. You can't blame her, though; neither of you know what to say or do, and the only thing you seem capable of is staring at each other. When you break the intense eye contact you were sharing to turn away, only intending to take a minute to collect yourself, Jisoo is suddenly set in motion. 

She's afraid you'll leave again, and she's prepared to fight even harder for you this time.

I love you as the stars love the night sky

A fateful, cyclic romance

A game of eager greetings and reluctant goodbyes

Those words -- ones that you remember penning one day in class while completely entranced by Jisoo -- roll from her lips effortlessly, as if she had spent time committing them to memory. She had, in fact; whenever days passed without her even catching a glimpse of you, she always found herself unfolding that note again, tracing a finger over the curve of your unique letters as she reread the poem. It always brought her comfort to think that you were in just as deep as her, and a similar sense of hope blossoms in her chest now when she spots an unbelieving smile tug at the corner of your lips as you slowly turn to face her again. 

You're still into her, and she's falling even deeper at the realization. Maybe she didn't lose you after all. 

She takes calculated steps towards you and breathes a sigh of relief when you stay put, not showing any signs of running. The wheels in your head are going into overdrive now, turning and churning as you process her little recital, and she prays with all of her heart that you won't be upset once you put two and two together. 

"How did you…"

"You dropped it one day, and I picked it up. I meant to give it back to you, but I guess I just never got around to it." She feels a little guilty for keeping it as long as she has, but it's served as a way of keeping you close during your time apart. Those bits and pieces of you, scattered around on that page, encapsulated by the annotations and doodles you so kindly left behind, have stayed in her heart. Ever since she discovered it all that time ago, it's never been very far from her; she cherishes it more than you'll ever know. 

"You didn't show it to anyone, right?" Your voice is laced with worry, lowered a bit to keep others from overhearing. 

"No, no! Of course not. I just… kept it for myself. You're really talented; I couldn't stop reading your stuff." 

"Thank, I guess?" You awkwardly chuckle, still a bit rusty on how to interact with her after everything. Plus, to be fair, having your crush read one of the love letters you wrote about her is a bit unheard of. Newfound territory, you think to yourself.

"How long?" You ask after a minute of silence, only realizing how loaded your question is after it slips past your lips, turning into a puff of steam in the chilly atmosphere. "How long have you… felt that way about me?" You quickly add, "Assuming that you feel what the poem says, of course." 

An amused smile tweaks her lips at how cute you are. "I do, Y/N. I always have; ever since that afternoon at the daycare." 

"Really?" The question is quiet, full of childlike disbelief. 

"Really. It was always you." She says it freely now: unafraid.

The sentiment is sweet, but memories of the football game come flooding back and you're reminded that as much as you want to skip this next part, you still have things to discuss. 

"What about Jeong?" 

"What about him?"

"Did you ever like him?"

"No. The girls thought so, but it was just a misunderstanding. That's why Lisa introduced us at the game; she thought I had a crush on him, but I told her that you were always the one I was looking at. I told all of the girls that, after that night." 

Her confession renders you speechless -- only capable of listening and nodding every now and then. She takes advantage of your silence to finally explain herself and tell you everything she's been dying to. 

"I didn't know you felt the same until our talk in the parking lot. I mean, I was hopeful after some of the moments we had, but I didn't know for sure until then. I wanted to beg you to stay and hear me out, but you left before I had the chance."

You blink a few times as the reality of her words begin to sink in. "I had no idea…"

"Yeah, well…" she trails off, unsure of what to say next. She's forgiven you for walking away, knowing you were just hurt, but the whole situation still left a bad taste in her mouth. So much pain could've been avoided for the both of you if you had just listened.

"How did they take it?"

"They yelled at me for waiting so long to tell them, but then they tried to help me get you back. Remember those student council booths?" She leans in a little closer to ask that last line, her lips pulling to the side in that iconic smirk of hers. 

You audibly gasp and point at her animatedly. "I knew that was you!"

"Mhm, pulled some fancy-sounding excuse out of my ass to convince the board, and boom; 20 brand new tables set up the next day. I still can't believe you managed to slip past them, though. I mean, c'mon, have you seen how talkative those kids can be?" 

"Trust me, it wasn't easy," you laugh with her. "I had to sneak to the back entrances like a drug dealer." 

"I can totally see that." 

"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" The stupid hair flip you do makes her laugh even harder, clutching her stomach as those beautiful sounds slip past her lips. 

As your shared laughter eventually turns into soft chuckles, she smiles at you, saying, "I really missed this. I missed you, so so much." 

"I've been a wreck without you, Jisoo. It's honestly embarrassing." 

She looks at you with something new shining in her eyes, and she carefully contemplates what she's about to admit. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course." 

"I rarely cry, Y/N, but I did over you. So you have no reason to be embarrassed. It seems like both of us were pretty bad off." She looks down after saying that, scuffing her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk. Being vulnerable isn't usually easy for her, and she never really lets people see that side of her -- not even the girls. She feels like she has to stay strong for them to keep things running smoothly, but she fails to realize how important her own feelings are. You're different, though; she feels like her entire collection of secrets would be safe with you, and you make her feel secure enough to be open like that. 

When she feels you step closer and hook two fingers underneath her chin, her eyes dart up to yours and her heart speeds up. Your other arm hesitantly wraps around her waist, giving her plenty of time to step away and deny you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she couldn't possibly want someone like you that you're genuinely surprised when she steps further into your embrace, pulling your arm tighter around herself. 

Her right arm comes to rest loosely on your shoulder as her other hand caresses your forearm, rubbing various patterns against your smooth skin. "I tried so hard to get you to pick up on my flirting," she starts, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as she holds you close. "Every touch," she runs a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "Every look," she moves her hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it sweetly as she gazes into your eyes. She strokes your skin with the pad of her thumb, smiling beautifully when she feels you nuzzle into her hold even more. 

"And that kiss…" she says, sounding breathless at the mere thought of it. "I wanted it to last forever." 

"Why didn't you tell me that, then?" You ask, not even a trace of anger in your tone. You're determined to let go of all the hurt and fear that your misunderstandings have caused, opting instead to finally get the answers you've wanted for so long. "After I came back from putting Aera to bed you were just… different. And then when you said it was just a part of the script--"

"I know. I was afraid that if I let myself have you like that -- if I let you in all the way -- there'd be no going back." When she sees the confusion building in your eyes, she continues on. "I don't usually let myself get distracted; I can't afford it. You know how seriously I take my studies." You nod, recalling the numerous times you've found her in the library until it closed, studying hard for the exams everyone knew she'd ace. "But you wiggled your way past every line of defense I ever put up. You became my favorite distraction." A dopey grin tugs at your lips at receiving that title, and you subconsciously hold your head a little higher.

"But I wasn't prepared for that. You make me feel things that I've never felt before, and I really didn't think I could afford to let myself have you. Not fully, anyway. I could deal with a crush; I told myself I could keep you close enough that I wouldn't miss you, but far enough that I could keep myself protected."

"What changed?" You ask, smoothing your hands over the small of her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. They've worked their way under the hem of her shirt during your conversation, subconsciously seeking to share her warmth, and Jisoo has been acutely aware of it the entire time. 

"When I saw you walk away like that I didn't know what to do with myself. I've had people leave before, so it's not a new thing; but I never missed them like I've missed you."

A bittersweet, melancholic look settles on your face at that; she deserves every good thing that the world has to offer, so knowing that you played a part in her sadness -- whether it be direct or indirect -- disheartens you a bit. 

"But you're here now, and that's all that matters." She says, leaning her forehead against yours. 

"And I'm not going anywhere," you affirm, holding her even closer than before. She brushes her nose against yours with a quiet sigh, relieved to be in your arms, caught safely in your warm embrace. If falling feels like this, she's more than okay with it. 

"Can I?" You ask, glancing down to the heart shaped pillows you've dreamt of having against yours again. 

She nods, uttering a soft, "Please", as she tilts her head to the side in expectancy. You close the remaining distance, bending your knees slightly to tighten your hold on her waist and pull her flush up against yourself. Both of her arms wrap around your neck now, occasionally coming down to tilt your head and allow her better access, or run her fingers through your hair. It's sensual and meaningful, but an air of urgency hangs in the air, thickening it the longer her lips are on you. Both of you are making up for lost time, so it's no wonder you're so eager. 

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she backs you up, pressing you against the brick wall that you had migrated a few steps away from during your conversation. If she were kissing anyone else, perhaps she'd care about the strangers staring, or what they might say; but as she stands here, feeling your hands explore her body in the ways that she's dreamed of and your lips kiss her senseless, that's the furthest thought from her mind. Her hands grab at the collar of your shirt, balling the material up in her palms as she pushes her lips against yours from a new angle. 

When you eventually pull back for air, you can't help but say the phrase that's been sitting on your mind for weeks. "I love you." 

Her heart speeds up to match yours, both of them racing as you look at each other with giant smiles on your faces. "I love you, too. If you hadn't already guessed that," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. This one's more innocent, though -- full of giddiness as you replay each other's declaration in your minds. 

"Y/N L/N IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE--"

Yuqi bellows loudly, blasting through the side door and out into the chilly night air. The metal smacks against the wall from the force she exerted, and you physically cringe at the sound. Jisoo does the same, quickly pulling away to find out what's going on. 

When Yuqi's line of sight settles on the two of you, her eyebrows raise and a smirk lands on her lips. "Well, well, well. Looks like my work here is done," she says, cocking her head to the side self-assuredly when she sees how swollen both of your lips are and how mussed your clothing is. You send her a look that she registers as "Get lost", and she retreats back into the performance hall with her hands raised in surrender.

"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you watch the door close behind her, its poor hinges still recovering from her assault. Jisoo's giggle makes you turn back to her, finding a breathtaking smile forming on her lips. "You're so cute," she coos, poking your cheek, "especially when you blush like that." 

You fight the bashfulness that attempts to take over, managing to cock a brow at her and say, "Hey, watch it -- I might not be so kind in my next poem if you don't stop teasing me." 

"Aww, don't be like that, baby." 

She tenses up after realizing she let that pet name slip out at the end, but your smile only widens. 

"Say that again."

"Baby," she drawls in her signature sultry tone, stepping closer to you again. 

"Mmm, I could get used to that." You hum against her lips, pressing yours to them at the end of your statement. 

"Good, because there's more where that came from." 

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," she settles into your arms again, looking into your eyes with so much love you nearly swoon. "This is only the beginning for us." 

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Ep 17 part one

(Masterpost of all the rewatches) (Canary’s pinboard of original content)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Inaccessible

Wei Wuxian hides in a boat among the lotuses next to a pier in Lotus Pier, the second-most-literally-named home in the show, after The Burial Mounds. This pier has a railing that goes all the way around it, without any ladders or anything. Not to be ADA on main but this means if you can't Jedi jump, you're fucked.  

Hefeng Liquor

While Wei Wuxian waits and tries, not very successfully, to keep his shit together, he hears the guards talking about the local booze that they're going to drink at their murder victory party. We learn, in a desaturated flashback (that OP has done her best to resaturate), that this is lotus-infused wine invented by Wei Wuxian during happier days. 

He kicks the flashback off with his favorite activity, Unnecessarily Erotic Beverage Drinking. (gifset) I’ve slowed this gif down so we can all appreciate the unnecessariness. The way his hand caresses that leaf OMG

Hopefully he is not drinking lake water out of that leaf. Side note: How is it possible that Xiao Zhan doesn't have a drinking water endorsement deal? I had to resort to Zhu Yilong's brand of water for this gag. I figure if it's good enough to pour directly onto a lightning burn like they do in The Lost Tomb Reboot, it's good enough for a leaf hummer chastely drinking out of a leaf

(more behind the cut!)

In his memory, Jiang Cheng tells him to stop fucking around and come help with the basket of lotus pods. Wei Wuxian responds by grabbing one for himself and then sitting his ass down and not helping. Cause he’s a motherfucking P.I.M.P.

Emotional Rescue

Wen Ning arrives on the pier with Jiang Chang, to Wei Wuxian's extreme relief. Look how much emotion Xiao Zhan is able to convey even with half of his face hidden, my lord.

Wen Ning carries Jiang Cheng on his back, in an echo of other significant piggyback rides in Wei Wuxian's life.  

Wei Wuxian's relief is at war with his fear, seeing his brother in such bad shape. Remember, these are cultivators, who heal quickly and mostly don't get their asses beat this hard. The only time Wei Wuxian has been comatose was after the Xuanwu cave, and that was probably because of his prolonged contact with resentful energy/Yin iron.

Hibernating Zidian

Wen Ning gets ready for his first, but not his last, boat ride with an unconscious Yunmeng brother in it. He tells Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng is pretty fucked up but isn't dead.

Then he gives Zidian to him. Before we talk about Zidian, let's talk about BAMF Wen Ning.  Wen Ning is an awkward goofball. He’s also insanely competent at just about everything--wine-drugging, dude-smuggling, corpse retrieval, dog acupuncture, drug pushing. As well as shooting rocks out of the air and, later, beating zombie ass, and resisting mind control. . 

This is the foundation of their friendship; it’s not actually about Wei Wuxian being nice to the weird kid. He initially sought Wen Ning out for the same reason he sought out weird kid Lan Wangji--his martial skill. He accepts his weirdness and is protective of him because of his missing-spirit problem, but he did not befriend him out of altruism.

Wei Wuxian is so forgiving that he can smile fondly when looking at the weapon that whipped the shit out of him a couple of days ago.

Wei Wuxian puts Zidian down right next to Jiang Cheng's hand and...nothing happens. It doesn't recognize him or spark to life. This didn't seem meaningful when I watched it the first time, but rewatching...yikes. It KNOWS.

Wei Wuxian admits, with tears in his eyes, that there is nowhere safe for him to go with Jiang Cheng, and Wen Ning immediately offers care and shelter. Even though that is putting his own life at serious risk.

Life obligation is a common theme in CDramas. It’s often something a person chooses as a way of showing love. Guardian builds an eternal romance out of two people saving each other’s lives over and over.  But accepting the obligation is a choice (in fantasy dramas, if not in real life). Love and Redemption has a gloriously harsh sequence where a life is saved, and the save-ee cooly rejects the saver.

Every time Wen Ning saves Wei Wuxian, he cites that one time that Wei Wuxian saved him from the water demon. And Wei Wuxian cites this rescue right here when he throws everything away to save Wen Ning. Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng doesn't acknowledge any debt to Wen Ning at all, only--grudgingly--to Wen Qing. And people are ok with that.

Basically all this is to say that I think Wen Ning leans into this life debt because he loves Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian leans into it because he loves him back. Non-romantically, I think...at least on Wei Wuxian’s part. YMMV.

They go to pick up Yanli from their Granny, telling her to go into hiding. She starts to cry, not knowing how she'll manage on her own. Wei Wuxian tells her that they will come back, as Wen Ning looks super unsure about that.

Of course Wei Wuxian can't know, at this point, whether they will come back. Wei Wuxian always wants to make everybody feel better, and sometimes you really can't make someone feel better except by lying. He compulsively says shit that he thinks people want to hear, almost as if he was beaten frequently and arbitrarily as a child.

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational boat ride industry, as he rows the Yunmeng trio through some amazingly beautiful scenery.

Core Melting Time

Meanwhile, back at Lotus Pier The Yunmeng Supervisory Office, Wen Chao is hung over, Wen Chao is angry, Yawn

For some reason, Wang Lingjiao has suddenly decided to talk to Wen Chao in the most cloying and annoying way possible. 

Also, the fact that she still addresses him as Gongzi when she is totally fucking him is kind of great. This is like those fics where Elizabeth Bennet calls Mr. Darcy "Mr. Darcy" even when they're married and hitting it. 

Wen Zhuliu demonstrates why he's called Core-Melting Hand, by punishing the wine guard. He's able to melt a guy's core by grabbing him by the throat, and also picks him up, Darth Vader style, for extra meltyness.

All that stuff I said last time about Wen Zhuliu feeling ambivalent about being a villian...yeah, he seems to have gotten that right out of his system. 

Chilling in Yiling

Wen Ning is doing his best for the recreational carriage ride industry.  Wei Wuxian, after presumably several hours in the cart, decides that now is a good time to get curious about where they are going. 

Here we start to see a new side of Wei Wuxian.  Before this he was carefree, other than specific worries about his friends. He confronted danger with lightness and humor, or with temporary fear, that he let go of once the danger passed. Now, after all the deaths and seeing Jiang Cheng so injured, he's twitchy, anxious, and angry.

Very, very angry.

When he realizes that Wen Ning has brought them to the Yiling supervisory office, he goes off, demanding to know whose home this was before the Wens took it and grabbing Wen Ning and shoving him into a decorative...decoration.  He thinks Wen Ning brought them here to harm them. 

I wouldn't have thought such a pretty dude could be so menacing, but holy crap.

The way he's confronting Wen Ning here is not his normal style. He's not trying to provoke a bigger fight like he usually does; he's not trying to create distance, the way Jiang Cheng does. He's very intimate, getting right in his face and maintaining eye contact. He trusted Wen Ning and feels personally betrayed.  

Shy little Wen Ning is remarkably calm when confronted like this. Wen Ning really isn’t afraid of anything, despite his general air of nervousness. (Full gifset of Angry WWX over here.) 

He calmly and kindly explains the situation. He doesn't appeal to Wei Wuxian's trust, saying "oh I would never;" he appeals to his logic, which gets through to him. 

Wen Qing comes out and the guards start banging on the door and Wei Wuxian flips out again, grabbing a sword and pointing it at Wen Qing as she decides what to do.  Wen Qing seems unruffled by Wei Wuxian's sword pointing, and we see her weighing up the situation.

She makes her decision, sending the guards away and deciding to help the fugitives, officially joining the Clear Conscience Club. She could probably get Wen Ning out of trouble by turning them in, but she opts to put personal loyalty and her belief in her own ideals ahead of her family's safety.

Wei Wuxian is not ok. He’s just not ok. He tries to act like it after they get settled in with Wen Qing, but he's not, and I think that plays into his next several choices. 

Next comes a whole sequence of Jiang Cheng being unconscious with pins in his head--ow--while Wei Wuxian twitchily tends to him. 

This sequence is kind of unfair to Jiang Yanli. What matters to the story here is Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship, so that’s the focus of these scenes. But really, there is no way Jiang Yanli would not be at Jiang Cheng's side unless she was literally unconscious herself. Let's assume Wen Qing stuck a needle in her to make her rest while she has a fever. Shippers should also feel free to assume that Wen Qing spent hours at her bedside, tenderly wiping her forehead and holding her hand as she recovered. In his sleep, while Wei Wuxian sits by his side, Jiang Cheng calls for his sister, mother, and father, but not for his brother. Ouch.  

Let's pause to appreciate Wei Wuxian's new outfit, which is the sort of getup most people in this society probably imagine Yiling Laozu wearing, rather than the low-key homespun stuff he actually spends his Yiling year in. This robe has fancy shoulders, shiny material, touches of Jiang purple, strange red hoody strings, and a fuckin' CAPE. He didn't bring any luggage with him from Lotus Pier, although he's still got his Yin Turtle Sword hidden in a bag of holding. So the most likely explanation is that Wen Ning hooked him up with this lewk. "Wei Wuxian is a nice person. He should have a magnificent cape."

Wen Wing and Wei Wuxian take a breather to stand on the porch and work out what their status is with each other, like a couple of fucking adults, which is amazing. Basically Wei Wuxian is ready to forget earlier Wen shenanigans, but is going to avenge Lotus Pier. 

Wen Qing isn't enthusiastic about that but doesn't argue, just asking, mostly rhetorically, if he plans to kill her too. He's uncomfortable considering that; the role of avenger isn't one that's comfortable for him, although he turns out to be extremely good at it. He does not, of course, plan to kill her too. In a few months, imprisoned in a Wen dungeon, she will be the only Wen left alive after Wei Wuxian 1.5(No-Gold Edition) and Chenqing come to visit.

Jiang Cheng finally wakes up, and the first thing he does is to test out his spiritual power by hitting Wei Wuxian as hard as he can. 

DUDE.

Look at Wei Wuxian's face, as he goes from happy, to shocked and hurt, to laughing it off. It's exactly like when Jiang Cheng shoved him in the Rock Lady temple. Has Wei Wuxian spent all of his years with Jiang Cheng going from affection, to hurt feelings, to pretending it's fine? God, I think he probably has.

This episode raises a question that will come up again later, but never be answered. That question is, what the fuck are these weird footies and why the fuck does Jiang Cheng wear them to bed?

Jiang Cheng reveals that his golden core is gone, that he can't cultivate any more, which means he can't avenge his parents or achieve any ambitions in life. Nobody has apparently given any thought to why Wen Zhuliu is called "Core-Melting Hand" before this, which is hilarious, frankly. If I fought with a guy called, for example, Brain-Eating Mouth, I think I would make certain assumptions about him and what he planned to do with my brain.

Something interesting is happening in this moment, because as he comes fully back to consciousness, Jiang Cheng pours out all of his trauma and horror to his brother, telling him about the core melting and practically wailing about his feelings over it all. And his brother understands, and ultimately finds a way to help him. What does Wei Wuxian do after his own trauma? Keeps it secret, so nobody finds a way to help him, although many people try to. So Jiang Cheng is, in this way at least...emotionally healthier than Wei Wuxian? That's unexpected.

Jiang Cheng is super upset and is mad at eternal scapegoat Wei Wuxian for saving him. Jiang Cheng would rather be dead than be a regular person. Whereas Wei Wuxian, faced with the same problem, is like, *shrug* I’ll adapt. These are both valid emotional responses to suddenly becoming disabled. Losing a golden core is definitely a disability, in this environment; it's not just about magic sword fights. Jiang Cheng's home is designed for people who can fly; Lan Wangji's home is designed for people who don't feel cold, and Wen Central is made of actual lava, for example. 

Jiang Cheng is already struggling with a lot of difficulties. He was raised by shitty parents, he's got anger management issues, he has a crushing weight of responsibility. And now he's also lived through the deaths of most of the people who matter to him. If sword cultivation is the one thing that gives him joy in life (ok one of two things, obviously fashion also gives him joy because he WORKS it), he can't reasonably be expected to rally when it's taken away.  

Oh, honey. Oh, baby boy. 

Wen Qing picks the worst moment to come in and tries to tend to Jiang Cheng, who starts off being devastated that the girl he likes is seeing the wreck he's become, and then moves along to helpless rage when he remembers that she's a Wen, and he screams at her to get out.  

Jiang Cheng is not able to put personal loyalty ahead of clan loyalty like Wei Wuxian is. Partly this is his nature, and partly it's his role as the lineal descendant of the clan leader. As a firstborn son of a gentry family, his destiny as clan leader is in his blood, and so is his responsibility to the clan. When Wei Wuxian praises Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for caring less about bloodlines than about shared ambition, he is speaking from the position of someone who's bloodline ain't shit. Jiang Cheng will never be able to share that perspective.

Next: More of this excruciating episode!

Writing prompt: The Day I Discovered I Could Melt Your Fucking Core, by Wen Zhuliu Drabble prompt: Why I Wear Socks to Bed, by Jiang Cheng

[infinitegalahad]

Hi! Could you please do 4 or 24 from the fluff prompt list for brad or nate from generation kill?❤️

ROSY RED SKIES (AND CHEEKS)

Summary: Brad acts differently around you, and you begin to notice his little quirks and tease him endlessly for it.

Word-Count: 1.4k

Prompts: “you’re blushing”, “am not”, and “could you hold my hand?”

Warnings: N/A

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Notes: Decided to give gen kill some love since my love for it has resparked! I need to rewatch the show when school ends istg🥲 This is my first time writing for the show as well-so please bare with me! I just love when the iceman goes to the puddleman. Enjoy! 

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt! 

The chill brush of the waves crashing into your bare feet made goosebumps form all over your skin. Wyoming, even in the middle of July, became brisk as soon as the sun would hide behind the mountains. It was a spectacular sunset with the mountains and orange and pink sky, minus the temperature. As soon as Brad had parked his bike, you had hopped off and ran to the nearest lake to get the best view of the sunset. You threw off your boots and cuffed your pants, feeling one with nature. You couldn’t help that you were from the northeast-Ray would poke fun at you, but there was something about nature that was so soothing. You’d simply show him a smile, and roll your eyes. It was just Ray after all.

Your boyfriend, however, was the polar opposite of you.  

Brad knew that you were too good for him, and the world. He didn’t understand how optimistic and empathetic you could be. Normally, those types of people were an annoyance, but you were different to him. At first glance, he thought of you as a pest. Ray would bother you since you stood out in the company, so he kept to himself. There was a point where you would be the driver instead of being in the rear, and that was when Brad felt at ease. Many troops — but certainly not all — see female flesh as a justified spoil. Most of Hitman, or a solid majority, were like rabid dogs. If they saw a woman, they’d foam at the mouths and talk about them like objects. Brad never wrapped his head around how open these men could be-especially around you. That’s the moment he knew, or at least Ray knew, that Brad Colbert had the world’s biggest crush on y/n.

It was an unforgettable day. You had been the driver of the humvee and Brad had been in the passenger things. Ray had started running his trap, and Trombely had remarked “at least the women can drive.” Brad had turned around, a flushed face (he claimed it was from the heat), and had Trombely shut the fuck up. Trombley was a psychopath, everybody knew that, but he targeted you the most with lewd remarks. After Brad had defended you, Trombely never bothered you again.

And you weren’t a horrible person-just y/n with a smile that made Brad’s cock twitch in his pants.

You wanted to thank Brad, but he simply iced you out.

One day it was raining, you and Ray had been in charge of fixing the humvee. The two of you were drenched, soaking, and weighted down by the heavy and brisk weight of the rain.

“Man, this is what it must feel like in a girl’s panties whenever the big, strong Viking known as Brad Colbert speaks to a chick,” Brad remarked as he looked down at you with a shit-eating grin. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he took great pleasure in doing so. “Tell me, my dearest pal. How does it feel?”

You were under the humvee, doing some final checks as Ray annoyed you. As you secured the final screw, you let out a sigh.

“My god, I normally don’t like saying this, but shut up Ray, please.” As you rolled out from the jeep, you threw the tools laying around back into the box. “It’d Fan-fucking tastic if maybe he didn’t repress his feelings.”

Turning around, Brad Colbert stood right behind you, his blue eyes piercing into your soul. Water dripped down his skin as he had a stoic expression on before turning around and exiting. Ray Person takes full pride in being the reason you two hooked up in the back of the humvee later that night.

A year later, here you and Brad were. The two of you had nobody but yourselves, so you chose to live where nobody could find the two of you. Brad thought that the state of human nature allowed people to be selfish and savage. The horrors of war had proved his point, which further increased his hatred for people.

But a simple smile or stolen touch from you-and Brad would go from the iceman to the puddle man.

You brought the good out in Brad. He hated everybody, but you, and he wanted to spend his time with you in the most unpopulated state in the United States. And you had no issue going with him. You had dreams to work as a Park Ranger, and as long as Brad had you by his side, then he was content.

Even though Brad loved you, as alien as it was, he occasionally didn’t understand you.

Brad had seen you hop off the bike and throw your helmet to the side, jumping towards the lake as he watched you like a hawk. He assumed he let you do your own thing and be “one with nature” or whatever zen-shit Rudy was into. But as you walked further into the lake, his brown leather jacket hanging off of your shoulders, is when he stepped into action.

“Y/n,” He called out, his voice echoing. You looked over, and Brad was starstruck. His jacket draped over your smaller frame as your eyes were widened like a deer in headlights.

“Yeah?” You questioned, nudging your shoulders.

Brad stood close to the shoreline, his icy blue eyes burning into your soul. His lips pursed against each other as his cheeks showed a red tint. No words came from his mouth, just the silence of the water and wind. He stood in place, looking right at you.

A smile curved up on your cheek. He was never like this around anyone else. After his fiance had left him, he was torn-at least in your eyes. You and Brad weren’t that different-your boyfriend had left you and had broken the news with a damn Christmas card. It was the strange way the two of you bonded. It wasn’t all mushy emotions and crying or cuddling-it was unprofessional, as much as you needed it. Instead, your bond consisted of long conversations on top of the humvee, looking at the stars. Iraq, despite it being hot during the day, turned freezing at night. Brad had given you his hoodie, which was like a nightgown on you. It was gray, the words ‘colbert” embroidered on the front.

You still kept it in your closet, wearing it for when you needed reassurance.

“You’re blushing,” You giggled as you turned your body fully around to look at your boyfriend.

Brad snapped out of his trance as his hand came to feel his cheek. He shook his head, “Am not.”

A smirk appeared on your face, “Really?”

Kicking off his sneakers and rolling up his jeans, he began to walk into the lake. “Really.”

“You sure?” You took a few steps back, but he kept gaining onto you.

Brad was close enough to grab your hand, restraining you with his strength. “Positive, ma’am.”

Jumping up, you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, which once again caught him off guard. “You're hot,” You noticed, “Well, literally. But you’re burning up, liar.”

“You realize how annoying you can be sometimes?”

“You chose to date me,” You shrugged your shoulders as you slid past him in the water, “Let’s head out before it gets dark.”

Once again, Brad grabbed you and held you back, but instead of taking your wrist-he took your hand.

You turned back and looked up at him. He had the expression of a baffled child, unable to explain what predicament he had gotten into. It had your heart melt-here was the notorious iceman, cold and cunning, melting into the puddleman.

“Brad?”

“Could you hold my hand?”

Pulling him forward, you locked your hands into his and gave them a squeeze. “Of course-why wouldn’t I?”

“We haven’t done this before.” He responded as the two of you walked out of the law, your feet drenched, “I’m not into the whole romance thing.”

“Wow-I never noticed.” You said, sarcasm in your voice, “I like it, puddleman. At Least your not calling me corporal.”

After the war, it took time for Brad to differentiate you as his girlfriend and his corporal. As much as he cared for you, he found it hard to do basic things such as showing his affection and even calling you by his first name. But with time, you showed up, and it came to him.

“You go from being my RTO to my girlfriend,” Brad says as he whispers into your ear, “And yet you're still the same-stubborn.”

“And you love it.” You smiled at your boyfriend, not expecting anything back from him but an annoyed face.

But Brad looked down at you with awe in his-and a subtle smile on his face.

[chroniclerwabba]

halo infinite is just not worth playing/completing for what little you end up getting which - quite frankly - hurts to say because so many of us were banking on this game. and there is a lot in the game to like but sadly not enough of it.

the grappling hook is fun and the gunplay is very solid, not to mention that chief, cortana 2, and echo 216 pilot all have likeable dynamics with each other. and that’s it. there’s really not much else good about it

The open world aspect just doesn’t work and holds the game back. Firefights with enemies where you have plenty of room to clamber, grapple, and maneuver are great, but it’s held back by the various Ubisoft copy/paste time fillers. Vehicle maneuvering is such a chore because the terrain is too mountainous, and there’s not enough open vistas to just drive across. I was taking a warthog with two marines up a hill to fight this powerful group of brutes, and the moment you catch any air - even for a second where you just bump a small hill - you lose momentum and start sliding down the hill, undoing any progress you made. The horses in Skyrim shouldn’t be outperforming and outnavigating the military ATVs in a game that ten years younger. The checkpoint system can work for or against you. The game also severely lacks variety in its levels because you’re just stuck in that one alpine forested part of the map. No deserts, beaches, swamps, or tundras like we see in the last games or even footage. Hell, we don’t even get those deer or brontothere we saw in the trailer. A lack of enemy variety also kinda hinders things because outside of the Covenant, you fight the sentinels on occasion. No Flood or Prometheans or anything new to tackle.

The plot itself - despite being a sequel to Halo 5 and Halo Wars 2 - feels like reboot of Halo 1 again but half finished. The game starting us over Zeta Halo fighting Atriox with no real frame of reference after the events of Guardians/Wars 2 only to hard cut six months later to a completely different setup is such a strange decision, which only serves the weird unnecessary twist at the end. The plot itself relies on Chief, the Pilot, and Cortana 2 which isn’t really a lot to stand on unfortunately. You don’t have anyone else to cooperate with and share screentime. No Bisenti, Mendoza, Stacker, Chips, Johnson, Arbiter, Shipmaster, Buck, Mickey, Dutch, Romeo, Noble Team, Keyes, or even a Guilty Spark. Not even Blue Team or Team Osiris are involved, just conveniently handwaved away as doing something else somewhere else. No characters to get into the shit with you and break things with some levity. They have marines there to say Funny Dialogue™, but it just feels more like a “well the old halos did it” rather than something they felt interested in. There are no marine characters out on the halo that you meet and go “oh, it’s that guy! I love him!” The marines are just bland characters there only to do the job and don’t feel like fun sidekicks to adventure with. Outside of the grunts, the other members of the Covenant feel rather flat and are reduced to very basic interpretations of their roles. Elites have lofty and drawn out dialogue about honor and battles with rather flat performances and no weight to the dialogue, which is nowhere near as entertaining as them just going “worhby” like in Halo 1. Also, why the fuck do Jackals talk now? It’s gross.

Escharum’s gimmick gets old really quick. I like warrior/philosopher villains, but every single encounter with him consists of a long-winded lofty soliloquy that’s there to pad the game’s time and set him up as this big final boss. Every cutscene plays out the same with him, and there’s no other interesting Covenant characters to balance him out. Everybody else is just some henchman for you to kill with nothing of their own to contribute. A major far cry away from the Prophets, Guilty Spark, Tartarus, Ripa ’Moramee, or Gravemind. Better than Jul ‘Mdama at least. Ultimately, you’re just relieved to kill Escharum because all those tedious dialogue sequences are finally over. And your reward is a rather abrupt ending that serves as a way to segway to more story DLC The Covenant has struggled with direction and development since 343 took over, and the Banished are just an extension of that. Unfortunate because Halo Wars 2 was fairly solid in handling the Banished.

Customization and in-game rewards are a fucking joke, with everything and anything you can unlocked being nickeled and dimed. Unless you get lucky and a weekly event rolls out something neat, the only way you’re getting anything to mix up your character model is either through the battle pass or buying it for $10-$20 on the store. Which you do by buying credits with real money that you then use to buy gear while also not offering a way to earn credits in-game, thus making me question why you have to buy credits in the first place and not just have the price be what it is. Hell, I fully admit I’ve bought a few things, but that came with the expectation that you would eventually unlock things naturally by playing and earn things in-game. But that is not the case, because the campaign dropped and all you get for it are emblems and skins. Three different variations of red and like two greys, I think. No exclusive armor from playing the campaign or collecting all the skulls. No Hayabusa, Mark V or IV, not even the Yoroi armor. It’s the most unfriendly thing I’ve seen to casual players and literally lootboxes would’ve been better, which is a hell of a fucking take. Even if you gotta lock a lot of customization behind a paywall, other games have done that in a way that’s less agonizing, like Warframe, FF14, Black Desert, etc. Even Fortnite does it better. The system is so rigid and restrictive that you can’t even colorize your armor pieces. You have to select pre-colorized skins that pick the pattern for you. Even Halo 5 wasn’t this bad.

Multiplayer has its own plethora of problems, which really stings considering how solid the gameplay loop is when it works. Bullet dropoff is a thing in many guns instead of them just being hitscan, which is just annoying. 343 weapons just don’t feel fun to play and lack the punch of the Bungie era weapons, most of which have been replaced aside from the iconic ones. Only ten levels to play, and they get old really fast. No way to vote on or choose what you wanna play as any sort of game variety is all RNG-based. So if you have a challenge where you need to do Stockpile in BTB, you have a 25% chance of getting Stockpile. This complete random shuffling of levels and gametypes is clearly a way to stretch out progression and make you sweat for everything you’re worth. The sandbox is also incredibly rigid and not at all casual friendly. It’s all geared towards the competitive scene and feeling like an esport. No Forge, Firefight, Infection, Grifball, Shotty Snipers, Co-Op, File Share, or anything like that. We just recently got Slayer and SWAT added.

This is clearly a game that needed another year in development and fine-tuning to be complete because - as is - the campaign is not worth $60. It’s barely worth $30. But Microsoft was determined to push thing out regardless because not only has it already been delayed once already and struggled with high turnover and being $500 million money sink, Microsoft desperately needs a hit to push Xbox sales. The Xbox needs a killer app because Xbox just doesn’t really have much going for it other than the Game Pass, and that’s not enough. Exclusives sell systems, and they’re struggling from a marketing and PR standpoint with that next to Sony.

Sony has its own problems, and PS Now is fucking garbage. But they have a much stronger library of major titles available and in the works for the PS5. Demon’s Souls, Persona 5, Ghost of Tsushima, Days Gone, God of War, Ratchet and Clank, MediEvil, The Last of Us, Uncharted, Returnal, Bloodborne, Horizon, the KotOR remake, Wolverine, and Spider-Man. Xbox just has Gears, Forza, and Sea of Thieves. None of which really were the major gangbusters that either Sony’s titles or Halo are. And after missteps like Scalebound and Crackdown 3, they’re looking for some real payoff. Like a real solid system selling major success. Probably why they’re also bring Fable out of retirement as well.

It’s just unfortunate that Halo Infinite has such a solid foundation that is held back by abysmal game design decisions and now being reduced to a live service title when the series’ original solid stature proved it didn’t need to be that way. 343 has a whole new fight planned for you in the future, but as far as I’m concerned, this fight’s finished. Infinite can sit in the dumpster with Cyberpunk 2077.

[jungshookz]

Halloween in CeeWorld

I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to post this. 

These drabbles were in Cee’s drafts, so... if I wasn’t supposed to post this, blame it on Y/N. 

Enjoy. Or not. It doesn’t really matter to me. 

                                    the little ghost (ceo!yoongiverse)

“alright, let’s get this quarantine hwalloween party started!” you clap your hands together as you step into the living room before rubbing them together excitedly, “is everyone excited??”

“as excited as i’ll ever be,” jungkook huffs as he leans back against the sofa chair, “i can’t believe we’re celebrating halloween indoors like a bunch of losers-”

“you’re very much welcome to leave-” yoongi butts in, “and then stay isolated in your own apartment for two weeks after you’re done partying as part of the safety protocol-”

“quick question- why does jungkook get to be the one with the goggles?” jimin gets up from the couch before putting his hands on his hips, “i look way hotter in them-”

you frown lightly before rolling your eyes, “does it matter who gets the goggles-”

“yeah! the goggles ties the entire costume together-”

you and yoongi exchange knowing glances when jungkook and jimin start to bicker over who should get the goggles and you know that if you don’t cut it off right now that they’ll continue to argue until the end of time

“where’s my little ghost?” you interrupt loudly, cupping both hands around your mouth as a makeshift megaphone, “oh, spooky little ghost...”

a moment of silence ticks by and suddenly-

the sound of rapidly approaching little footsteps echoes down the hallway and you grin excitedly, dropping down onto your knees before reaching up to adjust the inflatable proton-pack you have on your back  

pap-pap-pap-pap

hwayoung bursts out into the living room wearing a plain white sheet with two holes cut out for her eyes and you feel your heart basically bust out of your chest

you already saw her in her costume earlier when you were getting her ready but 

god

it gets you every single time! 

you were debating on cutting two holes for her pigtails but then you’d figure she’d look less spooky that way

anD you were going to cut two holes for her arms but that would completely ruin the look of the costume as well

everyone knows ghosts don’t have arms or ponytails 

“ᶦ ᵍᵒʰˢᵗ, ᵐᵃᵐᵃᵎ” hwayoung practically ramS her little body directly into you and you laugh lightly when she bounces up and down on the balls of her feet

she leans forward to boop her nose against yours through the sheet, “ᶦ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ!”

“oh my god-” yoongi snorts, bringing his hand up over his mouth when hwayoung blinks up at him through the sheets, “that’s… that’s hilarious.” 

holy shit

that’s so cute

“i have to admit, i thought a blanket ghost was a lazy costume idea, but-” jungkook nudges you aside before looking down at hwayoung with a grin, “look how cute she looks!”

“i know!” you clap your hands before letting out a sigh, “it was actually pretty hard cutting out the eyeholes into two perfect circles.”

“aw, now i’m sad that we don’t get to go trick or treating! we would look so good walking out on the streets-” jimin groans, reaching down to pat the top of hwa’s head, “the ghostbusters with this little itty bitty super scary ghost-”

“ᵇᵒᵒᵎ” hwayoung sticks her arms out from under the sheets and you let out an exaggerated gasp as if she actually scared you

(you don’t miss the way jungkook jumps but you choose not to point it out) 

“okay, now what do you say?” you get up off the ground, everyone immediately going off to their designated candy stations at your signal

yoongi’s in the kitchen, jungkook’s in the laundry room, jimin’s in hwa’s bedroom, and you’re the lucky one who gets to accompany your daughter on her candy-collecting journey

“do we know if hwa’s allergic to peanuts yet?” jungkook pokes his head around the corner before holding the bag of mixed candies up, “i think i should eat all the reese’s peanut butter cups just to be safe-”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗᵎ”  

“nuh-uh-” yoongi opens the kitchen door, “what do we really say?”

hwayoung pauses and you frown lightly as you think about his question as well

what does he mean what do you really say?

you really say trick or treat when you go trick-or-treating

what else are you supposed to say??

!!

hwayoung suddenly perks up and reaches up to wrap her hand around your pointer finger to get your attention

you look down at her, “yes?”

“ᵗᶦᶜᵏ ᵒʰ ᵗᵉᵃᵗ ᵖᵉᵃˢᵉᵎ” 

“trick or treat, pleas-” you turn around to send yoongi a playful glare, “yoongi, no one says please when they go trick or treating-!”

“we’re not raising an animal, y/n-!”

                              hello, playboy (secretary!yoongiverse)

yoongi doesn’t really understand why halloween is such a big deal

he’s pretty sure it’s just an excuse for people to go out half-naked anD for people to get completely wasted without being judged

sure, he supposes it can be fun for people to dress up and stuff, but at the end of the day, think about it!

you’re wasting money on a costume that you’re literally only going to be wearing ONCE a year and then you’re probably never going to wear it again because you can’t wear the same costume twice in row because everyone knows that’s lame 

he’s, personally, never had to worry about costumes before because he literally?? doesn’t dress up or do anything for halloween

but things have changed now that you’re the boss

and one of those things is celebrating halloween with a fun costume party

admittedly, he enjoys company parties because he gets to drink free booze and eat free food all night (last year they served these mini buffalo chicken sliders at the christmas party and he still dreams about them from time to time)

and yeah, it’s nice getting to mingle with his colleagues and not having to worry about any office work

but costume parties are so lame!

he knows you’re only throwing it because you’re trying to prove to people that you’re a fun boss, but if anything, this costume party will make people think you’re trying too hard to be a fun boss, ultimately making you the lamest boss ever

...no offence, obviously

he tried to explain that to you because he,,. really doesn’t wanna see you get hurt again but if there’s one thing that he’s learnt about you, it’s that you’re very stubborn 

anyways

he’s waiting for you because you’re changing into your costume in your office and then the two of you are going to head up to the rooftop together

“yoongi, i need you to-” yoongi looks over when you open your office door slightly before sticking your head out, “is that your costume?”

yoongi reaches up to brush his fingers over the flimsy devil’s horns he clipped into his hair before nodding, “yeah. i’m a demon. duh.”

“that’s… yeah, those are devil horns, alright,” you snort, “you didn’t even- c’mon, you’re still wearing your clothes from work-”

“then i’m a secretary from hell.” yoongi lowers his voice before wiggling his fingers spookily, “what did you need me to do?”

“i can’t zip my dress up. do you mind…?” you ask sheepishly and yoongi nods and turns to shut off his monitor seeing as you guys are almost ready to go

“sure thing. also, just a reminder that the party started, like, ten minutes ag- woah.” yoongi turns back around and feels his mouth go dry when he sees the costume you’re in

hello, playboy

he didn’t know that this was the costume you were going with

holy shit

the little black satin dress that you’ve got on is hugging your figure in a way that he’s,.., never seen before,..,

and you usually wear heels to work but these stilettos are making your legs look,.,. wow

black stockings usually aren’t the first thing he thinks of when he thinks sexy but you are most definitely changing his mind about that

“eh, it’s fine.” you sigh before spinning around and moving your hair to one side, “i don’t think anyone cares if i’m even at the party or not, anyway.”

yoongi swallows thickly when he notices the little cotton tail that’s glued onto the back of the dress

nice touch 

very nice touch 

his brain is telling him to move but he finds that he’s frozen to the spot as his eyes slowly trail up your bare back

you turn your head to glance at yoongi over your shoulder, “yoongi?” 

he’s always thought that you were pretty, so that’s not something that’s suddenly being revealed to him or anything  

and he’s always thought that you were cute (especially when you make a fool out of yourself trying to get his attention)

but this?

you look… sexy.

really, really sexy.

“yes! sorry, i just- that’s-” he clears his throat and shakes himself out of it, “that’s not true…” he steps forward before gently taking the zipper, “i would care if you weren’t there.”

the zipper glides smoothly against the silky satin as he pulls upwards, yoongi making sure not to snag any loose strands of hair or anything along the way

jesus christ 

and you smell good, too

“okay, you’re good.” yoongi steps back and folds both his hands in front of him, “zipper’s, uh, good to go.”

“thanks- also, you’re only saying that because you have to.” you turn around before rolling your eyes playfully 

“saying what?”

“that you’d care if i wasn’t at the party.” you repeat, reaching up to adjust the little collar you’re wearing around your neck, “i know everyone hates me, yoongi. you don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“i’m not sugarcoating it!” yoongi scoffs, watching you struggle with the buttons in your cuffs for a moment before automatically reaching out to help you, “…and who cares what they think, anyway? at the end of the day, you’re the boss.” he nods firmly, looking up at you, “now lemme hear you say it.”

you chuckle nervously before looking away, “i’m not gonna-”

“come on...” your heart skips a beat when yoongi hooks a finger under your chin to turn your head back to face him, “just once? for me?”

god

he really knows how to pull your strings, doesn’t he? 

you let out a sigh

“i’m the boss.” you mumble sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck  

you’re the boss

you’re the boss

...you’re the boss.

you have the power to fire all of these people. (not that you’re going to, but... you know)

so why are you so scared of them?? 

your brows knit together and you stand up a little straighter, “yeah… i am the boss…!”

“that’s right!” yoongi chirps, nudging you aside so he can quickly turn your office lights off and shut the door for you, “now, we’re going to go up to the party and we’re going to have a good time and you’re not going to sit there worrying about what other people think about you-” 

“yeah! i’m not!” you grin, reaching up to fix the bunny ears sitting on your head 

yoongi smiles before holding his arm out for you, “c’mon, bunny. let’s go show everyone who’s boss.”

                              sweeter than frosting (lveb!jooniverse)

“i’m back!” 

you look up from your mixing bowl when you hear the front door slam shut

yoongi glances over his shoulder before looking back at you, “are we really going to spend the entire day baking?” 

you nod before shrugging as if telling him that it is what it is 

you usually get a lot of orders whenever it’s a holiday, and halloween is no different because,.,. duh

halloween parties all over the city! 

the thing is, you didn’t think that you’d get a lot of orders this year because of social distancing and all of that, but you were sorely mistaken

you have forty-five orders today and you’re pretty sure you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew 

your average is like fifteen orders a day

obviously you’re super grateful for the business because money is good and nice and helps to pay for bills or whatever but 

woW

these are a lot of orders!!!!!

and you have to do everything by yourself!! 

yoongi’s actually supposed to be helping you, but his version of helping you is sitting on his ass and occasionally handing you a tool every now and then 

at one point you asked him to hand you a piping bag and he handed you a spoon which??? how?? did he even???

how did he mix up piping bag and spOON

he also eats whatever leftover bits you shave off the top of a cake or whatever frosting is unused 

so, all in all... not very helpful. 

it’s nice to have company, though! 

yoongi even suggested to put on a spooky movie to keep the two of you somewhat in the holiday spirits while you work your butt off

he insisted that you guys watch something really scary and super bloody so he’s.,,. not entirely sure how you ended up convincing him to watch wallace and gromit: the curse of the were-rabbit

“how’s it going in here?” namjoon steps into the kitchen and almost instantly the corners of your mouth turn up in a bright smile 

he offered to be one of your delivery boys today to help out and you would’ve jumped his bones right then and there if it weren’t for the presence of yoongi and hoseok in the living room

he’s just!!!!

he gets more and more perfect every single day :’) 

“going okay...” you gesture to the multiple mixing bowls around the kitchen, “halfway done!” 

“mm, would you look at that.” yoongi mutters to himself as he keeps his eyes glued on the laptop screen, “that is indeed a were-rabbit...”

“are you- are eating the frosting or are you helping y/n frost the cupcakes?” namjoon pauses to look at the bowl that yoongi has cradling to his chest, yoongi humming as he sucks off the remainder of the frosting off his spoon

“eating!” “helping.” 

both you and yoongi speak up at the same time and you two look at each other before exchanging knowing glances

“eating.” “…yeah. eating.”

yoongi leans over to pause the movie before turning in his stool to look at namjoon 

“waht are you thuppothed ta be?” yoongi asks, the spoon hanging from his mouth carelessly as he turns to look at namjoon

namjoon perks up when he realizes that he must be referring to his super fun halloween costume

he reaches up to brush his fingers over the little beansprout clip he has in his hair with a grin, “a sprout!”

he was trying to think of a creative plant-based costume but there weren’t a lot of options for grown adult men like himself 

there was a broccoli costume that he could’ve pretended was a tree, but… it’s very clearly broccoli

so this was the next best thing!

and it was pretty cheap too, so that’s a bonus

“i think it’s cute.” you giggle, leaning up to press a kiss to namjoon’s cheek, “very cute!”

“mm, i think you’re cute-” namjoon grins cheekily, slinking an arm around your waist and pulling you in closer so that you can give him a proper kiss

“-!”

yoongi immediately groans and looks up towards the ceiling, “god, you guys are sick-”

“uh, says the one eating frosting by the spoonful-“ namjoon pulls away for a split second and laughs lightly when you turn his head to get him to kiss you again

heh 

:-) 

                                  wa-hoo! [roommate!taehyungiverse]

“alright, people, let’s get this show on the roa- oh, jesus-!” namjoon immediately spins around as soon as he barGEs into the apartment, his face going bright red

uh

he just got a very good look at taehyung’s bare ass which was the last thing he was excepting when he walked in here

well

maybe not the last thing he was expecting

“what the fu- ever heard of ringing the bell?!” taehyung rolls off of you before pulling his overalls up so that namjoon doesn’t see both his ass and his dick in the span of three seconds, “this isn’t even your friggin’ apartment anymor-” he turns to look at you, “hey, why does namjoon still have a key, anyway?”

you get up off the couch before pulling your skirt down a little, “in case we both lose ours! he’s also my emergency contact number.”

“okay, but- wait, why aren’t i your emergency contact number?” taehyung frowns, placing both hands on his hips

…

“okay, we don’t have time to do couple’s counselling- are you two ready to go or not?” namjoon turns his head a little to make sure that everyone’s clothed and no body parts are carelessly hanging out

phew

he’s in the clear

oh, jesus

what makes things worse is the fact that you guys are dressed up as mario and luigi

THEY’RE BROTHERS

AND BROTHERS DON’T DO WHAT YOU GUYS WERE JUST DOING

“yeah, yeah, we’re ready to go-” taehyung raises a brow as he sticks his green hat back on, “why are we even going barhopping anyway? it’s not going to be fun having to get our temperature checked every time we go into a building-“

“it’s halloween!” you hand him his mask (you guys stuck the moustaches onto the mask, which you think is a pretty clever way to deal with the whole mask wearing situation) “and now that conditions are slightly better, we have to take advantage!”

“c’mon, mario, get your heels on-” namjoon claps his hands to get your guys’ attention, “i’m parked out front and i do not want my car getting towed-”

“okay, gimme a sec-” taehyung gives your bum a swat when you bend over to step into your heels and you let out a gasp as you shoot straight back up with pink cheeks, “taehyung!”

“what?” taehyung raises both his hands in defence, “i couldn’t not smack it-”

namjoon’s face twists in discomfort

he’s completely fine with the pda

what he’s bothered by are the costumes and the mental image of luigi smacking mario’s ass that’s now burned into his mind forever

he’s… going to stay away from super smash bros for a while.

[emberstoriesandtales]

Protect (Jill Valentine x Dwight Fairfield)

"Why am I back here?" Jill grumbled when she woke up to see that she was back in the Raccoon City Police Department.

Wasn't Raccoon City destroyed?

But then she saw what looked like a generator near the statue of the lion, making her frown.

That wasn't there before.

Where was she?

"Jill?" A familiar voice spoke from behind her.

She turned around and sighed in relief when she saw that it was Leon.

They didn't know eachother much since they only saw eachother a few times before Leon was suppose to start at the Raccoon Police Department until the t-virus broke out.

"Good to see you rookie, glad to see that you are still alive after what happened in Raccoon city."

Leon sighed.

"Same here. But how are we here? Wasn't Raccoon City destroyed?"

Jill nodded.

"Yeah. I don't get it either."

"Two new survivors? Hasn't happened since Nancy and Steve arrived." An unfamiliar female voice spoke up.

The two turned, because of instinct, reaching where their holster were but their guns were gone.

They saw a woman who seemed about eighteen, blond hair that went down to her shoulders. She wore a pair of jeans that were rolled up over a pair of boots, a pink shirt with a black vest completing the look.

"Woah, I ain't a danger to you two.  Names Cheryl, who are you guys?"

The two officers calmed down a bit when the woman introduced herself.

"I'm Jill, this is Leon."

Then the three heard a man screaming from deeper in the police station, making Cheryl's skin pale.

"Shit, killer got Dwight, and I don't even know who we're up against yet."

The two gave the woman a questioning look.

"Killer? What do you mean?" Leon asked.

"I'll explain it later, I have to go help Dwight." She said about to run off, but Jill grabbed her wrist.

"I'll go get him, I know this place very well."

Cheryl thought for a second before nodding.

"Okay, I'll explain to Leon what we do in the trials, Dwight should be able to explain to you about it when you save him."

She then turned to Leon.

"Come on, ill teach you how to repair the generators."

Leon nodded before the two headed towards the main hall of the station while Jill headed towards the chief's office where the scream came from.

As she made her way down the halls, she heard heavy footsteps approaching her along with her heartbeat starting to beat faster and faster.

"Shit..." she muttered as she looked for a place to hide.

She managed to find a locker to slip inside as the footsteps and the heartbeat got louder.

She could swear her heart stopped when she saw that hideous monster that she thought she killed stomped right by as a loud alarm went off in the direction that she came from.

Making sure that Nemesis wasn't anywhere near her, she quietly got out of the locker and hurried to the chief's office.

Her eyes widened when she saw a man hanging in the corner of the room, a large hook piercing through his shoulder, and blood seeping out of the wound.

The man seemed around her age, black hair that was brushed back a bit, a pair of black rectangular glasses that was drooping down his nose a bit.

He wore a yellow stripped hoodie, a pair of jeans that were rolled up kinda like Cheryl's, and he wore a pair of tan Oxford shoes.

"Don't worry, I got you." She said as she carefully lifted him off of the hook.

The man hissed in pain as Jill wrapped his arm around her shoulders and lead him away from the office and into a small room nearby.

When she set him down on the ground, she winced when she saw how bad his wound was, and she saw faint blue lines scattering across his arms and up his neck.

"Stay here, I'm going to find something to patch that up for you."

She hurried back into the office and saw what looked like a chest at the front of Chief Irons' desk.

Kneeling down infront of the chest, she grabbed something off of the desk to use as a lockpick to open the chest.

That's when she heard two more alarms go off, similar to the one she heard in the locker earlier.

She didn't know what those alarms were for, but she hoped they were good.

After a minute, she smiled when the lock came off.

She opened the chest and saw a medkit along with a syringe with a light green liquid.

She could heal and cure that man.

Grabbing the two things, she hurried back to the man, who was leaning against the wall, looking very exhausted.

"Don't worry, you're going to be just fine." She said as she set the medkit and syringe down.

"I'm going to have to take your hoodie off to treat your wound. Can I?" She asked, wanting to make sure he was fine with it.

The man didn't say anything, but tiredly nodded.

Jill took his glasses off and then carefully lifted his hoodie up over his head and winced seeing the giant hole in his shoulder.

She opened the medkit and began to clean the blood around the wound and then grabbed a needle and some monofilament sutures.

"This is going to hurt a bit."

As she began to stitch up the wound, the man hissed in pain.

"Sorry." She quietly muttered as she stitched it up.

After it was closed, she grabbed the bandages and wrapped it around his shoulder.

"Thanks." The man muttered.

Jill gave him a small smile.

"No problem." She replied as she placed the rest of the bandages back in the medkit and grabbed the syringe and injected the cure to the t-virus.

As the last of the cure was injected, the blue lines faded away and the man began to get a little bit of color back to his skin.

"You feeling better?" Jill asked as she gave the man a concerned look.

The man looked up at her and his face turned a bit pink.

"Y-yeah." He stuttered.

Then two more alarms went off and a siren blared around.

"All the generators are done. We have to get to one of the doors and escape." The man said as he stood up with the help of Jill.

"Here's your hoodie and your glasses."

"Thanks. I'm Dwight. " He said as he slipped his hoodie back on and put his glasses on.

"I'm Jill. Now come on, I think I saw one of the gates at the main hall of the station."

As the two hurried towards the main hall, the two heard loud footsteps approaching them at a fast pace.

"Shit, hide!" Jill exclaimed as she basically shoved Dwight into a nearby locker and ran off.

Dwight watched as the killer run by clearly chasing Jill now.

Once the heartbeat faded away, he quietly slipped out of the locker and ran in the opposite direction from where the killer went.

Finally reaching the main hall, he hurried down the stairs and out of the main door and towards the exit gate.

Pulling the handle down, he looked back towards the station, hoping that Jill was okay.

As the door opened, he heard a scream right behind him, he spun around and saw Jill get slammed to the ground, the killer right behind her.

"StArS!!" He growled as he grabbed her limp form and threw her straight at the gate, slamming into the brick wall of the gate.

"J-jill!" Dwight worriedly shouted as he hurried over to her limp form and carried her across the exit as Nemesis tried to grab her, but the entity blocked it from them.

"StArS!!" It's growl echoed as Dwight carried Jill away from the trial.

"Shit shit shit..." Dwight muttered as he hurried back to the survivors camp with Jill limp in his arms.

Once he got back, he saw some of the others talking to an unfamiliar man, probably arrive with Jill.

When the man saw him, his eyes widened.

"Jill! What happened?" He asked worriedly as Claudette and Quentin rushed over.

"Lay her down Dwight." Claudette gently commanded as she opened the medkit up.

Dwight silently obeyed and as he set her down, he saw how injured she was.

She had a long gash along her side, her neck had a large bruise wrapping all around from the monster holding her by her neck, and a huge bruise across her back from when it threw her into the exit gate wall.

As Claudette and Quentin tended to Jill, Dwight learned that the man's name was Leon and that he and Jill were suppose to be co-workers until a virus broke out in the city that they lived in.

"There, she should be okay, she just needs rest." Claudette said in relief.

Leon and Dwight were also relived.

"Thanks for getting her out of there. Me and Cheryl were about to go help until you both escaped already." He said giving him a small smile before walking off to talk to some of the other survivors.

Dwight sighed as he sat down next to Jill, who was in a deep sleep.

"Thank you for saving me in that match." He whispered as he gently grabbed her hand.

If it wasn't for her, he would have been sacrificed that round, and it wasn't fun to be punished by the entity for failing the trial.

He smiled as he felt her squeeze his hand gently.

"I am going to find someway to repay you. I promise."