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hoseokmylovesworld · 4 years

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Sway Me More | Mafia!Jungkook (M)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x Assassin!OC

Part 2: Sway With Me (M) / Part 3: Sway Me Smooth

Requested: Anonymous:

“ ok i think i got something. i was thinking e2l mafia leader!jk and assassin!oc. they're always competing on killing the same enemies and oc beats kook to it everytime but plot twist he's actually sleeping w oc in secret, his gang doesn't know that she basically does the dirty work for him. maybe a scene where jk is busy in his office and feels something is off and he and oc pull guns on one another but its just a form of power play bc that's their relationship. dirty talk, oral male receiving, reverse cowgirl in his office chair, choking, little bit of degradation bc one of the victims oc had to seduce but kook calls her his little slut bc he's possessive like that and they both just have lots of tattoos and piercings. maybe some light bondage too? he ties her hands and the petname sweetness? i love that shit sm. ok i'm out of ur hair now fksks ”

Genre: Mafia!Jungkook, BTS mafia au, Smut, humor, e2l, angst, pining.

Length: 15,664k Words

Warnings: Strong language, lots of violence, minor deaths, guns, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, overstimulation, orgasm denial, dirty talk, BDSM(?), degradation kink, praise kink, light bondage, choking, breath play, spanking, rough sex (if you couldn’t tell), possessive!jungkook, Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes.

A/N:

1. Not sure if this counts as a Song Fic, but this ask immediately made me think of Sway With Me by Saweetie and GALAXARA hence the title so that was on repeat haha (Stream Birds of Prey: The Album and Stay Gold for clear skin!!).

2. I didn’t mean to make the OC that crazy she just kinda was. Like honestly I don’t know what happened at the end there. Also, I thought it would be a fun dynamic for them to only refer to each other by last names. (Y/L/N)

3. Shouts out to this anon for being so specific! Writing this fic ruined my search history.

3.b You said a little bit of degradation, but I mighta over did it lol.

4. This is really fucking long. For no reason...I’m not sorry, it’s all worth it in the end. Please leave a comment, let me know what you think

Jungkook sat in the back seat of his black town car parked at the street corner, his eyes never leaving a specific window of the skyscraper adjacent to him. He watched as the piece of shit who meddled with his gang’s last drug deal canoodled with his lady friend in his apartment. Probably a hooker, he thought. This particular criminal to land on the mafia’s hit list, has been known to bring home many a sex worker.

He took a look at his Rolex and sighed; the man as slowly, but surely losing patience. They’ve been here for a good hour. A hit has never taken this long to complete for Jungkook’s team. He communicated his frustrations to his sniper, Taehyung, who was camped out in the building directly across from the apartments.

“When the fuck is this bitch gonna leave?” He grumbled through his earwig to his employee and friend. Taehyung laughs tiredly.

“Yeah, I’m asking myself the same thing. They’re not even fucking, they’ve been talking and kissing for like thirty minutes.” The sniper griped.

Jungkook chuckled, hearing the response in his ear. “Just stay sharp. Or you’re back on cockfight duty.”

Taehyung paused. “You wouldn’t.”

“Just focus, yeah?” Jungkook said, refocusing his binoculars to check on the couple in the apartment so that he could see them clearly. The bright lights in the room and the lack of curtains or shades helped him out immensely with that.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Jungkook could barely craft a response due to the shock that took over him at what happened next. He watched as the female sitting to the left of the target with her legs draped over his thighs, pulled a knife, seemingly out of her crotch, and stabbed the white collar criminal in the gut at lightning speed.

He lurched up in pain and grabbed at the knife only for his date to pull it out and stab him again, making deep eye contact all the while. She was obviously a strong woman to overpower a man of his burley stature. But why would she want to?

“What the fuck was that?” Jungkook asked immediately, continuing to watch the scene unfold carefully.

“Looks like his date just stabbed him.” Taehyung responded, just as confused as his superior.

“I can fucking see that, but why the fuck would the hooker kill him?” He raised his voice in annoyance. The murderous hooker finished the job, wiping her fingerprints off of the knife still lodged in the target's stomach and travelled to a nearby closet.

Jungkook watched, overcome with awe and confusion, as she returned with a duffle bag. And his jaw literally drops when he sees her pull white coveralls out of the duffle bag, put them on over her clothes and switch off the lights in the apartment, completely blocking Jungkook’s view.

“Fuck, what’s she doing now, Taehyung?” He asked quickly, knowing that the scope on his sniper had night vision.

“She’s...cleaning the apartment...and the body.”

So she’s done this before, Jungkook thought pensively.

“Do you recognize her?” He uttered, needing to know more about this woman immediately.

“Hell no, I would remember this bitch.” The gunman responds instantly.

“What the fuck is going on?” His boss muttered to himself and Taehyung took the liberty of answering him.

“She’s leaving.”

Jungkook cocked his head back in surprise. “Well that was fast.”

“You’re telling me...she’s making her way to the street. You want us to go after her?”

He thinks about it. No harm done, he figured.

“No, leave her be. Less mess for us.”

“Roger that.” Taehyung nodded and packed his things. Jungkook ordered his driver to take him home and they called it a very eventful day.

What Jungkook didn’t count on was encountering that same perpetrator again...and again. Ever since he came across this deadly woman the first time, it’s like he can’t escape her now. “The Hooker”, as the mafia were calling her, had killed three more of the names on their hit list of people who had crossed them...directly before Jungkook’s men got the chance to do it themselves.

And the fact that it didn’t affect the gang took a backseat to the amount of irritation it brought them and Jungkook for their victim to drop dead in front of them at the hands of someone else. It angered Jungkook because he didn’t know who she was or her motives. She was obviously dangerous and stealthy and could be coming for them next for all they knew. He knew he had to catch her and find out what she was about.

“Alright, guys. You know what to do.” Jungkook huffed to his men through his earpiece as they prepared to ambush a traitor of the gang. He had been on the run recently, selling mafia secrets and tonight the gang would put an end to him and soon, everyone he blabbed to.

After three days of following leads, they took to tracking and set out after him. Jungkook and his members followed the conspirator from a distance and three different sides in an attempt to corner him in the ominous dark of the night. They were closing in on the ex-gang member consistently and it all seemed to come to fruition when he shuffled into a dark alley.

This is too easy, the mafia boss thought enthusiastically to himself. Jungkook and six of his men sped up in pursuit, hoping to trap the imbecile before he realized he was a dead end. Finally, the group turned into the alley quickly, expecting to find a young man ready to shit his pants. Instead they found his slumped over corpse that had been propped up against a dumpster.

Jungkook’s spine straightened in astonishment. They literally just saw him walk into the alley and he just drops dead? Each of the men look around for who could have done this in possibly two minutes flat. The leader draws his gaze to the roof directly in front of him and grinds his teeth in anger at the sight in front of him. The Hooker from weeks ago stood above them with an amused smirk on her face in a black, hooded catsuit.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!” He roared.

“Would you clean that up for me? Thanks.” She deflected playfully and took off in the opposite direction, jumping from one rooftop to another.

“Get her.” Jungkook said calmly, still looking at the spot where the woman was previously standing. He’s had enough of this nonsense and he would be getting answers.

The gang moves out immediately, splitting up in search of the murderer. Two of them take the firescape closest to them, while the remaining men circle around the buildings to cut her off eventually. In the meantime, Jungkook calms himself down and examines the body.

“How did she even do this?” He pulled a leather glove from his breast pocket and moved the head of the deceased to the right side, looking him over carefully. He promptly noticed bruising around his neck and blood on the crown of his head.

“She choked you out that fast...without making a sound?” He whispered, completely impressed, but absolutely irritated at the same time. He sighed, at a loss and took it upon himself to actually dispose of the body. He waited in the alley with his arms crossed, thinking of how he wanted to interrogate this possible threat.

His men communicated to him that the woman had seriously injured Jimin and Suga and that Hoseok and Jin would stay with them, but the good news was that they caught her and were on their way back.

“Wonderful.” He sighed sarcastically into his earpiece.

After thirty long minutes, Namjoon and Taehyung re-entered the alley, this time carrying their new victim by her arms, her hands restrained behind her back with the rope originally meant for the traitor. She struggled against their hold as they made their way in until she laid eyes on Jungkook.

She straightened slowly and walked with confidence, studying him thoughtfully as they passed the mafia leader and turned her to face him while forcing her to her knees. She winced slightly as her knee caps came in contact with the hard, wet ground.

The three of them watched carefully as the leader paced back and forth leisurely, his gaze focused on the puddles on the ground with his hand picking at nothing in particular on his lip. His train of thought was disrupted when the voice of the woman echoed through the alley.

“You gonna say something?” She scoffed impatiently. Jungkook turned to her slowly, revealing his dark, disapproving facial expression. He didn’t miss the flash of mischief in her eyes when they finally made eye contact.

“You incopacitated two of my men.” He started, continuing to walk back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back.

“They were chasing me.” She shrugged.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks at the negligence of her tone. He turned on his heel to face his suspect with a serious face. “Who are you and why do you keep killing my targets?” he demanded, just wanting to get to the point of why they were here. A humored smile broke out across her face.

“Your targets? Someone’s a little full of themselves.” She giggled innocently.

“Tell me and I won’t take a hammer to both your shoulders.” He said smoothly looking deeply into her eyes making sure he got his point across.

Her cocky smirk dissipates but doesn't completely disappear.

“You don’t have a hammer.” she muttered to herself, thinking that the mafia leader couldn’t hear her. He just gave her a pointed look, silently telling her to continue. She licks her lips slowly while holding Jungkook’s stormy gaze.

“I was paid, you asshole.” She muttered.

“By who?”

“No one you and your goons need to worry about.” He sighed and looked up in frustration. “Why?”

The woman shook her head furiously. “Are you daft? It’s my job, obviously.”

Jungkook whipped his head in her direction, his eyes widening slightly and his voice taking on a more agitated tone.

“You disrespect me one more time and I’m gonna slap that smug smirk off your face.” He warned her harshly.

“Promises, promises.” She sang with that self-satisfied grin that he was having mixed feelings about.

With that, Jungkook swifty brought his hand up to backhand the assailant and jumped in her direction, but stopped when his hand was halfway to her face. She didn’t move an inch or even blink. She even narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

He backed away from her, impressed. She may have earned some of Jungkook’s respect that day, but he would never tell a single soul about it. He composed himself, eyeing her carefully. He then enganges her in a more calm conversation.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Does your employer know who I am?”

“I have multiple. Some do.” She shrugs coolly.

“What do they—”

“Look we know you're in charge of the mafia, or whatever, but we don’t care. The people I’ve killed have wronged more than just you and your circus of idiots here and they deserved to die.” She gestured to the two henchmen holding her in place.

“Besides I did you a favor. Several, actually. I’m a blessing in disguise.” She smiled sweetly.

Jungkook shakes his head in disagreement. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass is what you are.”

“Oh, what a pleasure. And how do you figure that?”

“Some mysterious...aggressor taking out a number of important people on the east side. Wouldn’t that alarm you in my position?” He queried with a raised, pierced brow.

“Mysterious? Mr. Jeon, do you find me attractive?” She leans forward and is yanked back in place by the men flanking her. She held a suddenly sultry and intense light behind her eyes directed at Jungkook.

He couldn’t deny her beauty; anything with a pulse would be attracted to her. Seeing her up close, he noticed her many piercings along her ears, on her septum and her left brow, just like his. He could see tattoos peeking out from her sleeves and neckline of her suit and he wondered just how much of her body was covered by tattoos.

He was trying not to let that get in the way of this interrogation and failing miserably with his mind wandering in dangerous directions. It didn’t help that he couldn’t look her in the eye for too long, her gaze was so captivating and somehow held so many emotions that they caused him to lose focus.

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, “What is your name?”

“Deathstalker.” Wow, Jungkook thought to himself.

“You wanna tell me your real name?” He offered, nodding at her.

“That’s the only name you're gonna get. And just a heads up, I’m not gonna talk if you torture me.” She says confidently with hooded lids. Is she bored?, the mob boss thought. He began to pace for a few moments, the only sound in the alley coming from his designer shoes squelching against the damp concrete.

“No...no, we’re not gonna hurt you.” Jungkook decided. The two henchmen that were restraining the woman, looked up in shock. Jungkook has injured or killed people for far less than what she’s done in the past hour.

She tilts her head uncomfortably in the hold of the gang members, to get a good look at the mafia leader’s face. She gasps and beams as if she’s had an epiphany.

“You like me.” She settled.

He whips around to face her. “What are you on about?”

“I thought I was gonna have to seduce you to get you off my back, but it seems you already have a soft spot for me.” She deduced with an appeased grin on her face.

Jungkook’s breathing deepened. He thought quickly of what he could do to draw the attention away from the truth of her statement. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she was different from any of the other suspicious characters he’s interrogated. And for some reason he didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t be seen as weak in front of his inferiors.

In a flash, he was directly in front of her, teeth clenched and gripping her face tightly in his strong hand. His fingers pressed roughly into her jaw, her cheeks were forced to scrunch up, obscuring her vision and her mouth was bound to a permanent, painful pout.

“Stop spewing nonsense, I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last woman on earth. You’re too dirty.” He lied gratingly. “I don’t have soft spots for anyone and you would do well to learn that. Come into my sight again and you’ll see what kind of damage I can really do.” He seethed.

“Hot.” Deathstalker replied through forcibly clenched teeth. Jungkook sighed before flimsily releasing her chin, flinging it to the right causing her to wince. Jungkook inwardly did the same at the sight.

“Let her go.” The henchmen do as they are told. “Get out of my sight.” She got up off her knees awkwardly with her bound wrists.

“I’m sure you know how to get rid of that yourself.” Jungkook nodded at the rope around her wrists. She nodded back casually and walked passed Jungkook, brushing up against him as she did so.

“Catch you on the flip side.” She whispered to him before she took off in a run into the night.

Three weeks had passed without a surprise appearance from “Deathstalker” and Jungkook was beginning to think she had actually heeded his warning in the alley. He should be pleased with this fact, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Not only was the thought of her ingrained in his mind, but he was slowly convincing himself that maybe he did appreciate her services even if he wasn’t the one paying for them. His men seem to have gotten lazier with the physical side of organized crime since Jungkook’s encounter with Deathstalker.

Or perhaps with no one to properly clean up the mess left after a hit, he’s noticing just how sloppy they’ve been. Either way, people are talking and names are traveling through the air like pollution; they can’t go on like this.

He and his men have been actively searching for the assassin and any information they could find on her. The leader didn’t disclose his true motives to his foot soldiers for fear of looking weak, but he couldn’t have the feds knocking down the doors of his companies and he was desperate. They succeeded in finding her real name, her past hits and the names of some of her employers, but nothing on where she was hiding or how to contact her.

Jungkook curses himself for not realizing Deathstalker’s worth sooner and tries to calm his rampant mind by chugging his flute of champagne. He looks around, disinterested at the ostentatious group of people at the pompous event he was advised to attend.

As the head of the leading construction company on the east side and since no one suspected his night job, he showed his face in these environments from time to time. This one happens to be an art auction and Jungkook was regretting it by the minute.

He quickly snagged one more flute of champagne before taking his seat in the front row for the auction. Half-way through the auction he considers leaving, he hasn’t raised his number card once as none of the pieces appealed to him. His head began to lull back out of pure boredom before he heard an all-too familiar voice above the noise.

“Two million dollars!” The voice was forthright and attractive, causing every head to turn in it’s direction.

Jungkook didn’t have to look far as the owner of the voice was sitting in the front row as well, roughly twelve seats away. His eyes widened at his suspicions being proven correct. He stares at her for a few moments, taking in her full appearance since meeting her for the first time in the alley.

She traded in the black cat suit for a peach colored cocktail dress that hung off of one shoulder and blinding white pumps. She covered up her tattoos with makeup to Jungkook’s dismay, but still showed off her many piercings and her long wavy hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. That’s a good look, thought Jungkook who spared her one last glance before settling into his seat and devising a plan for how the rest of the night will go.

The auction finally came to an end and the elites took to day drinking and networking once more. Jungkook blended in with the crowd, but kept a close eye on Deathstalker, waiting to find her away from her companions. He spotted her amongst strangers, nursing a glass of champagne and intently watching the middle aged crooner sing along with the orchestra.

When Marimba Rhythms start to play

Dance with me

Make me sway

Then he pounced.

He positioned himself behind her and leaned in to speak softly into her ear. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t flinch or even react to his words, as if she knew he was there, and just continued to enjoy the music. She never failed to impress him.

“Well, killing all your targets actually counts for something. I’m spending my hard earned money on some fine art.” She smiled after a moment. Jungkook came to stand next to her instead. He took a swig from his drink, the two of them still not making eye contact. “You know it’s not polite to brag.”

She finally turns to him to show off her expensive outfit. “Does this dress scream humble to you?”

“No, but it does scream desperate.” He took her in, using it as an excuse to check her out. That cat suit didn’t do her legs justice in his opinion, but this ensemble has his approval.

“For what?” She demanded, cocking her head to the side.

“You tell me—”

“You’re full of shit, Jeon.” The assassin sneered and quickly turned to walk away. Jungkook catches her by the bicep at the last second, attempting to make it look playful and desperately trying to avoid any unwanted attention.

“Wait.” He smoothly but firmly pulled her back to him, guiding her left hand to his shoulder and holding onto her right one before leading her in a slow dance towards the dance floor. He told himself he needed a more discreet position to confide his intentions in her ear again.

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close

Sway me more

“I have a proposition for you.”

She glances up at him, sporting narrowed and curious eyes. “Oh? This should be good. Last time you saw me, you threatened to hammer my limbs in.” She swiftly stomped on his foot, with a tight-lipped, spiteful smile.

He groaned and gathered himself with closed eyes before getting down to business. “Drop the attitude Y/L/N.” Jungkook grumbled, causing the assassin to freeze, but he made sure to keep them moving. She switches from her normal playful demeanor to a more formidable version of herself and he is almost alarmed by the switch. She leans closer to him to reach his ear and drops her voice to a grave whisper.

“How did you know my last—”

Jungkook doesn’t back down from her close, menacing form and goes as far as to tease her with a satisfied smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only computer genius in this room okay?”

She only glares off into the distance, clenching her jaw.

“What?” Jungkook revels in the feeling of having the upper hand on her. “My men may not be able to catch you in action, but they do know their way around a file cabinet.” He shares proudly, biting his lip with joy.

Realizing the leverage he had over her, Y/N made the decision to hear him out. “What the fuck do you want?” She spat before Jungkook spun her and dipped her quickly. And though she was angry, she moved with grace and he couldn’t help, but admire her beauty.

Like a flower bending in the breeze

Bend with me, sway with ease

“You.” He smirks, already missing her playful personality and hoping to bring it back out. He smiles wider when he succeeds.

She finally cracks a smile and throws her head back, unable to stop herself from laughing. “That’s funny, I thought you wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last woman on earth.” She threw his line back at him effortlessly.

The mob boss hesitates for a split second. “Okay, your memory is impeccable, I get it, but I’m talking about your services.”

Y/N blinks in bewilderment before forming the words she never thought she would. “You want me to work for you?” He nods evenly.

“I’ve already killed five targets for you, Jeon. What more could you want?” She sputtered, not being able to fathom the request. Jungkook only releases her hand, keeping the other wrapped around her waist and nods to the empty balcony of the ballroom before leading her through it’s floor length glass doors.

“Trust me, I’m well aware. It was insanely fucking annoying,” He said earnestly, making the assassin giggle. His heart seemed to lurch at the sound, but he ignored the pleasant pang in his chest to continue his proposal. “Until I noticed how well you clean up after yourself. Leaving almost no trace of your involvement at the crime scene.”

He released Y/N’s waist carefully close to the door of the balcony, peering into the room to see who might be looking at them. They seemed to have a bit of privacy as of right now.

Y/N tilted her head and raised her eyebrows sincerely. “Are you really shocked that the neanderthals you hired aren’t too keen on cleaning up after themselves?”

“I’m trying to compliment you.” He sighed looking up.

“You’re doing a pretty shit job.” She mumbled. He ignores her complaints and carries on. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and walks towards her.

“My men haven’t been as stealthy as possible as of late and there’s talk that we may have caught the attention of the authorities.”

“Again, are you surprised?” She overannunicated sassily with her arms crossed.

He marched up to her, towering over her small frame intimidatingly. “Don’t push it, Deathstalker.” He sneered at her. Her snark was beginning to piss him off. Why was he always so hot and cold with her?

“Or what?” She said seductively, suddenly snaking her arm around his torso and pressing herself against him. She gazed up at him, with flirtatious eyes

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek, gazing back down at the woman coolly. He considers feeding into her words and actions for a second, but figures it’s probably just one of her games so he tosses the idea. “I’m trying to make you an offer here.” He insisted. The mercenary sucks her teeth, lets go and turns to walk away. “Ugh you’re no fun...You couldn’t handle me anyway.”

The one time he tried to be professional. He pulls her back by the arm, forcefully pressing her into the stone wall next to the door of the balcony. He presses himself against her firmly while gripping her small waist with one hand and her chin with the other.

"Fine,” He challenged. “Is this what you want? You want me to fuck you right here, up against this wall, like a little slut?" He spoke in a low voice so as not to concern the guests inside and the rumble of Jungkook’s voice in his chest made Y/N’s body start to heat up.

His offer brings a genuine, delighted smile to her face. She tosses the idea around in her head while making heated eye contact with Jungkook. But that would never work, she thought bitterly. Her date would come looking for her soon. Not a good look when you're trying to bag a guy and rob him for his millions. So she decided to tease him instead, It was the perfect opportunity with him being all riled up like this.

"I knew you liked me…” She let her sultry yet snide words linger, toying with the fabric of his collar. “But that would be unprofessional, Mr. Jeon...seeing as you are now my boss." she uttered softly, still keeping her seductive gaze. Jungkook briefly wonders if she could feel his dick twitch when she said his name like that before refocusing on the situation.

When we dance you have a way with me

Stay with me, sway with me

He took the sudden change of pace and her choice of words as her officially accepting his offer and released his hold on her with a grimace. She walks by him, smoothing down her dress with an unfazed expression and heads to the railing to take in the view, as if she wasn’t just assaulted by one of the most important men in the country.

“So you’ll do it?”

She kept her back to him, letting her heavy voice travel over her shoulder casually. “How much will you give me?”

He joins her side, resting his hands on the railing. “Eight hundred, thousand.”

She whips her head in his direction, an obviously offended expression on her face. “Do I look like one of your minions?” Y/N inquired.

“It would be your first job with me, you gotta start somewhere.” He made a gesture with his hand, trying to reason with her.

“I started years ago and I’m good at my job. The best actually…I want a million.” She decided with a hand on her waist.

Jungkook blinked repeatedly, taken aback. “You want me to give you a million dollars?”

“Yes, or no deal.” She answered quickly before he could even finish the question. The mafioso took a step back and laughed silently in disbelief.

“You’re infuriating, you know tha—”

“And you make me wanna vomit.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Oh, suck a dick Jeon!” She began marching towards the glass doors into the ballroom before Jungkook caught her by the arm and brought her back to him swiftly.

“Fine, it’s yours.” He muttered, glaring down at her with frustrated eyes.

The woman simply winked playfully at him and caressed his face. “I knew you’d come around.” She beamed looking satisfied and walked away only to be yanked back to Jungkook’s chest yet again. This time she grumbled in slight annoyance. He made a note to let up on the pulling.

“If you cross me, we will kill you.” He said seriously. She only smiled as if he’d made a joke.

“Unless I beat you to that too.” His face turned angry and he opened his mouth to speak when they heard the glass door open and a voice call toY/N.

“Oh, Ruby, there you are. Is this guy bothering you?” An older gentleman in a suit and a gold chain spoke in a scraggly voice. Jungkook recognized him as Walter Schillings, a white collar criminal who has been giving Jungkook’s men a hard time and definitely landed himself on their hitist.

Thankfully, the scum has never actually seen the mafia leader before so they were able to avoid a tricky situation at this crowded event. Though Jungkook had men scattered throughout the building in case anything went down, he never travelled alone. But, wait. Why was he referring to Y/N as Ruby?

The mafia leader had no time to figure it out because he had to explain why he was gripping this innocent looking woman the way he was. He lets go immediately and addresses the man. “We were just having a convers—”

“No,” Y/N sighs and saunters over to Walter, grabbing his huge hand and having it encompass her small one.

What the fuck is this? Jungkook thought, his heart suddenly racing. He tried to hide his emotions behind a cold demeanor.

“Just some loser trying to get my attention.” She glanced back at Jungkook arrogantly, allowing Walter to slide an arm around her waist and kiss the side of her forehead as they re-entered the ballroom.

Jungkook ground his teeth together at the sight and nearly sprinted to Walter to tear his arm off when he saw his hand reach down and grip Y/N’s ass. It bothered him even more that she hadn’t reacted whatsoever.

He turned away and braced himself on the railing again, attempting to calm himself. “I hope she slits your goddamn throat, motherfucker.” He grumbled to himself, seething with anger.

Jungkook spent the next fifteen minutes pouting on the balcony, gripping the railing in anger with a bothersome boner while the rich and famous boozed it up inside. Surprisingly no one had come out to bother him, giving him enough to time think about what he just saw.

He didn’t know why the sight of Y/N with Walter infuriated him so, but he knew he never wanted to see it again. He wondered how she could flirt with him so heavily and then disregard him completely at the drop of a hat. He just wanted to make her eat her petty words, drive her as crazy as she seemed to be driving him.

It didn’t help that he had been having fantasies of her for the past few weeks in that catsuit just letting him have his way with her. And here she comes, looking like sex on legs and clouding his judgement after disappearing for three weeks. Just who does she think she is? Jungkook sighed frustratedly at the pitiful turn his night had taken.

He wished he had a distraction from his thoughts. He wished he could leave this vexatious place, but something was keeping him here and he had a feeling that, that something was a menace in a dress and liked to play mind games.

Okay, so, the boner that won’t seem to go away may also be responsible for keeping him isolated on this balcony, but he had every intention of taking care of it. He just had to convince Y/N.

He quickly tucked his boner into his waistband and walked back into the ballroom like he never left, eyes peeled for Y/N’s small form among the guests. He sees her enter the restroom from afar and doesn’t think before pursuing her.

On any other day Jungkook wouldn’t dream of executing what was going on in his head, but Y/N was admittedly the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen and she caused him to think purely with his dick after their interaction today.

He doesn’t know how he managed to skip into the women’s restroom without setting off any of the guests, but he considers it a victory when he’s in and locks the door without thinking about it. He turned to find Y/N touching up her make-up at the large mirror above the sinks.

They make eye contact through the mirror, but they have yet to exchange words. Y/N narrows her eyes questioningly while Jungkook considers the silence and stillness in the room. So far so good.

Jungkook’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he took a few steps away from the door. “Where did your date go?” He questioned casually.

Y/N finally pauses touching up her face. “He also went to the bathroom, what are you doing in here?” She answers speedily, watching him intently through the mirror. “We made our deal.”

“I came to see you…” The woman hums in understanding and starts on her lipstick again, seemingly uninterested. “You getting all dolled up for him?” Jungkook finishes.

“Essentially yes.” There is a pause before Jungkook just comes out with it.

“So you gonna sleep with him tonight?”

Deathstalker scoffed. “Of course not. I’m an assassin not a hooker.”

Jungkook muffles a laugh at the inside joke amongst him and his men when his new ally finally starts to show some interest. “Why do you care anyway?”

He walks up to her boldly, gripping her waist and pressing against her from behind causing her to put the make-up down and zero in on his face. She continued to watch his eyes when he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“I just wonder what he would say if I messed up this pretty little face.” He brings his hand up to gently grip her chin, unlike how he did earlier. She smiles slightly, making no attempt to free herself from his grasp. If anything she leans more into his touch.

“Mr. Jeon.” She drawled. “Are you still threatening me?” She bats her eyelashes coyly, knowing exactly what was going on. Jungkook has no idea why that innocent look and the words ‘Mr. Jeon’ falling from her mouth made him hard, but he continually needed more of it. He shuddered lightly at the name and her sweet, sweet voice, barely managing to keep his cool.

“Not in the painful way...unless you like that.” He rasped, brushing her lip with his thumb tenderly. She held back a moan and Jungkook took that as an invitation to take it a step further.

“Do you want me?” He breathed deeply in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

She licked her lips and smiled her signature seductive smile. Jungkook was no match for both her smile and her beautiful doe-eyes. “Oh, Mr. Jeon, you know my pride won’t let me answer that.”

“Cut the games Y/L/N. I’ve had enough of your shit today. Do you want me?” He repeats. He fully pressed his body into hers allowing her to feel the need that he had been accumulating out on the balcony, his breathing getting heavier. She returned the gesture, pushing back against him discreetly.

“I thought we agreed that you would just be my boss.” She said with wide, naive eyes, though Jungkook knew better.

“Well, then, as your boss I hope you would do as I ask and let me fuck you on this sink.” He let his fingers travel from her chin to her throat and let them wrap around her neck ever so gently, giving her just a taste of what was to come. He felt her swallow thickly and watched the innocent look in her eyes turn to primal lust. “So? You wanna see if I can handle you or not?” He whispered, touching his lips to her ear.

She shivered at the touch and quickly turned around to face him. Jungkook leaned in and they were nose to nose. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but their lips barely brushed when she backed away suddenly. He looked into her stern eyes confusedly. “This means nothing.” She said, making sure they were both on the same page. “I’m aware.” he responded before they both pounced at each other, teeth clacking and tongues swirling.

Y/N moaned in delight when Jungkook gripped the back of her thighs and sat her on the granite sink counter with a quickness. He forced her skirt up to her hips roughly so he could properly grind his crotch against her and she seemed to enjoy the rough handling. He made a note of that.

His hands were everywhere on her, massaging her breasts, squeezing her hips and ass, eager to finally be living his most recent fantasies. Y/N revelled in the attention with a smile on her face, hands playing freely in his silky hair whilst he kissed along her neck.

He quickly reached down between Y/N’s legs to find that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He leans back and their heated gazes meet. “You dirty little slut.” He noted, gruffly. “You like it.” She confidently reassured him. “You’re damn right, I like it.” He mumbled as he attached his lips firmly to hers and applied pressure, rubbing her swollen clit with his fingers. “...Mmm, God, you’re so wet.”

The assassin’s body jerked several times and she moaned into his mouth, grinding further into his touch. She separated from him when she couldn’t take anymore and stared deeply into his eyes. “Please,” she pauses to catch her breath. “Please fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook unzipped his pants before she could even finish her sentence, preparing a condom that he is thanking God he brought with him today. “I like when you say my name like that.” He whispered against her ear.

“I know, your dick told me. Now, hurry before someone breaks the door down.” Jungkook then slides into her easily. Y/N sighs in ecstasy while Jungkook is stunned into silence at the way she gripped his dick. He starts to move almost immediately, holding her in place as he snaps his hips into her, their lips sloppily tangled all the while. The sound of their moans began to bounce off of the tile walls of the bathroom, both of them throwing any cares they had for being discreet out the window.

Jungkook grunted with excitement and pleasure at the sight in front of him. He was watching her moaning form closely, memorizing every detail of her incase he never got this chance again.

“Fuck yes. Your dick feels so fucking good inside me.” She panted, focused on his wide, intense eyes. “Just keep fucking me like that, Mr. Jeon.” He released a satisfied growl at the name.

Even though he had only met her weeks ago, Jungkook never would have guessed that Y/N would be the type to beg for anything. But here she was under him, at his mercy just like in his dreams, begging for him. It occurred to him that the Deathstalker he met would never admit to or do any of this, but Y/N seemed to be living for it. The idea excited him so much that he didn’t know up from down and didn’t bother to control any nonsense that spewed from his mouth in response to her.

“You look like a dirty little slut under me right now. Letting me fuck you in the bathroom while your date’s probably outside waiting or you.” He whispered harshly in her ear, never letting up as he continues to thrust in and out of her swiftly.

Y/N threw her head back and moaned, feeling nothing but turned on by his comments. “Oh, fuck yes..” She murmured, letting herself be carried away with pleasure.

“Not wearing any panties for him, letting him touch all over you, ugh...but I’m the one who gets to have this sweet pussy by the end of the night.” He breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of Y/N’s face that was contorted in pure bliss. “Flirting with both of us all night long, making us want you. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I am, I’m a bad girl.” She whimpered hurriedly. “I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.” She finished, her words not completely registering in her drunken state, but they resonated with Jungkook all too well. He forced himself to slow his thrusts considerably and focus on his breathing much to Y/N’s dismay.

She leans back into him and rests her forehead on his, running her fingers through his hair and grinding on him desperately. “No, no, no, no, no, no. Why did you stop?” Her low, lusty voice implored.

Jungkook chuckles lightly. “You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart.” She pulled his hips into her helping him find a new rhythm. “Then by all means, do, Mr. Jeon. I want you to cum inside me.” She purred before kissing him softly.

That set something off in him causing him to pound into her once more. Y/N was thrown back by the force, unable to hold her upper body up any longer. She rested her elbows on the counter and tilted her head all the way back while Jungkook thrusted away into her.

He saw her face in the mirror and appreciated that he got the watch the pleasure they were experiencing together until he noticed her eyes were closed.

He realised he didn’t wanna cum this way. He pulled out of her, ignoring her cries of disapproval, turned her around and roughly bent her over the counter.

“Oh, baby, you gotta see this.” He rasped before sliding into her again and instantly started fucking into her wildly. Y/N yelped before biting her knuckle in order to keep quiet. “Oh my god, yes, fuck me!”

Jungkook grabbed her ponytail and dragged her up off the counter and into his chest so that he could whisper in her ear. She winced, but let him wrap her hair around his fist and pull harder, the back of her head totally resting on his shoulder.

She could see him behind her, relentlessly hammering into her greedy body in all his glory. Maybe she misjudged him. The sight turned her on even more, sending another rush of wetness between her thighs.

“You’d better keep it down princess. Wouldn’t want your date to think his girl was in here getting railed like a slut. Oh, wait.” Y/N wanted to laugh, but Jungkook released her hip to wrap his large hand around the base of her neck and firmly squeezed.

Her eyes immediately rolled back at the gesture, but she made sure to refocus on the mirror as Jungkook was watching closely. The pressure was building in her core more and more. She was gonna fall over the edge any second now, she was so close.

“Oh m-ffffuck, yes! You’re gonna make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She whined through clenched teeth, looking into his piercing eyes through the mirror.

“Then fucking cum for me.” His deep voice grated in her ear.

“Harder! Choke me harder!” Y/N pleaded as her orgasm crashed right into her. He squeezed tighter at just the right time and with just the right pressure that had Y/N seeing stars and prolonging her high. Jungkook held off his own orgasm, trying not to think about her velvety walls pulsating around him, so that he could watch Y/N fully enjoy hers. And boy was it something to watch.

Her jaw dropped and stilled as her eyes rolled into her head, but it was the most beautiful thing Jungkook had ever seen. Her body was frozen in a perfect arch as he thrusted away into her and her hand firmly cradled his head so that their cheeks were pressed together. He would hold out for as long as he could as she rode her high completely if only to watch her like this for a little longer.

Eventually she tapped Jungkook's hand causing him to let go of her neck and she collapsed onto the counter breathlessly. “Holy fuck.” She gasped as she braced herself on the granite surface.

She coughed a bit and caught her breath and then looked up at Jungkook with fucked out, voracious eyes. He never took his eyes off of her and never stopped pumping his dick into her delicious cunt.

“You gonna cum for your little cock slut, Mr. Jeon?” Y/N croaked, throat sore from being choked. But every word sounded like music to Jungkook’s ears. That look on her face made him wanna blow his load on the spot. “Yeah, baby.” Is all he can offer as his hips break their rhythm without his permission.

“Please, cum inside me.” She moaned out as Jungkook emptied himself into the condom, hips sputtering near the end until they stopped with his dick still deep inside of her. He was in his own head, lost in a post-coital stupor, thinking about how that may have been the best orgasm he’s ever had when Y/N spoke up.

“You can get out of me now.” She said flatly, thrusting Jungkook back into the real world. He murmured an apology and withdrew himself from her, watching her walk casually into one of the stalls without a word or a look in his direction.

He just stood there with his cock out wondering what the hell just happened. He thought they made a connection. He agreed that it wouldn’t mean anything, but was she really that cold hearted to just ignore him after a passionate experience like that? Well, she is a mercenary, his conscience defended, they’re not meant to be caring.

As he heard the stall start to open up he quickly turned around, discarded the condom and tucked himself back into his pants. He then watched as she came back out looking more put together than before.

She washed her hands and began to touch up her appearance again. This time she actually needed it. The foundation on her neck was rubbed off by his fingers, revealing the tattoos that Jungkook missed, her lipstick was smeared and her high ponytail drooped due to the pulling. Awkward silence took over the spacious restroom. Is she really not going to say anything?

He decided to just come out with it. “What was that?”

“What are you talking about?” She requested, haphazardly while fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Well, you were just all over me and now you’re acting like I don’t exist.” He said plainly.

“It’s called sex, you don’t fuck like a virgin so I assume you know what I’m talking about. Besides, I’m not acting like anything.” Jungkook had a hard time believing that. He knew what deflecting looked like, had seen it in many interrogations.

“Then why won't you look at me?” He challenged.

Her eyes widened in annoyance as she reached around to place another bobby pin in her hair. “I’m kinda busy here, Jeon.”

He couldn’t help, but feel bothered that she dropped the sassy formality of calling him Mr., an indication that she was enjoying his company. “Look, will you just talk to me for a sec—”

She suddenly stops what she’s doing. Her breathing is long and deep before she calms down and begins speaking smoothly with her eyes closed. “Look, Jeon. We don’t know each other and I don't know what you think you know about me or what you made up in your head, but you might as well forget all of that ‘cause it’s not real.” She sighed, continuing to recover her foundation.

“That wasn’t real?” He finally commanded. He hated to admit it, but he was slightly bothered when she didn’t even offer him a glance. “That?” She responded, only interested in her reflection.

“That,” He clarified, gesturing to the counter sternly. “What we just did, what we...said.” He gulped nervously. This wasn’t like him, he didn’t get nervous or have passionate sex with strangers and let it effect him. This is only his second time meeting this woman and he let her get in his head. He’s been asking himself the same question since meeting her in the alley: what makes her so different?

She put down her foundation and just stared at it blankly. “And what part of what we said are you confused about, pray tell.”

“Um, ‘I need to be punished, Mr. Jeon.’” He quoted promptly.

Honestly the only thing he was confused about was why she was suddenly being so cold to him. All of the words they shared were noteworthy and he wanted her to acknowledge that. The whole experience still shocked Jungkook and he never dreamed it would actually happen. He just brought up a snippet that he thought might get her attention and maybe evoke some emotion finally. He chose wisely.

Her head whipped in his direction. “And you liked it, didn’t you?” She sneered. “Or perhaps we could talk about how you like to call women, sluts, hm?”

“I thought you liked it,” He tried to get in, but she wasn’t having it.

Jungkook thought her angry face looked nothing like it did five minutes ago or even out on the balcony. She suddenly let out a bitter laugh and Jungkook realized that this woman probably wears many faces. Perhaps to defend herself. Perhaps to survive. Maybe he misjudged her.

“You know, I didn’t take you for a person who throws things that people say during sex back in their face.” She accused, sporting a dark smile.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t take you for a...a—”

“A submissive?” She shot, putting an end to his stuttering. He deflated, all signs of anger or disapproval gone from his stance. “Yes.” He copped out, not knowing what else to say. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Y/N visibly calmed down as well, turning back to the mirror and continuing her work. “Are you surprised?” She muttered, raising her eyebrows.

Jungkook thought for a second before responding, evenly: “No.” Thinking about how much Y/N might have gone through to be so successful as a trained killer, she must have had to be the strongest and smartest person in the room on any given day. There had to be a time where she wanted to take a break, not be the person in charge for once. Jungkook could relate.

His response made her pause, but she only cleared her throat and continued applying foundation in silence. I can’t leave things like this, Jungkook decided. He just got an actual glimpse into her personality and not the same act she puts on for the rest of the world. He found out that they might even have some things in common. He didn’t want her to shut him out now. It may have been a moment of weakness for both of them, but he wanted to continue this.

“I could, you know, help...punish you, i-if you want.” He spluttered with his hands in his pockets, trying to make himself look as confident as possible since his voice had already betrayed him.

Y/N stills and turns to him with a confounded expression, but didn’t say anything.

“I mean, unless you already have a…” Jungkook left out the last word for her to hopefully pick up on, suddenly shy about the world of BDSM.

“No, I don’t.” She rushed out, looking down at the counter and creating an awkward silence between them. “I’ll think about it.” She added genuinely. She looked at him over her shoulder and offered a gentle nod, her expression completely blank.

Jungkook nods back in acknowledgement. “Okay, then.”

“Now get out of here, I’m sure there are ladies that need this restroom.” She pulled on her signature playful smirk, nearly giving Jungkook whiplash. Many faces indeed.

“Yeah, okay.” He gathered himself and walked towards the door, but turned back when he realized something. “Wait, how do I contact you for the job?”

“I’ll call you, now go.” She said packing up her stuff.

Jungkook nodded, unlocked the door and quickly darted out of the bathroom. As he sped by he saw Walter down the hall posted in front of the men’s room patiently waiting for his date. Thankfully his head was turned when Jungkook made his way out of there and to the exit. He smirked wickedly, knowing he got away with his ridiculous plan. “Dumbass.”

Two weeks had gone by since the bathroom incident and Jungkook worked tirelessly to distract himself from thoughts of the beautiful assassin to no avail. He realized there was no escaping her. He thought their rendezvous at the auction would help get her out of his system, but it only fueled his addiction for her and now he was trapped in a vicious cycle that he didn’t know if he wanted out of.

They kept in contact and Deathstalker killed the enemies on Jungkook’s hit list, but this time she was being paid by the mafioso himself unbeknownst to his men. They found themselves in situations much like the first time they ran into Deathstalker more often than not. Only now she had to be more creative as Jungkook’s foot soldiers still thought she was a possible threat.

As Jungkook sat across from Collin Boardly, a corrupt CEO/gang leader, he wondered if this would be one of those situations. Boardly is a fellow criminal that Jungkook was on good terms with until he heard that Boardly’s men have been attacking and blackmailing store owners in his territory. Jungkook insisted that he pay those victims back and restore all damages. He even invited Mr. Boardly to a very private game of poker so that they could properly discuss matters.

They sat in the dimly lit restaurant owned by one of Jungkook’s close friends with their respective security surrounding them. Boardly felt obligated to bring his men as he offended Jungkook and now he was on his turf. Jungkook’s men insisted on backing him up, but he had a strong feeling that none of that would be necessary.

They had already made small talk while getting the game started and Jungkook got straight to business.

“So, I hear you’ve been terrorizing my streets. What’s the story there?” Jungkook inquired calmly. Boardly huffed a nervous laugh at the mention of what his men did. “Personally I think terrorizing might be too strong a word.”

Jungkook’s brows raised and his expression turned serious. “Well, what would you call threatening multiple lives at gunpoint, roughin’ ‘em up and demanding cuts of their earnings then? Business?” He denounced.

“As usual.” Boardly finished the adage with a large smile. Jungkook only looked at him with the same no nonsense expression and Boardly seemed to regret making the remark.

“Just a joke, Jungkook.” He muttered. “I am sorry that I allowed my guys to do that.” He doubled down. “We simply didn’t know how far your territory reached. We meant no disrespect.”

“I appreciate that.” Jungkook replied, anger stirring inside him as he fought not to rip this man’s head from his shoulders.They continued to play in near silence until Jungkook finally pressed him for answers.

“So how do you intend to fix what your guys broke?”

Boardly looked up with a lost expression on his face. “Excuse me?” He grumbled.

“There was damage done to these stores, yes?” Jungkook assessed slowly. “And you’ve already collected cuts from some of the owners…” He can see Boardly’s eyes widen slightly in recognition.

“Oh, you didn’t know I knew that.” The mob boss gathered. “Anyway, I assume you’re ready to pay for that. I was thinking fifty, thousand dollars would cover it.” He suggested calmly.

Boardly tried to give an excuse, stuttering. “I’m-I don't think you understand—”

“I understood you can afford it, judging by those chips.” Jungkook chided, gesturing to the large bet Boardly made in the center of the poker table. Boardly sighed at a loss.

“Kook, listen.” The CEO leaned forward, trying to reason with his opponent. “We’re friends. It was an accident, can’t we just forget this happened?”

“No.” Jungkook responded instantly, his arms crossed. “We were...associates, but now you’re just someone who fucked with my community. So are you gonna pay it back or not?” He seethed furiously.

Boardly swallowed and stared at Jungkook for a few moments, wondering how else to bargain with him. He had too much pride to go through with this deal, especially in front of his inferiors.

“No.” He finally answered.

Jungkook sighed disappointedly. The air in the room turned ominous and it was felt by all. Normally, Jungkook would be killing Boardly by now and he could feel all of his men tense behind him, ready to kill if need be, but he was doing things differently today. He just nodded understandingly, before gesturing with his left hand to get Taehyung’s attention.

“Taehyung. Will you get me a glass of water from the kitchen please?” He asked politely without looking at him. He hears his right hand man head to the kitchen and he turns back to the piece of shit in front of him.

“Why, Collin? Is there something wrong with doing right by those you fucked over?” Jungkook questioned, heatedly.

“No, Kook—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Boardly scoffed and continued. “I just don’t think we did anything wrong. We overstepped, we apologized, I think that should be enough.”

“Well, I don’t. So where does that leave us?”

“I’m not paying for shit.” The CEO shrugged. That really pissed Jungkook off.

“Go to hell, Boardly.” He growled. I’m really gonna enjoy watching you bite it, Jungkook thought sinisterly.

Taehyung placed the glass of water in front of his boss and made the decision to continue to stand at his side, ready if anything were to happen.

“Fine.” Boardly responded bitterly. “So are we done here? Or are you gonna give me a hard time?” He asked, nodding at Taehyung for emphasis. Jungkook shook his head nonchalantly. “No, no. We’re done.” with a haunting smirk on his face. The look put Boardly slightly on edge, but he ignored it and stood up to corral his men.

Jungkook watched him make his way to the door wondering what the fuck was taking so long? He already gave the signal. He started to reach for his own gun to do it himself when he noticed Boardly stop in his tracks and could hear him choking.

Even Jungkook and his men wore looks of concern. The mafia leader got up to get a better view from where he stood and the others craned their necks behind him still ready to shoot first and ask questions later.

Boardly’s men tried to help him as he clutched his throat, but it was no use as he convulsed and fell to the floor before ceasing to move altogether. They looked at each other for answers before turning to Jungkook.

One of the guys who was wearing a blue suit, which Jungkook assumed to be Boardly’s right hand, pulled out a gun and walked towards him. Taehyung and Jungkook pulled theirs as well, causing everyone with a gun to point them at either side.

“You do this?!” Boardly’s guy raged. “How?” Jungkook argued. “How would I do that to him? He probably had a heart attack or forgot to breathe or some shit.” He surmised, trying to place the blame elsewhere.

“Bullshit! What did you do?” He demanded.

“Look, I’m sorry for your loss or whatever, but we had nothing to do with this. Now you all gotta do something with him.” He pointed his gun at the dead body briefly. Blue suit breathes heavily with a stumped expression, not wanting to let it go. No one in the room showing any signs of letting up either.

“How about we all put the guns down and you guys can take him home-or wherever. Yeah? Does that work?” Jungkook prompted gently. After a beat, blue suit nodded, looked back at the rest of Boardly’s men and nodded. Jungkook did the same and slowly, but surely the guns came down and were put away.

Jungkook and his men watched as they dragged the body out of the restaurant and sped away from the large storefront windows. They’re finally able to breathe without stress. “What the fuck was that?” Namjoon blurted causing the rest of them to chuckle.

“I don’t know, but I’m getting the fuck outta here before they come back. See you guys back at base.” They laughed and said their goodbyes. Jungkook walked in the light rain to the next block over and found his town car ready and waiting for him.

He opened the passenger door, addressed his driver, then retrieved a large black duffle bag before opening the backdoor. There he found Deathstalker sitting cross legged in a black trench coat at the other window seat. He smiled fondly at her. She looked beautiful as always gazing out the window at the rain before she noticed him there. When she turned to face him he replaced the fond smile with a composed smirk.

“Took you long enough.” She opined quietly once he sat down and closed the door. “We got held up, literally. I think this belongs to you.” He passed the duffle bag off to her. She received her present graciously, beaming down at the contents happily once she opened it.

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” Y/N crooned playfully, sporting that signature smirk that never failed to affect Jungkook. “No, thank you.” He responded after clearing his throat. “So you poisoned him?”

She simply replied, “Yup.” while inspecting the cash that filled the duffle bag in her lap.

“But he randomly started choking and shaking. And you say you controlled it with the push of a button?” He wondered with furrowed brows and pouted lips.

“Well, poison, a small nanobot that I planted in his food to attack his lungs and cause internal bleeding, it’s all the same, you know.” She spoke aimlessly, moving on from the money to buff and inspect her manicure.

“Wow.” Jungkook whispered, genuinely infatuated with the thought of that kind of technology and how he could get his hands on it. While he was lost in thought he didn’t notice Y/N scooching closer to him until they were side by side. He turned to find their noses were nearly touching and his heart rate sped up rapidly.

“Now that, that’s over…” she drawled, grasping Jungkook’s hand. He watched unquestionably as she brought his hand to her mouth and inserted his middle and ring fingers all while looking into his eyes alluringly. At the same time, she easily brought her leg up to drape over both of Jungkook’s. He still sat frozen in place by her gaze while she lifted the bottom of her coat and placed his hand against her bare heat.

They both shuddered slightly when Jungkook instinctively began to rub circles into her already wet core, never taking their eyes off each other.

“You wanna go somewhere?” She coaxed breathily. It almost infuriated Jungkook how she didn’t even have to try to get him to agree to anything. He was indeed trapped.

“James,” He called up to the driver. “The Plaza Hotel please.”

Currently, Jungkook was going through paperwork in his office, taking advantage of the slow week he’s had to take care of some business for his company. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to do this so he was pretty backed up and seemingly had a whole afternoon of this to look forward to. He sighed at the thought, but continued to read through the documents and sign them here and there when suddenly he felt something was...off. He put his pen down and looked around the room.

The room was silent as usual, but all of a sudden it was too silent? Jungkook didn’t know how and he couldn’t really make sense of it until he looked up at the ceiling vent. It was no longer producing the usual soft hum. There was nothing. He silently walked under the vent to inspect it when he saw a glint in between the slats. Immediately, he moved from under it and drew his gun, aiming it at the vent.

“I see you motherfucker! Come out right now or I’ll put ten holes in you!” He shouted. The intruder heeded the warning and right away the vent was forced to the floor. Jungkook watched intently as two feminine hands holding a gun slowly dropped down and though it was upside down, it was perfectly aimed at him.

He still had his gun trained on the vent as the trespasser entered through the hole in the ceiling to reveal the familiar face of Deathstalker herself. Only her upper body could be seen as her strong legs held her in place from inside the vent.

She smiled easily at Jungkook as if they weren’t in a stand-off right now. “Hello, Mr. Jeon.” Her tone was calm, but somewhat guarded, telling him what her face never would. Jungkook was stuck between being relieved to see that it was only Deathstalker and being concerned that she was pointing a gun at him.

“Hello, Deathstalker. You wanna tell me why you broke into my office and have a gun in my face?” He queried with a tilt of his head. Y/N only reached up to grip the hole in the ceiling, somehow removing herself from the vent with one hand, her gun and her gaze still trained on Jungkook as she landed on her feet in front of him. More contradicting thoughts swirled in his mind at the sight.

“You finally caught me. I’m proud.” She smirked, removing the hood of her catsuit from her head.

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, maybe you can congratulate me later. Why are you here? You finally turn on me? Did someone send you, huh?”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You have something I need.” She explained with a determined look. Jungkook’s brows furrowed. “Is that so? And what might that be?”

“You know what it is.” Y/N quipped, tilting her gun along with the inflection in her voice. He shakes his head assuredly. “No, No, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you wanna put the gun down I’d love to discuss it.” He entreated informally.

“No.” She spoke firmly. A beat of silence passes before Jungkook has had enough. “Put the fucking gun down, Y/L/N.” He demanded gruffly.

“You put the fucking gun down.” She spat right back at him.

“I’m not doing this, just tell me what it is—” He reasoned.

“You know what it is—” Before she can fully respond, Jungkook rushed her, forcing her gun away from him and ripping it out of her hand. He quickly backed up and flung the gun across the room before pointing his back at her. They each caught their breath and Y/N bit her lip frustratedly.

Jungkook gave a triumphant smile. “There, that’s better. You ready to talk now—”

Y/N’s leg swiftly came up to kick the gun right out of Jungkook's hand before he even realized what happened. He looked at the gun sliding away from them on the floor, then back at Deathstalker, who smirked and raised an arrogant brow.

“Okay.” Jungkook uttered right as Y/N charged at him. He panicked slightly at the thought of fighting her, but the instinct to fight back kicked in when she launched herself and wrapped her body around him like an anaconda.

They struggled while Deathstalker tried to take Jungkook to the floor. Luckily for him, he wasn’t only a skilled shooter, but a trained and very skilled fighter as well. It wasn’t long before he freed himself from her vice grip and they were in a standoff once again, this time with their fist raised and ready to defend.

“What the hell has gotten into you Y/L/N? I wish you would tell me what this is about.” Jungkook grumbled as they circled each other, waiting for the other to make a move.

Y/N chuckled mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, actually!” He exploded. She took his emotional outburst as an opportunity and pounced once again. Jungkook was quicker to react this time and they were practically sparring in the middle of his office and only lord knows why. Jungkook found himself getting irritated because he was barely one step behind Deathstalker in her strikes and attacks.

As they got more invested, Jungkook noticed that she didn’t intend on hurting him, but she did intend to win. Somewhere in the scuffle, he fell behind and let her right hook distract him from the leg that swept his feet from under him. She was on top of him in an instant, with a habitual flat hand at his jugular ready to stop him from breathing. They stare at each other, both of them breathing heavily.

“Got you.” Y/N suddenly whispered smugly. “Now, are you gonna give me what I want?” She prompted provocatively, sliding her hand into the collar of his shirt slowly. The feel of her hot skin on his almost burned with their charged up bodies and wild emotions. He blinked in realization at her increasingly turned on form above him.

“You. Crazy. Fucking. Bitch.” Jungkook fumed quietly, looking up at her in disapproval. She just giggled freely and though usually the sound would bring a smile to Jungkook’s face, it only pissed him off.

He pushed her off of him and shoved her against the wall roughly, holding her there by the neck. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, breaking in here and waving a gun in my face.” He hissed in anger, their noses touching. “You know, if you wanted dick you could have just said so.”

“Where’s the fun in that Mr. Jeon?” She crooned, leaning forward to kiss him and he denied her, coolly tilting his head back. He continued to hold her by the throat to the wall firmly, causing her to choke briefly, but if she was uncomfortable she didn’t let it show.

“No.” He shook his head, Y/N could see his gears turning as he did so. “No?” She echoed, curiously.

“To answer your question. I’m not giving you what you want.” A devious smirk slowly appeared on his face that made Y/N’s body temperature rise. “No, you’re gonna do what I want now and you’re gonna like it.” He breathed, pressing himself against her and brushing her lips with his teasingly. She inhales audibly, trying not to look affected by his sudden behavior.

“But, Mr. Jeon, I want what you want.” She encouraged him sweetly, reaching for him. He put a stop to that quickly by pinning her wrists above her with one hand and resuming his hold on her neck with the other. She grunted and squirmed before giving up, looking up a childish defeated expression, but Jungkook knew she loved it.

He looked into her eyes with a strong dominance that had Y’N swallowing thickly in anticipation. “Are you talking back to me, Y/L/N?” His eyebrows furrowed intimidatingly.

She bit her lip to suppress her giddy smile. She needed to play along and not mock Jungkook’s very real emotions. The dynamic has officially shifted and now Y/N’s main objective was to please him. “No, Mr. Jeon.” She assured in a register slightly higher than her natural voice.

“Really, because you seem to have a lot to say for someone who’s at my mercy. I wonder if you’d still be as talkative with my dick in your mouth.” He growled hotly in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

She shuddered a hopeful response. “Can we find out, Mr. Jeon...please?” She implored when she felt him pull away.

He looked her over, taking in her needy form. “Look at you, already begging for it.” He shook his head in amazement. “I should keep you here and see how long you can hold your breath for me before your face starts to change color.” He whispered while closing his hand tighter around her neck. Y/N hummed delightfully at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut.

“But you’d probably like that wouldn’t you?” He leaned back in, getting her attention. She opened her eyes and gave a pleasant smile. “You know that I do.” She choked out. He smiled back at her admirably before releasing most of the pressure on her throat.

“No, I got something else planned for y—” He stopped abruptly, looking towards the door because he thought he heard the click of familiar shoes in the hall. His theory was proven correct when he heard them getting closer. He quickly looked to Y/N with wide eyes.

“Get under the desk.” He ordered softly before they both scurry to the huge desk near the window. She easily fit herself under it on her knees facing out and Jungkook took the seat right in front of her. As soon as they were situated, there was a knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called pretending to look over his files. Taehyung poked his head in with a concerned expression before he fully entered the room. “Hey boss. Everything okay here?” He questioned.

“Yes, fine. Why?”

“Nothing, we just thought we heard some...I don’t know, movement?” As Taehyung spoke, Jungkook could feel hands raking up his thighs and his eyes widened quickly. He tried to compose his expression, but he then felt the unbuttoning of his pants.

No, no, no, no, he thought in a panic. He tries not to focus on just how Y/N got his zipper down as silently as she did and focuses on Taehyung’s lips as he talked.

“Oh, no, yeah. That was just me. I was practicing...sh-shadow boxing.” He lied choppily as Y/N released his already hard dick from his pants.

“In a suit?” Taehyung replied, confusedly.

Jungkook jolted slightly and fought back a moan when the assassin took him in her warm, wet mouth. “Waauuuhh, yes. Yes, I was.” He cleared his throat to cover up more moans when she began to skillfully bob her head up and down on his length.

“Oh, well okay.” Taehyung settled. “So if that’s all—” Jungkook attempted to see him off with no success.

“Anyway, we got a lead on that Deathwalker chick.” He offered in a more chipper tone. Y/N paused her movements, intrigued by the information. What had they found out? Jungkook shamelessly rested his hand on the back of her head and pulled, encouraging her to keep going much to both of their disbelief. She obeys and continues the task eagerly, but careful not to have too much fun or she’ll risk getting caught. “Is that so?” the mob boss replied.

“Yeah, it’s not much, but we assumed you wanted us to brief you on it as soon as possible.” His soldier nodded respectfully.

“Ugh,” Jungkook moaned, half-way masking it as a noise of gratitude. “Thank you, Tae. I appreciate it. We’ll be sure to discuss thisssssss later.” He faltered. “Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded again, making a face at Jungkook.

“Hey, you okay boss?” He looked closer at his superior with genuine concern. “Never better Tae.” Jungkook forced out quickly. “Are you sure? Y—”

“Taehyung?” The gang leader addressed him firmly. “Yes?”

“Get the fuck out of my office.”

“Yes, sir.” Taehyung nodded, knowing when he was unwanted and without another word he was exiting the office.

Jungkook pushed away from the desk immediately and grabbed a handful of Y/N’s hair as he stood both of them up. She only smiled at the manhandling and wiped the excess spit from her mouth.

“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?” He snarled at her. She fought back the strong urge to moan a yes and instead just stayed silent with a feigned guilty look on her face. “Take that off. Now. ” He commanded, gesturing to her catsuit. She shimmied it off of her arms and down her legs to reveal her naked body, leaving her heels on, all while Jungkook kept a tight grip on her hair.

“How many do you think I should give you?” He asked, suddenly calmer than before. “How ever many you think is right sir.” She spoke in a small voice, but her innocent act didn’t fool him. He stared at her bare, unapologetically, beautiful body in wonderment before forcing her body to bend over his desk.

He caressed her thighs and backside tenderly and then when she least expected it he delivered a delicious slap to it. Y/N yelped and then sighed with contentment. The wait was over, now the real fun could begin.

“I told you.” Slap. “We weren't.” Slap. “Gonna do.” Slap. “What you wanted.” Slap. “To do.” Slap. “But you just don’t listen.” He accentuated his words with powerful smacks delivered to both of her cheeks and then rubbed at the tender flesh to soothe the sting.

He ran his finger up her spine gently, making her shiver visibly. He smirked at his effect on her, bending his body over hers to whisper in her ear. “Tell me. Are you sorry?” He breathed heavily.

“No, sir.” Y/N panted after a few moments. “I knew it…” He stands up straight, regarding her vulnerable yet durable body.

“You disappoint me, Y/L/N.” He slaps her ass and massages again. Y/N hissed before replying. “I’ll do better sir.” she declared sincerely.

“You promise?” Jungkook lifts his hand and watches as Y/N braces for the impact, watched as her body tensed and her pussy clenched greedily around nothing in awe. He savored the moment, spanking her again.

She hummed graciously at the delicious pain she was receiving from him. “Yes, sir. I promise.”

“But you’re not sorry.” He clarified. “No sir.”

“Why?” His brows furrowed in curiosity, gearing up to spank her again. “Because I love sucking your cock sir.” Y/N whined. He stopped his movements, taken aback and released a soft laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes sir.” Slap. “Tell me more Y/L/N.” he requested as he moved his left hand to her cunt and kept the right one on her ass.

She closed her eyes and smiled, envisioning herself doing the activity, even licking her lips at the luscious memory of it. “I love how heavy it feels on my tongue. How you force me down on it and it hits the back of my throat.” She mused longingly. Y/N stops speaking and her body tenses as he inserts his thumb into her.

“Keep going Y/L/N.” Jungkook’s tone made it clear that he would stop if she didn’t keep talking so she continued.

“I love how thick it is, oh fuck.” She moans, digging her nails into the wood of the desk as he rubs two fingers against her clit and picks up the pace. “What else Y/L/N?” He breathed.

She gulped in a breath, the sudden pressure taking her breath away. “How you make me gag on it when I’ve been bad and— mmmm, how you coat the inside of my mouth with all your cum when you’re done with me...How you check to make sure I swallowed all of it.” She giggled that last bit breathlessly, grinding back on his hand.

“You’re such a dirty girl Y/L/N.” He moves in and out of her quickly while rubbing her clit perfectly in sync, pulling lewd moans from her until he suddenly removes them, delivering another hard smack to her backside. “Ah, fuck.” She squealed.

“But you’re right, you need to do better. Now count with me.” He ordered sternly.

To which she immediately responded, “Yes sir.”

Y/N counts every hit Jungkook delivers to her extremely tender ass dutifully with her fingernails creating crescents in the mahogany wood below her. By the time they reach twenty, his hand is as red as a tomato and Y/N is quite literally dripping onto the floor in front of him. He watched as her slick dripped out of her cunt from in between her spread legs and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle of her pleasure.

Jungkook is incredibly turned on by the sight and doesn’t think twice before taking his hard cock and shoving right into the assassin without warning. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, not that she needed to as you could literally mop the floor with her arousal. He just continued to hammer into her with complete abandon.

It felt as if Y/N had forgotten how to breathe and her head shot up from the desk at the abrupt intrusion. “Ohhhhh shhhhhhit.” She cursed choppily with Jungkook’s hips slapping against her, making her ass sting more, but she loved it.

He reached up to push her head down against the desk forcefully and held it there as he fucked into her. “You love the pain don’t you my little cock slut?” He growled out.

“Yes, sir. I love it. Thank you, Mr. Jeon.” She babbled dazedly into the desk.

He pulls out of her then, leaving her moving back in search of him and clenching around nothing. “Please put it back in, Mr. Jeon.” She whimpered, reaching back for him, but she didn’t dare sit up for fear that he might think she was disobeying him.

He smiles and sits down in his chair, grabbing the hands that searched for him and guiding them to it’s arm rests. “Why don’t you come sit down and do it yourself?”

She moves right away and backs up onto him. Bracing herself on the armrests, she hovers above him still facing the desk, grabs his cock and engulfs it in her wetness. They both groan wildly when he is fully seated inside of her and she begins to move up and down.

“Just like that baby, keep bouncing on my cock.” He muttered huskily, placing his hands on her hips. Looking down, he finally noticed the mess Y/N’s juices made on his suit pants. He should have pulled them all the way down, but damn if that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. “Goddamn. Who made you this fucking wet baby?” He grunted, pulling her down on him with fervid force.

“You did, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N breathed heavily with her eyes closed in ecstasy. She could feel her orgasm finally approaching and she was chasing it with every move she made.

“You gonna cum baby?” Jungkook’s voice rasped in her ear. Y/N mentally cursed, already knowing what was coming to her. “Yes, I’m so close, Mr. Jeon.” She whined, trying to plead her case.

It was no use. He swiftly pushed her off of him roughly and forced her down against the table once more. “No, no, no, please, please.” She begged and squirmed.

He only bent down to her level, gripping her chin in his hand. “You should know by now not to fuck with me Y/L/N. Now you need to be punished.” He says whispering sadistically in her ear. “Come on now.”

Jungkook gripped her by her forearms, dragging her up from the table and keeping them in place behind her back like a criminal. He guided her to the expansive wall length bookshelf on the far left of his office. Y/N knew just where they were going and somehow it prompted more wetness to come cascading down her already damp and sticky legs.

He finds the handle on the inside of one of the shelves and pulls on the hidden door to reveal his playroom. The ceiling was a deep red while the walls were painted black with several tools for causing pain hanging on them all around the room. Several large contraptions used for pleasure and pain were scattered along the sides. But Jungkook’s favorite part of the room was the alaska king size mattress against the back wall which had a mirror of the same size attached to the ceiling above it. He loved that he could see every facet of Y/N’s squirming body just by looking up.

“Stand here.” He directs her after stopping under the pair of leather handcuffs that dangled from the ceiling. He lifted and secured both her arms before focusing on her wanton eyes. “You comfortable, sweetheart?” He asked, grasping her chin firmly in his hands.

“Yes, sir.” She replied truthfully. “Good.” He pecked her lips and began removing her boot heels. This created more distance between her and the floor. She was now truly dangling from the ceiling, the balls of her feet barely touching the floor.

Jungkook marvelled at his work and how after a while Y/N struggled to hold her weight against the cuffs. He then undressed quickly and made his way back to her, placing his lips on hers in a rough and passionate kiss that left Y/N breathless and moaning.

She feels a hand thread it’s fingers through her hair and massage her scalp before it’s yanking her back and gripping tightly. She opened her eyes to see Jungkook, lustful and giddy smiling back at her. His hand slipped out of her hair, down her neck, chest and around her torso as he slowly circled her body.

“I wish I could touch every piece of you at once.” He expressed sofly once he was behind her. Y/N breathed heavily with anticipation as his large hands gluided up her raised arms, down her waist, over her hips and ghosted over her plump, raw ass making her hiss. He chuckled at the sound letting his hands wander to her front and administering feather light circles to her swollen clit. Y/N twitched causing her body to sway uncontrollably. Jungkook stilled her, but continued his teasing much to Y/N’s dismay. But she didn’t dare say anything about it, she knew better and she wanted to cum so she stayed silent.

He comes back around to face her and really takes his time appreciating her body. He kisses her lips, along her neck and sucks on her nipples just enough to have her squirming with more want for him. Suddenly he presses down on each of her sensitive nipples with two fingers and she squeaks, painful electricity shooting through her.

He looked her over keenly. “God you’re so fucking beautiful...and you’re all mine to play with.” He kisses her biting her lip. “Who do you belong to?” His fierce tone demanded an answer.

“You, Mr. Jeon.” Y/N avowed, increasingly turned on and desperate to cum.

“Who else?” His hands moved haltingly towards her core, never breaking eye contact. Her eyes flashed knowingly at him. “No one. Only you, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook smiled contentedly before it disappeared little by little. He knew the words weren’t true and that she only said them to please him, only said them when they were intimate. But he couldn’t help how much he yearned to hear it, how much he wanted her to truly be his. This room is where they both get what they want no matter what.

Y/N gets someone to dominate her and take care of her needs and Jungkook gets to live out his fantasies of her truly belonging solely to him. But he knew she would never go for that and that he would continue to toture himself this way.

He tucks the thought away as he suddenly plunges two fingers inside of her. “And who does this pussy belong to?” He growled.

Y/N immediately clenches around them and lets out a cracked moan. “You, sir! This pussy is all yours. Oh fuck, ugh!” She cried out. At least Jungkook can be sure of that, he thought as he began curling his fingers into her at lightning speed. He holds her hips in place as he goes to work and Y/N can’t even think about the pain in her arms anymore once she feels her orgasm approaching.

She grunts fervently as the pressure in her core builds and builds until she can’t stand it. She gives no warning, just allowing the glorious, all-consuming feeling to ignite her insides without a single sound. The only noise to be heard in the room was the sloshing of Jungkook’s fingers moving rapidly inside of her and the slap of his palm against her wet mound.

Jungkook was so enraptured by her eyes rolling back into her head that he didn’t notice the clear liquid escaping from her cunt, getting all over his hand and dripping onto the floor. He brought her drooping head up so he could kiss her eagerly as he removed his fingers and stroked her clit like a wild man, getting more of her juices all over him.

She never told him to stop as she was struck silent by the amount of pleasure she just experienced, but he removed his hand and continued kissing her writhing body hungrily. She was out of breath as she twitched and mewled against him, audibly shuddering from time to time.

“Holy fucking shit. You’re just full of surprises huh?” He praised her with her face in his hands. Her only reaction was to smile tiredly. Her body was absolutely spent and still experiencing aftershocks.

“Now let’s see if we can make you do that again.” he says, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist, thankfully taking the weight off of her arms.

She finally speaks in a disoriented voice with her eyes half closed. “Yes, please sir.”

Jungkook pushes inside of her, her cunt was now extremely wet and extremely tight due to that first squirting orgasm and he could tell he wouldn’t last long. He began speedily fucking into her, his hips slapping against her bruised and aching ass over and over again.

Y/N was in another realm of euphoria, this one being better than the last. She didn’t even know that was possible. Her head was tilted all the way back and her eyes were closed, but they were focused. She was too far gone to even remember her own name at this point.

“Please…” She mumbled. “Please what?” Jungkook grunted, his vigorous hips never changing pace.

“Please, please make me cum, Mr. Jeon.” She begged through gritted teeth. “I want it so bad. Please give me your cum.”

“Oh fuck, baby.” He moaned, thrusting impossibly faster, both of them close to the edge.

She felt herself growing slightly over stimulated, but she was so close, chasing that high that made her see stars. She was concentrated on the feeling of Jungkook’s dick pumping in and out of her and hitting just the right spot against her walls. Jungkook felt a force resisting him from inside of Y/N and before he could grasp it he was being pushed out along with Y/N’s cum.

A full fledged scream escaped from her throat that was elongated by Jungkook who swiped at her clit wildly to prolong her orgasm. He watches her twitch and moan helplessly before sliding back in and picking up where he left off.

“No, p-please sir, I can’t.” She choked out, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

He gripped her face roughly in his hand and brought it close to his. “No, you wanted this dick so you gonna take this dick.” He seethed. “That’s what you came here for right?”

“Yes sir.” She cried. Jungkook thrusted up into her half a dozen more times before he came inside of her, ripping yet another orgasm from Y/N. She felt tears slide down her face at the sheer force of energy in her veins. She saw white behind her eyes and her body burned all over in the best of ways.

“Argh!” Jungkook growled boisterously as he came, holding her hips rigidly against his as he came down. When he looked up he could see Y/N practically falling asleep against him, yet her body was shaking slightly. He pulled out of her and released her from her restraints.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?” He grinned, holding her tight as he let her down because he didn’t expect her to be able to hold herself up. He was proven right as she immediately slumped over his shoulder once her arms were free. The mafia leader carried her to the bed and gently laid her on her back, taking a moment to clean both of them off before he laid down too.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” He whispered sweetly. Initially, the assassin didn’t realize he was speaking to her as she was quickly drifting off to sleep, but after a moment she assured him, “I’m fine Jungkook.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #mafia!bts #mafia jungkook #mafia!jungkook #jungkook au #hoseokmylovesworld

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

The Runaway Princess | One

Okay, okay, okay so I'm dropping this preview here because I have yet to decide if this is going to be a long fic or a chaptered fic but I have the first part down and I wanted to share it. It's a young Zemo x OC fic (lightly OC? His wife in the comics is named Heike and I took that name and ran with it so she's my own design but with a ripped off name LOL).

If I decide to post the rest on here it will be on my DIzzy After Dark page because I'm planning this to be an NSFW style fic (bc why the fuck not) but this opening bit is 110% friendly to all ages I just wanted to introduce Heike because I fucking love her.

This story goes with the Zemo moodboard I made months ago and finally just got around to polishing. Here is the like to that!

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Synopsis: Heike is a Ballerina and a Princess, but before that she is an object, one toyed with by her very mother. She is to be married to a man she's never met, whom she has yet to even see a picture of (though that's of her own design), and is on the verge of one of the biggest moments of her career: dancing on the Marinsky stage.

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Heike Petrov (OC)

Warnings: Slight angst, eventual NSFW content that will be 18+ (not this part), fluff tho and lots of it, seriously this is all over the place

Word count: 2.2k

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The first drops of sunlight pour in through the arched windows, painting the glossy wooden floor in an array of sparkling pastels. They hit the paneled mirrors, bouncing off of the golden bar that runs the entire length of the studio, illuminating every surface in an ethereal glow. For just a moment— the tiniest fraction of time where there's no noise other than the slightest shuffle of silken slippers against mahogany and even, meticulous breaths— everything is perfect. Everything is calm.

Perhaps if Heike’s eyes were open she would admire the peace— the way her studio looks as though it’s been dipped in a bath of gold and oil paints. The way it’s just cool enough to keep the sheen of sweat from her limbs. The silence. Oh yes, she would certainly admire the silence. It’s all she’s ever longed for.

Her eyes are not open, though, and in her head her thoughts are excruciatingly loud— louder than they’ve been in ages. There’s no silence for her to admire behind the darkness of her eyelids. No gold, or oil, or peace. Nothing of the sort.

No, in her head she is on a stage. A loud, vast, practically thrumming stage.

Bozhe, pomogi yey.

That’s nothing new, though— that’s her life. Her life is on a stage and her life is a stage. She is always doing and someone— but more often someones— is— are— always watching. Being on the stage is not new.

What is new is the particular stage that she is on this morning. The Mariinsky Stage. The biggest grande allegro in all of Russia. It’s the stage she has been preparing to dance on for almost all of her life— for almost twenty-five excruciatingly long years. In just thirty-six hours she will be performing in front of the world’s most important people.

Kings and Queens.

Princes and Princesses.

Presidents and Prime Ministers and everyone in between who can afford a ticket.

So, her family— her entire family— somehow that’s worse than anyone else.

A soft voice cuts through her pondering but not quite through the dread.

“Mi’lady, it is seven.” Already? Heike could have sworn she just put her slippers on a few minutes ago. “I am afraid it is time we start dressing you. It’s a special day— the Queen has, erm, reminded me, shall we say, that you mustn’t be late to brunch this morning.”

The Princess sighs, the Mariinsky beginning to fade from behind her eyelids. Of course her mother’s been pestering her lady in waiting again. Would it truly be a normal day if she didn’t? It isn’t as if Katerina is the kindest, hardest working, most tolerant woman in the castle— no, that would be absurd. Surely if she was then her mother wouldn’t treat her with such scorn— as though she’s lower than the dirt the country stands on. Only a touch worse than she treats her own daughter.

Oh— wait.

Cracking an eye open, Heike drinks in the woman before her. Scarlet hair, pale skin, rosy cheeks, and a worn smile. Worn but there nonetheless. She opens the other eye, passing Katerina what she can only assume— nyet, hope— is the same. She has no idea how Katerina puts up with the Queen. She can barely do it and she’s the princess. Heike knows it’s for her, though, so she tries her best to be the opposite.

She lowers herself to the floor, stretching her hands out towards her toes. “Three hours to get ready? Surely that’s too much time to throw on a dress and some heels, Kat.”

Katerina rolls her eyes, tsking and shaking her head. “Shush miss— you know this morning is different.”

The princess giggles, tilting her head to the spot on the floor next to her. Katerina sighs but it is pointless— Heike is well accustomed to her pattern of feigning annoyance. When you’re around the same person day in and day out for nine years, you begin to pick up on their traits. Like how Kat rolls her eyes but the left side of her mouth still ticks up. It comes with the territory— it comes with being best friends.

That’s what they are, really. Best friends. Heike’s only friend, truly. She knows it’s odd to become friends with your lady in waiting— it’s not lost on her the implications of such a relationship and of her status— but Katerina has never felt like her servant. The idea of even having a servant has always felt terribly outdated, at least to her. Kat is her friend— her sister. Well, if sisters were paid to be your sister. She would like to believe that the reason Kat sticks around, though, is because she feels the same way.

Bozhe, pomogi yey.

Katerina slumps onto the floor next to her, rolling onto her back, her blue gown pooling in a graceful circle around her. Heike meets her eyes with another smile— this one much less coy. There is only so much that can keep the nerves at bay. Practicing her ballet was helping— a lot, actually— but now that she’s not moving— now that the dawn has broken into a more sinister form of daylight— all the raging thoughts have begun to simmer again. Now, it seems, they are boiling over.

“What do you think it’ll be like?” Her voice is quiet, just barely breaching a whisper, but in their little bubble of mahogany and glass it is louder than ever.

Katerina pushes herself up onto her elbow, her brows creasing together. They have been having the same conversation for weeks, ever since her mother told her the news. Heike can practically hear what she’s going to say before it’s out of her mouth.

“It or him?” Heike winces at Kat’s bluntness regardless— usually they skirt around the real topic for a few minutes, warming up to it.

She supposes they don’t have time for that today though. Not when he will be sitting in their conservatory in three hours. Maybe even less. Maybe he is even here now, waiting, speaking to her parents and bartering a deal for her hand— no. She takes a deep breath, beginning to untie her slippers if only to keep her shaking fingers occupied.

“Baron Helmut Zemo—” Heike tests his name on her tongue. It tastes familiar— that is probably because she has been repeating it for weeks now, though— “he sounds regal.”

“He is royalty,” Katerina reminds, the left side of her mouth quirking up. “Just the same as you, Mi’lady.”

Heike sighs. “Katerina, please— I’m a dancer. A ballerina. None of the formalities— they make me feel… strange.”

Being a princess would mean that she is the daughter of a king and a queen— it would mean she actually got recognized as anything more than a pair of pointe shoes.

She doesn’t add that, of course, only pulls said pointe shoes from her feet, letting her toes stretch and curl in the cool air of her studio. Not for long— only until her fingers begin trembling again and then she is starting on the sides of her leotard, pulling at the little silk ribbons. Soon, though, even that is interrupted, a pair of warm hands wrapping around hers and halting her attempts to hide her fidgeting.

“You’re stalling is what you are. Just as you have been all week. It isn’t healthy, Hei. Talk to me— you always talk to me.”

Heike lifts her eyes back to her friend, meeting her worried blue eyes and feeling her shoulders drop. “I’m sorry, I know. It’s just— I—” She doesn’t know what to say— part of the reason she hasn’t talked about it is because she’s at a complete and utter loss. “I am tired. I think. But so are you— more so than I. So I shouldn’t complain.”

Katerina rolls her eyes again, squeezing her hands. “Mi’lady I am exhausted. Truly I am. But at the end of the day I get to go to my bed and I get to sleep. Just like you do. We both sleep, yes?”

“Yes, but what—”

“It means we are the same— which means don’t say that. We are friends. You are tired. I am tired. I can be tired and listen at the same time, believe it or not.” Kat shakes her hands, bringing them up to her chest with Heike’s fingers still wrapped in her own. “I know it’s hard but we must talk about this. No excuses.”

Heike tries for another smile but it feels more like a grimace— like all the muscles in her face are rebelling. “How are you so kind to me?”

Katerina narrows her blue eyes until all Heike can see is black. “No excuses, Mi’lady.” She scrunches her nose, her face softening from it’s accusatory glare. “But— on that note— you’re much more lovely than you give yourself credit for, Hei. You’re easy to be kind to. So, again, stop making excuses because if you don’t then you will be unlovable. I will stop loving you.”

Heike laughs for a quick moment and then straightens— Kat is right. Kat is always right.

“I’m nervous,” Heike admits.

It’s harder to push the words out than she thought it would be. It’s like her throat squeezes extra hard when she says it, her teeth and tongue acting a barricade to the truth. The words do manage to shimmy through but they take all the energy she has with them and she sags. Her whole body rebels against the notion that she’s worried. Princesses aren’t supposed to worry.

“I don’t even know what this man looks like.” Heike continues, gently pulling her fingers from Katerina’s grasp, curling them around her bare arms and closing her eyes— It’s easier to think in the darkness. “I suppose I could look but there is no point, I’ve made it this far without. No matter what I do he will still be here soon. His appearance isn’t really the point anyway. That’s what I keep telling myself at least.”

Heike mutters the last part but she’s sure she hears it.

Only a few measly seconds pass before Kat’s voice cuts through the darkness, as patient yet as pressing as ever. “What is the point then, Hei?”

Her. The point is her. It is not about whether Heike likes him— it doesn’t matter if she does, her mother has her ways of getting what she wants. The Queen— her holder. Gods, this man could hate Heike— take one look at her and despise everything he sees— and her mother would still, somehow, find a way to have them married.

Heike snaps her eyes open— she draws the line at having to think about a wedding. Her wedding. To a man who will probably hate her. That’s the point— marriage. Status. Everlasting, lukewarm relationships for the sake of kingdoms that are more an idea than anything else.

Again, Heike doesn’t say that, at least not all of it.

“What if he does not like me?” She can’t force her voice past a dull whisper, her hands— now that they aren’t being held steady— once again trembling.

Katerina’s face softens immediately, her eyes losing the glimmer of humor she had somehow been maintaining. It was probably for Heike’s benefit. People are always trying to keep her happy, like it’s some sort of crucial task. Keep Heike happy or it’s off with your head. Her— the princess— the burden. She doesn’t want any heads, she can barely keep track of her own at any given moment.

Case in point.

Katerina holds her arms open wide and raises a scarlet brow. Heike doesn’t waste any time in rushing forward and piling her body into Kat’s. Burden or not, there’s no way she’s about to refuse the best hugger in the castle.

The lady in waiting squeezes her arms around the princess, her words soft against her temple. “That is impossible. Impossible. You worry much too much— you always have. He will love you, Heike. I know he will. It’s impossible not to love you, trust me I would know.”

Heike snuggles deeper into her friend’s arms, soaking in as much of her lemon and vanilla perfume as possible. It’s the only thing that’s ever screamed home to her. She has been many places— danced on many stages— but coming home never meant the castle walls. It never meant anything because Katerina was always right there next to her, holding her hand or flicking her ear or snoring until the very last minute when they are being rushed off the plane and Heike is doing more of the waiting than anyone. She has always had the privilege of bringing her home with her— her citrusy, red haired home.

But for how long will that be possible?

She doesn’t ask— It is for her and her only to bear. “But what if he doesn’t?”

Katerina pulls back, much to Heike’s dismay, her hand slipping under her chin and squeezing gently. “The we run, Mi’lady.”

Heike’s heart softens. “We?”

Kat rolls her eyes, the left side of her mouth halfway to her ear— Heike supposes she should have seen that coming. “You are not leaving me here alone, miss.”

Bozhe, pomogi yey.

⁺ ˚ * •̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙ * ˚ ⁺ ‧͙ ⁺ ˚ * •̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙ * ˚ ⁺ ‧͙ ⁺ ˚ * •̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙ * ˚ ⁺⁺ ˚ * •̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙

Translations:

Bozhe, pomogi yey — God help her

#helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo #helmut zemo x oc #baron zemo x oc #zemo x oc #royalty au #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #dizzy writes #The Runaway Princess

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

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any recs for old!Johnlock? (Preferably not retired) Thanks!

Hi Nonny!

Ohhh, hmm. You know, I have absolutely READ older-couple Johnlock fics, but the only ones I’m remembering are when they’re retired or “not together but have got together when they old and dying” LOL.

I did a list last year for Retirementlock fics, and I do have new stuff but not a lot, so is it okay if I do “Retirement and Older Johnlock” fics for you? I hope so!! I tag them retirement if it’s retirement, so you can skip those ones

Feel free, my friends, to add your own!!

RETIREMENT and OLDER JOHNLOCK (Jan 2020)

Our Bodies Bend Light by lovetincture (G, 1,211 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Beekeeping, Retirement) – They got married. Of course they got married. Snapshots in a relationship. There’s a jar of bees in the bookstore and a cottage in Sussex. Sherlock’s not the marrying kind, and John’s tried this once before, but they’re Sherlock and John. Of course.

Fine Print by mistyzeo (E, 4,224 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Holmes || Est. Rel, Retirementlock, Glasses, Oral, Hand Jobs, Bees) – Holmes needs glasses, but he’s too much of a stubborn arse to go get his eyes checked. Watson is used to bullying him for his own good. The glasses have unexpected but not unwelcome consequences for everyone.

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w. 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Missed Chances, Retirement, Sussex, Bees, MCD, Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Cancer) – “The night I died, you wished I could wait for you.”

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, PWP, Fluff and Smut, Bottomlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

A Lifetime Together by LondonGypsy (M, 8,886 w., 1 Ch. || Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Falling in Love, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Pining Idiots, Alternating POVs, Domestics, Retirement) – John and Sherlock falling in love.

Five Times Sherlock Realized He Was Getting Older by Mildred Graves (T, 9,215 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Old) – … And one time it didn’t matter.

In The End by whitchry9 (K+, 9,677 w. || Memento Fusion || Amnesia, Growing Old, Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Heavy Angst) – When a brain injury leaves Sherlock unable to make new memories, John wonders how Sherlock will cope, and what it will mean for The Work and their life. Because after all, how can you live if you can’t feel time passing?

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w., 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid, Angst, Reunion, Falling in Love, Open Ending) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John’s…

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he’s given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost…magical.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,100 w. across 45 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

Sketchy by serpentynka (E, 184,053 w., 83 Ch. || Post-TRF, Post-Mary, John Whump, Slow Burn Love Story, Case Fic, Art, Porn With Feelings, Switchlock, Travelling, Career Change, Family Secrets, Illness / Health) – What (and who) will be left when nobody cares about your Work? A slow-burn fic with cases, places, mistaken identities, unfair choices, essential changes, violent feels, blatant lies, fearless portraiture, family secrets, high-risk bespoke gifts, durable friendships, bedtime stories, foreign travel and tongues, sickness (and health), and the significance of things which are slow to unfurl – but cannot be ignored. Oh, and…porn. Part 1: Sherlock takes on an obvious case (barely a 4) and meets someone who will force him to re-examine what it means to see. Part 1 of Sketchy

MARKED FOR LATER

The Last of the Honey Bees by what_alchemy (T, 2,000 w., 1 Ch. || Apocalypse, Retirement) – “When we’re all space dust… when all of this is gone? My molecules will find yours.”

A One-Track Life by JennLynn77 (E, 13,526 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4/TFP, Parentlock, Est. Rel., Medical Procedures, Anal, Cuddling/Snuggling, Bed Sharing, Surgery, Physical Therapy, Retirement, Sherlock Whump, Caring John, Bottomlock, Endearments, Drug Addiction, Triggers) – A medical situation threatens to derail the plans Sherlock had for his life with John and Rosie.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. (Ch. 7 is the Retirement Fic)

FictoberLock 2018 by FinAmour & unicornpoe (M, 60,875 w., 31 Ch. || Halloween, Protective John, Smitten Sherlock, Fluff, First Kiss, Injured Sherlock, Various Prompts) – 31 different prompts, 31 Johnlock fics: one every day for the month of October! Each chapter is a stand-alone story. Some are written by unicornpoe, some by FinAmour, and some are written by us both! They range in length from ~500 words to ~3500 words, and there’s something in here for everyone. (Ch. 23 is the Retirement Chapter)

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #retirement #older johnlock #retirementlock #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #my fic recs

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makeste · 5 years

Text

Favorite BnHA OST Tracks

anon I never thought this day would come. (థ ｪ థ)

I fucking adore this OST. and no one has ever asked me about it. which is fine, but I think we all need to just take a moment to acknowledge that the BnHA soundtrack fucking slaps. I’m not just saying that as a fan of the series; I’m saying it as objective fact. it’s up there with Zelda and Game of Thrones and How to Train Your Dragon. this soundtrack deserves all the love. and up till this point I’d resigned myself to loving it quietly, but now you have unlocked pandora’s box so I just hope you’re ready!!

I have... let’s see... six BnHA-related playlists right now lol. out of these, three are composed of tracks from the OST (the other three are my character-inspired playlists. wait, did I say three? actually there’s four of those. so seven in all. good lord). this soundtrack gets a lot of play, you guys. when I like something, I have a tendency to put it on repeat until I’m sick of it. so if I never get sick of it, you can imagine how that ends up going.

I was going to do a top ten of this, but then I went through the playlist and wrote down all my favorites and there were like thirty. I briefly entertained the idea of just saying FUCK IT I’LL JUST POST THEM ALL!!!!, but I had to sit myself down and lecture myself about having some goddamn self control. so I narrowed it down to like... twenty-three. and then finally down to seventeen. soo, it’s a top ten, plus seven honorable mentions. this is the best I can do guys. this is taking everything I’ve got, so please just humor me this once.

I promise this post won’t be super long. I’m not even gonna put it under a cut. I will restrain myself. okay here we go.

10. Bombing King!!

Katsukiiiiii. I couldn’t not put this here, who the hell do you think I am. it’s perfect for him. it’s rowdy (I love how it just crashes in with those opening drums and guitar without so much as a how-do-you-do), but it’s got a real drive to it, and a fucking legit leitmotif that can be cut into sections and remixed in any number of ways (see: number 4). if you want to make it sad you can make it sad. want to make it even more badass, you can definitely do that. it makes me excited because there’s so many ways to play around with it for his future character development.

9. Cavalry Battle

this track makes me want to go out and cause a ruckus. it’s so full of energy and there’s an optimism to it, but like a clever, resourceful optimism. I love when the melody smooths out at around 1:14. it’s like, the team is coming together and we’re gonna kick some ass. they should play this in promos for the Olympics.

8. Nevertheless, Go Beyond

this makes me want to save the world. this one actually gets bonus points for the title because it’s so emotive, and somehow nails the exact feeling that the music manages to convey. even when you can’t go on, go on. you’re a hero. people are depending on you. get up.

7. All For One

ooooooohhhhhh my gooodddddddd. “The Power of All For One” is arguably the creepier track, but this one is more epic. it sends chills down my spine. he’s so fearsome. only the strongest of the strong can hope to defeat him. good vs evillllllll. god the bass in this is so good. and the vocals. and the frenzied urgency of the strings. and the Inception-stype WHOOOOOOOM at the end ugh.

6. Your Power

I almost went with “I Absolutely Won’t Use the Heat (Left)” because it’s so sad and haunting, but in the end this version won out because, as with the All For One track above, it’s the more epic of the two. I really consider them to be two parts of the same track though. anyways, so Todoroki’s motif is hands down the most haunting on the OST. fact. it’s so goddamn tragic?? and this version of it has that resounding drum beat that to me feels like a kind of grim determination. it’s a great track, and perfect for that theatrical Todoroki family drama lol.

5. My Hero Academia

this traccccccck. is so good. it makes me picture someone standing on the edge of a cliff at dawn looking down on the city below. it’s just got this kind of legendary feel to it somehow. this is an “only the beginning of the adventure” type of track. I also associate this with Iida unveiling his Reciproburst during the Sports Festival arc, because it was used so fucking well during that scene. “everyone, there’s less than a minute left...” I honestly get chills every time I watch that. it’s like quintessential BnHA.

4. Katsuki and Izuku

guys. I don’t want to throw the word “masterpiece” around all willy-nilly, but this. this, right here, is why I like character motifs so much. because you can play with them and wind them apart and together and bam, just like that you’re telling a fucking story. so anyways, in case you didn’t know, this track combines You Say Run/Jet Set Run (a.k.a. Deku’s themes) with Bombing King!! (a.k.a. Katsuki’s theme). bringing the two of them together through the power of music ffff why am I so weak to this shit. when You Say Run kicks in at around 26 seconds I fucking looooose it. then when Katsuki’s theme first joins in at around 52 seconds I lose it all over again. this is a better arrangement of it than Bombing King tbh. which is perfect, because the whole point of their story is that the two of them make each other better! anyways, they just complement each other so perfectly. IT’S LIKE THIS TRACK IS A METAPHOR FOR SOMETHING YOU GUYS. waiting on the anime to fucking use this in season 4, since it went unused in s3 despite them having all the opportunities in the world smdh. they might actually use it in the upcoming movie, come to think.

3. You Say Run

obviously. what else is there even to say. this is a fucking tour de force. chills every time. I know y’all came here for 2:05, but honestly the whole track is a rush from start to finish. I’m literally not exaggerating when I say that this music taught me the meaning of plus ultra. like on a spiritual level. music is cool. please don’t be mad at me that I only put it at third. if anything, that ought to tell you just how much I love the #1 and #2 tracks.

2. Hero A

I can play this on repeat for hours. not an exaggeration. this has the highest play count of any of my BnHA tracks. I’m not a naturally energetic person. I want to be, but I’m not. but this track is like a fucking life-hack to get you pumped the fuck up. and it’s so catchy, and it makes you feel so good, like you can really do anything. it might not be easy, but you can do it! I actually like the “you can be a hero/you say run” motifs in this track even better than the original tracks tbh. especially when it goes a bit quieter and then builds up again starting from 1:45, and then the percussion kicks in again, and it’s like something out of a Rocky movie. this track makes me fucking believe. it makes me want to try.

and before we go to number one, here are some runner-ups. (by “some” I mean a fuckton more of them but my descriptions are shorter. compromise)

You Can Be a Hero - the track that proved it’s possible to simultaneously make someone feel more inspired than they’ve ever been in their entire life while also causing them to ugly cry

Heroic Fighting Battle Song - why is the season 2 OST so fucking good

Go Seize It! - why is the season 2 OST so fucking good

The Threat of Offense and Defense - this theme makes me want to solve difficult puzzles very dramatically

Battle of Deku - this is just here because of Deku VS Kacchan part 2. I 100% associate it with that fight. it’s a great track, but it wouldn’t quite stand out among all the other tracks if it wasn’t for that. but that fight does exist, so now this track makes me think of rivals throwing down and it’s great

Yoarashi Inasa - specifically the part that starts in at 1:14. it’s like the Naruto and FLCL soundtracks had a really funky baby

People Always Reaching for the Top “the winner of the U.A. sports festival is...” the only reason this track isn’t higher is because I don’t feel like it stands quite as well on its own as some of the other tracks. but with context?? god. I love how this was used at the end of Bakugou VS Todoroki. it was just the perfect cue for that scene. so good.

...bonus runner-ups because I’m a fucking liar and have no self-control at all

From Me to You - this is the one used when Kacchan joins the scooby squad. it’s quiet and sad and hopeful all at once. the perfect theme for something ending and something else beginning

Rampaging Evil - I associate this with Tomura. it’s badass and usually means that some hardcore shit is happening

Predecessor’s Sworn Friend - this track is some straight up Cowboy Bebop shit. badass grandpa gettin to work

okay, without any further ado let’s finish up with number one

1. One for All Vs. All for One

good. versus. evil. this is epic incarnate. how is it so good. I have so many feels about it oh god. it’s so desperate and so determined at the same time. it perfectly conveys this image of one person, almost at their limit, standing alone against something terrible, and somehow reaching deep within themselves to summon the courage to fight. it is beautiful. it is powerful as shit. it may just be the most heroic thing I’ve ever heard.

so that’s my top ten twenty! rest assured, this is still leaving a lot out. like the rest of the entire goddamn soundtrack. god this series fucking spoils us.

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5sosbitchfest · 6 years

Text

Okay. I know you’ve all been waiting patiently for us to talk about the Michael and Crystal engagement, and since it’s been three days we feel like we’ve gathered enough information that we can talk about it. We know this came as a shock to some people, but honestly it didn’t come as a shock to any of us. We knew this was coming. And after it happened, all the puzzle pieces started to fall into place. I, Link, will be heading up this post. I’m going to talk about all of this. It’s all going to be under a cut because this is going to be a very image heavy post.

So let’s go:

This started well before the Guess trip with Michael’s post on IG on NYE

With the statement that it was going to be “the best year of all of our lives”. Forget the fact this doesn’t sound like something Michael would say because whatever. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after the engagement happened it seems he was very heavily hinting that something big was coming.

They of course, got to Bali for the DesitnationGUESS trip and more and more pics were released of Michael and Crystal throughout the trip. They focused extremely heavily on Michael and Crystal despite the fact there was at least one other couple on the trip. Yes, it could be argued that this is because Michael is the most famous on the trip, but that argument in my opinion is weak because he’s just not that famous. Not only did Guess focus heavily on Michael and Crystal, but so did the people on the trip. Michael and Crystal were also featured heavily on the stories of the ambassadors on the trip. Like...very heavily. There were at least six stories posted from people about Michael and Crystal “singing” together, all with little messages about them being their favorite couple or the cutest couple, etc. Now, I don’t know about you...but I don’t know anyone who is that obsessed with another couple. People just don’t do that unless in the case of clout. Interesting right?

So let’s take this moment to talk about the elephant in the room: the Guess trip being an all expenses paid promotional trip. Yes, Michael proposed to Crystal on a trip to Bali that neither of them paid for. How romantic right?? I know that’s what I would want...to have the “love of my life” propose to me on this sort of trip. They claim it’s because Bali is where “it all began for them” when yet again...that was another all expenses paid trip and she was cheating on her boyfriend, Spencer, at the time (if you believe the official narrative). LOL. Really, bitch? And y’all actually support her knowing she’s also a racist, fat shaming xenophobe. Amazing.

So that brings me to the engagement announcement.

Now, I would like to point something out. This announcement was made FIVE DAYS after the alleged proposal happened. According to US Weekly, Michael proposed on January 11th.

This was two days after Slapgate happened. And for the next several days, Crystal didn’t wear the ring because you know...they were hiding it. The article then goes on to talk about Guess, the resort, they name several of the Guess ambassadors, the 1975 and even the chef that cooked the dinner for this evening! WHY? Why does anyone care about that? They don’t. This was all promotion.

Oh, of course there’s this as well

A picture of Michael and Crystal sharing a kiss while all the Guess ambassadors look upon them adoringly.

Friends celebrated this special moment with the couple, but there are three very important members that are missing: Luke, Calum and Ashton. Michael’s three best friends since childhood who weren’t even invited to this “special moment”.

One more quick thing I wanted to point out: note the name of the photographer, Ryan Fleming.

Ryan Fleming is Crystal’s close friend and, for all intents and purposes, personal photographer. He has shot several of Michael’s and Crystal’s “couples” photos over the course of their relationship. He’s been part of this farce since the beginning.

Okay, moving right along to the plethora of articles this “engagement” spawned.

Not seconds after Michael posted about the engagement that US Weekly posted an article with an exclusive of the proposal and unseen photos. SECONDS. This was planned. Now, okay...lots of celeb couples sell their pics to articles for the publicity. That’s not unusual. What is unusual; however, is the amount of publicity that Michael and Crystal got

At least ten highlighted articles spawned from this engagement, including one with an exclusive. I want to draw attention to this because I want you to keep in mind that Crystal is literally a nobody. She is in no way famous, and Michael is a C list celeb at best. They got ten articles while Josh Dun and Debby Ryan (who I am using as comparison because they’re the most recently engaged couple I can think of) got four. FOUR. Four articles about a couple that include two people who are exponentially more famous than Michael and Crystal with no exclusives. None. They each posted about their engagement a day later with little fanfare. And yet these two...get ten highlighted articles?

And then this happens:

Guess posts a story (the top pic) about the engagement happening and the story is linked directly to the US Weekly article. Then they make an IG post all about “reliving the magical moment” of this engagement in a post.

Wow. Talk about massive promo for Guess because now they’ve got the attention of a LOT of people. I wasn’t aware that designer brands were so invested in the relationships of their ambassadors. I’ve literally never seen such a thing before.

So okay, we’ve got the syndicated articles, the Guess promotion, the fans falling all over themselves about this engagement and you think...well this is it right?

But oh it isn’t! Because then this happens

Do you know what that is? THAT IS A FUCKING NEWSPAPER ARTICLE!

A newspaper article! I’m sorry, but did Michael and Crystal become the Carters while I wasn’t looking??? Or perhaps the West-Kardashians??? What the hell is happening here? How does a nobody and a C list celeb get a newspaper article about their engagement??? Can you even believe??? (FYI, I don’t know what newspaper article this is. I haven’t been able to find the source yet. I got this off a tea account on IG.)

This sparked my interest and I did a Google search only to find even more articles about this engagement. There are at least 30 articles about this engagement, including articles in publications such as The Knot and Brides, who usually only cover A list celeb weddings.

So please...someone explain to me how this happens??? Clearly, Crystal and Modest forked out a lot of money for this kind of publicity because Crystal isn’t famous and Michael isn’t famous enough for this kind of exposure. Something is very, very off with this.

So how does this tie into the Lie To Me video being released? Well, funny you should ask because this was posted just before the premiere of LTM, garnering a lot of attention. Conveniently, Crystal was silent about this entire thing (save for one story about being so grateful for all the support wank wank) until after the release of LTM. One hour later, she posted about the engagement. How very, very convenient that is. Of course, Michael liked the post within moments, but has yet to actually post anything about LTM because you know...why would he support his band? So far, it’s only been retweets which is just like...the bare minimum amount of promotion he can do.

So let’s move onto the next section: Ashton’s shade.

Thirty minutes before Michael’s post about their engagement, Ashton posted this. It was deleted a little bit later. A song in Russian called Te Amo. Te Amo is Spanish, not Russian. What I think is that Ashton was equating this fake song to a fake romance: Michael and Crystal. Ashton has never been quiet in reference to how he feels about PR stunts. He’s spoken about them with disdain. Of course, this Tweet could be up for interpretation, but that’s what I think. Ashton is very good at throwing shade.

This is the next Tweet we got from Ashton, just a little while before the LTM vid premiered. You can clearly read what it is he says. I believe Ashton was referencing the PR stunts these boys are forced to go through. I think he was not only speaking about Arzaylea and Luke, but about Michael and Crystal as well. I don’t care what anyone says, Arzaylea and Luke were just as much PR as Michael and Crystal and now Luke and Sierra. It wrecked Luke because Arzaylea was a terrible person to him, even though their whole relationship was contrived. But guess what...she was Crystal’s protege. Yeah, chew on that.

So now Ashton has to watch another one of his best friends be wrecked by this bullshit. Just because these relationships are business doesn’t mean they aren’t toxic. Toxic relationships aren’t just romantic, they can be platonic and business as well.

But it seems that not everyone is convinced that this wasn’t a total con. The following is an excerpt from the Jezebel article:

Huh. Imagine that. Not everyone is looking at this through rose-tinted glasses, and even if this author doesn’t believe that their relationship is fake she still recognizes the “spon-con” for what it is. You can read the whole article HERE.

Of course, one of my favorite things about this whole sham is how fucking awkward Michael is with Crystal, like so

Hella YIKES. Be more awkward, pal. We realize you’re not used to kissing her because you know...she’s your co-worker and all, but damn. Where those acting skills you learned from that acting coach you hired?

And then of course, there’s this gem which was the pic posted in US Weekly zoomed in

Why does he look like he’s in physical pain to be doing this?

Now we’ve come to the last part of this whole charade that is the biggest red flag for me:

NONE OF HIS BANDMATES HAVE COMMENTED, LIKED, OR CONGRATULATED HIM PUBLICLY ABOUT THIS ENGAGEMENT.

Oh, I can hear the arguments about this now that will include “they don’t have to, they can do it privately” or “maybe they were just busy” or “why does it matter?”

Except that all of those arguments are fucking weak because with the amount of famous people that took time out of their busy day and schedule to congratulate them is paramount. Even Doug the fucking Pug congratulated them. So you mean to tell me that Luke, Calum and Ashton couldn’t take a few seconds to comment or even like the post? On either IG or Twitter? They have been dead fucking silent about this whole thing. Why? Because they obviously do not like Crystal. They haven’t for awhile, and she clearly doesn’t like them. Which is hilarious considering she’s their PR manager.

There is a very obvious disconnect between Michael and his best friends/bandmates right now. It’s been three days and they’ve been totally radio silent about this. This disconnect is because of Crystal, I guarantee it. When I call her the Yoko Ono of 5sos, I mean it. I find it funny that all these people are predicting things like 5sos in tuxes and who’s going to be the best man. Do you guys really think any of them are going to be in the wedding party if there’s an actual wedding? I highly doubt it. They weren’t even invited to the engagement event. Hell, at this point I’m pretty sure they weren’t even invited to Michael’s last birthday party and ended up crashing it. If Crystal has to choose one of them to be in the party, it’s likely the one she hates least and I think that’s Calum, personally.

I don’t know what this is going to mean for the future of the band. I don’t know if Michael is going to leave the band at some point or not. He seems to be quite caught up in his influencer life all of a sudden. I can’t say I’m not worried because I am. I’ve tried to deny the separation between him and the rest of the band, but I really can’t anymore.

In conclusion, this changes nothing that I believe or think. I still believe this is a massive PR stunt. I still believe it’s partially to cover up Luke and Michael’s relationship, and I think it’s going to get even more ugly before it gets better.

Alas, my co-admins and I aren’t going anywhere. We’re going to see this shit through till the end.

ETA: Crystal read the article that Jezebel posted about their engagement being a spon-con and promptly emailed the writer to “clear up” the perception.

It’s just...so laughable that it’s almost sad. She got so offended by an internet article that she felt the need to email them and clarify that all that was said wasn’t true. If you ask me...that’s just more proof that that is is FAKE AF.

#crustemort #crikey #sketch #link

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hermannsthumb · 6 years

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Can we have bad boy! Newt loving the shit out of geek! Hermann? Like a grease au?

and this ask i got a liiiiittle while ago…

Anonymous said: Greaser!Newt is so perfect because Hermann is a shy, sensitive sweetheart with a horrible, horrible father, and greaser!Newt is a bad boy rebel with a heart of gold who will rescue Hermann from his terrible father

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ask and ye shall receive…..takin another little study break to write this….. for @newts-geiszler bc i love her and also we were talking about this in our dms earlier……have some “50s but they dont suck” au where newt and hermann are like in community college or something in a Small Town (so grease but not high school lol)

Hermann’s not sure what he did to gain the attentions of someone like Newton Geiszler–to be cursed with the attentions of someone like Newton Geiszler–but for the first time in his life, Hermann is grateful for them. Newton is obnoxious. He’s loud. He’s grimy. He’s tattooed. When he’s not pestering Hermann while they’re meant to be doing lab work, he’s tinkering on that ridiculous motorcycle of his, or he’s terrorizing the streets with it, or he’s screeching along to his guitar, or he’s kicking his muddy boots up on tabletops or tossing his leather jacket over chairs or–generally, making an undesirable nuisance of himself. He’s everything Hermann hates, wrapped up in one convenient scruffy, stocky little package.

More importantly, he’s everything Hermann’s father hates.

Which is why he’s perfect.

Hermann finds Newton lounging at a booth in the back of the diner–boots kicked up like usual, hair slicked back, shirtsleeves rolled up–and staring off into space as he downs a milkshake. When Hermann slams his cane on the linoleum floor and says “Newton,” Newton jumps and chokes on the milkshake and nearly knocks his glass over.

“Hermann?” he says, coughing, and blinking in bewilderment. He scrambles into a proper sitting position and adjusts his thick eyeglasses, as if he can’t believe Hermann’s really standing in front of him.

“Last week,” Hermann says, “you invited me out to go dancing.” Multiple times, in fact. Hermann can admire his persistence.

Newton adjusts his glasses again. “Uh,” he says. “Yeah. I did.”

Hermann grits his teeth a moment before he continues. “If you’re amenable, and the offer still stands–”

“Yes!” Newton blurts out, face splitting into a wide grin, and–in his excitement–upends a salt shaker into his lap. “I mean,” he says, clumsily picking it up and brushing himself off, “yeah, that’s–” He runs his fingers through his greased hair. A little curl falls forward. He shrugs. “Sure.”

Hermann doesn’t buy Newton’s indifference for one second, but he doesn’t say anything, lets him have his little act. (That morning, Newton was almost begging Hermann to let him carry his books to his next class.) “This Friday,” Hermann says. “Come over to my house at six exactly. We’ll have dinner first.”

Newton’s smile returns, considerably…dopier. “Dinner,” he repeats. “You sure you don’t just wanna come here? I’ll buy you whatever–”

“No,” Hermann says quickly. Newton shuts his mouth. “It has to be my house.”

Newton nods.

“Six exactly, Newton.”

“Should I–” Newton runs his fingers through his hair again, considerably more nervous. “Should I wear something nice? If I’m meeting your folks and all.”

Hermann looks over Newton’s messy hair, his week-old stubble, his crooked (partially broken) eyeglasses, his creased leather jacket, his cuffed and stained jeans, the outrageous ink that swirls over his forearms, the smudges of motor grease on his shirt and neck. Hermann shakes his head and smiles serenely. “No,” he says. “As you are is perfect, Newton.”

“Keen,” Newton says, beaming away back at him.

Hermann has ulterior motives, of course. There are no other circumstances in which he would willingly invite Newton Geiszler into his household. Lately, Hermann’s father has been even more controlling and infuriating than usual, and–it’s juvenile to want revenge, Hermann knows, he’s freshly done with his teenage years, his time for rebellion has come and gone–but Newton’s just the type to get perfectly under Father’s skin. Especially if Father thinks they’re dating. He’ll take one look at Newton’s tattoos and his motorcycle–when Newton shows up half an hour late to their routine five-thirty dinner–and–well–Hermann can’t wait to see his expression.

And it’s not dishonest to Newton. He gets a date with Hermann out of it, something he’s been begging for for months. Years. Since Hermann moved to America and they got paired together as lab partners and Newton took an odd shine to him. He’s doing Newton just as much of a favor, even if he doesn’t remotely intend to put out. (Which is what he’s sure Newton’s after. That’s what all his type–loud, rebellious, swaggering–are only ever after.)

To Hermann’s dismay, on Friday evening Newton shows up on his front porch at five-thirty exactly in significantly less filthy jeans, bearing a bouquet of flowers that he thrusts at Hermann the moment he opens the door. “I’m sorry, man,” he leads with. “I know I’m early–”

“No,” Hermann sighs, and accepts the flowers glumly. They’re beautiful, unfortunately. “You’re right on time, damn you.” Newton didn’t even ride the motorcycle. He just walked.

To Hermann’s further dismay, dinner doesn’t go anywhere nearly as badly as he hoped. It doesn’t go smoothly, not by any means–Father blanches wonderfully when he sees the tattoos and the state of Newton’s hair, and even further when Hermann explains that Newton lives on the other (“bad”) side of town, and things become tense when Newton talks about the possibility of space aliens for five solid minutes and follows it up with a rousing endorsement of socialism–but there’s no yelling, no chairs thrown halfway across the room, no demands that Newton leave the house at once and never return. Newton does not leap from the table and call Father a capitalist fascist pig. He doesn’t talk about his latest dissections in excruciating detail. He deflects all of Hermann’s desperate attempts to ignite one of their usual petty arguments. He doesn’t even put his boots up on the table (and Hermann even made sure to set out the good tablecloth).

When he and Newton set off, Hermann makes sure, at least, to inform his father he hasn’t the slightest idea of when they’ll be getting home and that they shouldn’t bother waiting up for them, and hopes that the implications of debauchery and Newton ravishing him in the backseat of some car on lover’s lane haven’t gone right over his head. Newton holds tight to Hermann’s arm the entire walk to the dance hall and blabbers on endlessly, about how good dinner was and how he can’t cook “for shit”, how cool the evening’s gotten, some probably-illicit experiments he’s doing in his uncle’s garage, if Hermann saw that new film about the giant insects from outer space (or something along those lines), how excited he is that Hermann finally agreed to go on a date with him, how nice Hermann looks, how handsome he is, how his sweater brings out his eyes, how he hopes he likes the flowers (he grew them himself, in his uncle’s backyard), and not once does he mention how dreadful Hermann’s father is, not once does he try to get fresh with Hermann like Hermann expected, not once does he appear anything less than entirely enthusiastic to simply walk next to Hermann.

Hermann…does not know what to think.

When they reach the dance hall, Hermann finds a spot against the wall on the outskirts where he intends to wait until Newton’s decided he’s had his fill and takes Hermann back home. (Hermann can dance, but it can be difficult and strenuous on his leg, so he prefers not to.) But rather than separating from Hermann immediately to dance and mingle with the rest of the young and stylish and hip (and probably find someone easier to score with than Hermann), Newton follows him and sticks tight at his side. “You don’t have to,” Hermann assures him. “Really, Newton. Go off. Enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself,” Newton says, smiling. “Anyway, what kind of a lousy date would I be if I ditched you?” He starts swaying along to the music of the band on the stage, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. “So you really didn’t see Them?”

Hermann shakes his head slowly.

“It’s playing at the drive-in this weekend,” Newton says. “I could take you tomorrow night.” He goes pink. “Only if you want to, I mean.”

Something strange stirs in Hermann’s chest. He evades the question. “On your bike?”

“My old man’ll let me borrow his car,” Newton says. “He knows how I–that you–” He blushes harder. Hermann stares at the floor. “Nevermind. Uh.”

To Hermann’s utter surprise, he has a good time with Newton. Newton’s running commentary on everything from his experiments (which Hermann has decided are absolutely illicit) to the music (which Newton enjoys, even if it is a bit slow) eventually becomes entertaining rather than merely bearable. He fetches Hermann drinks whenever he wants. He keeps complimenting Hermann, too, as he had on the walk over. He even manages to coerce Hermann out onto the dance floor during a particularly slow song, and if Hermann settles his head against Newton’s sturdy chest and allows Newton to wrap his arms round his waist as they sway together, it’s only because it’s the proper way to dance with one’s date.

Newton lends him his jacket for the walk back home, since Hermann looked cold, apparently, and it’s both too-short and too-big at the same time. It smells like Newton, hair grease and sweat and cologne that Newton, earlier, confessed he stole from his father for the night, and Hermann draws it tight around himself as he listens to Newton chat away happily.

Guilt builds steadily in his gut.

“Did you have fun?” Newton suddenly says. “I had so much fun.”

They’ve reached Hermann’s front gate, and they come to a stop just outside it. He supposes he’ll have to say goodnight to Newton, now. That’s the proper date procedure. Will Newton ask him on another one? Will he try to kiss Hermann? Will he ask to come inside? But Newton does none of those things; he simply stands there, watching Hermann. Waiting for him to make a move. Hermann chews his lip. “Newton,” he says.

“Yeah?” Newton looks so happy, damn him.

“I didn’t–” Hermann taps his finger on the head of his cane nervously. “I haven’t been entirely fair to you. You should know–”

“–that you only asked me out to piss off your old man?” Newton finishes, not losing his smile. “Hermann. I’m not an idiot.”

Hermann supposes he should be embarrassed about being found out that easily, or mortified, or ashamed, or a whole host of other entirely appropriate emotions, but instead he just feels irritated. “If you knew, then why in the hell didn’t you play along?” he exclaims. Newton can pick fights with Hermann every day of the week, but not the one time it really matters. “You were positively civil!”

“Look, don’t get me wrong,” Newton says, and snorts derisively. “He’s a total fucking square, man, and I would’ve loved to, but–” He shrugs, and grins a little sheepishly. “It was nice pretending that you wanted to be my guy and go dancing with me, even for just a night. I’ve never gone on a date before or anything like that. I really did have fun.”

Hermann’s irritation fades back into guilt, with a healthy dose of embarrassment and mortification and shame this time. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I’ve misjudged you very badly, Newton.”

Newton waves his hand. “And I screwed up your plan. We’re even.”

They stare at each other. Hermann’s not sure why he’s not yet opened his front gate–Newton, obviously, does not expect another date, nor a kiss, certainly not an invitation inside. Hermann reaches for the gate. Then he stops, pulls away. “Er,” he says. “There’s that film tomorrow night. The one you like. With the–ah–the insects. We could always…”

He does not finish his proposal, but he does not need to. Newton is beaming, and it’s shy, and sweet, and–it’s hard to tell for certain, in just the moonlight, but–his blush has returned. (Newton is loud, and messy, and obnoxious, but he is also intelligent, and funny, and very, very good-looking.) “I’ll lay on the horn for five minutes when I pick you up,” Newton says. “Stomp through your front garden, too. I’ll be a regular delinquent, Hermann, your old man’ll be forbidding you to see me by next Tuesday.”

The thought excites Hermann more than he anticipated–Newton, the no-good town delinquent, stealing away with Hermann for what can only be scandalous purposes. “I don’t doubt it,” Hermann says. He casts a glance up at his house, and the houses surrounding; all the lights are turned off, meaning everyone’s likely turned in for the night, but… “Kissing me goodnight in full view of the neighbors certainly wouldn’t help our case.”

“Oh,” Newton squeaks, and then he agrees, very enthusiastically.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #GOD this one is long as shit i didnt intend for this #Anonymous #greaser newt au

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glassesandkim · 6 years

Note

how do you think nico found out that levi slept w jo? what was his reaction?

I don’t think this happened but I ended up writing a fic so here you go. anon from the depths of my inbox lol

They’ve had a few beers already and the bedsheets are mighty comfortable between Levi’s bare toes. Nico is sprawled on his back in front of him with an arm over his flushed face while Levi’s sitting cross legged and trying his damn hardest not to tear off Nico’s shirt.

So instead, he thinks of anything but Nico’s very naked, very nice, very firm abs underneath and comes up with one thought that makes him burst out laughing. A few months ago, his face would have drained into mortified pale stone, but now, Levi can’t help but laugh at the whole situation.

“Whas so funny?” Nico slurs, now looking up at Levi with an inquiring smirk.

“Nothing,” Levi says and starts to play with the hem of Nico’s dark shirt. He better not. But oh, he so wants to. They’ve been awake for thirty hours, working a twenty-eight hour shift together in the ICU. They should be sleeping. Even though Nico decided that the beers in his fridge had been sitting in there for too long. Levi had reluctantly agreed, finding it suddenly really hard to say no while he watched Nico stronghold the metal caps off of the bottles with his bare hands. He’s suddenly grateful for the long sleeved gowns during surgery or else Levi would probably be dropping more than kidney dishes. “It’ll shock you, if you’ll even believe me if I told you.”

He hears Nico huff and pushes Levi’s hands away, propping himself up on one elbow with narrowed eyes. “You can tell me,” he says. Then whispers, “C’mon, try me.”

If Levi wasn’t on his second beer, he might’ve been annoyed at Nico’s effortless attempts at seduction. He’s only impressed and his dick lets him know at that moment how effective Nico is.

Levi swallows and looks away. Nico shuffles a little closer until his stomach is pressed against Levi’s knees. A firm hand feels its way around Levi’s thigh and he can feel his resolve disintegrating before his eyes, replacing itself with very warm waves of want.

“What were we talking about again?” Levi all but squeaks, his mind short-circuiting as Nico stares intently at him.

Nico laughs. “You were gonna tell me something shocking and unbelievable.”

“Right.”

“Mmhm.” A pause. Then, as if something had come over Nico, he sits up abruptly and kisses Levi hard on the mouth.

Dizziness clouds his mind and the beer in his hand slips from his fingers in favour of burying themselves in Nico’s soft hair. He takes a deep breath through his nose, revelling in the very distinct scent of the other. It’s a sweet, melty scent. He can’t describe it but he feels suddenly hungry. Not for food. But for Nico.

Somewhere between kissing, beer bottles clunking to the ground, and wet bedsheets, they find themselves naked and entangled in each other, just facing each other and watching. Sleep is but theory now. Its necessity unneeded in the moment.

Nico is beautiful, Levi thinks, as he feels the blush that covers Nico’s cheek and traces the colour down to the strong jaw below. His heaving chest, heartbeat practically thrumming off of his skin, is a gentle reminder to Levi how lucky he is to be here, now, with Nico.

“What are you thinking about?” Nico asks. His voice is deep, sprinkled with tiredness. Levi can see Nico fighting to stay awake. He dares to think it’s cute as he watches Nico’s eyes hood over as he buries his head into the bed.

He sneaks a look at the clock on the bedside table and sees that they only have six hours of sleep left until their next shift. They’ve already wasted four drinking beer and canoodling. None of which were Levi’s ideas.

So Levi smiles. A tiny devious thought creeps up his throat. He says it out loud, “How this is so much better than sleeping with Dr. Karev.”

Nico’s eyes fly open. He’s wide awake now and if Levi had to guess, probably on his way to a heart attack.

“Wait.” Nico’s sitting up now, stunned and still. He says again, incredulously, “What?!”

Levi can see Nico battling with the information. Whether to be shocked that Dr. Karev slept with Levi or that Karev would even sleep with Levi.

“Don’t worry, Nico.” Levi’s laughing now. “It was one time. I was probably just her rebound after she split from Alex before they got married. Besides, no one believes me when I tell them I slept with Jo.”

He practically sees the ghost of panic leave Nico’s relieved body. “Oh. Jo. Jo Wilson, as in the other Dr. Karev.”

“So how many years of your life did I shock out of you?” Levi pulls Nico back towards him, forcing the other to lay his head on his chest.

“Too many. I’m sober now.” Nico grumbles angrily but settles in against Levi. “So that’s what you were laughing about earlier.”

Levi only pats Nico’s head and tells him to sleep. He might’ve heard Nico call him a bastard but he chooses to ignore it and lets the rain and Nico’s warm body lull him to much needed sleep.

#kind of OOC but whatever #i just wanted to dump out some schmico because there's so many ideas in my head that it has clogged up everything that nothing's coming out #schmico #grey's anatomy. mywriting #anonymous #gk asks

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siriuslybuckybarnes · 6 years

Text

Care (Pietro x Reader) One-Shot

Requests: Hello~! Is it okay if I request a Pietro x reader with a prompt from a list I saw earlier? If it is ok the prompt was. “No one believes me when I tell them I’m capable of defending myself.” please and thank you!

Can you please do a Pietro imagine. The reader can be an avenger and dating Pietro but broke up later. A very angst one. Thank you

AN: IDK how the angst worked out lol but hopefully y’all like it!

Masterlist

Care

When you’d met Pietro Maximoff officially, he was recovering from the near-fatal wounds he’d received in Sokovia.

The first time, he’d been unconscious on an operating table.

You were a nurse who had been called in to assist Helen Cho with the surgery and Tony Stark had been impressed with your skills, offering you an on-call position with the Avengers. The pay was too good to pass up.

Truthfully, the money from working with the Avengers meant you no longer needed to work at the hospital. But you loved your job. Working in the OR was something you hadn’t expected when you began nursing school, but you’d found yourself offered a chance to stand in and fallen in love with it quickly.

You continued to work your regular schedule, only deviating when the Avengers called you in. Which, considering their profession, was often. A quinjet would land on the roof and you would be at the compound within thirty minutes.

The second time you were called in was when you saw Pietro again, and met him officially.

Clint Barton had had a small snaffu that resulted in a small surgery, meaning your services were required.

Why Tony Stark was willing to outsource you, you would never know. But you were grateful.

Pietro had been walking into the infirmary as you were leaving, your bag tossed over your shoulder as you paid your farewell to Helen. You hadn’t been fully paying attention to your surroundings and almost run Pietro over as you rushed to get back to work.

It was a slow day at the hospital, but you still felt bad for leaving them down one.

He caught you easily, steadying you and freezing you with his lightning blue eyes.

You were a goner.

Things progressed quickly and soon you were making excuses to stick around after surgeries and Pietro was showing up at the hospital during your breaks. It was too easy to fall head over heels for him, and part of you knew it wouldn’t last.

It had been a long day, and you were running late to meet Pietro for dinner.

What had been scheduled as a twelve hour shift had turned into fourteen hours. You were dead on your feet, but excited to see Pietro after almost two weeks.

He’d been away on a mission and when he’d called the previous night to ask you to dinner, you’d jumped at the opportunity.

You’d agreed for him to show up at your apartment at eight, giving you enough time to change and make yourself presentable after getting off work at seven. But now it was nine and you’d made sure to call him when you realized you’d be late. He understood, knowing the pressures of being in the OR, and said he would meet you in the front lobby of your apartment so you could grab a quick dinner.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the last time it happened. And suddenly you were going weeks without seeking Pietro due to work and his missions.

You didn’t know when the doubts began to creep up, but after two months without seeing him, you were struck with fear that perhaps he would realize you weren’t good enough for him.

He was an Avenger after all, and you knew he could get any girl he pleased. So what was he doing with someone like you? Your shifts were growing longer and longer, as accidents and crime escalated in the surrounding neighborhoods, and you were sure he’d realized you weren’t worth the trouble.

After another fourteen hour shift that involved two different surgeries from a car wreck, you were at your wits end. One of the patient’s had had severe brain damage and their skull had been fractured, they died on the table and though you knew it was a hazard of the profession, it never got any easier.

Realizing there were no messages from Pietro caused you to snap, your insecurities taking over and you had typed and sent the message before the rational side of you had a chance to stop you.

“I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.”

The fear in your gut hit its peak when you saw his reply: “If that’s what you want.”

That was where it ended. That was where you left it.

Over the next few months, every time you were called in, Pietro was either on a mission, or out of the compound. It filled you with relief while also causing your heart to drop into your stomach.

It hurt how much you missed him, but you assumed he was doing better without you.

Especially when Steve mentioned in passing that Pietro was seeing someone new, though you’d already assumed he had to be.

It didn’t make sense for him to stay single.

You had gone on a couple of dates too, but you weren’t looking for a relationship anyway. Well, not with anyone who wasn’t Pietro.

Steve noticed the small drop in your usual smile and gave you a small smile in return. The other Avengers had noticed your change in behavior as soon as you’d broken things off with Pietro, but they were nice enough to let you alone.

“Good for him,” you replied tightly, readjusting the backpack on your shoulder and shrugging. “He deserves to be happy.”

Steve nodded and you waved a small goodbye as you made your way back to the quinjet that would be taking you back to work.

Seven hours and one surgery later, you were walking out of the hospital feeling like you’d been hit by a bus.

A hip replacement had taken longer than initially expected, meaning you had been standing in the OR for six hours straight before someone came to relieve you. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded, but having already spent three hours in surgery with Helen earlier, you were beat.

As you rounded the corner to take your usual route home, an arm appeared and pulled you roughly into the alleyway.

A hand covered your mouth quickly and you fought against the hands that pushed you against the brick wall.

Two in the morning meant the walking traffic was light and you cursed yourself for not being more observant. Bringing your right hand up, you tried to break the strong grip holding you to the wall.

They were wearing a mask and the panic took over for a few seconds as you wondered what they wanted.

Were they going to try to rape you? That was the most likely.

The slap forced your head to slam into the wall behind you and you blinked rapidly as you continued to struggle. Clenching your jaw, you brought your leg up to strike him in the gut and brought your right palm to his nose when he keeled over. When he released his grip on you, you screamed for help as you brought your knee up again to smack his nose again for good measure.

Turning to run, you saw a couple had heard your screams and were rushing towards you. They asked if you were alright as the woman dialed 911.

A groan caused you to turn back to see your attacker trying to push himself to his feet.

Something snapped within you and you kicked him in the side, forcing him back down as you screamed for him to stay down.

Adrenaline was pumping through you and when the woman placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flinched harshly.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Let’s get you away from here.”

The woman walked you back to the hospital while the man stayed behind to monitor your attacker and you soon found yourself in a small triage, answering the cops’ questions while one of the ER docs assessed your condition.

“Jesus,” Jason, one of the on-call doctors, said as he stared down at you. “You’ve got a fire, don’t you? Cops said they’ve been trying to catch that guy for months now.” He was sewing the gash on the back of your head closed when he realized your reaction times were too slow. “You’ve got a concussion.” He pursed his lips as he stitched you up. “Someone needs to monitor you for the night.”

He stared down at you intently, his eyebrows furrowed when you told him you’d be fine. Not to mention that you didn’t have anyone to look after you.

You liked Jason. He was nice, and typically kept to himself. According to your head nurse, he’d only been at the hospital a year longer than you. His bright green eyes and goofy smile made you wonder sometimes how he had remained single for so long. But you assumed it was much like you: no time outside of work. You’d barely spoken to him away from the hospital, having been in two of his surgeries when you were on-call.

He had the typical humor of an ER doctor, dark. It helped keep everyone sane and from dropping into depression at any small mishap.

“We called the emergency number on your phone,” one of the nurses, Amanda said as she walked past. “They said they were on their way.”

You wracked your brain to try to remember who you had as your emergency contact, but were cut short of asking when Pietro was suddenly at your side.

“Are you-?”

His question was cut off by Jason, who quickly explained that you needed to be watched for the night because of your concussion and gave Pietro explicit instructions on how to look after you.

“I’m not a child,” you mumbled and Jason turned to grin at you.

“I know that,” he replied, reaching out to pat your shoulder softly. “But you know how serious concussions can be. I’d help you out myself if I didn’t have to be here for the rest of the night.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed yourself up from the gurney and waved him off.

“I’m fine, Jason, honestly,” you insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can drop by after I get off in the morning if you want,” Jason offered, his expression nervous as he waited for your response.

You truly considered it for a few moments until you heard Pietro clear his throat and you shrugged, a small smile on your face.

“Thanks Jason,” you replied, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder. “I think I’ll be okay, but I really appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and you bit your lip, contemplating your next action carefully.

“I’ll-” you paused, losing your nerve before you could utter the words. “I’ll see you around, Jason.”

Pietro was holding your backpack as you stepped towards him and motioned for him to follow you out of the hospital once you’d checked yourself out.

Once outside, you let out a breath and turned to see him staring at you.

“You don’t really have to watch me,” you said cautiously. “I can take care of myself and I’m sure you have better things to do than make sure I don’t fall asleep.”

His only response was a firm shake of his head as he ushered you towards your apartment. The fifteen minute walk felt like an eternity, both of you walking as quickly as possible and remaining silent the entire way.

“I’m sorry they called you,” you blurted out when you arrived at your building. “I’ll make sure to switch my emergency contact so you don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind,” he said, cutting you off. “I’m glad they called me.”

You went silent as you reached the elevator, pressing the button for your floor as you tried to think of anything to get rid of the awkward silence. He beat you to the punch, his eyes boring into yours while he spoke.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, watching your face to make sure you weren’t lying.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly. “Really. It’s just a couple scratches.”

“I mean how are you feeling mentally?” he corrected himself, watching as you looked down and stepped out of the elevator. “Are you okay?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you unlocked the door and stepped through, waiting for him to follow before you shut the door behind you. After you double-checked the lock, you walked into the kitchen to get a drink and Pietro repeated his question from behind you.

“I’m fine,” you replied again. “Honestly, Pietro, no one ever believes that I can take care of myself. He didn’t do anything other than grab me before I fought free.”

“You had to get stitches,” he said quietly, his hand reaching up to touch the back of your head lightly, causing you to flinch away. “No matter how well you fought, it had to have been scary.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, turning to send him a glare. “Really. I promise. And you really don’t have to stay, I can take care of myself. It’s just a concussion.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if that Jason guy came by to check on you,” he muttered and you scowled.

“For one,” you retorted. “That’s none of your business. And secondly, I turned him down if you remember correctly. I don’t need anyone babysitting me, thank you.”

Pietro rolled his eyes and stepped closer, “You wouldn’t have turned him down if I hadn’t been there. If you’d prefer him, be my guest.”

Clenching your fist, you took a calming breath, determined to not lose your temper.

“For God’s sake, let that go,” you said, pushing past him to walk into the living room. “If you want to leave, just leave. I don’t care. Like I said before, I’m fine by myself.” You turned the TV on and sat down on the couch, settling in and preparing yourself to stay up all night.

“I want to stay,” he admitted quietly. “I want to make sure you’re alright.” He took the seat next to you on the couch and smiled slightly. “I didn’t realize you could fight.”

Shrugging, you clutched the throw pillow close to your chest. “I took self-defense classes in college. Single girl walking across campus late at night, I figured I needed to know how to take care of myself.”

He didn’t reply, but you thought you saw a small amount of pride on his face as you spoke. People rarely believed that a girl your size was capable of fending for herself.

“And you’re sure you’re feeling alright?” he asked again, this time his voice filled with worry. “We could have Dr. Cho look over you to make sure-”

“Pietro,” you said, cutting him off. “I’m fine. Plus, Jason is one of the best Doctors in the city. You can trust that his diagnosis is right. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“He said not to let you sleep-”

“Just for a few hours to make sure I’m not going to slip into a coma,” you finished for him. “If I experience any major pain, apply ice and rest. Pietro, I’m a nurse. I know.”

He settled back onto the couch with a grumble and you turned back to the TV, pulling Netflix up and choosing a series she had seen before. You wanted something she didn’t have to focus on.

“How have you been?” he asked suddenly, causing you to jump slightly. “I- haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been working,” you replied quietly. “Just- just trying to keep up with life.”

“Are you,” he paused when you turned to look at him. “Are you seeing anyone? Jason?”

You couldn’t fight the urge to roll your eyes at him. “No. Jason and I are just coworkers.”

He nodded absently, his attention returning to the TV and he sighed after a few minutes.

“I’m not with anyone either,” he continued. “I’ve been hoping to catch you whenever you’re at the compound, Steve said I just missed you earlier.”

“You people just can’t stay out of trouble,” you responded before you could stop yourself. You were there multiple times most weeks. “But at least you’re in one piece.”

“I miss you,” he admitted. “A lot. I never got to ask why you decided to end it?”

You shrunk into the couch cushions, utterly unprepared for the conversation he was trying to start. How could you possibly tell him that your insecurities convinced you that you weren’t good enough for him? It was bad enough that you was bombarded with his presence without warning, but now you was trapped in your apartment with him until morning.

At your silence, he turned to stare at you as you tried your best to disappear into the cushions. It wasn’t like you really wanted to breach the topic, especially since you didn’t want to lie to him.

“I just-” you let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not- I don’t feel like I’m enough for you, you know?” Your voice was quiet as you wrapped your arms around your body. On top of everything, the stress of the day was finally catching up. You really didn’t want to cry in front of him. “You’re a superhero, Pietro. And I’m just- I’m me. And I was so busy working all the time, I never got to see you and I was afraid you would get tired of constantly having to wait for me-”

He cut you off when he pulled you towards him, hugging you tightly.

“I thought you were tired of me,” he said, chuckling lightly. “How could I get tired of you? You’re wonderful and fun and cute, and you save more lives than I ever could.”

“I work in the OR,” she muttered. “You jet around the world and save people-”

“You chose your job,” he said, cutting her off. “I was- given mine. Being an Avenger, it’s a great job and I love helping people. But what you do, is so much more. You help so many people, just because that’s how you are. I’ve admired you from the moment I met you. You have such a kind heart, and I always loved watching you interact with patients when I came to visit. You’re amazing.”

The blush that appeared on your cheeks and down your neck surprised you. You had never been complimented on your choice of profession before. It had just been something that always appealed to you.

“Can we try again?” he asked timidly. “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t care if you have to work long hours, so do I sometimes.”

The small nod you gave was enough for him and he pulled you closer, cuddling you into his side and pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, but don’t sleep,” he murmured, his hand rubbing your arm slowly. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Hope you guys liked it! Sorry for taking so long.

#pietro maximoff #pietro fanfiction #pietro fanfic #pietro x reader #pietro maximoff au #pietro maximoff x reader #avengers #avengers fanfiction #request

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 7 years

Note

listen... i miss gmw. gimme a lil something something bout the kids' college graduations?? maybe baby penny is sick all over Farkle's diploma and it's ruined for framing and Jennifer can't BELIEVE the AUDACITY of this infant CHILD and maybe joshaya are running late late late late bc whoops impromptu trip to denmark on smthg and the plane was delayed but FSCK WE GOTTA GRADUATE or something. idk. what i do know is that i love ur blog and riarkle, in that order xxxx

You sent this in like maybe a week or so ago and I’ve been ignoring it in fear of becoming Trash once more but I just realized that it’s Riley’s birthday and life is a nightmare so the Trash Is Unleashed™

Okay so Maya stayed in New York for college as we know, but Riley and Farkle fucked off away to some Ivy League out of state

You readers can put them wherever your pretty little hearts desire, I personally like the thought of them in Boston (and I feel like it’d be a nice little circle since Feeny’s from Boston let me live)

But anyway, they’ve stayed as close as ever!!! Time and distance have no power over them!!! We know this!!!

Like we’re talking facetiming, constant texting, a group chat with memes they can’t explain to anyone else, phone calls, they all know what’s up with each other constantly

For the record they are still in touch with Zay, Smackle and Lucas but it’s just like. not CONSTANT communication you know. Like they’re group chat still lives but it’s college + Riley and Farkle have a kid so they’re all busy

But anyway

So Riley’s got her astrophysics and journalism courses aced, Farkle’s fully set to go into politics, and Maya’s art major is done with.

And you know. Our fav ot3 has been together most of their lives. They graduated middle school and high school together and they couldn’t wait to see each other graduate college

But…they were blindsided

No one had ever suspected their colleges would have the audacity to schedule their graduations on the same day

Does Riley pull a Topanga and try to fight her schools dean??? Absolutely

Does it work? Absolutely not

So now the ENTIRE family is stressed, because most of the Matthews consider Maya part of the family, so does Minkus, Shawn can’t see his goddaughter graduate and Josh is left with the delima of “Girlfriend vs Niece”. They’re all freaking out like holy shit

Riley and Maya are just….in Full Dramatics about this

We’re talking waxing Shakespearean sonnets about the Universe™ trying to tear them apart. They make their way back to all that Sun and the Moon symbolism bullshit

After a literal week of this Farkle is TIRED

Wakes up to his four year old telling him “Mommy’s wearing a lot of eyeliner and said the world is a dark and spiteful place that doesn’t want her and Auntie Maya together and that every moment they share is in blatant defiance of fate. What’s that mean?” and this poor guy is just like,,,,,,for fucks sake,

Like obviously he wants to see Maya graduate too!!! They’re best friends!!! But these girls are EXAHUSTING him lmao

So he has a Plan, but he also knows how his Plans usually go, so he just gives tf in and calls his dad to handle it lmao

Meanwhile: Joshua

Who has just been….literally screaming nonstop since this drama unfolded

Riley’s his BLOOD, even though they’re uncle-niece they have more of a close sibling relationship

But he literally has a ring ready and waiting for Maya!!!

And the boy is a fucking Matthews so of course HE’S in dramatic throws about this predicament

He calls Cory for advice and Cory is like “You’re going to Maya’s because you love her and I’m not paying for your fucking flight to Boston” lmao

So it ends up with like. Katy, Shawn, Turner, Josh (+ his four bandmates), and Zay (bc he’s in the city and Broke), and Ava end up going to Maya’s ceremony

With Cory, Topanga, Stuart, Amy, Alan, Eric, Auggie, Smackle and Feeny going to Riley and Farkle’s ceremony

Jack couldn’t get off work and Doesn’t Super Care and Morgan’s in Europe for work so they’re unfortunately off the list

They forgot to invite Lucas didnt want anymore choosing between the girls bullshit couldn’t make the trip because of work lol

So anyway: Farkle’s Plan that was funded by Stuart?

Absolutely got remote controlled robots so they could keep up a video call for both ceremonies

You know damn well what I mean

Cory thinks this is absolutely the funniest fucking thing he’s ever heard of

Eric thinks this is a sign of the impending Robot Wars™

The girls are still massively upset and think Farkle’s a fucking dork but they’re very touched and love him yadayada so this calms them down a bit

But anyway like, we get to the big graduation day and like….disasters, disasters all around

Josh’s Stoner Friend™ keeps knocking into the damn robot and almost breaks it like thirty times in an hour

Eric is giving the robot at Riley and Farkle’s site a wide berth with suspicious eyes

Auggie, Cory and Penny are all suspiciously sick but are trying to power through the ceremony

All the other students and people attending these graduations…..you know these whackjobs are getting looks. Some assholes in the crowd keep throwing stuff at the robots

Shawn and Katy are making a HUGE SCENE crying hysterically we all know they would

Jennifer makes a surprise, dramatic appearance at Farkle’s graduation

We’re talking pulling up in a limo, emerging in slow motion, wearing a glittering black evening gown, elbow length black satin gloves, stilettos and a huge hat with peacock feathers on it, making a show of searching the crowds before spotting him (standing directly in front of her) before throwing out her arms and screeching “My baby-!”

Farkle’s like ‘We literally have not spoken in at least six years will you please get the fuck out of here’

She does not, in fact, get the fuck out of there so Topanga is now on duty to make sure she and Stuart don’t get into a fight and ruin this for the kids asdfgj

Feeny keeps fucking falling asleep bc he’s old and doesn’t care about the guest speakers but he SNORES WORRINGLY LOUDLY

Students aren’t technically allowed to have devices™ out during the ceremonies so Riley and Farkle and Maya are trying so hard to be discrete as the watch the feed from each other’s graduations

They literally end up paying more attention to each other’s graduations than their own lmao

Josh’s bandmates and Zay are all being the rowdiest fucking audience members possible like they’re all those assholes that bring noise makers and scream and clap at random intervals

Stuart and Jen keep shooting each other withering glares and trading insults as Topanga shushes them

Penny, Auggie, and Cory are just feeling more and more like Literal Death the longer this drags on

Maya finally goes up to get her diploma and Katy literally faints

Riley and Farkle start cheering bc yay Maya!!! Until they remember they’re at their own ceremony and there is LITERALLY A SPEECH HAPPENING SO THEY’RE SCREAMING INTO THE QUIET AND INTERRUPTING EVERYTHING

Get glared back into submission but Maya’s laughing at them

Maya’s graduation ends soonish after that but the other one is DRAGGING ON STILL so everyone is like crowed around trying to watch on Maya’s tiny screen lol

When the speech finally ends Smackle’s muttering about how everything said was factually incorrect

Stuart and Jen are still antagonizing each other

Amy and Alan are taking enough pictures to blind people with the flash

So Riley gets called up for her diploma first right

Trips

Hard enough to fall off the fucking stage

Had to be helped back up by memebers of the band

Gets back on stage and gets her diploma

Falls again coming down

Amy and Topanga are s c re a m i ng and Maya is literally crying from the effort it takes to not laugh

Jen’s making obnoxious comments about who her son was ‘trapped’ by and Penny wants to know what that means and Stuart is prepared to stab Jen if she bothers to answer

Riley’s literally off to the side getting looked at by a medic when Farkle goes up for his diploma

He gets it fine enough but coming downstage he’s overcome with the urge to do ‘thank you I am farkle’

he didn’t realize the student that was called up after him was right behind him

punches this kid in the face, he falls

the person behind them falls

a fcucking domino effect of ivy league graduates

Eric is literally crying from laughter watching this. So are his fucking bodyguards like they broke character bc this scene was Too Much

Feeny is back to snoring

The New York crowd is loosing their fucking minds

Farkle’s rushing back to his seat and Jen stands up to get his attention to Yell at him for being embarrassing and

Penny just fucking projectile vomits all over her

She’s SCREAMING

Cory opens his mouth to apologize and explain that she’s been sick and HE PUKES. WHICH SETS AUGGIE OFF

EVERYONES SCREAMING

Listen it was a huge crowd but three people projectile vomiting is gonna cause a STIR

People are rushing away and it’s a whole mess of a scene

The nyc crowd is Alive watching this all unfold

Eventually the ceremony ends and Riley and Farkle lowkey lock theirselves in their apartment for the rest of the night

Everyone thinks they’re just embarrassed but they’re fucking cracking up hysterically like it took two hours to give Penny a bath because they couldn’t catch their breath

At some point they settle down a bit and call Maya and the three of them spend the rest of their night drowning in nostalgia

This is messy as fuck but I’m out of practice anyway

^ me when I think about gmw these days

#gmw #riarkle #maya hart #riley matthews #farkle minkus #asks #molly mumbles #this is So Bad I'm sorry #I had to rush it #bc food #but hope someone enjoyed #lol

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impalaimagining · 7 years

Text

PittCon Sunday

(sorry this is so late. my mind has been reeling since I stepped into Jensen’s hug. cut comes after the gold panel)

My heart was racing as I typed this because it contains the letters to Jared story and the interaction between he and I as I gave him the binder and reliving that moment is everything I ever wanted. My liiiffeeee <3333

Part One (Gold Panel):

They come walking down the glass bridge. Jensen waves. Jared pushes him aside and becomes the star of the show. Jared takes off his beanie and everybody screams (still don’t understand how he does it).

Someone in the second row continues to talk to Jared from her seat instead of waiting to be selected for a question. (*heavy eye rolling from me*)

Jared and Jensen are sleepy little dorks and I love it. They’re still running on Vancouver time. Jensen didn’t sleep Saturday night, he watched the hours roll by. Jared says we should’ve called Jensen and invited him out with us. Jensen’s got “about two hours of solid” him left before it gets either “really interesting or really boring.”

Jared realizes the actress who plays Hitler granddaughter is from Pittsburgh. They’re “chuggin’ along” with filming - already on episode six.

Jared says they’re still waiting for the call for season 14 renewal.

Fan is upset because Jensen promised to sing at SNS this year. He laughs and asks, “You believed that?!” He blames timezone switches and Rob, because Rob “likes Pittsburgh to himself.”

They’ve been on a juice diet because “summer was hard” on them (specifically Jared - who still looks incredible, by the way). As Jensen was walking on stage, he found a cup of goldfish crackers and stuffed a handful in his mouth. He comes on stage still chewing. They’re already talking about getting burgers for dinner Sunday night.

Jared envies people who can draw because he loves to do it but is “really bad at it.” Jensen makes a “mean stick figure.” They joke about they wish they could take their profession anywhere the way musicians and sketch artists/painters can. Jensen laughs and says he envisions Jared standing in front of a t-rex exhibit “To be! Or not to be!”

Jared takes on “Misha form!” while answering a question about their childhood memory. Jared tells the story of Tom starting kindergarten. He was flooded with emotions while the other parents were already used to taking their kids and just dropping them off. Meanwhile Jared is crying. Jensen says he has a lot of good childhood memories, but one of his favorite is his sixth birthday. He woke up and put on his cowboy outfit, complete with six-shooters and a sheriff’s badge. He walked outside and there was a horse in the yard for him to ride. Their yard wasn’t big, but he rode the horse in circles and shot his cap guns.

Jensen was never “into” sports medicine, but it was what he chose as he selected college major originally. Jensen says he thinks it would be fun to be a boat captain. Jared planned on going to school for engineering to follow in the footsteps of his brother. Instead, his brother ended up becoming a surgeon, and Jared thinks he would’ve followed that path as well. Jared’s other career options are doctor or teacher. “It’d be fun to be a wildlife photographer,” according to Jared. Jensen decides he wants to be a food and drink writer. Jared mocks avocado toast, Jensen says he’ll wolf one down if it allows him to travel to Italy.

Jared has so much trouble with his microphone.

They’ve never dreamed as Sam and Dean, but they dream about them and the set. Jared has had dreams about Kim Manners since his passing, where they talk, “which is... interesting.”

Danneel has to tell Jensen to stop using the Dean voice. Other times she’s like, “Can you please use the Dean voice...?”

Fan says alternate universe in s12 was out of left field but it was awesome. Asks if the boys have been surprised by anything the writers have thrown into the plot. Jensen says French Mistake. Jared says his big left field moment was when he traveled to Los Angeles before season 6 and met with Sera. She told him about soulless!Sam and he had to hide his gut reaction because he was right in front of her instead of being on the phone like he normally would be. Soulless!Sam is one of Jared’s favorite character twists.

Jensen would never rule theatre out of his life as a future option. He doesn’t currently have plans to return to the stage, but he wouldn’t mind going back. Jared says he hasn’t done theatre in a long time, and he loved it. It’s the “best training ground possible,” but it’s hard to keep it fresh. Jared compares theatre to doing squats for thirty minutes. Jensen laughs and mocks him. joking about never skipping leg day.

A fan is getting fired for being at the convention. Asks about binge watching because she has a lot of free time now. Jensen says he watched Ozark in a week. Jared says Breaking Bad, but he’s on to Ozark because of Jensen’s recommendation.

Fan gives suggestions for food places. A place called Burgatory. Jensen asks if there are any exits.

“Did someone say Sanchez?” - Jared... why

Unicorns or dragons? Jared: unicorns ‘cause they’re not going to kill me, and they fart rainbows. Jensen: I’m gonna go dragons. Speaking of dragons... anybody watch game of thrones? Jared jokes about Jensen ruining the show for him by mentioning dragons. Jensen asks if everyone is caught up. Fan says no. Jensen: “earmufffssss!” He thinks they totally ripped off the demon!Dean transformation scene.

Part Two:

Jensen Ackles photo op!

Was a little nervous but not really because like yeah he’s adorable and Jensen friggin Ackles but I didn’t have anything to tell him or show him so it was nothing like Misha (or Jared).

I walked up and said, “Hi! How are you?” He smiled and said, “I’m good. Tired. How are you?” I kind of yelled a little bit when I responded but it was so worth it. “Great now!” And then I proceeded to throw my arms around him and Chris took the picture. Jensen rubbed my shoulder as I was walking away.

His hugs are so soft and gentle. His voice is so sweet and smooth. Jensen Ackles smells amazing and he’s so... *sigh*

Part Three:

JARED. PADALECKI.

This is the motherfucking ultimate high point of my weekend. I met. I hugged. I got a photo with. Jared. Padalecki.

As I walked up, my heart was pounding let me tell you, boy. He smiles and says, “Hi!” oooh lawd his breath smells like booze and it’s something of my dreams (don’t ask.). I can smell his cologne. Y’all weren’t kidding when you said he uses a fuckton. I love it. I’m all giggly and nervous and I’m like, “I wanna show you something!”

I spin around and pull my hair back off my ear and show him my tattoo. He - I kid you not - screams over the music playing. “NO SHIT!” I nod and give him this giant smile. “That’s my handwriting!!!” Yes it is you big, beautiful man. “That’s awesome!” I’m in fuckin euphoria and I don’t even feel him lean against my head when Chris snaps the photo. I have no idea if I even looked into the camera at this point. I’m praying to God I did and as I leave, Jared gives me a little pat on the back and when I turn around, he’s still smiling at me. “Thanks so much!” I get a wink. I GET A MOTHERFUCKING JARED PADALECKI WINK I AM SIMULTANEOUSLY LIVING AND DYING. (the next person in line was already next to him while this is all happening, LOL)

I practically skip out of the room but there are no tears. How did I do this??? This man makes me so fucking happy I didn’t even cry??? Jared is my savior. That’s it.

Part Four:

Jim Beaver. What an adorable father-like man.

I’m thoroughly convinced he’s drunk when he comes on stage. Jim Beaver danced. Like... heavy footwork, light on his toes danced. He’s holding a coke can and I can pretty much guarantee it wasn’t just soda in that can.

I don’t remember much of his panel but the first thing he said was, “Hey idjits!”

A fan asked him to say balls. It was... kind of awesome.

A young girl came up to the mic to ask a question. He called her on stage and knelt down at her eye level. “Is that all you see???” She laughed. She has the same name as his daughter. They’re spelled the same way. “Are you my kid?? How weird would that be if my kid came all the way here and I didn’t know it. I didn’t buy her a plane ticket, I know that!” She asks her question (which I forget because I suck) and after he answers, he hugs her and sends her back off the stage.

Part Five:

J2 main panel. Boys come running down the center aisle through the crowd. Pretty convinced their body guards/handlers hate them lmao.

I’m not going to go through every question like I did for the gold panel. Jared and Jensen are perfect. That’s just about all you need to know.

Jared’s pretty sure he’s going to get in trouble for jumping. His back has been hurting. “The medicine, it works!”

It’s a glorious Sunday because “Dallas hasn’t played yet.”

Jared’s pretty sure turning 35 makes everything stop working.

Jim Beaver walks by in the glass bridge. Jared has the crowd yell “come back!”

Jensen thanks football fans for giving up opening day to be at the convention. Says it’s hard not to be in front of a tv on the first football Sunday. Terrible towels come out.

Jared compares having three kids to “drowning... and then someone throws you three kids.” Jensen originally only wanted one kid, but Danneel wanted three. They compromised on a second pregnancy. ... “You always find a way to get what you want, don’t you, ladies?”

Jensen apologizes for having to leave the J2 photo ops earlier in the day because Danneel had called him multiple times. He thought something was really wrong. When he called back, she asked if he could FaceTime quickly. Arrow was saying “dada.” “Unfortunately, it was our plumber that was there...”

If I had been playing the SPN Con drinking game I would’ve been wasted the entire weekend. Good Lord.

Jensen’s favorite episode to film was Baby. Jared’s favorites include episodes like Baby, French Mistake, Changing Channels, and Hollywood Babylon. It was the first time they were allowed to make fun of themselves and the industry. After filming Hollywood Babylon, they convinced the crew to give them the bigger trailers since they were already on set.

Working with kids depends on their parents.

Jared mentions GameBoy. Jensen has a moment like dude you’re so old why are you bringing up GameBoy. It becomes a running joke throughout the panel.

“Does your face hurt, Jensen?? Because it’s killin’ me!” ... dorks.

They turn off Sam and Dean when they go back to their real lives. It’s easy for them at this point to flip the switch of the emotional pain Sam and Dean go through because of their friends and especially their family.

Part Six: AUTOGRAPHS AND THE BINDER (!!!!!!)

Guys guys guys I’m freaking out at this point. I know how much trouble I could get in for giving something to Jared. The handlers are going to hate me. According to a friend, “They’ve kicked people out for less.” hashtag fuck.

Something happens with another fan and the woman announcing rows to head back to autos is wrapped up with other things. I waited so much longer than I should have. It was horrendous and put me that much more on edge.

Finally my row is called. I’m only in the fourth row. Why did it take this long.

Steve Miller Band is playing from Jared’s phone onto a bluetooth speaker while I’m standing in line. When I get to him, it’s Fly Like An Eagle.

“How’re you, sweetheart?” *dies* He signs my book. “Did you read it?” I nod and say yes, of course. “And...?!” I told him I loved it and I thought it was very brave of him to share as much and as honestly as he did. He smiles and then I bring up the binder.

Me: “I actually have something to give to you, and I know it could get me in a lot of crap for doing it this way. This is a project I put together. It’s letters from me and a lot of my friends because we just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done and let you know how much you mean to us. I don’t expect you to read them all, there’s a lot of them in there.” J: “I do like to read! *he’s flipping through them, paging to see just how many there are* No way! Damn girl!!!” Me: “It’s just something we did for you.” J: “Thank you. Thank you very much. Please pass on my gratitude to whoever sent you a letter.” Me: “I will, thank you!!!” J: “Thank you.” AND THE FREAKIN’ SMILE OMG.

I don’t know how I lived. I don’t know how me and my shaky knees made it to Jensen’s autograph line but I did and he is such a sweetheart, my goodness.

I slipped Jensen my book and he was just so tired omg it’s so sad and adorable. He signed the wrong page of my FDEWB book because sleeeepy.

He slid it across the table to me and I thanked him for everything. He said “You’re welcome.” And patted the back of my hand and again, *i die*

THUS CONCLUDES MY FIRST EVER CON WEEKEND MY LIFE HAS BEEN MADE AND JARED HAS THE LETTERS AND MY SHIRT /STILL/ SMELLS LIKE HIM.

#Taylor Takes PittCon #PittCon 2017: The Jared Padalecki Project #PittCon2017 #PittCon #SPNPitt #Supernatural PittCon #Supernatural Pittsburgh

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anghraine · 7 years

Text

Do This: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or as little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

tagged by @heckofabecca!

1) the Script AU

You know about it if you follow me, but it’s the one where the script idea about Jyn and Cassian escaping on their own is what happens. So everyone else is still dead; Cassian still has severe injuries; Jyn still has no particular place in the Rebellion structure and even deeper skepticism of its political leadership; they still share the intimacy they developed by the end, compounded by the loss of everyone else they’ve ever cared about; and in the background, ANH is going down.

“You’re … you stayed.”

If the last few days had taught her anything, it was that Cassian had about as many people to call his own as she did. Superiors, subordinates, fellow Rebels, sure. But that was the revolution, the respect for a valuable agent or leader in the Rebellion, not—belonging. She’d discovered the difference between family and usefulness in a bunker six years ago.

“Of course I did,” she told him, every instinct screaming to back away. Jyn leaned closer, letting her own mouth curve. “Welcome home.”

2) per ardua ad astra

MY CHILD

(...my gleefully EU-ignoring child)

This is the one where Bodhi doesn’t get blown up and manages to get the shuttle to Jyn and a dangerously wounded Cassian. As they try to escape, however, they’re caught in the Death Star’s tractor beam. Helped by his very real injuries, Jyn passes them off under one of Cassian’s identities as Imperials evacuating Scarif. With the events of ANH gradually ticking down and all three of them trapped on the Death Star, they struggle to maintain their covers and figure out where things stand—and what they can do about them.

Bastards, she still thought. Cassian had better be grateful. Then she felt sick, mind alight with the memory of his blood on her hands, on his mouth. She hadn’t forgotten. But just for a moment, Cassian had meant the cool-headed spy, somewhere out there glowering at the unworthy, not the man who carved up his own body getting to her. Soon, she promised herself. He’d be himself again, preaching about the cause, and she, well, she’d figure out what she was. Maybe a Rebel. Definitely free.

3) untitled, but I think of it as Rogue One: ultra-queer edition

Some time ago, an anon asked me what I thought of f!Cassian, and I went from ‘um *swoon*’ to ‘LESBIAN CASSIAN AND BI JYN STARING LONGINGLY AND FIGHTING THE EMPIRE? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP.’ Nobody is heterosexual and nobody is dead!

Captain Andor turned out to be a woman of perhaps thirty, maybe a little older. She was very pretty, which didn’t matter, and studied Jyn with narrowed, distrustful eyes, which did.

Jyn didn’t find her particularly imposing. Not that she found anyone imposing, but Andor had a haggard leanness about her, and though taller than Mothma—a good few inches above Jyn—the general dwarfed her. Incongruously, she also had glossy dark hair cut sharply at her jaw, too long for pragmatism, too neat for carelessness. Beneath the fringe slanting over her brow, her hard features somehow came together to form a wearily elegant face.

Altogether, she looked nothing like a soldier. But then, she wasn’t a soldier, was she? Not like Jyn had been. Intelligence—she must be a spy.

4) the PTA AU

It’s the modern AU inspired by this post, since I immediately thought “LOL, ofc it’s Jyn” and then built an AU around it. And then built a 100% serious backstory for it. I thought it would be a one-off thing I could write in a few hours and, uh. It is not that.

She didn’t pretend to be a perfect mother, or even a particularly good mother. But she aimed for decent, with a side of not inflicting psychological scars. Jyn felt firmly that neither she nor anyone else had any business with children if they weren’t ready to do their best by them. She certainly wasn’t about to discourage her daughter from confiding in her. Though “confiding” might be putting it strongly, with Lyra. She’d share her opinions with anyone who stood still long enough.

“You just don’t understand, Mama,” Lyra said, dark eyes mournful as she watched Jyn wolf down a cheeseburger.

“Yeah,” said Jyn. “I know.”

“Papa understands.”

The traitor.

5) Lucy!!

I am sorry that it’s been... eep, a year since I updated. I do have reasons (finishing my MA -> with only a couple months left until RO, I decided to wait for it and just work on PhD applications/the original novel in the meanwhile -> RO!!!!!!) but ... >_>

Anyway, the last chapter found Lucy waking as a captive of Darth Vader, blinded by carbon-sickness, but inexplicably consigned to a comfortable room and the care of more or less friendly droids. In next chapter:

“Why am I wearing this?” said Lucy.

She meant to address herself to Tuvié, plainly the responsible party, but she had no clear idea of where the droid’s head was. It probably made no difference to her, but the unrelenting darkness didn’t seem quite so terrible if she didn’t try to look at anything. But it was Tisix who answered her.

“Your hide is inadequate.”

Ellex made a sound that Lucy couldn’t identify. Probably some sort of metal snicker.

“A typical failing in humanoid construction,” Tisix said.

“Were you coded by Tuskens?” said Tuvié. “Really, you don’t have to be rude.”

I think my friends have already done the meme, but if anyone hasn’t, feel free to do it!

#heckofabecca #meme prattle #fic talk #death star au #jyn erso investigates #rule 63 #script au #lucy skywalker #jyn erso #cassian andor #luke skywalker #star wars #all star wars all the time!

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everlarkbirthdaydrabbles · 7 years

Note

Hi! My birthday is April 24th and I'd love to read everlark where Peeta thinks he's lost Katniss somehow, like a misunderstanding or even some kind of accident, but everything works out in the end. Love the drama/angst, and I'm down for any rating (but let's be real, the smuttier the better bc it's my birthday lol). No infidelity please! Tytyty! You are awesome!

Happy Birthday! There is definitely some angst in this one. Thanks for having a birthday so we can all enjoy this great story! And thank you to @katnissdoesnotfollowback for writing and submitting it. She’s been a MAJOR contributor to this blog, as have many others, and we can’t thank her enough. Links to part one & part two if you haven’t read them yet. Enjoy! I know we did.

Happy Birthday! Hope you enjoy this somewhatangsty story. Hugs and lots of love to you on your special day!

All’s Fair - Part 3

WARNINGS: RATED E for language, PTSD, and smut. Mostly the rating is forthe smut. SMUT I SAY!

A/N: HR inthis instance stands for Human Remains. There’s no gore or graphic violence inthis, but there is a healthy dose of angst. Thank you @peetabreadgirl for pre-reading.

************************

My boots scrape the pavement as I stop to stareup and down the parking lot aisles. I find at least four Jeep-shaped vehiclesunder black covers and sigh, drop my bag on the pavement, and search throughthe pockets for my keys. Not even my car keys, either. Customs fucked up mypacking job and I’m pretty sure they wound up back in my footlocker. I find thekeys I need underneath a half empty bottle of Gatorade and unlock my trunk,rummaging around until my fingers find the canvas ribbon on my at homekeychain. Yanking them out, I listen to the jingle of home with the distantgrowl of a C-130 spooling up its engines. The humid North Carolina air pressesdown on my lungs and I blink in the fading light.

It’s late. I’m exhausted and hungry. And the redREMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT tag on my keys is a one-two punch to the face. Idon’t even know where he is right now. He was supposed to be home sometime lastweek, although I don’t know the exact date, but the fact that he wasn’t here tomeet me means he was delayed somewhere. Or something far worse that I am notprepared to contemplate on four hours of shitty sleep on a cramped rotatorflight and an empty stomach.

Pocketing my car keys, I slam my footlocker shutand lock it back up, hefting my bag back on my shoulder and hauling the trunkonto its wheels to continue my solitary trek. I hit the lock button on the keyfob twice and hope my battery didn’t die while I’ve been gone. I’ve gotjumpers, but no one I feel comfortable inconveniencing. Most of the others havealready gone home. Prim couldn’t be here this time, unable to get away from medschool. Mom’s too sick to travel. Gale’s still somewhere in Fallujah, I think.At least, that’s the last place I ran into him.

Finally, my car honks back at me and I trudgethree aisles over towards the sound. Think it’s rough remembering where youparked your car after a thirty minute trip into a grocery store? Tryremembering where the fuck you parked it in a long term lot after a year longdeployment. I drop everything when I reach my Jeep. Unceremonious and messy.Fuck the Army and it’s obsession with order.

It takes me a few tries to get the cover off mycar and folded up enough to shove it in the back. My footlocker and duffle goin next. The pack goes on the front seat since it contains my wallet, such asit is. I climb into the driver’s seat and roll back enough of the canvas sothat I’ll be able to feel the breeze. Keys in the ignition and I freeze, oncemore staring at the bright red tag.

Peeta gave it to me right before my firstdeployment, in a black velvet box that looked like it contained a fancynecklace. Which it did. A single, luminescent pearl on a silver chain nestledunderneath a layer of padding, but on top had been this keychain. I’d laughednervously and shoved his face away from me when I saw the tag, but then he’dshown me what he’d bought for himself...a red, white, and blue double Akeychain. The emblem of the 82nd Airborne. My unit. They were meant to be asymbol. When we saw the keychains that ought to belong to each other, then we’dknow we were home.

The C-130 must be warmed up because the tone ofit changes, softens as it faces a different direction. Turning up the taxiway,preparing for takeoff. I wonder what they’re doing tonight. Dropping bundles?Cargo? Jumpers? Or maybe they’re just making proficiency runs. Either way, Iknow Peeta’s not with them.

“Come on baby, don’t let me down,” I mutter andcrank the engine. She starts rough but she does turn over. I throw my coveronto the passenger side floorboard, needing to feel the wind in my croppedshort hair after months of it being stifled beneath a kevlar helmet.

As I leave the lot, I make a last minutedecision, turning towards the airfield instead of the main gate. I just want tobe sure. I’d call, but my phone’s buried in the back and I didn’t think to pullit out while I was searching for my keys. And maybe I’m not ready to face thesilence of an empty house.

The drive is refreshing, but when I reach theairlift wing’s long term parking lot, I realize what a mistake this was. Theirsis almost as full as ours. I drive up one aisle and down the next, slowing everytime I see anything that might be silver. I find it in the fourth aisle.Peeta’s dark silver Mustang, parked next to a black Silverado, a layer ofpollen coating it, obscuring the color. I grip my steering wheel and stare atthe car for a moment. Then I force myself to leave.

I’ll be going home to an empty house.

The lights in town feel blindingly bright.Foreign after a year in the desert. When I tip my head back, I can barely makeout a handful of stars as they emerge into the night sky. At a red light, agroup of teens in a Tahoe with all the windows down stops next to me, laughingand singing along with their music. Once more, I’m massaging my steering wheeland trying to find my place in this world. It’s familiar and still disturbing.The lights and the colors too bright, the sounds too much like a dull roar, apounding in the skull.

It’s when I pass a McDonald’s and my stomachgrowls painfully that I realize I’ll be going home to an empty pantry, too.There might be a can of soup or something, but nothing fresh. No one’s lived inthat house for six months and I didn’t think to ask Eddy, our neighbor’s kid,to stock the pantry for us. He was just keeping an eye on the place,maintaining the yard, and bringing in any mail. It’ll all be junk, but it’sbetter than leaving it to piss off the mail carrier.

With a sigh, I pull into a grocery store thatlooks new, hoping they have a deli still open so I can get something alreadycooked and warm. I make it quick, though I do spend a few minutes debatingbetween macaroni or potato salad to go with my rotisserie chicken.Choices...something else that feels incongruously familiar. They’ve got abakery, too, and I add a loaf to my basket for dinner, and a couple bagels soI’ve at least got something to eat for breakfast, not caring that they’ll be alittle stale. I’ve eaten worse. I’ll come back tomorrow for a real groceryshopping trip.

I use the self checkout lane, though, becausethe last thing I want right now is attention called to me in the form of achatty cashier or someone wanting to thank me for my service. Most of them meanwell, but sometimes it’s hard to know what to say in response. ‘You’rewelcome?’ Arrogant. ‘Thank you?’ For what exactly? Thanking mefirst? ‘Just glad to serve my country?’ Yeah, tell that to Darius andhis family… I shake myself and gather my groceries before rushing out of thestore.

Once I’m safely back in my Jeep with nounnecessary human interactions, I breathe easier. She starts up like a dreamthis time and I drive home, only freaking out at one plastic bag as the windmakes it drift across my path. Pretty good, considering.

“Here goes nothing,” I say and reach up to pressthe button to my garage door opener. Nothing. Car battery lasted. Remotebattery did not. Time for the car and door dance. By the time I get my Jeep inthe garage, I add grouchy to my list of feelings. My pack goes inside with meand my food. The rest can wait.

The house is dark and smells musty. I open a fewwindows to air it out, humidity be damned, and flip on a couple lights so it’snot as depressing. Then I eat -- with a real fork, off a plate that I’ll haveto wash -- in about four minutes. Which is savoring my meal, by the way.

Once I’ve placed my leftovers in the fridge, Iget the rest of my shit inside and in the bedroom, glaring at the neatly madebed. Starting the shower, I toss crap from my trunk until I find my phone andplug it in. Then I wait for the thing to turn back on and for the water to warmup. I’ve got one voicemail from Prim. I’ll call her after my shower.

I leave my cams on the floor in a pile. I’llshove all of it in the washing machine later. The good thing about shampoo andsoap is that they don’t go bad, although there’s a strange crust around thecaps. I wash quickly, watching the murky water drain away sand and three daysworth of funk layered over remnants from months of half-assed showers.Normally, I’d be in a rush. Limited water and somewhere to be in five minutesmeans that when we got them, showers weren’t luxurious or even very efficient.They were just fast.

Standing under the clear, steaming stream, I tryto relax. To enjoy the luxury. But I can only manage a few extra minutes beforeI start to feel ansty and get out. It’s silly, but once I dry off and am standingin my underwear, staring at my drawer full of pajamas, I hesitate. Instead, Iyank open one of Peeta’s drawers, finger the neatly folded cotton shirts beforefinally dragging one over my body. The shirt smells stale as well, from it’smonths untouched in storage, but as long as I don’t inhale too deeply, I cansort of pretend that it’s his arms holding me. I comb through my hair andsettle on the bed to call Prim.

“Hey! Welcome home!”

“Hi, Prim,” I say and smile for the first timesince stepping off the plane.

“Oh my gosh! I can actually hear you! Nostatic!”

“Just one of the many perks of being stateside,”I say and look around the room. Prim prattles on for several minutes aboutschool and how excited she is to see me in a few days. I try to remaincheerful, but it’s not easy. All I can think about is how her life continueduninterrupted while I dodged bullets, sent a friend home in a casket, and camehome to a stale house.

“You okay?” Prim asks, cutting into my thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say automatically. “Why?”

“I asked if you’d be bringing Peeta when youcome home in a few days and you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, Duck,” I say. “I spaced out. It was kindof a long flight home.”

“I’ll bet,” she says then waits for my answer.

“I don’t know. He was supposed to be back lastweek, but he’s not, so…”

“I’m sure he’s okay,” Prim says and goes on tosuggest that he can always catch up to us after he gets back, but her wordsopen the gates of fears and worries that I’ve kept carefully under lock andkey.

I maneuver awkwardly through the rest of ourconversation until I remind her how tired I am. When we hang up, I sit rigidand at war with myself. And even though I already know what's going to happen,I press Peeta's name and hold the phone to my ear.

Straight to his voicemail, but I listen anyways.Just to hear his voice for a few seconds, something I haven't heard in sixmonths. I disconnect before the beep and power my phone down then toss it onthe nightstand to charge the rest of the way, wondering if he ever called myphone during those six months he was here and I was not, just to hear my voice.I hug a pillow to my chest before laying down. I squeeze my eyes shut and ordermy body to sleep, but as exhausted as I am, I can’t seem to relax. The sheetscarry a musty smell of their own that makes my nose wrinkle, and they feelcold.

Four months. I haven’t seen him in four months,and even then, it was thirty seconds from a distance and a twist of luck. On atarmac in Baghdad while we were piling into the back of one plane, he waspre-flighting another. At least, I think it was him. We didn’t get a chance totalk. And I’m not even sure he saw me or knew I was there. Since his deploymentwas six months versus my year, we kept in touch better while he was stateside.Skype and e-mail, when I was lucky to stop at a base with internet. Theoccasional letter or phone call. But once he was in the desert too, all but theemails stopped. We just kept missing each other and it was more frustratingthan anything else.

With a low growl, I shove myself off the bed,dragging the spring green duvet into the living room with me. I plop on thecouch and turn on the TV, hoping it will numb me into slumber.

It doesn’t.

News channels covering events I know littleabout, since I was isolated from current events at home for a year other thanthe tidbits Mom, and Prim, and Peeta while he could, would send to me in theirletters. When I stumble across war coverage on one channel, I pause, butquickly move on. I live it. I don’t need them telling me what it’s like.Besides, there’s a small part of me that’s terrified that the next breakingstory will be about a plane crash.

The rest of the channels disappoint just asmuch. Petty squabbles on reality shows. Commercials and other fluff. It’s justlike talking to Prim only magnified. This used to be my life, I think as I turnthe TV back off and wander into the kitchen. I eat one of the bagels I’d meantfor breakfast just to have something normal to do.

When I finally shove myself back into bed, it’swith little hope of sleeping. Still, I try, and I must succeed because I seethings, some of them real, others more difficult to pinpoint. Sergeant Chaffyelling over the pop of gunfire. A woman racing into the streets to enfold herchild into the black billows of her dress before collapsing and crying over hisbody. Peeta’s smile. The ringing in my ears when a grenade went off close by,drowning out the shouts and gunfire that followed. A door kicked in beneath atan boot. Darius laughing the second before the IED went off. A fireball and atower of smoke against an azure sky, the twisted wreckage of a plane’s tail.

I gasp and wake up, sweating and trembling.Slowly, I manage to get ahold of my breathing and stand, walking slowly to thebathroom to splash water on my face in the dark. I gulp down a few handfuls andthen return to bed, stripping the duvet off first and using only the sheet.Staring at the ceiling as I wait for morning or sleep, whichever arrives first.I can’t tell which one it is, drifting in and out of dreams. Even when I see myroom, there’s Gale, detailing a strategy for clearing a street, his neckbandaged. My mother humming as she rocks in a rocking chair and sews. Theconstant, choking brown haze of a dust storm.

I am a stranger in my own life.

When I wake again, it’s late afternoon. Atleast, that’s what my clock says. The room is dark, the curtains drawn, so I’mnot sure that I’m not still asleep. I roll onto my stomach and stare throughscratchy eyes at what should be the empty space beside me. Only, there’s a bodythere, stomach down and faced away from me. My mouth goes dry and I hope it’snot a nightmare. I wouldn’t put it past my twisted brain to imagine him lyingdead beside me.

Reaching out, I poke his ribs and he startles.It takes him a moment, but he finally turns his head to look at me, his eyesbloodshot and dark circles beneath them.

“You look a little rough for a dream,” I tellhim and he blinks at me, confused. “And quiet, too. That’s how I know you’renot real. If you were, you’d have already said ten witty things.”

“Too tired,” he mumbles behind a yawn.

“You should've already been here,” I mutter, thefear of what could go wrong still clinging to me.

“Plane broke and we had to divert to Turkey.Then we got stuck waiting for parts. I called you as soon as we had a takeofftime from Canada, but your phone was off,” he says and I shrug.

“No one I wanted to talk to,” I tell him.

“Ouch,” he says and I scoot closer, hoping dreamPeeta feels half as good as real Peeta. He opens his arms and I snuggle againsthis body. My subconscious has at least gotten the incredible warmth that heemits right.

“You smell good,” I murmur and fist his shirt inmy hand.

“I better. I just got back two hours ago andtook a shower first thing.”

“You got naked without me,” I accuse. “Who’s incharge of this dream anyways?”

“You were out cold when I got in. Didn't want todisturb you. How long have you been home?”

“No idea. Tell you when I wake up.”

“Katniss,” Peeta says softly. “You are awake.”

I open one eye and look up at Peeta. Reachingout, I pat his cheek and he smiles.

“You didn’t wake me!” I shout and scrambleupright in the bed and put space between us. I’m not sure if I’m more angryover the fact that he climbed into bed without waking me or that by leaving myphone off, I missed the chance to be there for him when he landed. But he justlays there, watching me with tired blue eyes.

“I didn’t wake you,” he says softly, one handreaching for me and falling short on the bed, “because you looked so peacefuland wonderful, and all I wanted to do was to sleep next to you for a few hours.Just sleep with the knowledge that I wouldn't be alerted soon, and withouthaving to block out the sound of mortar shells.”

“How's that working out for you?” I ask,resenting the fact that he's the one who brought it up, reminded me that hewasn't all that much safer than I was over there. He shrugs.

“Not so well. It's so quiet here.”

“Yeah,” I say and fold my hands in my lap as weadd to the silence. Staring at one another, neither one of us knowing what tosay, and I wonder if I will feel like an interloper in this part of my lifetoo, caught in a world I no longer understand. I search his blue eyes for somehint of the person I left a year ago. His eyes are the same color, but they'reguarded. Maybe even frightened. And defensive. I don't know how to talk to thisperson.

“This is weird, isn't it?” I whisper. He bracesa hand on the mattress and sits up so our eyes are on the same level, but hedoesn't reach for me again.

“Feels that way, doesn't it?” he asks.

“Prim wanted to know if you’d be coming with menext week.”

“Yeah. If you want me too,” he says and I nod,because what am I supposed to say to this cautious dance around each other.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“I could eat,” he says. We make our way into thekitchen and eat the rest of my chicken, salad, and bread from dinner lastnight. In silence. And we don't touch one another.

I try to summon some sort of feeling. But I'm sotired of fighting and I know he must be too. Maybe it's too late for us.

Two years of visits here and there while he wentthrough his training pipeline, existing on phone calls and quick weekends inwhich we tried to cram months worth of time missing each other. But there wasalways another absence looming on the horizon, and in those absences, it becamenecessary to survive alone. Without each other.

He fought to get an assignment that somewhatmatched up with mine, requesting an airframe that others in his service oftenlook down on, shocking his superiors when he wanted and pursued a heavy insteadof a sleek shiny fighter. Requesting a base slated for closure just because itwas attached to the fort I was assigned to. Fought to line up our deploymentsso we weren't waving at one another as we swapped places. And now, each of ustwo deployments in, I wonder if we spent so much time and effort trying to betogether that we don't know how to exist together anymore.

He flicks crumbs across his plate as we sit insilence, his foot bouncing nervously beneath the table. It's a twitch he'snever had before and I don't know what to think of it. Shouldn't we be happy?Crawling all over one another and ravenous?

Peeta takes a deep breath and I look up to findhim already watching me. “Think I'll unpack...since I'm awake now.”

“Okay,” I say, pushing away the guilt that Iwoke him after so little sleep when I’ve wasted almost an entire day moping inbed.

We move around one another, returning personalitems to their places, shoving one load after another into the washing machine,wiping away the fine layer of powdered sand that’s accumulated on almosteverything. We barely speak, just two ghosts sharing a house. I'm not even sureI'd call it a home.

“Grocery shopping?” he suggests after we'vestored our footlockers in the garage and I nod. I can't even look at him as wedress, afraid I'll find new scars or markings on his body that tell the talesof whatever horrors he lived through. And I don't feel his eyes on me either.

“Your car or mine?” he asks softly as he doubleknots his shoes.

“Mine,” I say automatically, and he nods butstill tucks his keys into his jeans pocket. I catch a brief glimpse of hisairborne keychain, dulled a little but still attached to his house key.

We limit our conversation to the necessary whilewe drive to the grocery store, and while we fill our cart. At one point, herests a palm on the small of my back as he leans around me to grab a box ofcrackers while I read a label and try not to fall apart at the minute touch.The heat of his hand sears through my shirt, and I lean back into it. When hemoves away, the disappointment rushes through me, swift and painful.

He tosses the box of crackers into the cart andlooks back at me, a small and hesitant smile curving his lips up just on oneside. And I can't take it anymore, pretending like everything's normal and fineand I’m not five seconds from falling apart. I drop the saltines on the groundand fling myself at him.

He only hesitates a second before his arms surgearound me and he buries his face in my neck, releasing a quiet shuddering noisethat might be a sob or a sigh of relief. I still shake with fears anduncertainties, my fingers digging into the back of his neck to make sure hedoesn't vanish from my arms. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips touchmy neck. And I don't care that we're in the middle of a grocery store with adozen people muttering in discontent as they have to maneuver their cartsaround us.

“What’s happening to us, Katniss?” he whispers,and I know he’s not talking about the nightmares or the shortened tempers, butthe apathy. The need to not make a big deal out of things, not even a reunionafter an entire year apart. Or the fact that it’s easier to ignore the possibilityof hurt or death or worse because if you think about it, you’ll go mad.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“I missed you so much it physically hurts,” hesays, his arms shaking against me for a moment. I think about how many timesthese arms have been my refuge from the world. Always so warm and strong.

“Me, too,” I admit. But we’ve opened thefloodgates and words pour forth from his lips.

“It was bad enough being here and watching thenews. I’d go fucking crazy watching it, looking for you in the footage, hopingI’d get just a glimpse of you and dreading it at the same time. But being therewas a million times worse. Every time we got called for medevac or to moveH.R., I’d feel ill, certain that I’d be seeing your face or your name on acasket and knowing it’d be more than I could bear. Katniss, I don’t know if I’dever be happy again if I lost you.”

My eyes burn with unshed tears. I should tellhim about my nightmares, too. RPG’s and planes shot from the sky. The wordsstick in my throat, and then someone behind us clears theirs impatiently. Iswipe at my eyes as Peeta releases me and we step apart enough to look at theintruder.

“Excuse me. You’re blocking the shelf,” shesays, oblivious to or blatantly ignoring the obvious tears in both our eyes. Areminder that this is not the place for either of us to break down. Not with anaudience.

“Thank you for your patience,” Peeta says toher, bending to scoop the dropped box of crackers off the floor and depositingit in our cart as we walk away. Only this time, we join hands and each use onehand to steer the cart.

Our conversation is still somewhat stilted afterthat, and maybe it will be for awhile as we adjust back to each other’spresence, to the comfort of relative safety and the absence of the fears of thenight.

We pay for our groceries and I manage to get ushome without incident. As I cut off the engine, Peeta reaches out a hand tosqueeze my thigh and I look up at him while I press to shut the garage door,the remote now with a fresh battery. His thumb rubs up and down my thigh, asoothing touch along a rubbed raw nerve.

The air around us already hangs heavy withhumidity, but under his steady gaze, it thickens until it’s almost stifling. Heleans towards me and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. Peeta haltshalfway between us, his eyes flickering down to my mouth and then away with anearly inaudible sigh. For now, I will ignore the voice in the back of my headthat insists there’s no point. One or both of us will just be heading back outthe door in six to twelve months. A seesaw of adjustment to life and thensurvival. Or maybe they’re just two different kinds of survival. But I refuseto let this wall stand between us a second longer.

With my hands firm on the steering wheel, I moveto meet him over the gearshift and capture his lips with mine. His fingers onmy thigh clench and he brings his other hand up to hold me to him, his palmwarm on the side of my neck, his thumb tracing a path from the corner of mymouth to the edge of my jaw and back again. And I can't believe we waited thislong. I let go of the steering wheel and grip his shirt instead, yankingroughly on the fabric, needlessly because he’s not pulling back or going anywhere.

He tilts his head and I open my mouth withouthim asking, because I need this kiss right now. Right here. The soft tremorthat shakes through me at the first touch of his tongue to mine. We are sloppyand graceless, but one kiss only makes me want more. All too soon, though,Peeta gently separates our mouths with one last suckle of my bottom lip betweenhis.

“We should get the cold items put away beforethey all melt,” he croaks and I nod, although I’d much rather kiss him for thenext hour. Releasing my leg to open his door, Peeta kisses the tip of my noseand smiles at me.

With each mundane task that we complete, thegaping wound between us knits together. A gradual healing. By the time we’vefinished putting our groceries away and managed to prepare and consume a meallike human beings, I’m thinking of tonight, about spooning with him in bed,less in terms of something we just do and more in terms of the comfort that itmight provide.

When Peeta stifles a massive yawn, I suggestheading to bed, even though I’m not tired yet. He has to be beyond exhausted.Within seconds of crawling into bed, his breathing evens out and I lay in thecircle of his arms, listening to the calm sounds of spring outside our openwindow.

Eventually, sleep takes me as well, and while Istill see things I’d rather not, they’re easier to face with Peeta’s arms warmand steady around me.

Some time during the night, I wake to darknessand feather soft touches drifting up and down my side, beneath my shirt, aroundto my belly and up my ribs, back down and around to my side. Over my hip, thetouches dulled through the fabric of my shorts, igniting on my thighs before hereturns to my torso. For a second, I wonder if he’s even awake, but then hislips brush over my neck and I shiver. Peeta’s touches halt and I bite my lip,wanting him to continue.

“Why’d you stop?” I finally whisper.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers back.

“I don’t mind,” I say and rest my hand over his,guiding it in the soft caresses for a moment before I tuck my hands beneath mycheek and relax into his touch as he continues unguided. Each delicate brush ofhis fingers lulls me deeper into a boneless state of bliss, reminding me ofjust how starved I’ve been for something like this, for the softness of hisloving touches. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” he whispersand kisses the back of my neck.

“No,” I murmur, content to lay here and let himkeep doing what he’s doing.

“I’m thinking about that quart of chocolate icecream in the freezer.” It’s not what I was expecting him to say, but my eyesjump open as the idea takes hold.

“You have my attention,” I say and he chucklesbefore kissing my neck again. Then he’s up and tugging me off the bed. We hurryinto the kitchen, laughing as I slide across the floor in my socked feet. Peetagrabs the ice cream while I get the bowls and spoons. Within minutes, we’reseated at the table and enjoying the frozen treat.

“Dear diary,” I say as I moan around my firstspoonful and then stare at the smeared reflection of my face in the bowl of thespoon. “It has been seven months since my last ice cream. And even then, it wasmelted by the time I got to eat it.”

“That’s just sad,” Peeta says and grabs thecontainer, adding another scoop to mine. “You need to catch up.”

“That’s a lot of empty calories,” I protest andhe shakes his head.

“We’ll burn them off later,” he says, andalthough the comment could be perfectly innocent, my stomach does a strangeflip and warmth pools in my chest in spite of the freezing chocolate in mymouth.

Peeta keeps eating, oblivious to the effect ofhis comment, and so I continue to spoon one bite after another into my mouth,savoring it like I haven’t savored anything in months. In between bites, wemanage to open a little more, share a few of the lighter tales of our timeoverseas. It’s relaxing, sitting here enjoying a midnight snack, him in hisboxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt, me in my pajama shorts and a tank top.It feels like something we could do everyday, made special in its normalcy.Eventually, though, our spoons both scrape our bowls to get the last melteddrops. I tip my bowl up and drink what the spoon can’t get.

“Are they useful calories if they’re slurped?”Peeta asks. When I lower my bowl to scowl at him, he’s grinning, blue eyessparkling in laughter. And for just a second, I see the eyes of the boy I fellin love with in the face of the man I still can’t survive without. My bowl hitsthe table with a loud clink and I wrinkle my nose at him. He bites hislip, like he’s trying not to laugh out loud.

“What?” I ask sharply.

“Nothing,” he says as he gathers both our bowlsand rinses them before loading them in the dishwasher. I toss the ice creamback in the freezer and set my hands on my hips to glare at him. “It’s just,you’ve got some ice cream on your chin.”

I swipe at my chin as unwanted heat floods mycheeks and spreads down my neck. Here I was thinking maybe our relaxing midnightsnack would help us leap the last unspoken hurdle, and I can’t even eat like anadult. Oh so sexy. But Peeta’s smile won’t be contained as he moves to stand infront of me and lifts his hand to my face.

“You missed,” he whispers, swiping his thumbover my chin. “And you call yourself a sharp shooter.”

His hand leaves me and his eyes still dance withmirth as he sucks the ice cream from his skin. In a flash, I am heated andrestless, unable to look away from his pink lips as they pucker around histhumb or the deep pools of blue as he watches me.

“That was mine,” I whisper and he pauses withhis thumb still in his mouth. When he removes it, the silence of the kitchenshatters with the soft sucking noise of release.

“Come and get it,” he breathes. We stare at oneanother for what feels like ages, the moment strung tighter than a bow ready tofire. We snap at the same time, mouths colliding and hands grasping shirts andhair.

Peeta steps forward, forcing me back until I’msandwiched between him and the refrigerator. His mouth slants over mine againand again, ravenous and demanding. I can’t tell my moans from his as Ifrantically relearn the feel of his hair, the back of his neck, his shouldersbeneath a soft cotton shirt. The taste of his tongue and the ridges of hismouth. When his hand cups my breast and kneads it in the same rhythm as thehand massaging the back of my neck, my fingers clench, scraping my nails overhis skin. His hips thrust into me and we both moan as my stomach somersaultsfrom hungry to rapacious.

Peeta flattens his body against mine and triesto say something that gets lost between our joined lips. His arms circle me, asteel band of support and I lift my feet to wrap my legs around his hips,trusting that he won’t drop me. With careful steps, he walks us back to thebedroom, but I refuse to stop kissing him. A year. An entire yearwithout his lips and hands on me.

We need to catch up.

When his knees hit the bed, our mouths joltapart and I giggle as we flop onto it, Peeta’s hands and the soft mattressbracing the fall as we bounce and he smiles at me before he resumes kissing me,our hips pressed together as we shift restlessly against one another. My feetcaress over the backs of his thighs and his hands encourage me, skimming overmy legs and grasping my ankle to wrap my leg around him again.

I want our shirts off. I can feel the heat ofhim burning through the fabric that still separates us. I want it unfilteredand undiluted on my bare skin. But I don’t want to stop kissing him to tell himthat either, so I leave the clothes and let the need build and scratch at thehairs on his neck and the back of his head.

After who knows how many minutes of this, hecomes up panting and tears at my shirt. Relieved, I arch my back and lift myarms so he can remove it to throw it across the room. I’m expecting him to takehis off, too, and gasp as he instead fuses our mouths together, the cotton ofhis shirt dragging over my nipples. The unexpected stimulation does wickedthings to my nerves, my legs pulling him closer in response, until the hardridge of his arousal presses into the soft folds of mine. His hips buck in myembrace, the sudden pressure sending a frisson of need all the way out to myfingertips.

“Katniss,” he gasps as he lifts his head to transferhis mouth to my throat. Each word he speaks is kissed into my skin, lower andlower on my body. “Hold. Onto. Something,” he warns, pausing only to give eachbreast one quick, hard suck and a moan of appreciation before he moves on. “Ihave an entire year of not tasting you to make up for.” Until he reaches mypajama shorts and silently slides them and my panties down my legs, lays mebare to his gaze. I slip my hands beneath the pillow and grab hold of it whilehe stares at me.

“Say something,” I whisper when he remains quietand still, staring between my legs beyond the point where I am still confidentin his desire for me.

“Words aren’t enough to describe how incredibleyou are. I’ll just have to show you,” he murmurs.

The bed bounces as he drops heavily between mylegs. With no warning or preamble, he wraps his hands beneath my thighs andholds me open, his mouth descends and he moans loudly as he suckles my folds.At first, I squirm, the sensation of being licked there distant and no longerfamiliar. But Peeta doesn’t let me hide behind shyness or uncertainty. Hismouth is on a quest, and before long, I’ve forgotten time and distance,writhing beneath the onslaught that sets my entire body aflame with need.

I grip his hair and then mine. The sheets andthen his hair again. I watch him until I can’t, my body taking over andbanishing thought in favor of feeling as I crest and shudder, moaning gibberishinto the night.

Instead of stopping, though, Peeta keeps going.His tongue pushing deep inside me to drink of me as I tremble and yell that Ican’t. But apparently, I can, as he sends me careening over another peak whenhe flicks his tongue over my clit then sucks it into his mouth.

Falling limp, on the bed, I gasp for air andgroan in beautiful agony. Still, Peeta gives me no reprieve, sliding his handsover my legs until he grips my calves and pushes my knees up until they touchmy ribs.

“Peeta, please,” I beg, unable to articulate thesearing feeling I can’t escape as his mouth continues it’s sweet torment. Hetakes it to mean that I want another, but it feels so good that each swipe ofhis tongue actually hurts. “Too much,” I finally manage to gasp.

Undeterred, Peeta’s head shakes as though he’stelling me “no,” but the result is a streak of pleasure so acute that I screamand kick wildly, thrashing on the bed violently enough to unseat him.

“Fuck!” I hear him exclaim, followed by a loudthud, but I am so lost in the shudders still wracking my body that I don’trealize what’s happened until the pounding of my heart calms enough for me tohear clearly again. It’s only then that I notice that Peeta’s not between mylegs any more. Not even touching me nor even on the bed.

“Peeta?” I ask hesitantly and his laughterdrifts up to me from the floor at the foot of the bed. Gathering my wits, Ishift to the edge and peer down at him. He’s lying on his back, looking up atme with a pleased grin on his face, one hand behind his head and the otherresting leisurely on his stomach. If it weren’t for the obvious strain of hiscock against the cotton of his briefs, I’d think he was just reclining downthere to get a rest.

“What happened?” I ask, self-consciously runninga hand through my own hair and tucking strands back behind my ears.

“You came so hard, you kicked me off the bed,”he says, but he doesn’t seem too upset about it. He reaches up and grasps mywrist. “Come here.”

I squeal as he tugs me over the edge and ontohis chest, but then I let go any embarrassment or doubt as he pulls me down tokiss him again. This time, it’s leisurely, allowing me a chance to recover fromwhatever the hell it is he just did to me. He reaches up and yanks the duvetdown to cover us both as he ends the kiss, his arms cuddle me to his chest andI settle my head on his shoulder. He’s still hard against me, but doesn’t seemto be in a rush to find his own relief. As it was when I woke earlier, his handtraces delicately over my skin, my back this time.

A restless longing takes place in my breast, andeven though he seems content to take things slow, this kind of hunger won’t besated easily. When he makes no move, I push myself off his chest and sit,straddling his hips.

“Where’re you going?” he asks quietly.

“Nowhere,” I tell him, but make my fingers walkdown his torso towards myself.

His eyes jump between my hands and my face as Iwatch him for any sign that he doesn’t want this as much as I do, but when myfingers curl beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, he lifts his hips fromthe floor and pushes them down his legs. I move my hips, dragging my still wetlips over the length of his cock. With a curse, Peeta drops his hips back tothe floor, his shorts still somewhere on his legs as I take him in hand andkeep up the steady revolutions of my hips over him, sliding him through both myhand and my lips.

“Oh fuck me, that feels like heaven,” he groans,eyes riveted to what I’m doing to him. I bite my lip and brace a hand on histhigh, and even though I just came three times on the bed, I already wantanother. Heat and blood pulse through me as I move and Peeta whines a little,his hands massaging my thighs.

I started this to tease him, but it quickly hasme just as excited as him. I let go of his cock and instead grip his shirt,tugging on it like it’s a set of reins and the only thing keeping me frombucking wildly on top of him.

“Katniss, please,” he begs and bites his lip,lifts his head and smacks it back on the floor in distress. “I wanna cum insideyou.”

With a nod, I shift myself and he aligns us,releasing a string of expletives as I sink down onto him, his right leg kickingin rapid succession as he tries to hold back. Taking his face in my hands, Ibend over and kiss him as we move. Short, sweet tastes as I slide up and downhis cock. Peeta’s arms wrap around me, hold me close as he draws hearts andswirls on my back, guides my hips in riding him. I try to keep it slow, but hekneads my ass and pushes my hips so they roll over him instead of bouncing. Mybody grasps hold of the pleasure and I take it, following his lead until mylegs start to cramp and I have to straighten them alongside his, laying my bodyflat on top of him.

When I can move again, I slide up his body andkeen into the night as he curses beneath me. It’s the best of both, taking hiscock in and out while still grinding my clit against him. I grab his chin andhold him so I can stare into his eyes, foggy with need and deeper than theocean. He whispers to me, dirty words in broken phrases.

“I dreamt about this every night, alone in ourbed and then in my bunk. How fuckin’ sexy you are when you’re on top of me, mycock deep inside you. Jerking myself off when my balls ached with the need tocome. I’d have to bite my lips so no one would here me and blow my load in ashirt or a sock and do laundry the next day. Fuck, Katniss,” he breaks off toswallow and kiss me a moment before I push his head back to the floor because Iwant his words right now.

“I’ve been starving for the feel of your lips anywhereon me I could get them, your legs around me, and fuck, your tits on my chest,god they feel so good there. And your pussy. I’ve needed your pussy on my cockevery day since the day you left. Fucking starving so bad for the clench ofyour walls and the smoke in your eyes as you come for me.”

I grip his shoulder and move faster, his wordsdrawing forth a greater arousal and making the slide smooth and easy asbreathing. But it’s not enough to get me there. I whimper and tell him that Ineed more and he grips my thighs, spreading me wide over him as he bends hisknees and leverages himself on his feet to thrust up into me. He’s groaningloudly, getting close as I still lag behind him. And for some reason I think ofthe night I first mentioned the possibility of our future together. I had noidea where we’d be on this night, but I remember the tremulous way he’d offeredme an out, if I’d wanted it. How scared and brave he’d looked as he tried tohide the hurt that just the thought my leaving caused him. Then how he cededcontrol to me without question and let me fuck myself sore and hoarse on him.

“Pull my hair, Peeta,” I urge and brace myselfto help.

“What?” he asks with wide eyes.

“Pull my fucking hair,” I order him and his handshifts to grip the short locks. Then I borrow the words that sent me hurtlingtowards my own orgasm all those years ago. I’ve never forgotten them. “Now takewhat you want. Your cock wants it so bad. I can feel it. Hot and pulsinginside of me.”

He makes a strangled noise as his fingers tanglein my hair and his hand yanks on me, slamming our bodies together again andagain as pain tingles across my scalp then mellows into pleasure.

“Stop holding back and fill me with your fuckingcum,” I demand and my muscles ache with the effort of maintaining this pace,but he shouts my name and his hips jerk erratically as his eyes squeeze shut.He stops moving, but I keep going, milking him until he grabs my ass and shovesme down onto him even as he thrusts up into me one last time. We remain there,hips suspended above the floor while he finishes with an elongated moan.

When he relaxes, dropping us to the floor, Itake his lips with mine and kiss the shuddering breaths from his throat. Hishands flex and clench on my ass and then start my hips rolling again, andbefore I can think or prepare myself, I shatter with a soft sigh, my clitpulsing against him as warmth and wonderment floods through me.

Peeta makes a sound of contentment in his throatas his leg spasms once more before we lay there, a mess of heavy breathing andfinally sated bodies.

“Too long,” he groans, his voice rumbling in hischest beneath my cheek. “A year is far too fucking long to go without you.”

“Yeah,” I agree. Then, because I am an idiot anddon’t think before I speak when I am a melted puddle spread across him, I saysomething stupid. “How long do you think we can live like this?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, shifting us so thatwe’re eye to eye. “But I’m willing to work for us for the rest of my life, ifthat’s what it takes, Katniss.”

“Me, too,” I whisper and kiss him once more toseal the promise.

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theholykook-blog · 8 years

Text

The Bangtan Boys (BTS x Gang)

Hey guys! Long time no POST! Well a while ago I wrote this, and here it is! My Bangtan x GTA, gangsta scenario thingy, please enjoy! Maybe I’ll continue? Ummmm....Request, yeah I take those but they take a while lol....

He pressed his eraser to his lips. Teeth grinding on the sponge like substance as small dough-ish chunks came off. Time ticked in his head, oh how it ticked loud. There would be only six minutes till the sound of freedom freed him, but even that wasn't enough. Everything around him seemed blurred. He hardly knew where he was at, why he was here, what anyone was saying.

As his subconscious took over, his eyes grew droopy.

Five minutes.

This was a fight he believed he could win. A mental fight. Shaking himself slightly, he blinked. All he had to do was focus, and yet... It was just too hard?

"Jungkook." A voice called to the brown eyed boy as he shook his head in shock from finally being pulled out of his boring conscious.

"Y-yes." He stutters in an attempt to make it seem as if he were paying attention. People take notice at the boys obvious obliviousness and chuckle.

"Jungkook, can you answer this last problem?" The woman who could be reaching her mid fifties question the lost boy who was one point five seconds from la-la land.

He looked at the board. His eye registering nothing but gibberish. It was literally like a foreign language to him.

As the woman waits impatiently, he blanks out.

He sits there and listens, once again, to time clicking.

"Jungkook..." The woman presses. You can clearly hear the emphasis of annoyance she was putting on his name, but he ignored it.

The once confused boy turned from being perplexed to being cocky, the mischievous grin growing on his face.

"Ms...." He taunts with the same tone giving a small smile at the end when he sees the lady's eyebrow twitch.

"Jeon Jungkook if you don't answer this--!" The sudden lecture the young boy was in danger of receiving was postponed by the sound of the bell.

Cockily he got up, giving out a small yet cunning smile. "Sorry Ms, but better luck next time." He winks at the end slinging his backpack over his shoulders.

Before anymore could be said or done he swiftly dashed out the class, dodging a few kids and making his way out of school.

Yes, school. The substitute for juvenile detention. Something he would probably later be in.

And who was he? Well....

"Jungkook!" His name would be called from his friends in the parked car blasting the loud music.

The smirk that plastered on his face would turn into a big grin as he walked from the school curve to the road.

Jeon Jungkook; a young high school boy, who was more close to being a criminal than being anything "fundamental". Robbery may have been the only true crime he got his hands dirty in; but drug dealing, prostitution, and even the work hours of the police. You needed it, he knew it and had it. The streets were his homeland, and this was sadly the only life he truly knew.

But this story didn't solely just base off of this young Hooligan. Nope, there were six more.

Jungkook leaned into the cars' passenger side grinning at the two people who he would claim to be his brothers.

"Ah, so they actually let you two hold the car?" He joked as the one who'd been seated in the passenger seat frowned.

"Honestly, I can't believe it either. I mean I understand letting ME drive, but they really insisted on letting Taehyung steer." The orange haired boy complained.

"Uh, Jimin last I checked I actually HAVE a license?" The driver who's hair was a soft brown smirked.

"A forged licenses?" Jimin cocked his eyebrow staring at him accusingly.

Kim Taehyung; the one who's face could fool a thousand people. He had such an innocent aura, but boy was he reckless. Rules weren't his thing, and if he wasn't forging anything that needed "legal permission", then he was dealing at your local corner. The face that so many people would trial not guilty was the same face that would go out every night and do something very guilty.

Taehyung shoved the boys arm cracking a smile out of him, while Taehyung's deep voice laughed. "You're one to talk. At least I'm not beating the shit out of someone for THEIR license."

Park Jimin; your very own gang leader, or at least he might as well be. Although he wasn't the pure brains of their mini group, he surely was the strength. Logical-legal ways weren't his way of thinking, but if you told him the gang from two blocks down were coming with thirty men and guns, he'd definitely have a devised plan on escaping or even DEFEATING them all. Although he wasn't the most patient, Jimin had a sweet side with ladies. It was just his thing. But the boiling blood in him could never be tamed, and that's just who he was.

Jungkook rolled his eyes at the two before opening the door to the backseat. Nothing more was on his mind than getting to their house, and getting into some trouble.

As Taehyung starts the car, Jimin would turn around in his seat. "So how was school darling~" He said in an overly motherly tone.

Jungkook rolled his eyes playing along. "Well mother today was a jolly good day, even though I didn't learn jack shit. I also managed to not get sent to the principal for once." He stated as if it were the biggest accomplishment in the world.

Jimin nodded approvingly, "And your grades?" He continued the act.

"All Ds'." Jungkook stats with an award-winning smile, and that's when Jimin finally breaks his character, turning around and entering a laughing fit

"Man, why don't you just drop out?" Taehyung questions, eyeing him from the rear view mirror.

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but quickly closes it. Frowning his eyebrows he thought to himself, why was he still in school?

His teachers didn't care for him? His principal didn't care for him? His parents didn't care for him? So what would he have to lose?

Maybe it was because they hadn't kicked him out yet, maybe somewhere deep down inside he felt that he could probably make something of himself, but then again maybe that was all just a lie.

"Hmmm...Not really sure, guess I just wanna give my school hell." He joked only causing his friends to roll their eyes. "Speaking of Hell. Jimin, don't you have a date tonight?" Jungkook inquires, making Jimin turn in his seat again.

"How does a date and Hell correlate?" He asked the youngest confused. Jungkook and Taehyung simultaneously begin to cackle, and now Jimin is pushed even more into the world of perplexity.

"Jimin...Jimin, Jimin, Jimin," Taehyung shakes his head as what he is about to say is just extremely humorous to them. "You my friend are not just going on a date with any girl. You're going on a date with Lean's girl." Taehyung laughs again, stopping the car at a red light and looking at his buddy.

The joke clicks in Jimin's head and he slides a grin of pleasure. "You guys are over exaggerating."

"We won't be when you're dead," Jungkook snorts, "Twenty says his date ends with him running all the way home from Lean and his gang."

Taehyung shook his head, "Thirty says he runs home from Lean and his gang WITH Lean's girl."

Jimin clicked his tongue before huffing, "Fifty says this date goes fine. I mean it's not like me and her suddenly just got together out of random. Her and I've been talking for a while. She hates Lean, and is ready to leave him. She just needs a bit more time." He shrugs.

Both Jungkook and Taehyung let out a groan.

"Here we go again," Jungkook starts

"Love struck Jimin." Taehyung finishes.

The light turns green and Taehyung presses on the gas again, now zooming home. The conversation however wasn't entirely over.

It wasn't until Taehyung was speeding down familiar streets, then parking into one particular lot. Jimin snapped.

"What the hell does that mean?!" He asked agitated.

Taehyung and Jungkook had gotten out of the car, and looked at Jimin with puzzlement.

"What are you talking about?" The second youngest would question locking the car, and heading into the lobby to their penthouse.

Yes, no matter how out of control the boys may seemed, they enjoyed luxury.

Walking through the lobby Taehyung throws a wink to the building assistant making her blush as he continues to the elevator. Jimin rolls his eyes as Taehyung steps into the elevator.

"The whole 'love struck Jimin' shit?" He reminded entering as well.

Being reminded causes Taehyung to chuckle again, but he doesn't yet reply. He allows the three of them to travel up the 30 levels in silence.

Jimin being annoyed looked to Jungkook, who only presses his lips together silencing his entertainment.

When the elevator stops at the 30th floor, they're given a small buzz insisting they needed a security card in order for the elevator to open.

Taehyung took his card from his pocket and injects it into the "Insert Card Here" area located next to the elevator buttons. Once buzzed in, the elevator door opens.

The chaotic noises of boys playing video games would erupt, and all three of the boys would feel the safety of home.

Taehyung heads to living room, dropping his eyes on one of the hallways tables nearby, and takes a seat. Still ignoring Jimin's question.

Jimin, however, stands in front of Taehyung. "What does it mean, Tae." He glares.

Taehyung takes a moment of silence thinking it over, before he sighs.

"Jimin. This is Lean and ALANA! They've been together since lord knows when. Do you really think she's gonna leave him for you?" Taehyung snickers.

Lean and Alana; a troublesome duo. Of course Lean made all the money, Lean did the killing, and Lean would be considered the boss. However, everyone knew Alana was really in control. Lean was wrapped around her pinky finger. Their relationship was toxic, almost dangerous, yet so many admired it. Alana a young, small, pale skinned, firey red hair and soft lips girl managed to capture the heart of a almost psychotic man. As much as she tried to run away, she'd always run back. Their love was tainted, but who would really tell them that?

"What are we talking about?" One of the guys who had himself spiraled out on their black sofa playing their gaming console perks in.

"Jimin and Alana." Jungkook answers walking out from the kitchen with a bag of chips in his hand. He plops himself next to Taehyung on their second sofa and continues, "They have a date tonight." He informs.

This is when the other boy laying along the floor of the sofa jumps in, he had also been playing the console as well, but he pauses it to look at Jimin. "You haven't dumped her yet?"

Jimin puts his hands on his hips staring at his friends in shock. "No sorry, Jin, I'm not like you." He pressed on his friends name, and is only given an eye-roll in return.

"The hell does that mean?" Jin asks eyebrows scrunched.

Instead of Jimin responding it was the one from the couch who responded. "It means that he can't pick up girls for one night, smash, and then leave."

Kim SeokJin; No, he's not related to Taehyung. But boy would Taehyung be lucky if he was. The man was a walking bank. The only one to be working at a successful, LEGAL, paying job. Hell he was the only reason his friends could afford living in this penthouse. Jin was a business man, almost reaching his mid-twenties but not fully their yet, his marketings were spiraling out of control. He owned three hotels, and had his own four, soon to be five star restaurant. But even thought he was successfully making dough, he too found himself whisked into the life of crime. Although he didn't deal drugs, or dabble in the sea of prostitution. He did get into a lot of gang fights, and almost every business rival of his knew this. It was this reason that no one ever really messed with him. They knew he wasn't afraid to pop someone in their jaw, or even worse KILL someone. But unlike Jimin, his soft spot for ladies always lasted one night. He was beyond rich. Chicks just didn't hold his att ention, unless he needed...attention.

Jin rolled his eyes, "Well, had I gotten myself tied down like this fool, I probably would've been scammed by a woman long time ago, and none of would be living here." He grins thinking back to all the women who attempted to get with him just for his money.

"Who is we? I probably make the exact same income as you." The guy from the couch spoke confidently.

"Hoseok... Your living is robbing." Jungkook clarified.

"And I only rob the best." He corrects.

Jung Hoseok; a the thief of thieves. Like Jungkook the streets were his true callings, but boy did he have sticky fingers. Anything he liked, he stole, anything he wanted, he stole. He was the literal definition of "I get what I want." Yet, no matter how much he stole, he was truly an innocent kind young man. He had just a few morals, and being able to provide and keep his friends safe was his main one.

Everyone, except a frustrated Jimin, laughs. "Watch y'all are gonna see when I have the finest girl in our town, all over me." He finally shrugs.

All the guys go silent before again, Laughing.

"So twenty says his night ends with him running from Lean's men?" Jin bets.

"I already said that." Jungkook chuckles, before Jimin storms off.

They'll see.

The night would start with Jimin taking one of their more expensive cars out of the parking lot. Although he wasn't dressed in anything more than black ripped jeans, black boots, and his black bape jacket. He did want to at least make her feel special driving in a special car.

He would then drive to their meet up location, a small McDonald's not so far from Lean'a house, and he'd pick her up from there. She'd be wearing a red short dress that just curved out her body in all the right places, causing Jimin to be anxious to make her officially his.

Small chat in the car would end, when Jimin pulls up at a three star restaurant almost across town, ya know for safety purposes.

After checking in reservation and Jimin following behind her like a lovesick puppy they would now find themselves seated in a restaurant, waiting for their meals to arrive.

"So how long have you known your friends?" Alana questions her brown eyes staring curiously.

Jimin frowns having to think, since it has been a long time. "Well there is Taehyung, who I told you about, I think we've probably known each other the longest. Like we go all the way back to young school days. Then there's Namjoon who introduced us to Jin when we were in our second to last year of high school, and then comes along Hoseok, Jungkook, and Yoongi... So all in all... A solid 6 years? But damn does it feel longer." He smiles to himself at the end.

No matter how much his friends would tease him, no matter how mean they may have seemed. Jimin truly loved them. For each of them they were all the other had. None of them truly had real blooded family to fall back on. And if they did, they didn't want to.

Jungkook's parents were to busy scolding him on why he wasn't like his brother that they pushed him away. Jin's family never believed in his dream to become a chef yet only when his restaurant started to get booked by A-List celebrities did they suddenly know the meaning behind "family".

Taehyung was probably the closest to his family, but he wasn't foolish enough to show it. Not only was he living a life of crime and money, but he was living a life that he had to continuously watch his back. All of them were. And it was for that they would limit there family interactions, and keep themselves close as a family.

"Hmmm....That's cute," Alana states causing Jimin to blush feeling embarrassed that he even showed off his soft state. "But, I think you could do more without them." She declares, and it was at this moment Jimin recalls the video of Kermit the frog falling out the window, and his world pauses.

"What?" Jimin tries to play amused, but the fact that this girl who he only knew for three weeks even attempted to judge what he could do WITHOUT his friends bugged him.

"I'm just saying. Lean used to be like you. Up his buddies asses all the time. It was truly sad. It wasn't until he got with me that he discovered what life was really about. But even now he's still screwed up my ass." She laughs softly shaking her head.

"That's nice and all, but I'm not Lean. And my friends aren't Lean's friends. Whatever type of fucked up manipulative shit you did to Lean, you're not gonna do to ME." Jimin explains simply.

At first Alana is shocked he even talked to her like that, but after a few seconds she finds herself smirking. "And it's this reason I'm here with you. Not a lot of people, especially men, talk to me like that. And something tells me...I kinda like it." Her tone was low and seductive.

Ah, Jimin's weakness.

Whatever annoyance he had for her, slowly got pushed away as the anxiousness in his pants grew.

"Uh-oh, seems like I have to go to the bathroom." Alana winks giving signals that just couldn't be ignored.

She gets up from the table, purposely over swaying her hips, and walking off.

Jimin gives a twenty count distances between them, before he too gets up from the table.

Pushing through the crowded restaurant, he only can guess where Alana has gone off too.

Just as he expects she's pushed up against the bathroom hallway. Looking at Jimin with lust filled eyes. Jimin can't help but give the same look in return.

Just as he's about to walk over to her though, she grins escaping through the backdoor.

"Hm, playing hard to get nice." He says to himself as he follows her.

Leaving out the backdoor he freezes now in a wide alleyway, but that wasn't the true problem.

Alana was standing there smirking, right beside her Lean, and twenty other big dudes.

"Fuck." Jimin hisses.

"Fuck is right." Lean walks over to him and without any hesitation punches him straight in the gut.

The force applied was way more than Jimin expected causing him to wheeze.

"Did you really think you could just take my girl out on luxurious dates?" This time it was a knee to the stomach.

"Like I wouldn't know?" He yanked Jimin up to look at him in the eye, slamming him against a wall. "My little flower there only played along. You have no idea how much I've been waiting for a chance to take you out. You, Jimin, the brutally notorious fighter. Doesn't really look so great to me." He laughs mockingly in Jimin's face, and his other guys laugh along.

The anger begins to boil in Jimin's body. The one thing that always made Jimin strong was that when he was truly angry whatever pain he was going through disappeared.

And it was in this moment the pain in Jimin's gut was gone.

"We'll see about that." Jimin snorts, and before Lean can even process that Jimin is no longer groaning in pain, Jimin pushes him off.

Everyone watches in amazement, as Jimin begins to start his perky boxer bounce. Lean now even more angry goes to take a swing at Jimin's face, but the young fighter only dodges it swiftly ducking, and taking two quick jabs forward. One making contacts to his ribs, the other his right cheek. Lean again tries to swing, but Jimin steps aside avoiding the out stretched arm, and grabbing it.

"You wanna see how brutal I can get?" Jimin's voice darkens, and before Lean can attempt to pull back, or say something.

Jimin brings his knee up into Lean'a elbow and then forcefully down, snapping his right arm.

There was a howl of unbelievable pain, a scream so painful that even Jimin cringed for a moment, but fully recovered.

Lean's men along with Alana were no angry.

"KILL HIM!" Alana screams tearing up from the second hand pain she was feeling from her man.

All twenty of Lean's men block any chance of Jimin exiting out of the Alley. Jimin looks around, he knew for certain he couldn't fight this battle. There were a few escape routes but he'd have to be beyond careful because one mistake and he was dead. He could climb the gate behind him, but he knew he wasn't quick enough. He could climb the stair railing attached to walls on the left of them, but he knew those railings weren't strong enough and one shake, they'd break.

He could probably take down seven at least of his men, but even then he'd still get beat to death.

Taking shallow breaths he smiled to himself. This would be the end for Jimin.

As the first man launched forward and Jimin dodged it, he would remember the great times he had with his friends.

Oh, how he wished he had listened.

Fighting three guys at once, he did a behind kick before ramming two of them into each other knocking them out cold.

There was so much he had yet done with his friends, and the only true part that saddened him was that he'd never be able to say goodbye.

Twisting around another guys arm, and throwing him into two more people, there was a sudden whistle.

Everyone froze as the gates behind Jimin rattled. Jumping down, behind him Jimin expected it was just more of Lean's men. But when a soft hand touched his shoulder, he looked acrossed to see none other than Yoongi.

Min Yoongi; crazy. The only word to describe him. Although he may have seemed calm and collected he was easy to make explode, and seeing that liquor was his favorite solution never made anything better. He was someone who really wasn't afraid of death though, he didn't hesitate to pull a trigger. And it was why he was too was also one of the most respected names on the street.

"I'm pretty sure we watched long enough." He chortled, and the sound of more jumping the gate could be heard.

"Ah you we wouldn't let you have this much fun without us." Taehyung steps in gleefully.

Jimin is only amazed as all six of his friends are here. "You guys knew?"

"Yeah, it was Namjoon who found out first." Taehyung pointed to the more tallish member amongst them who held back a grin.

Kim Namjoon; Best friend of Jin, and his right man. He was the brains of the group: smart, analytical, and quick. The truly leader without even needed to be named the leader. It was with his smarts that he was able to be known as the second and soon to be first wealthiest drug-lords in the world. Although most police knew him as wanted, many turned an eye. He was a charming businessman, making him a charming MONEY maker.

"I found out after one week of your relationship. We just wanted to see how long it would last." Namjoon laughs.

Jimin shakes his head in disbelief.

"I could've died." He states

"That's why we're here." Yoongi counters, "Now which one of you fuckers wanna go?" He beams at the probably fifteen guys standing.

There are no words until fists start colliding.

Jungkook and Hoseok are fighting back to back, dodging their opponents and then turning around and knocking out each other's.

Jin is shifting past punches, only laughing when he catches a fist in his hand and twist the wrist.

Yoongi is going ape shit, punching anyone in sight. There is no satisfaction he can hold back as the feeling of his knuckles collide with someone else's skin.

All of the boys are taking on someone while also paving a path through, the alley.

Just when they believe everyone is taken care of and Alana stands in complete shock in front of Lean's black car.

About two more trucks pull up.

The boys, now out of breathe, and let out small groans.

"You think we can fight them?" Jungkook asks his friends, and they all look over to the boy exhausted.

They don't even need to speak to already know what happens next. Turning the boys get into running positions.

"It's Friday man, why did this have to happen on a Friday." Hoseok complains, causing Jimin to laugh.

"I have homework too..." Jungkook's words really gets a kick out of everyone. They let out breathless laughs, knowing he isn't going to do his homework.

"Last one home is dead?" Namjoon jokes.

"That WOULD be funny," and just as Jimin is about to point out the obvious, there is yelling of angry men behind them. "If it wasn't true!" Jimin shouts being the first, and not last to take off running down the empty dark street.

Fuck the cars they originally took here, they had money to replace them. At this moment it was about survive, and even though they were across town, and being chased by an army of angry, murderous men. It didn't stop the smiles and laughter that took over their faces.

Bangtan Boys; Also referred to as BTS. Soon to be the most dangerous and young gang, there is to known in these streets. Seven wild boys who don't understand the term "chill". There name would shortly be known by the police, triggered by the adults, hated by other gangs, but swooned over by the ladies. They would be the boys who put true meaning into you only live one. As hard as life started for them they managed to make the best of it, together. But even all good things come to an end, right? This isn't just a story about a notorious gang of insane young boys. Rather just the beginning to a gang who would soon be known as successful, wild brothers.

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