#we aren’t even beside the border like dude

[paperuniverse]

Guy asked if we take American cash and I said no then as he was walking away he muttered “why does no one take it?”

We are in Canada sir 🧍‍♂️

[faceless-mirror]

Chapter 4: Rhythm and Rhyme

In a world where vampires are actively trying to fit in with humans, coexist safely and help each other, Vinny and his ESV(Emotional Support Vampire), Ricky, are getting to know each other and learning more and more. Adapting to the life in the contract they both signed, and are living with. As they do they border the line between Friends.... and Lovers.

Tags: @cookiesupplier @phxntxsmicgoricxl @jilliemiw86 @undead-ahead-wh0re @abiomens

Ricky had been with Vinny and the band for the past few days. Day one- Vinny knocked it out of the park. Even Chris had been stunned by the effort the younger threw into it, and tonight was one of the nights Vinny finally came out to socialize with everyone glued to Ricky’s side. Ricky’s arm was thrown over Vinny’s shoulder lightly, talking to Ryan as Vinny played on his phone. Baby steps. Little things. 

He smiled a bit at him out of the corner of his eye he could see Vinny was playing a rhythm game on his phone. It was clearly one he had picked up to distract himself. “Vinny- it’s nice to have you with us,” Ryan said making the drummer look up with those sweet green and brown eyes that felt like a forest kaleidoscope.

“W…what me? Oh-”

“It's really nice to have someone new… you also seem cool. Ricky’s been bragging you up.” Ryan commented taking a hit off his vape that smelled of strawberries and cream. “Sorry, I haven’t said much before now.”

Vinny looked up at Ricky lips slightly parted. “I… thanks.” he said turning his attention back to Ryan, “I’m still getting used to everything so it’s no big deal,” he assured the other guitarist. “It’s kinda weird being around everyone and everyone’s so talkative,” he admitted meekly, a small flare of anxiety picking up that was quickly handled by Ricky. 

“Nah…I get it,” Ryan admitted warmly to him, smoothing his hair back as she shot a smile at him warmly. “Aren’t you like… twenty?” he asked making the transition to a full conversation at least a minor bit easier for the younger.

“Yeah- Yeah, I am. I know I’m young…” “Not saying it's bad… it's impressive because you’ve mastered drumming the entire show in what… three days? Dude. That’s crazy.” Ryan pointed out, “You’re a helluva good drummer, man. We got lucky.”

Vinny was silent his lips parted in shock unsure how to accept such a compliment. “Th….thanks,” he whispered stunned before there was a noise from the kitchenette where Chris was opening the fridge to get a water bottle. 

Vinny fell silent instantly, anxiety almost drowning Ricky in the moment. Chris and Vinny hadn’t been getting along the best, not for Vinny not trying. But rather Chris’s stubbornness of dislike purely because Ricky liked Vinny as did the rest of the band. Chris knew he should be happy about it… but he couldn’t. He didn’t like seeing Ricky with this person, this willowy drummer. Seeing Ricky watch over him with those soft blues. 

The drummer swallowed as the Guitarist pulled him closer, taking in all the anxiety and stress he could. He would keep him safe. Ricky was ignoring Chris despite feeling those eyes on him and Vinny. 

“So like- you had a band before Motionless right? You mentioned it a few days ago. What kind of music was it?” Ryan asked clearly interested making Chris set his jaw trying to ignore the flare-up of frustration.  

“Oh, it was… trap music mostly. I really loved it…” he admitted, “But i fell out of it pretty fast.” Vinny answered as Ricky rubbed his back feeling the grief boil up just a bit. He had read the report. He could understand, the grief that Vinny was trying to process was… so much. Too much.

“Why’d you stop?” Chris finally asked, walking over to sit beside Ryan, who merely shifted some to make room. 

Vinny smiled sadly, trying not to overthink. “I… we were… my friend died.”

The bus fell silent. Chris swallowed. He wasn't trying to be a dick this time. Fuck. The grief that filled the room… you didn’t have to be an ESV to sense it and Ricky moved to kneel in front of Vinny, cupping his face and smoothing his hair as he fed off the grief to lower it. The youngest looked into those glowing blues breathing slow and steady, grateful, and sniffled a moment, breathing again after a minute. “T…thanks.” “No problem… wanna go for a walk to clear your head at the rest stop?” he asked to which Vinny immediately agreed. 

Chris looked at Ryan, who just watched Vinny sadly, “If you ever need to talk, Vinny, we’re all here… we won’t judge.” he promised, to which Chris nodded. 

“I wanted to apologize honestly.” Chris sighed, knowing he needed to at least try to get along with the drummer. It wasn’t Vinny’s fault Chris was a moody bitch lately. It shouldn’t be his problem either. He was smart enough to admit that… even if he hated it. He ran his fingers through his black hair averting his gaze as Vinny turned his full attention on him.

It was silent for a moment before- 

“I accept your apology. You didn’t know about anything… so I can’t blame you for wanting to know… it would have been nice to have been given more of a heads up before being told that the drums were set up for me to audition with first time meeting you though… I would have liked to warm up.” he explained softly, though it turned into a quiet ramble.

Ricky smirked at him. Gods… Vinny was a sweetheart. He may have problems but he was sweet when he was given a chance and Ricky adored it. But he wouldn’t fall in love. He had to remember that. He was nothing more than a stepping stone in Vinny’s path to recovery. 

He couldn’t resist rubbing Vinny’s cheek before standing up and sitting back down as the bus fell to silence again. It wasn’t long before they pulled into a rest stop and Ricky guided him outside with a gentle smile. “Let’s stretch out a bit. How are you feeling…?”

Following closely, Vinny smiled at him, “Sad… but also a bit happier… I missed talking to people. Ryan’s really nice. I didn’t think he would be so friendly just looking at him.” he mentioned softly, “Chris surprised me too.”

“You’re not the only one.” Ricky mumbled softly as they started to walk.

[troisfleur]

Trey.

Can't tell you my year. That'd ruin the suprise! You know what— if I can go this whole letter writing thing WITHOUT tipping off who I am, you gotta make me something. It's only fair!

(To make it easier, i'll drop clues!)

My roomie is a cool dude. Pretty chill, and good to joke around with. I'm sure you know him, being in his same dorm. And if you don't know him... seeing his track record, i'd be suprised!

Let me just sit with ya for a sec. Yeah. Pull up a chair. Make some hot cocoa.

How are YOU holding up? You sound stressed. Go ahead and vent to me all ya want. I don't mind.

To end it off, what would you want as a gift? You know. As a "hey, i feel you" after all your hard work?

-- From, Ooooh it's a secret oooh spooky you dont know who i am ooooh MYSTERY

[There’s an attempt to make the letter a little nicer this time. He found some stickers from somewhere that look like snowflakes to stick around the top and bottom of the letter, like a little border.]

HEY, NOW, we still have a week to uphold the mystique.

I could be Trey, I could be another third year entirely. There’s at least a handful of us, maybe more! I’m glad one of my potential dorm mates aren’t causing trouble, although I can’t say my authority means much when we’re all trying not to kill each other. I mean, that’s what I would say, if I was Trey Clover. [The artistic merit of the emoji notwithstanding, the end of this sentence is punctuated with a 🤭. He tried! He tried. That might make it worse.]

So, are we making wagers in the middle of these letters, now? All I did was shoot the breeze, and for my efforts I’m being put in an unwinnable situation… you know me, I only have a handful of context clues to go on for you…

I guess it would be too much of a loophole to say that I’d like an extortion-free month as my gift, huh? Probably not very really in the spirit of my dorm. Besides, the kitchen here is honestly just sad. If I was Trey Clover (and I may not be! I could be a different guy!) I think I’d just shake my head in resignation. I’ve tried my best to tidy up where I can, but everything’s outdated or one bad day away from blowing up in my face.

Hard to be enthusiastic to cook in these conditions. (I didn’t sign up to be the personal chef for anyone, to be clear. But it’s either try to work with the Ramshackle kitchen or trudge back to Heartslabyul and fight the snow.

Or another dorm’s kitchen. Maybe I’m just breaking into Heartslabyul!)

[Another attempt at an emoji doodle. 🤷‍♂️ this time. This dude failed art class, and it shows.]

How about this… if you can bring me some caulk and maybe a spatula that isn’t missing half of its blade, we can call it even.

In theory, if I did make something—granted the stove doesn’t explode—what’s your opinion on holiday flavors? Sick of them yet, or can’t get enough? (Honestly after a certain point I think I just become numb to peppermint.)

SIGNED,

Trey? Clover? We Just Don’t Know!

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.” 

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.” 

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.” 

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.” 

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.” 

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?” 

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come. 

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?” 

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you. 

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?” 

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?” 

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair. 

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.” 

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.” 

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay. 

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”  

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.” 

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.” 

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.” 

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.” 

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself. 

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?” 

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld​ / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24​

[septembriseur]

I want to come back to this article, which I reblogged a post from (after seeing it reblogged by loads of people on my dash). I recommend reading the article if you haven’t done so. Its central argument revolves around the idea that ��modern liberal democracy presents itself as non-ideological beyond ideology,” and that ideology itself is always presented in literature/media as unacceptably violent— villainous. (I would argue that, in fact, any sort of cultural “accretion,” in the sense that culture is perceived as "on top of” and obscuring universalized western ideology,  is tolerated only insofar as it is not really taken specifically or seriously. That’s why even characters who are presented as deeply religious (think of Matt Murdock or Rogue One’s Baze and Chirrut) are portrayed as religious in a way that is broad, universal, flexible, and vague. 

One issue that the article doesn’t really delve into is that supposedly “ideologue” villains are actually profoundly anideological, except insofar as their ideology is, like, anti- modern liberal democracy’s lack of ideology. A really interesting example of this is in Iron Man: Tony Stark gets held hostage by a group of extremists whose extreme belief is... well... even the MCU wiki seems unable to provide any detail on this beyond “destroying world peace.” The film employs a weird move where it obviously relies on the Afghan setting of the villainous Ten Rings to suggest associations with radical Islamism, yet also provides evidence that the Ten Rings are not Islamists. On the one hand, it provides a sort of generic Western specter of radical Islamists— brown men speaking foreign languages and living in Afghan caves— and on the other hand it coyly removes all potential religious, political, or cultural motivation for their actions. These guys aren’t impoverished tribesmen who’ve been subject to tumultuous centuries of imperial warfare, and they’re not religious extremists living out masculine power fantasies. They’re just a group of dudes who kind of look vaguely Middle Eastern and kind of sound vaguely Middle Eastern (since Arabic and Persian are the languages we hear the most). 

Of course, there’s a real-world explanation for this: Marvel wants to be able to tap into that specter of radical Islamism without offending Muslim consumers. But the textual effect is to create a picture of the world in which terrorism in Afghanistan is evacuated of all meaning. Don’t get me wrong: terrorism in Afghanistan is unbelievably destructive and to a large extent nihilistic, in that it benefits no one and spreads only despair and suffering. But at the same time, it arises out of a historical, political, economic, and religious-cultural context, and if you refuse to understand this context, then you will fail to understand why people make the choice to become terrorists (or how to stop them).

That’s the real problem here: the creation of a world in which the only rational choice is modern liberal democracy, and all other choices are nonsensical. 

Marvel is a great site at which to explore this, simply because there’s so much of it. (You could also easily look at Star Wars, as MacQuarrie does in that article— why does the First Order want power? New extended universe writers have fleshed this out more in their web of liminally canonical texts, but on screen the answer seems to be, in the words of the also-manifestly-guilty-of-this-and-guilty-in-other-ways Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible: “the world is a mess, and I just need to rule it.”) 

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a wildly characteristic example of this. It has the thankless task of trying to engage with the effects of the canonically almost effect-free (cf Spider-man: Far From Home) blip, and pieces together a weirdly nonsensical storyline in which the blip enable border-free mass migration, which was revoked when the other half of the world’s population reappeared. The plot revolves around a group of super soldier refugees/displaced persons who want to stop borders from being reimposed on the world. Sam Wilson refers to the refugees as “people who have been welcomed into countries that previously kept them out with barb wire,” and indeed it's hard to imagine any version of this narrative in which the “migration” we’re talking about is the migration of Global South nationals to the Global North. There’s a really plausible specter here: the Global North does source its manual and domestic labor from the Global South while, whenever possible, keeping Global South nationals out with barbed wire. It does make sense that the Global North would import laborers and then attempt to deport them when their presence was no longer convenient. That is, in fact, literally what has happened/is happening in the UK to foreign healthcare workers during the pandemic.

However, as in Iron Man, Marvel wants to mobilize a specter while also evacuating it of all meaning. None of the displaced people we see in TFATWS bear any resemblance to real-world displaced persons. In spite of their United Colors of Benetton racial diversity, they display no marks of culture, religion, nationality, or indeed poverty. They even have British and American accents. They are completely neutral in every way.

This matters for several reasons. First of all, it allows the viewer to differentiate between the migrants on-screen— Western-looking, English-speaking, non-religious— with migrants off-screen: [perceived to be] too religious, non-English-speaking, culturally and racially “other.” Secondly (again as with Iron Man), it removes all context from the act of migration. Why did these people become migrants? Uh... because of the blip, I guess? Beyond some vague references to suffering, it’s never addressed. This allows the viewer to completely detach the question of migrants/displacement from any of its structural context. Why do people migrate in the real world? Because their countries have been completely devastated by warfare, often proxy warfare carried out by imperial states. Because climate change has completely devastated the regions where they live, with or without triggering devastating warfare. Because they belong to ethnic, political, and/or religious groups that are being systematically destroyed by state governments. Because colonialism and neoliberal capitalism have completely devastated the economies of the regions where they live. This is why the stakes of migration are high. 

If, as the show suggests, people just migrate for various personal reasons that really aren’t that important, then the stakes are not high, and we don’t have to feel bad about the behavior of our governments. This is a huge problem at a time when Denmark is shipping Syrian asylum-seekers back to Syria because it’s apparently fine now, Joe Biden is failing to make good on campaign promises about increasing refugee quotas, the UK is housing asylum seekers in situations that violate human rights law, migrant drownings in the Mediterranean Sea have become a regular feature, and the United States has systematically resisted fulfilling its promises to Iraqis and Afghans who risked their lives working for US forces in exchange for visas.

But, like, above and beyond the specific political issue of migration: what is the Flag Smasher ideology? “One world, one people.” I accept that there might be some viewers (mostly those with no knowledge or experience of immigration) who oppose this on principle, but it seems pretty obviously... good. So the bad part is... that they’re fighting for it? (According to people in my notes, this is Bad.) It’s possible to read this as another example of what the MacQuarrie article discusses: personal violence good, ideological violence bad. However, once again we have an example of an ideology that is not ideological, an ideology that is a specter cleaned out of any possible substance. The nonsensical choice here (the one beside which modern liberal democratic norms are obvious) is the choice to commit violence when there is no urgency that justifies this— none of the urgency that, in fact, exists in the real world, and explains why people regularly sacrifice their lives in desperate attempts to escape their homes. 

This is a really good example of how capitalism— a force with no real agency or subject, no evil committee planning its deeds— ends up enacting a project that systematically enforces its ideology. Attempts to render narratives apolitical are themselves profoundly political, even when justified in terms of appeal to the consumer. This is one of the most dangerous aspects of media, IMHO. 

[slafkovskys]

sigh imagine dylan h doing the off limits thing like garrett did in off campus🤪

i been waitin for this one, turn it up

you don’t bother to stop the door from slamming closed as you walk through it, throwing your backpack onto the counter and leaning against it with an annoyed huff. josie jumps from where she’s cuddled against jake on the couch and she stares at you with a confused expression, “you’re home early?”

“did i do something?” you ask, the question somewhat rhetorical and somewhat not. “no guy on this fucking campus will look at me. i literally watched some guy do a full 180 so that he wouldn’t have to walk past me this morning. what the fuck is going on?”

you don’t wait for either of them to answer before marching back to your room and switching your leggings for your pajama shorts. you pull off your t-shirt and grab some oversized pullover that belonged to your ex at one point and he had never asked for it back. your slippers are warm as you slide your feet into the and march back out into the living room, plopping down beside josie and leaning over to rest your head on her stomach. she sighs as jake pauses the movie, reaching his arm over and patting the top of your head. you grunt, “so i’m with my study group, right?”

“right,” they say in sync.

“it’s like, four dudes in there, all of which have been there since the beginning of the semester. i’ve never had a problem with any of them. they won’t even look at me. i’d ask them a question, they'd answer, but only when they were looking at sarah or jacy. they didn’t speak directly to me once,” you shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at the ceiling. “and you know what happened earlier? i went to get my coffee, the same barista as always. we usually talk after he gives me my coffee because we were in a class together last semester, but he practically threw my coffee at me and ran away to the other side of the room.”

josie sighs heavily, “tell her, jake. i can’t keep watching this happen.”

“tell me what?” you demand, rolling onto your stomach and peering up at the blonde senior who practically lived in your apartment. he avoids your eyes and you send him a glare, “do you know why this is happening?”

“you’re the only one that doesn’t,” he sighs, grunting when josie sends an elbow into his stomach. he lets his eyes connect with yours then and looks at you apologetically, “don’t get mad-”

“i already am. spit it out.”

“holloway put a campus-wide hands-off law on you. no guy on this campus is gonna want anything to do with you now. they may have a thing for you, but they can’t do anything about it because-”

“dylan said that they couldn’t?” you raise an eyebrow and he nods. “well, when is it null and void?”

“what year do you graduate?” his smile is tight-lipped and you can tell that he’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working. you’re pissed, you’re seething, you’re-

“i’ll be back.”

“where are you going?” josie scrambles up behind you and follows you towards the front door.

“take a guess,” you grunt as you throw open the door and head for the elevator.

it wasn’t a task or anything going to dylan’s apartment, he only lived six floors above you. that was how this thing had gotten started between the two of you, more of a convenience thing than anything else. it was easy for him to text you or vice versa that you needed the other and in only minutes, you would find yourself tangled together under the sheets.

you can hear the music blasting from behind the door and you roll your eyes. it had been two weeks since dylan had signed, but they were still celebrating like it had been only hours before. you were there when he put the pen to paper, right beside him just as he had requested. because of canada’s border rules, his parents couldn’t come and watch him, but he had you. he had twirled you in a circle, downed three beers a couple of hours later, and told you how he didn’t want anything serious. you left then, retreating to your bedroom for approximately twelve hours before realizing who you were and blocking him on everything. you honestly didn’t think that he had cared, but your recent revelation stated otherwise.

your knocks were heavy and shay pulls open the door. “hey-”

“where the fuck is he?” you demand and shay’s eyes widen. he moves to the side to let you in and you spot him instantly. you make your way over and he turns his head when you shout his name. “what the fuck?”

“hey princess,” he smirks lazily as he turns his head, shooting the neon-colored ping pong call into a solo cup on the other end of the table. he brings his cup to his lips as he watches mike shoot the ball back towards him, “you haven’t been answering my calls-”

“you put a hands-off order on me?” you spit and he freezes. the girls beside him look at you curiously as he wraps a hand around your elbow and pulls you towards his room. “why would you do that, dylan? you made it very clear that you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

“whose sweatshirt is that?” he leans into his closet and pulls one of his own out, tossing it towards you. “put that on.”

“no. answer my question.”

“i was drinking when i said that, y/n. you can’t hold that against me,” he sighs. you open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts you before you have the chance, “and don’t give me any of that ‘drunk words, sober thoughts,’ bullshit. i didn’t mean it. why are you so pissed off anyway? you seemed to be over it a few days ago when you were with whitlock.”

“are you- calvin? that’s what this is about?” you ask, genuinely surprised by his outburst. “you tell me that you don’t want to be with me, so i move on with my life and you get pissed off and tell the entire campus that no one can touch me?”

“first off, it wasn’t the entire campus. i only told a few people and they got the message across. secondly,” he gestures between the two of you, “it worked out, didn’t it?”

“you got my attention all right, but i don’t really think that you thought this through,” it’s your turn to smirk as you lean against the wall. his face visibly drops and you nod your head, “yeah, did you forget that i’m transferring next year? and you’re leaving in a few weeks anyway. there are some people on this campus that aren’t going to care about a hands-off rule when you’re on the other side of the border. even if they do, me and josie are going to see her brother at superior next week. her brother plays hockey there, did you know that? he’s got friends too that have no idea about your little law.”

“superior?” he spits, eyes blazing.

“you won’t be giving me a second thought in edmonton, holloway, basing off what you told me the other night, but, y’know, let’s look at both sides of the coin,” you sigh, “you obviously aren’t ready to let me go yet, so i’ll play your little game, but you have to play mine.”

he watches as you move slowly towards him, eyebrows raised, “what’s the catch?”

you shrug your shoulders, “prove to me that what you told me that night wasn’t true. show me that you want me and i’ll think about unblocking you.”

“you’ll think about unblocking me?” he scoffs, “so, you want me to come crawling back to you, basically.”

“are you upset that i pulled a you on you?” you pout your lips, raising your hand to pat rather roughly at his cheek before moving towards his bedroom door, “i leave for superior in four days. if you aren’t unblocked by then, then i don’t know what to tell you. also, i don’t like roses, so don’t waste your money on them. good luck.”

[itsnothingofinterest]

I’ve often said that it seems like a lot of the main pros below All Might seem to end up representing serious flaws in hero society; specifically the ones on the hero side of things. So as a fun little exercise I thought I’d go over all those main pros and what flaws they represent (should be easy, they’re usually their own personal character flaws). Maybe also give my assessment to what I think their chances of living to the end of the series are while I’m at it, since representing serious flaws in the old guard can be hazardous to your health if treated poorly.

Endeavor

A man who needs no introduction if you’re any kind of HeroAca fan. love or hate him, everyone knows the new no.1.

Funnily enough, he’s actually the main exception to the rule we mentioned before about a pros’ character flaw being the flaw they thematically represent. See, his character flaw is that he focus so much on heroics, his career in heroics, or just his own general needs over his family; to the point that he only had a family to have children he could live vicariously though, and felt no obligation to love the ones he couldn’t live through. What he represents, is actually two-fold: 1) the toxicity of the ranking system which makes heroics so competitive and encourage heroes focus on some arbitrary number, and 2) the power heroes have that let them do horrible things and get away with it. They’re connected concepts, for sure, but not exactly synonymous.

And with that said, what are his chances of survival? Well, the ranking toxicity is out of his hands, but besides that...it can be hard to tell. He has, under semi-aggressive guidance of his family, publicly taken responsibility for the things he’s done and vowed to make up for it; which helps his chances considerably. But in that same scene he also said that the only way he can atone is to keep doing what he’s always done; beat up villains and at least 1 family member. It sends a mixed message. But in general; I want to say that he’s gotten enough development that he doesn’t feel set to fail his arc now. I’d be tempted to say his chances look pretty good...were it not for all the separate reasons I think he’s likely to die anyway. Oh well, no one’s situation can be perfect.

Hawks

The controversial hero; Hawks!

I’ve summarized Hawks’ main flaw before as ‘hubris’, partially because he’s an Icarus figure so generalizing it like that feels clever, but it’s a bit more complex than that. Hawks main flaw isn’t so much pride as it is self-righteousness. Hawks represents the belief that everything is just right as it is, and the status quo must therefore be protected at all costs. A denial that the heroes he believes in have done anything wrong even after staring their mistakes in the face and spending months talking with those the heroes failed. In fact to contrast Endeavor’s line to the press; Hawks tried to excuse what he did as though it had to be done. That’s the opposite of promising.

With that said, what are his chances of survival? Well, I’d actually put him at 50/50 odds; since I see 2 endings for him, and it’s too early to tell which is more likely. See, while we’ve only got two instances of a “pattern,” Hawks seems like a guy who falls to the ground, recovers and gets back up, only to fall even further down because he never learns. So his two futures are either: A) To actually learn. Take a fall so hard that in the aftermath, he can’t convince himself he was right all along. Maybe he gets Endeavor killed, or does something to sever their relationship. Something that’d force him to self-reflect. B) To take a fall so hard it proves fatal; his mistakes catching up to him in a way that doesn’t give him a chance to self-reflect.

Best Jeanist

Sir Long Neck McImagine Obsession himself.

Best Jeanist represents the self-interest in hero society can have over justice itself. Already known for being focused on superficial image; he’s dramatic reappearance revealed just how deep that went. For when it’s revealed by a villain that a hero has committed great crimes that ended up motivating that villain’s actions; Jeanist’s immediate concern was the damage this would do to the reputation of heroes. More than what kind of person he’s been working alongside, and even more than saving lives, Jeanist’s first thought went the wellbeing of the industry he works in and how bad they would collectively look to the public; that’s what he’s most angry at Dabi for.

Chances of survival are...maybe 40-50%? There’s no real leaning one way or another frankly, so that kind of feels like it’d put him at even odds for the exact opposite reason as Hawks. Will he live? Will he die? Who can say? Leaning just a bit towards death though, because again, representing flaws in the old guard can be hazardous to your health.

Mirko

And here we have the violent one.

While I’m tempted to lump this one with Hawks, I actually think Ms.Mirko represents the heroes use of incredible violence best. See, Mirko is someone who really likes to beat people up, even once in a spin-off said Bakugou’s drive to murder was a good thing in a hero. And while she won’t even feel the need to kill like Hawks apparently did, her response to fighting the High End Nomu was something like “finally, some villains I get to just kill with no ethical issues, that makes things easy”. (Which, considering the High Ends are sentient is, um, hmm). Her love of violence borders on villainous, and she freely admits it is simple obligation that prevents her from crossing that boundary. It’s reminiscent of when Shigaraki pondered what the difference really was between heroes’ & villains’ violence. And, well, if it closes the gap in morality between heroes and villains, it’s going on this list.

Regarding her chances of survival, like Jeanist she’s not exactly defined enough to really say anything for sure or end up on any extreme end; I’ve no real reason to think she’s very likely live or die. That said; on the one hand she seems a bit more eagerly reveling in the flaw she represents, plus a blood knight getting back into the fight after sustaining heavy injuries is never a good sign. On the other hand, Horikoshi clearly likes her for reasons we won’t address here. I think I’m gonna average it out to 50%. Maybe even 60%.

Kamui Woods & Mt. Lady

You wouldn’t think some of the most plain as bread heroes would be joining the ranks of the problematic, and in fairness that’s because they mostly aren’t, but they are the ones who best represent a serious issues with heroes. They represent the way heroes will focus on flashiness & the problems they cause/exasperate in the process. Misconduct performed in the quest for fame; in so many words. Kamui showed this in chapter 1; calling a giant purse snatcher “evil incarnate” because that villain was attention grabbing and disturbing the peace. This is especially noticeable in hindsight, after we’ve see some real problems heroes could be dealing with but aren’t; like lost children on their way to becoming villains. And Mt. Lady represent it by how she operates in a big city despite her powers really working better for more rural or neighborly environments; because city work makes her more popular and rakes in the cash (that she loses paying for repairs).

That said, even if those are flaws I feel are highly associated with them, none of that is stuff they’re actively involved in; they’re naïve at best, and have already improved considerably (for minor characters at least) into better heroes. Frankly speaking, their changes of survival are probably averaging at 85% (80% for Kamui, 90% for Mt.). Like, they’re not gag characters per se; but they’re not super serious characters, they’re not connected to the MCs in any real way, and they don’t knowingly contribute to any of society’s corruptions. Really, so long as big H doesn’t really want to off someone we know for a shock, they’re probably fine.

Gran Torino

And lastly, the only non-big shot on the list, the unpleasant old geezer himself; Gran Torino!

What GT represents better than any other, I think, is the idea of passing any blame a hero may have for the actions/very existence of a villain on to the villain in question, thus allowing the heroes to better absolve themselves. You know like how with Shigaraki, he ignores any fault he has with that guys’ existence and simplifies him down to a criminals they can only beat down; and how dare he exist and thereby hurt Toshinori’s feelings. On that note, I’d say he also represents the idea that the villains are what they are, they’re too far gone, and there’s nothing the heroes can do about it. The most convenient excuse to not ever have to try to make up for what they did wrong, which you can’t even blame them too much for because they “tried their best” (even if they really didn’t).

So, what are his odds? Well frankly I wanna put him at 0% just cause he’s so old that if a villain doesn’t get him, time will. But that’s cheating. In actuality, it’s hard to say; dude’s a stubborn old man, and it really feels like it will depend on his ability to admit how wrong he handled things regarding Tomura. Now admittedly, he did admit to making the wrong choice in handling Kotaro, but he’s said nothing of Tomura so far. For now I’ll put him at 30%, but we’ll have to see if he sticks to his guns regarding current events next time he talks with All Might or whoever to really get a gasp on his chances.

And that’s about all the big ones so we’ll wrap it up. Anyway the point is it feels like a lot of heroes are gonna need to get their acts together lest they risk coming down with Not Alive Syndrome sometime in the future.

[therenlover]

The Doctor Is In (Part Two of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Attempted Theft, Secrets, Suspicions, 

Rating: T

Warnings: Mild Language, Slight Sexual Innuendo

Word Count: 2800~

This work, as well as the other completed parts of this series, have been crossposted to my AO3! 

-----

To Peter’s credit, it had all started with good intentions… okay, semi-good intentions, but that was the best defense he had to offer.

One moment he’s speeding into a funky building with a cool glass window looking for a knick-knack to take home to Y/N and the next he’s falling through endless darkness, searching for anything he could possibly grab onto. It was hell. Worst of all, though, he couldn’t use his speed. The world was only emptiness and darkness for as far as he could reach. Well, it was until he hit the ground.

It was a sudden jolt after what felt like hours of captivity when Peter hit the cool tiles of the flooring below him. The bright light after total darkness burned his eyes. He winced against it, lifting his arms to shield his face. There was no time to acclimate to his new surroundings, though, which were definitely not part of the building he had been inside before he might add, because the second his vision came back into focus a booming voice rang out from behind him.

“Peter Maximoff, what purpose did you have for breaking into the Sanctum Sanctorum?”

Peter spun around quickly on the ground to find a man floating behind him. Wait, floating? He didn’t even have time to question how the stranger knew his name while he was questioning what the hell he was. Was he a mutant? The man looked furious, his red cape billowing out behind him in an almost menacing manner while he stroked his goatee, eyebrows pinched together with rage. Peter had no clue what his deal was or who the hell he was looking at but he did know he had to calm him down fast if he wanted to avert disaster.

Apparently, he was thinking too long though because he wasn’t fast enough.

“I’ll ask you one last time,” the man’s hands came down to chest level, whirring with some sort of orange power, “why did you break into the Sanctum Sanctorum? This is your last chance,”

Somewhere in the distance, a dull thud sounded against the tile, like someone dropping a purse or bag. Peter didn’t have time to think about that, though. He was too busy saving his own life. All he had to do was get to his feet so he could run off! Unfortunately, that was better said than done.

“Woah, Woah, Woah!” he scrambled backward trying to stand but found his feet bound with the same orange sparks that were growing by the second in his attacker’s hands, “I have no clue what the hell a Sanctum Sanctorum is! I think you’ve got the wrong guy, man,”

His assailant cocked his head to the side. “So you’re telling me some other inhumanly fast kleptomaniac mutant from another dimension broke through all of my wards and tried to steal priceless magical artifacts from the Sanctum?”

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. “Magical artifacts? Dude, magic isn’t real. You’ve got the wrong guy,”

Thankfully, the man sighed in exhaustion, letting the orange sparks in his palms disappear as he pinched the bridge of his nose leaving only the ones around Peter’s ankles remaining. For the first time in his life, Peter was glad to be annoying.

“Jesus, I should have had my coffee before dealing with you…”

“I know right?” Peter propped himself up on his hands, “it’s always tragic when you catch the wrong guy, but I’m sure you’ll find your thief eventually. In fact, I think I saw some super speedy dude running towards Central Park when I was walking past that fancy building with the big circle window. That’s so weird! Maybe you should let me go so you can go find your guy,”

The man only seemed to get more pissed off the further Peter dug himself into his own grave. “Oh, I’m not planning on letting you go any time soon. I’m just avoiding a reckoning by letting your keeper know I’m taking you into the Avenger’s custody before we go,”

He was so screwed. “That’s not a-”

Before Peter could even finish his sentence, a crash echoed from across the room.

“STEPHEN STRANGE,”

Now, Peter couldn’t decide if he was saved or even more screwed than before.

There, across the room of what he had now gathered to be a large exhibit at some sort of museum, was Y/N. To say she looked furious would be an understatement.

The art on the walls seemed to shake in her wake as she stormed into the open center of the room, eyes boring holes into Peter’s assailant as she rolled up the sleeves of her paint-stained denim button-up. He could only imagine that this was the reckoning the magic dude was trying to avoid.

The man, Stephen, didn’t waver despite Y/N’s entrance. “Would it kill you to just use my title? I got my doctorate for a reason, you know,” His tone was flat and almost bored as Y/N seethed.

“Fuck you,” she spat, “what the hell are you doing with Peter? And bringing him here of all places? I thought you were supposed to be the responsible Avenger,”

“And I thought you were supposed to keep this menace under control. It looks like we both have a few responsibilities we aren’t keeping up with, huh?”

Across the floor, Peter winced. He hadn’t intended on getting anyone in trouble, he was just looking for a little fun to pass the time and maybe a housewarming gift that would fit in with the rest of Y/N’s antique decor. How was he supposed to know that a crazy, magic, floating guy would take him to what he could only assume was magic prison for breaking into his wizard’s lair? Surprisingly, Y/N picked up his movement.

“Peter, are you okay?” Her eyes never left Strange, flaming with a ferocity that bordered on homicidal, but her voice softened considerably as she spoke to him. He was quick to respond.

“I’m all good! A little tied up at the moment, but it’s nothing I can’t handle!” He shouted back.

Y/N nodded. “Good, just stick tight while I deal with this asshole,”

As the last words left her lips all the softness she had mustered for Peter’s sake dissolved, leaving behind pure, unbridled anger once more.

“You had no right to take him, Strange. We made a deal,”

“You’re right, we did make a deal,” Stephen responded, floating to the ground and taking a step closer to Y/N, “but my duties as Sorcerer Supreme will always come first,”

“That has nothing to do with him! He poses no threat to this universe!”

“He was attempting to steal extremely powerful magical artifacts, Y/N! If a mutant from another dimension had gotten their hands on the Book of Vishanti or the Clock of the Ages who knows what might have happened?”

Y/N stilled. “Peter,” her voice wasn’t the same as it had been when she was shouting at Strange, but it also wasn’t half as gentle as it has been before, “did you steal anything from Stephen?”

Peter, still dazed from the entirety of the experience, was quick to defend himself.

“No! No, I didn’t steal anything!”

One sharp look from Stephen and Y/N sent him spiraling for an excuse.

“Okay, I went in with the intention of stealing, but I had no idea that stuff was magical! I didn’t even know wizards existed! Witches I understood but wizards too? In the middle of New York? Besides, all of this is a moot point! I didn’t actually take anything,”

Surprisingly, Y/N’s expression seemed to soften once again. “See, Stephen? Peter didn’t mean any harm. Now let him go, and this can all be a thing of the past,” As she spoke, he could have sworn that her eyes began to faintly glow.

“I still don’t think it’s a great idea to let him roam free,” Stephen ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and the restraints around Peter’s ankles tightened slightly.

“Then you’ll have to take him from me,” Y/N brought her hands up, small rippling balls of light beginning to grow in her palms. Peter had never been so scared and aroused in his life. Was this the ‘small power’ she had mentioned to him when he moved in?

“I have remained civil with you and the mages of your order, Strange, but you have no power over me, especially on my own home turf. You lack the time stone now, so you know what will happen if you and I go toe to toe again. Besides, none of that matters. Peter is mine. Mine to protect and defend until he returns to his rightful place in his universe. So, will you let him go, or will we have to settle this the old-fashioned way?”

Y/N’s eyes were definitely glowing now, a brilliant green gleaming from within her as a rough breeze began flowing in from the door across the room. Stephen made no move to attack though. Instead, he heaved a sigh. “You can have your man child back Y/N, calm down,”

Slowly, the glow dissipated, the orbs of light shrinking into nothingness as she lowered her hands. “Thank you, Stephen,”

In an instant, it was as if the pair had gotten along the whole time.

He nodded. “Don’t thank me, just keep him away from ancient magical secrets next time,” Strange paused as if he was finished speaking, but then chuckled softly. It was the most human Peter had ever seen him. “You know how this ends, Y/N. We both do. Are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

It was Y/N’s turn to nod. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for me, but I made my choice a long time ago. There has never been another path for me. Please respect that,”

Peter was clueless as to what any of their exchange meant, too busy rubbing the ache out of his newly freed ankles to think too deeply about whatever deep exchange was happening in front of him, but a nagging feeling in his chest made him think that it must have something to do with him.

Then, in a burst of golden light, Stephen Strange was gone, leaving Y/N and Peter alone as they took in everything that had just happened. It was silent for a moment, the two of them caught between being stunned and glad to see each other, before Y/N’s angry facade melted away.

“What a fucking asshole,” she snickered, making her way over to Peter and offering him a hand, “I hate that guy,”

Peter took her hand and, with a soft pull, was finally upright again. “I know, right? He seems like a total douchebag,”

“Right? Like, yeah it’s terrible enough to kidnap you and try to take you into Avengers custody, but trying to get me to hand you over at my job? That’s just rude on a whole new level,”

“You work here?” Peter gestured at the art on the walls, making Y/N smile.

“Yeah, this is where I go every day. Welcome to the Brooklyn Museum!” She began to lead him out towards the door, linking her arm around his in a strangely intimate act. Peter was sure that she didn’t mean it like that but something about her closeness made his heart flutter.

He guffawed as they walked, passing happy couples and exhibits packed full. “It’s cool here, but I just assumed you worked somewhere… I dunno, more hero-y?”

Y/N laughed. “Everyone always does, but I’ve been attached to restoring paintings since before I ever took up the whole hero gig. I guess it’s the one stable thing I’ve had for my whole life.”

Watching Y/N’s face light up almost made Peter forget that less than an hour earlier he’d been shoved in an infinite dark dimension and threatened with imprisonment by a wizard. It was like she was the only thing worth seeing in a building full of priceless art.

“I’ve always felt strangely comfortable in museums,” she continued, hand brushing against Peter’s bicep in what he could only assume was an accident, “being surrounded by history just feels right to me. It’s like coming home,” Peter couldn’t help but grin, holding back a snicker.

“I’m guessing that’s the real reason you offered to take me in,” he teased, gently ribbing Y/N and making her giggle, “just couldn’t help but bring home a blast from the past who still has their youthful good looks,”

“You caught me! I just couldn’t resist your elderly charms,”

In a moment of poor judgment, Peter found himself leaning into her touch but was surprised to find her leaning right back into him. His heart began to pound faster. He could only hope she couldn’t tell. The feeling of being close to Y/N, listening to her laugh, being the shoulder she leaned on… it was like nothing Peter had ever felt before.

The short remainder of their walk to Y/N’s destination was mostly quiet, but neither of them tried to pull away from the other. Their moment only ended when they reached a large door labeled ‘Staff Only’. Y/N finally unlinked her arm from Peter’s before turning to face him. He was proud to note the flush on her face.

“I’m gonna go grab my bag,” she muttered, worrying the edge of her lip with her teeth, “do you mind taking me home? Traveling with you would probably be faster than hailing a taxi, and way less expensive,”

Between the thought of getting to be close to Y/N again and the excitement of getting to show off his powers, Peter was eager to please. “Sure thing! Do you want me to grab your bag for you? I’m sure I’d be quicker?” He emphasized his statement with a wink. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, Y/N looked almost nervous as she shook her head no. “I’ve got it, Peter,” she insisted.

He quirked up an eyebrow in surprise. “You sure? We could be home in a minute tops, just say the word,”

“There’s just a lot of important museum stuff back there! I trust you Peter, but this is priceless art we’re talking about, so I’d rather not take any chances. I’ll be back in a second!”

She slowly backed towards the door, offering him one last smile before disappearing into the darkness beyond. Something about her expression turned Peter’s stomach. It wasn’t unfamiliar, she had acted similarly in a few days Peter had known her at seemingly random times, but it just seemed… suspicious, like there was something he should definitely know that he was being kept in the dark about. Despite everything, he shook off the feeling, chalking it up to him not understanding all the intricacies of this new universe. If love made him blind, he was willing to take that chance.

It only took a few minutes for Y/N to emerge, a small messenger bag in hand, but when she did she was joyful once again, offering Peter an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

He shook his head, pulling down his goggles and offering her his hand. “Not much, just the end of the world,”

She giggled. “So do I just hop on your back or what?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. In a second he was down on his knee. “All aboard,” He did his best to keep still as Y/N settled herself on his back, then he was lifting her easily, arms hooked under her knees as she giggled into his hair. “What’s so funny?”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders securely as he stood. “I just expected you to call yourself the Bohner express,”

It took all of Peter’s strength to keep his laughter under control. “You tell me that now? After the opportunity to use it has passed?”

Y/N squeezed him a little tighter. “I’m sure you’ll get to use it next time,”

The thought of a next time sent Peter’s heart rate through the roof. Oh, it was on.

“I’d hold on if I were you,” he said, smirking, “the Bohner express is leaving the station,”

Y/N was quick to snap back. “Let’s hope it doesn’t disappoint,”

“Oh Y/N, the Bohner express never disappoints,”

“Prove it,”

Peter had them back to the brownstone in record time.

[shimmershae]

Just watched the episode and I’m going to have a lot of thoughts for you, most of them probably bordering on incoherence (LOL) so this is your last chance to nope on out of this post because I’m going to go ahead and put everything else behind a cut to save the eyes that do not want to see any  spoilers at all.  Unlike mine, that very much wanted to see but in a lot of cases?  Could not see shit, but I digress.

Shae’s stream of consciousness coming at you in 3-2-1.  

First of all, can I saw how good it is to have my show back again?  Like, no.  I don’t quite have Season 5 levels of excitement about the new/last season, but it is definitely nice to have all these characters back.  

So all these thoughts of mine.  Okay.  Bear with me because there be a whole lot of them, lol.  

My immediate impression as the episode opened was WHOA.  Such a cool shot of Daryl with one light wing, one dark wing (representing the two sides to Daryl maybe--the man of honor versus the man he was raised to be, hmm?) looking out over some dark vista of something.  Seriously.  It’s dark.  My room is also dark at the moment and still I was squinting to see.  To make out what I’m “looking” at.  I really, really hope the rest of this season isn’t this hard to make out.  

Is that a tank?  Kinda sorta a callback to Rick’s first episode?  If so, cool.  If not, well.  Us fans have always put way more thought into things.  For real.  Change my mind.  

Holy intense eye contact, Batman!  Daryl Dixon has literally never looked at anyone--not BethusConLeah--in quite the same smoldering way as he looks at Carol.  It’s next level.  I don’t know why people be fooling themselves into thinking different.  

Let’s see.  I can make out--besides Daryl, Maggie, and that face mask dude I already forgot the name of--Kelly, Magna, Jerry (who’s that with him?), and Carol.  Sorry.  My world, like Daryl’s, inevitably narrows to Carol.  She’s loking fierce and fine AF per usual.  

Was that Rosita I noticed rewinding to relive Daryl eye-fucking Carol?  

I’m guessing this is the army base they talked about in 10C.  

That Walker perking up like “I smell food--pancakes and bacon and oohhhh” has me giggling inappropriately right off the bat.  WTF.  

Look at all my fabulous ladies tiptoeing through that Walker minefield.  And Carol spotting that gun that might be useful right away.  Listen, if you don’t think her mind ain’t always ten steps ahead of everybody else’s, you’d be wrong.  

So.  Are these Walkers just so old and feeble not even the call of fresh meat attracts them?  Because just tiptoeing through their midst without the knockoff Lady Gaga meatsuits or skin masks has never really worked before that I can remember.  

I just want to see most of this season.  Is that really too much to ask?  Don’t X-Files and Game of Thrones us, Angela.  Please and thank you very fucking much.  

Okay.  Is the one drop of blood thing making anybody else have 28 Days Later vibes?  Kinda?  Sorta?  No?  Just me?  Okay then.  Carry on.  

Wait a minute, though.  How they be explaining how Daryl keeeps acquiring all these new tats all the time?  Hmm?  It’s like they just quit giving a shit about continuity in these latter seasons.  

I mean.  Do Walkers sleep now?  LMAO.  What is this?  I guess they’re constantly evolving?  

There’s my baby Lydia.  Love my smol bean.  

Alright though.  I love to see the ladies of TWD kick some ass.  It’s very gratifying.  Gimps would never.  Thank you, Angela.  

Clever, resourceful, calm and collected, quick thinking Carol to the rescue!  Seriously.  Her haters must be withering away inside with absolute envy.  

Hey, ya’ll.  Remember when Carol was still mastering her sharpshooting skills at the Prison yard and shot at Rick’s feet?  Her little “sorry, sorry”?  LOL.  If Rick could only see her now.  Wait.  He already knew what so many of his stans refuse to acknowledge--Carol=ultimate survivor and true savior to the group many times over.  

Maggie’s got herself a gun, too.  Go my badass girls.  

Of course, Carol’s got everybody’s back.  Of fucking course, Daryl’s got hers even when everybody else seem frozen in some kind of awe or stupification or something.  Microcosm of the whole damn show right there.  

Carol’s like “here’s your knives, love of my life.”   

Eh.  Maybe that’s just me.  

Nah.  She’s totally thinking it, too.  

YAS!  YAS!  Norman Reedus and Melissa McBride with the top billing.  How very far my babies have come.  

Listen.  I miss all the characters we’ve lost.  Absolutely.  But I love the ones that are still with us, that have been with us for so very long so hard.  Whether I love their stories or decisions or not.  

Is that THE Alexandria sign?  That sign’s been through some shit.  

DOG!  Daryl kneeling to embrace our Grimes babies has me all up in my feels.  And how cute is Dog getting all excited and making sure he’s the first one there to welcome back, Daddy?  

Hershel is literally just as puppy dog cute as Glenn ever was.  Really some Grade A casting.  

What did Maggie call Mr. T?  Ducky?  Dougie?  Sometimes with Maggie?  I really cannot tell.  Anyway.  He’s Mr. T. for me until I find out differently, probably through rewatching with close captioning, lol.  

Maggie’s got more people.  So.  Some new redshirts to sacrifice for plot purposes.  I don’t know if I should bother learning their names or not. 

I seem to remember Meridian being mentioned in one of the episode synopses.  

Sophia’s hair tie around Carol’s neck will never fail to be an emotional throat punch.  My heart.  

“They come at night and by the time you see them, you’re already dead.”  Welp.  Guess that means we ain’t seeing shit for at least this first third of the season, lol.  Very horror-eque though.  

“You’re leaving to fight ghosts.”  Aaron, to Maggie.  So I see Aaron’s the type to get the hell outta Dodge when the Boogeyman comes calling, hahaha.  Least he was.  In the old world.  

Rosita’s pissed off expression at Gabe’s decision to volunteer for the so-called suicide mission gives me life.  

My baby Carol is tired AF of suicide missions.  You can tell.  Also?  Methinks she has something to prove to Daryl here.  Or at least feels like she does.  

Dog with his little tactical vest.  I love it.  

I guess I get why they had Carol and Rosita stay behind.  They had to more evenly split up the badassery to make things more fair and balanced, lol.  

Okay.  So Negan’s definitely earned everybody’s disdain.  But they’re being woefully short-sighted by not at least hearing the dude out.  Isn’t he at least native to the area?  

“That is God telling us to turn around.”  I’m actually on Negan’s side with this one, but Gabe answering him with “I’m pretty sure he would have run that past me first” has me howling with laughter.  Father Gabe has gone straight up savage in these last couple of seasons.  Rosita’s influence, perhaps?  

I see what Angela is doing.  Trying to make Negan the voice of reason.  In this particular case?  It’s kind of working.  I’m still ultimately on Maggie’s side with this though BECAUSE GLENN.  

Imagine showing up to work and unironically dressing like a storm trooper every day.  Excuse me while I LOL.  

Even in the ZA, there’s bullshit paperwork.  

“Pumpkin colored spacesuit.”  Good one, Ezekiel.  

LOL forever.  I love Princess.  

“Michonne.  Our Michonne shut people out of Alexandria for years.”  Timely reminder that choices aren’t always perfect.  Neither are people.  

WTF is reprocessing?  Sounds ominous.  LMAO at Eugene’s “Okay.  We gotta go.”  

What in the actual hell with all those bagged, squirming undead?  Creepy AF in that subway tunnel.  

Should I just go ahead and call that the Easter bunny?  We’ve had some version of it pop up since Season 1.  

Is it stubborn pride with Maggie or what?  Why go through with something when all signs point toward the wisdom of stopping?  You can argue that she’s acting similarly to Carol last season, but there’s a huge difference here folks.  Carol did her damndest to Lone Wolf that shit and minimize the danger to those she loved.  Maggie’s straight up enlisting those she “cares about” to carry out her mission of revenge or vengeance, what have you. Let’s see if she gets near the amount of hate for it.  Personally, I don’t blame her for her feelings one bit.  They are valid.  But her knowingly drawing the others into the game?  That’s my sticking point.  That’s how she and Carol differ, even if some people refuse to see or accept it.  Anyway.  Hopping right on off my soapbox.  

“Why don’t you get up on your little tippy toes and try?”  Omigosh, I’d dying.  When I tell you I about passed out with laughter, I do not exaggerate.  I should hate Negan forever and I do.  Really.  But I adore JDM and he frequently makes me LOL.  He’s made Negan entertaining if not completely redeemable since Angela took over and more layered so I say kudos.  

He has a point about Maggie playing dictator.  Damn you, show, for slanting the writing just that smidgen that makes Negan make sense over his victim.  I guess, though, it’s better this way.  Gives both characters more shades of gray.  

“He’s a dick but he makes sense.”  I feel like this is Angela calling us all out when we dare to harbor any lasting resentment toward Negan for what he did to Glenn.  

Speaking of--Negan.  You deserved Daryl’s punch to the mouth.  You just went a bridge too damn far.  

“Keep pushing me, Negan.  Please.”  Warning shots fired, Asshole.  You better watch yourself around the Widow Rhee.  

Have I mentioned how much I love Princess?  Her shipping the Commonwealth guards is killing me, lol.  I can’t wait ‘til she meets Carol and Daryl.  She’s going to have their number in two seconds flat.  

I like Ezekiel and Princess as a duo.  I’m not saying romantically necessarily.  I just like them in scenes together because they’re fun.  There’s sort of a protective indulgence Ezekiel seems to telegraph whenever they’re in scenes together.  Like he’s like don’t hurt this one.  I don’t know.  For all these words I’ve written, I can’t quite find the ones to adequately describe what I mean.  

The wall of the lost gives me such Battlestar Galactica feels.  What sad thoughts it inspires.  

Eugene in that Commonwealth gear.  Omigosh, lol.  So did they just sneak up and take Princess’s little Commonwealth ship’s gear when they were sneaking off on their own to have a quickie?  

Princess finding that note for Yumiko on the wall actually gave me chills.  Yeah.  I’m easy.  Just the suggestion of someone getting reunited with lost family gets me all up in my feels.  Yumiko saying “I have to stay”?  I felt that.  

Oh no.  Dog ran off!  Somebody protect my favorite fictional puppy.  Of course, Daryl goes after him.  He’s always been the sweet one.  Merle said it.  

Eh.  Negan taking Maggie’s hand at the end there would have smacked too much of Negan Sue and Maggie’s biggest plot of the season would have been prematurely dealt with so I get why they did what they did.  But c’mon.  It’s not really that big of a cliffhanger, is it?  

Okay, so Angela calls those sleeping beauty Walkers “Lurkers” and I get it.  Apparently they’re a bigger deal in the comics, but I really don’t remember seeing them all that much on the actual show.  Somebody jog my memory.  

Of fucking course, you can actually see what’s happening in the inside the episode clips.  I wish we could choose to view the episode with that lighting because some of us be blind.  And this time I mean in the more literal sense.  Not the figurative one.  

Anyway.  I’m going to stop trying to write a novel for ya’ll and move on to better things.  Like maybe a nap.  Maybe some early dinner.  I don’t know.  I’m tired AF and need a little recharge.    

Before I go, though?  Overall impression of the episode?  I liked it.  There were parts that I loved (all the ladies being badass, every second of Carol, Daryl reuniting with the Grimes babies and Dog, all things Princess, some of Negan’s one-liners about had me busting a gut, Rosita serving looks, Kelly and Lydia getting to be badass too) and parts I didn’t love (not being able to see a damn thing, Angela trying to tip the scales in Negan’s favor, not enough Carol or Aaron or Rosita, no reunion between Aunt Carol and the Grimes babies even though that picture floating around suggests it was at least shot, not being able to see a damn thing, all the Alexandria people playing follow the leader for Maggie when she’s been gone 6 years and Daryl’s right there--hell, even Father G deserves the honor over her because it’s obvious they’re not exactly on the same wavelength anymore).  

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m just glad to have our show back.    

Later, lovelies.  

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: XY tries to steal Luka's non-existent gym badges.  Instead, they both end up making a new friend.  (For @luxyweek day 3: Pokemon)

Word Count: 2071

XXX

Luka woke up to a stranger rummaging in his bag.

He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in the Pokémon Center, especially in a city as big as Lumiose.  Exhaustion after a late concert was no excuse to be careless.  Even if crime was rarer after the takedown of Team Flare, there were still unorganized thieves around.

Like this idiot who thought Luka was an easy target.

“C’mon, he’s gotta have at least one…” The idiot was mumbling.

Without opening his eyes, Luka slowly moved his hand to his pocket.  He pulled out the one pokéball he had on him.

“Who the heck carries so many metronome items…?” 

While the thief was distracted, Luka pressed the button on his pokéball.  One click, and his Loudred burst free.

“GWAHHHH!!!”  She boomed, and the thief jumped back with a shriek.

“Wh-h-hey!” he stammered.  Luka finally got a good look at him.  Tall blonde hair, tacky outfit—was this some remixed Team Flare grunt after all?  He was wearing purple rather than red, though.

“That’s an, uh, nice dude you got there.”  He eyed Luka’s Loudred dubiously.

“Symphony is a girl.”  He scratched her behind the ear, and she made a low rumble.

“Uh.  Nice babe then.”

Luka snorted.  Why had this thief bothered to stick around?  He thought he’d have run off by now.  Luka really hoped he wasn’t going to have to battle.  Symphony had worked hard enough tonight.

“Why were you looking through my bag?”

“Pshaw, I wasn’t doing that.  Besides, you don’t have anything useful.”

Wow.  This guy really was an idiot.  The Team Flare grunts were never too smart, either.  Just a bunch of kids who got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Well, Luka was no trainer like the ones who’d busted them up last year.  But maybe he could keep one kid from following down that road.

“What do you count as useful?”  Luka asked.  “Money?  Items?  Pokémon?”

“Maybe Pokémon would be useful, if they’d stop being haters and listen to me.”  The guy crossed his arms and pouted.

“...So you’re not a trainer?”  Luka glanced around the Pokémon Center.  Everyone else was very determined to mind their own business.  Not that Luka needed their help to deal with a guy who couldn’t even use his own Pokémon, but still.  Someone could’ve tried.

“I’m going to be a trainer.  Just as soon as I steal a badge and get this Zorro dude to listen to me.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Zorro dude?”

“Yeah.  Dark type?  Sick red ponytail?  Likes to copy me and make me look stupid?”

He sat up straighter.  “You have a Zoroark?”

That Pokémon was rare enough to border on legendary.  They didn’t even live in the Kalos region.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”  The guy looked at Luka like he was stupid.

“How did you catch a Zoroark if it won’t even listen to you?”

“Dad gave ‘im to me.  He wants me to get famous here, but it’s harder to fake battles than I thought.”  He sighed dramatically and sunk to the seat next to Luka.

Clearly the ‘get famous’ plan wasn’t working.  Luka had no idea who he was.  At least he was pretty sure he wasn’t a Team Flare grunt, though.

“And you’re telling me this… after trying to rob me… why…?”

“Cause you asked.”

Luka blinked.  “Touché.”

He gave Symphony one last pat, then returned her to her pokéball.

“Traded Pokémon won’t listen to you without badges,” he told the would-be thief.  “And I don’t have any of those, if that’s what you were looking for.”

“Really?  But you look—”  The guy gestured to all of him.  “Y’know.  Cool.  Tough.”

“Thanks? I guess?  I’m just a musician, though.”  He patted his guitar next to him.  It was pretty telling that this guy hadn’t tried to steal that.  “I only battle if I have to.”

“Huh.  Well that’s pretty cool too, I guess.”  The guy shrugged.  “I did Pokémon Contests in Hoenn for a while.  Before I got banned for using holograms.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Any other international crimes you want to confess to?”

“Crashed my boat into a herd of Luvdisc in Alola.  But that was an accident.  How was I supposed to know they were endangered?”

“I was being sarcastic, man.”  Luka shook his head.  “Nevermind.  Come on.”

He stood and hoisted his guitar over his shoulder.

“Huh?  Where are we going?”  The guy trotted after him.

“To catch you a Pokémon.  Before you get yourself kicked out of another country.”

XXX

The stranger’s name was XY.  It stood for Xavier-Yves.  It didn’t sound like an Unovan name, but that was still the least weird thing about the guy.  Maybe that was just a pseudonym.  He probably needed one after all of his criminal acts, accidental or not.

“Alright, XY.”  Luka stood knee-deep in the grass of Route 4.  “You’re going to be borrowing Symphony for this.  Borrowing.  If you run off with her, she’ll suplex you into the ground.”

XY eyed the Loudred next to him.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Got it, Mr. Couffaine.”

“Just Luka is fine.”  He sighed.  This was such a weird way to be spending the night after a concert, but it was still better than going home.

“Got it, Mr. Luka.”

Close enough.

“Alright, now follow me into the grass.”

“I can’t do that!  That’s where the Pokémon are!”

Luka rolled his eyes.  “That’s the point.  You’re going to catch one.”

“I thought you were going to catch me one.  Because you’re cool and sexy like that.”

“Flattery’s not getting you out of this.”  Luka grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the grass, Symphony following behind them.

XY squealed again.  “But what if they eat me!”

“We’re on Route 4, dude.  The biggest Pokémon out here is a Skitty.”

“...Those things eat meat, right?”

“No.”  Even if they did, they would probably know better than to eat XY.  They didn’t know where he’d been.

“If I die, you’re paying for my funeral,” XY grumbled, even though he’d already gone off on four tangents about how rich his dad was.  Luka didn’t even bother responding.

Suddenly XY screamed again.  A few Fletching flew out of the red flower patch.  At this rate, they’d never catch anything.

“What is it this ti—oh.”  Luka blinked down at the tiny Pokémon clinging to XY’s ankle.  “It’s just a Flabébé.”

The little girl seemed to have mistaken XY’s socks for a flower.  She was shuddering, cowering against the fabric even as XY tried to shake her off.

“Dude, cut it out.”  Luka gripped him by the shoulders.  “This is perfect.  She already likes you.”

“Y-you think so?”  XY set his foot back on the ground.  The Flabébé tentatively looked up.

“You might not even need Symphony to weaken her.  Here.”  Luka took out a pokéball, but hesitated to hand it over.  “Are you going to take good care of her if I give you this?”

“What gives, man?”  XY snatched the ball.  “You were gonna teach me about catching Pokémon, not about, like, parenting stuff.”

Luka hadn’t thought this through enough before seeing the little Flabébé.  He couldn’t in good conscience condemn her to a life with XY without knowing that he would treat her right.

“Are you staying in Lumiose?  I live at the edge of the city.  I could come check on her.  Just to make sure she’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna want joint custody.”  XY smirked.  “But sure, whatever.  Can’t complain if you want to do half my work for me.”

He knelt down and tapped the Flabébé on her head.

“You are just a little thing, aren’t you?”  He let out a nasal laugh.  “How do you feel about me being your new dad?”

“Please don’t say it like that.”  Luka groaned.

The Flabébé fluttered into XY’s palm and nudged the pokéball.  Wow.  She must really have no standards.

“Sorry.  Me and Lu are gonna be your new dads.”  XY grinned.

“Aaaand that’s even worse.”

The Flabébé looked at Luka.  He looked at her.  She looked at him.  He looked at her.

“...I’m not being your other dad.”

Symphony blasted out a honk of laughter.  He glared at her.

“Don’t make me put you back in the pokéball.”

She just smiled innocently.

“Okay, okay.  Shut up.  We’re doing this.”  XY took a deep breath and pressed the button on the pokéball with his thumb.  It split open, sucking the Flabébé into its light.

The ball glowed red while rocking back and forth.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.

Then it went still.

“I—I did it?”  XY stared at the ball in his palm.  Luka swore there was wonder in his eyes.

Hopefully this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“You did it.”  Luka clapped him on the shoulder.  “Why don’t you let her out now?  She should get used to you before you take her home.”

After fumbling for a moment, XY popped the ball open.  The Flabébé flashed back out and hovered in the air.  She quickly zipped down and plucked a red flower, hugging it close.

“Aww, our first date and she’s already giving me flowers.”  XY laughed.

“It’s not for you.  Flabébé has to keep one close for protection.”

“Ah. Like a comfort blanket.”  XY nodded sagely.  “That’s okay!  I’ll pick my own flower.  Then we can match!”

He snatched up another red bloom, then tucked it behind his ear.

Luka was surprised to find himself smiling.  Who would’ve thought XY could actually be cute?  When he wasn’t trying to steal Luka’s non-existent gym badges, anyway.

“Are you going to name her?”  He asked to keep his thoughts away from that tangent.

“Huh?  Oh.  Uh… hmm.”  XY’s brow furrowed.  He stared at the Flabébé, who had fluttered back into his palm.  “You can’t tell me your name, can you?”

She let out a tiny squeak.  

“Hmm.  Yeah.  I feel that.”  He nodded.  “How about Cheeto?”

“Cheeto?”  Luka burst before he could think better of it.  Who named their Pokémon Cheeto?  

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s got that yellow dust all over her.”  XY rubbed a tiny bit of it off with his fingertip.  Flabébé almost seemed to purr.

“You mean… pollen?”

XY raised an eyebrow.  “Ew, gross.  What kind of name is Pollen?  Sounds like Pole-men.  And she’s a girl.”

Luka wanted to smack his forehead.  Symphony gave him a sympathetic pat.

“Well.  Have fun with Cheeto, I guess.”  He sighed.  “I’m going to go get some sleep.  You’ve got my Holo Caster number.”

“Wait!”  XY jogged after him, cradling Cheeto close to his chest.  “I didn’t get to say—thanks, man.”

Luka looked back over his shoulder, surprised.  “No problem.  This is better than stealing gym badges, right?”

“A lot better.”  He looked down at his new Pokémon fondly.  “Uh, sorry about that, by the way.  I—I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!  I’m gonna—take you to the hotel I’m staying at!  So you don’t look homeless!”  XY grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him back towards the city.

“I literally told you I live in town…?”

“Then why were you sleeping in the Pokémon Center like a hobo?”  XY smirked.  Symphony laughed where she was lumbering after them.

You’ve turned my own Pokémon against me.  Luka scowled.

“Didn’t feel like dealing with my mom,” he said under his breath.  

It was stupid, running away just because he’d finally found out about his dad.  His whole band was here. Including his sister.  Lumiose was a big city, but he couldn’t play guitar for Kitty Section and dodge his parents at the same time.

“Perfect!  There’s no moms allowed in my hotel room!”  XY beamed.

If staying out was stupid, then even considering XY’s offer was downright moronic.  XY had tried to rob him just hours ago.

But the dude was rich.  Luka didn’t have anything else he could want.  And whatever hotel room they ended up in was bound to have a more comfortable couch than the Pokémon Center’s.

“...Alright,” he finally agreed.

XY’s holler of joy could probably be heard in the next route over.

“Sweet!  Bro co-parenting slumber party, here we come!”

Luka let Symphony laugh at him.  He deserved it for ending up in such a ridiculous situation.

But somehow, he felt better anyway.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Horikoshi: This will probably not be super popular, but it’ll be fun!

Us: Oh, well that sounds nice!

Us, 290 chapters later: This Isn’t Fun Anymore Horikoshi

Horikoshi: :)

Anyways, welcome to the beginning of - hopefully - a long term and engaging project. I am basically aware of all of canon, and am up to date with the manga, but I haven’t actually read from the beginning of the series, and I’ve only watched the series up to the Deku v Todo fight in the sports festival. However, I’ve been curious as to how the manga portrays stuff that I’ve seen in anime gif form, and so I figured, hey, make this a project!

If you have questions or anything, the ask box is open for now. Meanwhile, I am going to head into the first chapter proper!

[No. 1 - Izuku Midoriya: Origin]

Wow, you’d almost think this kid would grow up to be a villain or something, with that kind of attitude, huh? No way that this kind of attitude would ever come to bite him in the ass and force him to reevaluate his entire character and kickstart his character development.

(Before you say anything, I like Katsuki as a character, but DAMN did he have to do a lot of growing up. I suppose when one is at the bottom, the only way to go is up… unless you have a pickaxe.)

One thing I actually noticed right away, and I dunno how much it’s used in other manga (seeing as I currently am not reading any other manga and the last ones I read were… a long while ago…) is the shape of the text boxes in order to convey emotion! It’s actually hella neat and a little detail I wouldn’t think about adding if I were in his position (not that I can draw all that well, but that’s not my point). You can practically hear the warbling in Izuku’s tone and the rougher edges in Katsuki’s!

(Also, question for the English sub while we’re at it, why the fuck does Katsuki sound like he’s a goddamned adult when he’s fourteen. What the fuck.)

Interesting little thing here, Katsuki not actually using his quirk here against Izuku; his hand is trailing smoke from his explosion, but it’s not a direct burn wound. Not that he should be doing this at all, but with the number of fics I see where Katsuki literally gives Izuku second or third degree burns, I think this is a reminder that canon Katsuki has some modicum of restraint, even this early.

Before I forget, hello winged kid who definitely has no plot significance whatsoever. No siree.

(If you are new to the manga/show and are reading this as among your first introductions to the fandom, first off, I am so sorry. Secondly, expect me to be… definitely making a lot of sarcastic quips to things in the future.)

Onto the second/third page, which is supposed to be a full spread, but is split up into two pages on the online reading site. RIP, but I will not complain about free access to the whole manga. 

Lookit this green bean. I love him so much. I can’t wait for him to suffer.

Izuku: wait, what?

Anyways, a few things to note:

Who the fuck is this guy? I looked into the wiki but he apparently doesn’t warrant a page or even a mention as one of the background faces of the series, but look at that fucking claw, man! And those boots and jets! He’s very obviously themed after a baseball catcher, so I’m going to guess that he has some kind of quirk that deals with either drawing projectiles to him, or perhaps in throwing projectiles… in either case, it’d be something like Snipe’s quirk, so maybe this is his less howdy-happy sibling.

Oh right, the chapter. The other heroes we see on the scene in this two-page spread are Death Arms, Air Jet, and Kamui Woods. 

Also, something I want to point out that I’m sure others have but just struck me while looking at this spread - multiple people are recording / taking pictures of this. I wonder if part of the reason for the villain industry to be as strong as it is is because the villains, even if they know they’ll lose, still get their own sort of fame in being in the news? That… might explain a lot about how there can be enough villains to even run an entire damn industry.

(Well, that and a lot of sociopolitical commentary on BNHA society, but we don’t need to get into that now. Maybe wait two hundred or so chapters first.)

Not gonna lie, I had to double take because I was like ‘wait, what is Ochako doing here?’ but then I realized it was just a random civilian; she doesn’t have those side bangs Ochako does. But now I almost wonder what sort of world we could have had, if they’d met a bit earlier.

Onto the fifth page (fourth is just a filler page, nothing on it), and we get treated to this gem:

Tag yourself I’m the guy who’s slackjawed because his kid is fucking glowing.

The first four examples of quirks shown in this flashback are the luminescence, telekinesis, ice, and that flame-headed(?) mutation. Of them, we actually see hints to the fact that quirks have drawbacks, as the girl with ice is drawn with the same frostbite backlash as Shouto, while the flame-headed kid is… well, I have no idea, but they do not look to be happy.

Also, I love the nod Hori does to the heroes of our era as silhouettes! This is just more evidence to me, along with the fact that the first quirked kid is born and presented in a modern hospital, that this series takes place sometime in the future. I… even calculated the years it could technically be, based on information we get in a few chapters, but I’ll save that for then.

Onto the sixth page! A nice shot of Kamui Woods getting into position, and man is that giant quirk unnerving.

What the fuck is with those feet, Hori. Those aren’t feet.

Next we see how the crowds are reacting, basically with no panic or concern. One guy is just casually letting his boss know he’ll be getting in late. And Backdraft! That is some serious water manipulation, but it seems like it has to be the water they’re in contact with? Also, is it just me or is that a portable pressure hose on their back?

And of course, Izuku being excited over hero stuff, as one does. He’s so babey faced, going back to current chapters after this is gonna be fucking wild.

Onto the seventh page, and here we are with the ‘you’re pure evil’ speech to someone who’s… just a robber. Seriously, dude? I get that you’re still fairly new to the scene (I think he might not be from a hero high school, but a late join program, but that’s another post), but like. You can’t just call random people ‘pure evil’ and correlate petty crime with like, actual mass murderers, or else people might start to see things in black and white and, you know, create the idea of ‘villainous people’ and so push even more innocents down the path of desperation and criminality.

Wait, sociopolitics later. Izuku being a hero fanboy now. Even able to utter Kamui’s attack call as he’s calling it out, with some seriously cool visual effects-

And on the eighth page, we have Mt. Lady crash the scene. Literally. She just fucking shows up outta nowhere and fucking leaps up and delivers a kick right to the villain’s chin, throwing him back through the train bridge wall and sending debris down to the ground below. Sure hope there weren’t civilians there!

Also, hello to that random guy on the roof watching this. I think in Smash they made that guy her manager or something.

I love how Izuku and the other guy are like ‘what the fuck’ while the press just shows up out of nowhere and is like. Hyperfocused on her. (I’ve heard some issues with the portrayal of media/reporters in the series, but since I have no experience with that sort of thing, I can’t say much on it.)

The last panel of this page shows that, fortunately, there were no civilians on that part of the street (even though it being rush hour and the huge crowds on the other side of the bridge should have suggested otherwise… but what do I know?)

With page nine, we get to see our first case of villain apprehension, which to note does not include any sort of quirk suppressors. Because those don’t exist. Otherwise Aizawa and the Eight Precepts’ erasure bullets would not be such huge deals to everyone. I mean yikes, though, the guy is fucking muzzled. And you can see the damage done by Mt. Lady in the background, both physical and emotional. Not to mention…

What the fuck is that face.

But yeah, this notes that performance in heroics determines not only what they’re paid by the government, but also how much fame they get. No way a system like this could backfire in any capacity, right? Right? (cough).

I love how Hori uses Izuku’s muttering habit as the border for the text bubble when the kid zones into his little world. Also, gigantification is noted to be a common and strong quirk, so we really should see more OCs with size altering quirks in fics in the future, you hear me? Honestly, with it being common, I would almost expect there to be entire buildings, or maybe even neighborhoods / blocks dedicated to catering to size shifters… wonder what those places look like.

Also aww, the guy saying good luck on the heroics dream to Izuku and Izuku just sparkling. What a cutie. Can’t wait for him to suffer. :D

Izuku: No seriously, what-

Anyways, I’m cutting off here since we then transition into the next ‘scene’ and this is a long chapter - 55 pages! Besides, this has already surpassed 1700 words, I don’t need to ramble on too long in one post. 

Lemme know what you think, and I’ll be back with more soon!

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, greenleaf1316!

For @greenleaf1316. I hope you like it!!!!! I tried to go for fluff but it got a teensy bit angsty at the end :D

Read On AO3

*****

Hiding In Plain Sight

1.

‘Shit.’ Stiles sat up abruptly and waved his hands frantically in Derek’s face. ‘Put your clothes back on.’

‘Huh?’ Derek frowned and under normal circumstances, Stiles would have been completely smitten with that little wrinkle between the Murder Brows ™ but he knew the sound of that car and he also knew that if Lydia caught them in flagrante delicto, he would never hear the end of it.

‘I mean it.’ He scrambled off the bed and peered out his window. ‘Fuck, she’s almost at the front door.’

‘Lydia?’ Derek, bless his heart, was actually up and fishing around for his henley, grabbing it off the floor and yanking it over his head. ‘Why are you worried?’

‘Because…well.’ Stiles wrung his hands. ‘Okay, so it’s literally only been a couple of months since we broke up and when we did break up, do you know what she said?’

‘That you were hung up on me?’ Derek grinned, all teeth. He had heard this story, in fact it was one of the reasons he’d finally made a move.

‘And do you know what I replied?’ Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

‘That she was crazy and that you were in no way interested?’ Derek was smirking, amusement in every line of his face. It was a good look on him and Stiles was torn between wanting to wrestle him to the bed and carry on with what they’d started and shove him in the closet. That mental image made him snicker before the doorbell rang and he grabbed Derek and hustled him towards the window.

‘Stiles!’ Derek protested, but he let himself be steered. ‘You know you’re going to have to tell her eventually.’

‘Ha!’ Stiles wrinkled his nose at him. ‘I’ll tell Lydia that she was right when hell freezes over. She thinks she knows me so well.’

‘She does.’ Derek pointed out and Stiles gasped in betrayal and used both hands to bundle him outside.

‘Give it twenty minutes and then come back in.’ he ordered and left Derek muttering about not even having a chance to put his shoes on before he retreated onto the roof and out of sight. His head popped back in a moment later. ‘It’s all iced over up here and I’m freezing my ass off!’

‘You’ll live!’ Stiles slammed the window shut, barely missing Derek’s fingers, and hurtled out his bedroom and down the stairs, stopping briefly to untangle himself from his own shirt that he was attempting to put on upside down, and then skidded along the wooden floor of the hall until he slammed into the front door.

‘Dammit.’ he muttered, wincing as he pulled it open and found Lydia looking at him with a very smug expression.

‘I win.’ she announced and Stiles glared at her.

‘You absolutely do not.’ he hissed and she arched an eyebrow at him. Neither of them backed down until there was a sound like a cat being strangled from the roof and Lydia’s eyebrow climbed to Everestian heights.

‘No?’ She smiled sweetly but Stiles was wise to her cunning ways. Any show of weakness would result in his imminent destruction.

‘No.’ He folded his arms and then realised that his fly was undone. He turned around and jerked it up, squeaking when he nearly got his dick caught. He could hear snickering behind him and wheeled back around to find Lydia’s eyes sparkling with mirth.

‘It’s hard to do up your pants when you still have a hard on.’ she pointed out and he went red.

‘I was jerking off.’ he protested and that was of course the time when Derek’s usual grace decided to desert him and he fell off the roof, making a very un-wolflike noise as he crashed into the bushes that flanked the front of the house. He sat up, blinking blearily and shaking his head like a wet puppy.

‘Hmmmm.’ Lydia shoved Stiles aside and swanned into the house past him. ‘So I see.’

2.

‘It’s a bit of a situation.’ Stiles was slumped so low in his seat that his ass was hanging off the chair. On the other side, the Sheriff heaved a sigh.

‘I don’t get why you don’t just tell them.’ he said and next to him, Derek made an I told you so face.

‘Shut up.’ Stiles gave him a look that he hoped was clear in it’s dissent to that particular idea. Derek snorted and went back to eating Stiles’ popcorn that he’d abandoned when Erica and Boyd had walked into the cinema.

‘Son.’ The Sheriff sounded like he’d rather be chasing down a multitude of bad guys than talking Stiles down from his self-imposed ledge. ‘You’re all adults. I’m sure nobody is going to have a problem with that fact that you and Derek finally pulled your heads out of your asses and got together.’

‘It’s not as simple as you make it out to be.’ Stiles grumbled. ‘I mean they all made such a big deal about the fact that me and Lydia had finally gotten together.’

‘You mean Scott made such a big deal about you and Lydia getting together.’ The Sheriff chuckled and Stiles wanted to strangle him. ‘Look, Scott’s just got to put on his big boy pants and realise that just because he still has a stick up his ass about Derek coming back an alpha and taking back his pack, it’s no reason for you not to be happy.’

‘Fuck.’ Stiles’ entire face creased up. ‘I hate it when you’re reasonable.’

‘It’s a gift.’ His father sounded unbelievably fond. ‘No go back to watching your movie and make out with your boyfriend and stop trying to convince me to call in a bomb scare to the movie house.’

‘Thanks for nothing.’ Stiles pulled a face when he got hung up on, his father still chortling and then screeched like a small child when he found two pairs of glowing golden eyes looking at him from the row of seats in front.

‘You know we can hear you.’ Boyd said. His normally taciturn expression was bordering on gleeful and Stiles decided that made him look more evil than all the villains the pack had faced altogether, and that included Deucalion’s multiple iterations.

‘And smell you.’ Erica reached over and snagged a handful of popcorn. ‘Why are you two hiding back here and why is Stiles trying to cause a terrorist incident.’

Stiles gaped at them both and then looked at Derek accusingly.

‘You told them?’ He batted at Derek’s arm and his boyfriend fended him off easily, still managing to cram another mouthful in.

‘He didn’t need to.’ Boyd rested his chin on his arm. ‘We could smell it all over you the first time you fucked.’

‘’You’re just lucky that Scott is the ultimate failwolf and can’t use his nose for shit.’ Erica grinned, her fangs just showing. ‘Besides, it’s not like we have a problem with it. We won the pool.’

‘Cora’s still pissed about that.’ Derek smirked and Stiles felt he had no choice but to hit him.

3.

Stiles stretched luxuriously and turned to lean on one elbow, admitting Derek’s sleeping face. Even the fact that his wolf was on his back, mouth open and snoring like a band of happy lumberjacks let loose at a pine forest, couldn’t dim his ardour and he contemplated dipping under the covers and blowing him back to readiness.

Derek’s breathing hitched and he turned over onto his stomach, mumbling something about rabbis as he buried his face in the pillow and Stiles sniggered into his own pillow and then decided he needed something to drink. Sex with Derek was always athletic and enthusiastic and involved a hell of a lot of licking so feeling dehydrated was nothing new.

He sat up, using his toes to grab his discarded boxers and got up. He was still hitching them up when he cracked the door open and peered into the corridor. The new Hale house was a long white wood-cladded affair near the lake with Derek’s bedroom at the end of the corridor. Between him and the stairs was Peter’s room and Cora’s room, both of which were currently occupied. Thankfully, industrial strength soundproofing had been installed so he and Derek could be as loud as they wanted without anyone catching on. Boyd and Erica had been sworn to secrecy, as had Cora. She hadn’t even been allowed to tell Isaac, who she skyped daily.

He stumbled down the corridor, making his way downstairs and into the kitchen. It was all gleaming surfaces and had two enormous fridge freezers at the end. Stiles opened one, taking out a bottle of gatorade and cracking it. He downed half noisily and was just about to get started on the other half when the lights went on and he found himself face to face with a half naked Isaac.

‘Dude!’ He blinked in surprise. ‘Why aren’t you in France?’

‘Um…’ Isaac looked like a deer in the headlights. He had a series of huge bruises dotted all the way down his chest and it took all of a minute to put two and two together because clearly Cora and Her brother shared a marking kink.

‘Oh my God!’ Stiles hissed in excitement. ‘You two?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Isaac gave him a shy smile, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘And I’m assuming that Derek did that.’ He gave Stiles’ neck a pointed look.

‘It’s new.’ Stiles opened the fridge again and grabbed a second bottle, chucking it over to him. ‘So are you back for good?’

‘I think so.’ Isaac’s eyes flitted towards the ceiling. ‘I’d like to be. I just got in this evening and things kind of got out of hand but this already feels more like home than any other place I’ve been.’

‘I’m glad.’ Stiles beamed at him. ‘And I know Derek will be really pleased to have you back.’

They drank the rest of their gatorade in silence, both of them catching each other’s eye and laughing.

‘This has got to be one of the most awkward things ever.’ Stiles grinned. ‘But if you’re back then what happened Chris?’ He stopped when that very person stumbled into the kitchen. He was also in nothing but boxers, his greying hair sticking up in every direction possible. He squinted at Stiles and Isaac and then looked sheepish as hell, especially when Stiles clocked the massive bite mark on the slope of his shoulder.

‘Huh.’ He nodded at Chris’ mark. ‘Guess it runs in the family.’

4.

Derek woke with a start. He shot up, fangs and claws out and eyes flashing and then settled when he saw who it was that had interrupted his sleep.

‘Jesus, Kira.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘What the hell?’

‘Just visiting.’ Kira had her wicked smile on. Since she’d joined her sisters in the desert, her propensity for mischief in keeping with her kitsune nature had become even more pronounced. ‘I wanted to say hi.’ She was balanced on her toes on the iron foot rail of his bed, her katana on her back and her black hair floating around her face, eyes burning orange.

‘Did you drive?’ Derek asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

‘No, I flew.’ Kira floated up into the air and landed soundlessly. ‘Isn’t it cool?’

‘Very.’ Derek couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘What time is it?’

‘Around three.’ Kira tilted her head, frowning at the bed he’d just vacated. ‘What are those?’

Derek looked behind him and felt his face heat up. He grabbed the black lace panties and shoved them under the pillow.

‘Nothing.’ he replied but Kira’s smile was now bordering on demonic.

‘You’re getting laid?’ she squealed in excitement. ‘Finally! Who’s the lucky girl?’

‘Oh...er..it’s…’ Derek floundered, not quite sure how to lay things out in a way that she wouldn’t be able to pick up on him lying. ‘It’s not so much a girl as it is a guy.’

Kira’s shriek of delight was enough to have him wincing at the assault on his eardrums.

‘Is it Stiles?’ She practically had heart eyes. ‘Oh God, please tell me it’s Stiles. You’ve had the biggest crush on him for about forever.’

That was when the toilet flushed and the ensuite door opened to reveal Stiles looking like the cat that ate the canary and possibly the entire aviary while he was about it.

‘A crush?’ He was beaming as brightly as Kira was. ‘On me?’

‘Shut up, Stiles.’ Derek ducked his head, knowing he’d been completely and utterly rumbled. Kira had been the only one he’d confessed to.

‘No, wait a second.’ Stiles’ grin turned smug. ‘All this time, I thought I was about the luckiest person on earth that you would even look at me and it turns out that you were pining for me?’

‘I wasn’t pining.’ Derek muttered, folding his arms and trying to get back some of his dignity. ‘I admired from afar.’

‘He pined.’ Kira giggled. ‘He pined so hard that I think we ate the entire grocery store stock of Ben and Jerry’s that first month you were dating Lydia. He made me go on a road trip to Vegas where all he did was mope and play the slots.’

‘I hate you.’ Derek growled at her but she completely ignored him and went over to throw her arms around Stiles, the two of them bouncing around like kindergarteners.

‘This is so great.’ Kira dragged Stiles back to the bed and hauled him onto it with her, all three of them getting tangled up. ‘It’s like my brother and my other brother getting together.’

‘That would be incest, Kira.’ Derek felt he was obligated to point this out. Kira crinkled her nose adorably and then shrugged.

‘Meh.’ She wriggled so she was between them, getting comfortable on the pillows. ‘Geez, I’m bushed after all that. Can I stay and nap for a bit?’

‘Sure.’ Stiles grinned badly at Derek over her head. ‘Although you do realise we’re both still naked, right?’

Kira mumbled something indistinct, already half asleep. Derek regarded her and brushed her hair out of her face.

‘She’s fucking nuts.’ he said, voice full of affection.

‘I know.’ Stiles replied. ‘But then again, who isn’t?’

5.

Melissa hummed to herself as she wandered the aisles of the grocery store. It was nice having this time to herself between shifts and she stopped to peruse a selection of sandwiches, tapping her fingers against her mouth as she contemplated lunch.

A familiar voice broke through her reverie and she frowned and walked to the end of the aisle, peeking around the corner and grinning as she took in the scene in front of her.

Canoodling. There was no other word for it. What was even more amusing was who exactly was doing the canoodling.

She’d always known how affectionate and tactile Stiles was. When he’d been in elementary school and she and Claudia had got together for coffee while he and Scott tore around the playground at the park, she’d always loved how free he’d been with his affection. He’d always come back to Claudia for a hug or a kiss on the head before galloping off again, something Melissa had envied. Scott had become withdrawn after Rafael had left, not as accepting of Melissa’s overtures as he had been and she had missed it.

Then Claudia had gotten sick and Stiles’ sunny nature had clouded over and he’d turned from tactile to clingy in his desperation. Melissa knew that whenever she’d visit she would find him on Claudia’s bead, tucked under her arm or snuggled into her side. Then Claudia’s dementia had gotten worse and she’d stopped recognising her son and that warm physical affection had dried up. Noah had tried to be a substitute but Melissa knew that nothing could ever take the place of Claudia’s touch. She had died and Stiles had grown up far too quickly, and that reservedness had persisted. He’d taken to pulling himself back, putting himself out there with words and manic energy instead and that sunny happy child she had known was hardly to be seen.

This though, this was like getting hit in the face with the past and it made her heart soar to see it.

Stiles had Derek trapped against one of the milk fridges, hands on his hips and their noses almost touching they were so close. It startled Melissa a little to realise that there was barely an inch difference between them and how broad Stiles had gotten in the shoulders. He and Derek now faced off as equals rather than antagonists and Melissa was equally surprised to see the look of exasperated love on Derek’s face as he looked into Stiles’ eyes, his own arms resting on Stiles’ shoulders.

‘I have to get milk.’ he said and Stiles snorted happily and nuzzled at him.

‘Well, I have to get kisses.’ he replied.

‘We’re in the middle of the store.’ Derek protested but his eyes were crinkled up and he was smiling in a way that Melissa could never recall seeing him smile. He looked utterly besotted and it was a very good look on him.

‘Stop being a worry wolf.’ Stiles laughed. ‘The pack shops on the other side of town. Nobody will see us here.’ He peppered Derek’s face with kisses and Derek started honest-to-God giggling, trying not very hard to fight him off until Stiles got him good and pinned and kissed him properly, Derek’s arms looped around his neck and their bodies pressed up tight against each other.

Melissa watched until it got a little too heated and then turned and left, a smile on her face all the way back to the hospital.

+ 1

‘Derek! Wake the fuck up!’ Stiles sounded panicked, more panicked than Scott had ever heard him. He was already moving to the door of the examination room when he was moved aside by Deaton. Boyd had laid Derek out on the stainless steel examination table, his shirt slashed by the harpy’s claws and deep rents in the skin underneath that bled freely. Stiles was in a state, his own clothes smeared with grime and his hair matted with what smelled like blood. Boyd wasn’t much better himself, battered and bruised, as was Erica. She was holding onto Derek’s hand tightly, not letting go even when Stiles shoved her aside to get to him.

Not for the first time, Scott realised he was out of the loop. He hadn’t even known that there was something up or that they were going hunting.

‘This is bad.’ Deaton’s usually calm was rattled. He disappeared and came back with a jar of oily looking green liquid. ‘Can someone hold his head?’

‘Why isn’t he healing?’ Cora asked, her dark eyes huge and full of tears.

‘Harpy venom is usually lethal to werewolves.’ Deaton nodded at Isaac, who lifted Derek’s head gently. Scott watched Deaton pry his mouth open and tipped the contents of the jar into it, Isaac steadying Derek so he wouldn’t choke. ‘Stiles. If ever you needed to use your spark, now is the time.’

‘Okay.’ Stiles wiped at his face, tears leaving clean streaks through the blood and dirt. He laid his hands on Derek’s chest and closed his eyes. ‘Come on, asshole. You don’t get to check out on me.’

Across the table, Cora took her brother’s other hand and Isaac laid Derek’s head down and moved to wrap his arms around her. Boyd came to stand alongside Erica, his arm around her waist.

‘Call him back.’ Deaton was looking at Stiles intently. ‘You know what he needs to hear.’

Stiles nodded, sniffling loudly when Derek’s wounds started to smoke as the potion kicked in.

‘Come on.’ He leaned down so his forehead was resting against Derek’s. ‘Please Derek, don’t leave me here without you. You know I can’t be alone anymore, not now I’ve got you with me.’

Scott frowned, his brain racing to catch up.

‘It’s not working.’ Erica was crying freely, her mascara streaked all down her face.

‘It will work.’ Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s hands. ‘Come on, you stubborn son of a bitch. I need you and if you think I’m letting you go without a fight, well you can take that and stick it up your ass.’

As if on cue, Derek shuddered and took on a deep breath. He started coughing, eyes flying open to glow red as he convulsed on the table. All the other wolves ran to hold him down but it was horrible to watch, even as his wounds slowly sealed up and his breathing eased.

‘That’s it.’ Stiles was smiling through his tears. ‘Another deep breath, just like that baby.’

Derek’s head fell back to the table with a thump and he made a face that would have been comical if it hadn’t been for the circumstances.

‘I feel like I got chewed up and spat out.’ he croaked and everyone sagged in relief.

‘You almost did, man.’ Boyd laughed, but it was choked. ‘Fuck, we thought we’d lost you.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Derek looked up at Stiles, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. ‘I’m fine, okay.’

‘You’re not, but I’ll take it.’ Stiles replied, still crying and kissing Derek’s forehead. ‘You stupid self-sacrificing dick. If I didn’t love you so damn much, I’d kill you myself.’

Scott looked at Deaton, who shrugged, cryptic smile back in place.

Derek smiled, exhausted but soft.

‘I love you too.’ he replied, pulling Stiles down into an upside down kiss that went on and on and didn’t stop even when the back door slammed open and a wild-eyed Peter charged in, claws and fangs out and his eyes electric blue.

‘Harpies?’ He waved his hands at them, looking for all the world like Stiles when he flailed. ‘What the fucking fuck?’

Stiles and Derek broke apart, holding onto each other tightly.

‘Your pack.’ Stiles murmured, nosing at Derek’s hair.

‘Our pack.’ Derek replied and pulled him back down to kiss again.

[teacup-baphomet]

G/t Drabble (Crash landed on a hostile planet trope but NOT via the a tiny vulnerable human in a planet of mean powerful alien bigs route)

tw: a bit of censored cursing. Uh. I’m not sure what else. Maybe broaching of sensitive tops such as sexuality and religion. But not really. Mostly it’s just rlly dumb word play/lame humor and a confused alien being confused (and kinda freaked/troubled due to the confusion? you’ll see if you read it i guess). there is some sad lorg boi times. idk. no romantic relationships. just a shaky friendship is forming between a crash-landed big-arse alien (a human! *gasp*  i woulda never guessed something as vile as that o: ) and one of the much smaller, very much not human locals. most want to kill the poor dude who got stuck on this planet of hostile lil guys who think he’s a monster and immediately decide they much off him asap. so like having this one ally is kinda important to him. But it’s hard. because. lots reasons rlly. culture differences. the language tech can only do so much. the size diff creates definite issues because trust is hard in general. and trusting a big being that could easily cause havoc on your planet mostly just cuz he /seems/ nice is not a very good foundation... there is much to learn between the two before they can be truly good frens. so uh good luck to them lol *raises glass* I mean. I don’t think I’ll ever write these two again. but I’m sure they’ll end up good friends. probably.

Anyway without further adieu, here have a disappointment (read: attempt to be creative but i’m kinda lazy tbh and still kinda bitter I can’t draw for more than like 10 minutes before I start spacing out :/ )

"We are called humans or the scientific name is homo sapiens" spoke the large alien, Lyle.

"Homo sapiens? That is rather long, is it not? Why is a "scientific name" even a thing? Why would that be necessary? Scientific name versus what kinda name? Emotional name? Why are these science names two words? Seems annoying. What is wrong with just calling yourselves simply homos? Or something else just as nice and concise. Straight to the point if you will. Probably. I... Uh.. I obviously don't know what exactly is the purpose of a scientific name as i already implied... Sooo..." The much shorter – and much scalier- native being (called Torrynts) awkwardly looked off the side to stare at the plain, blank, siding of their dilapidated, isolated house as if it were the most interesting thing in the entire vicinity. Which it wasn’t of course. There was a f***ing alien 15 times their size only a few them-sized lengths way…

 Lyle gave his new comrade – and only friend on this gawdforsaken planet that mostly wants him dead- th pondering, and possibly ironically, rather colourfully scaled Torrynt by the name of Kyvlar a bemused look, bordering on coy.

"Huh. 'Straight' to the point you say?" He paused with a small snort. "Well, my not-so-statuesque friend, do I got news for you~"

Kyvlar suddenly blanched, giving a Lyle a look that was like a knife to the heart while blurting out. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold up! We? There are more than one of you? Here? On this planet? Were you just a distraction the whole time. Oh... Oh no.... Have we really been victim a secret homo invasion this whole time! I-"

 Their panicked monologue was interrupted by a most horrendous noise. Like a slowly dying tornado with the hiccups or something.

"STOP. Stop I-I can't. I can't. This is too much much!" Spoke Lyle with his hand covering the bottom half of his  and his eyes scrunched shut.

 'Welp,' thought the Torrynt, 'This is the end. This is when I die. I should have known better than to immediately put my trust in such an enormous obviously dangerous specimen. Ho-'

 Kyvlar’s dramatic internal speech was interrupted when the alien surprised them by uncovering the his face, revealing a huge grin. ‘They weren't upset? Huh?’ The Torrynt blinked owlishly at the human in confusion.

 "Sh*t, bite-size (Kyvlar noticeably paled at the impromptu nickname not 100% the foreign joking tone, well it would have been noticeable to someone their size at least), I know you don't mean to, context-wise, but you reminded me of my great aunt Karen when my Uncle Todd and Uncle Copper decide to have their friends over along with relatives for a gatherin'."

Plastering on a faux distraught look and blatantly mocking tone, he  continue with exaggerated hand gestures. "Oh no, it's the...the...," he paused with snort, "... the homo invasion... No, no, no... Not here... not in this... this good, Christian neighborhood. Aren't just two of them enough? Oh woe is me!" The alien dropped the mocking tone and smirked towards the smaller being. "Heh. Good ol' great aunt Karen could never remember Uncle Todd was Jewish and so was the majority of that neighborhood.... It’s where my Uncle Todd was raised actually…"

 The said smaller being just stared blankly at the homo-no-human they supposed as just “homo” meant something else, they weren’t sure what else, beyond just something else.

 "Uhhm. Wh-what? U-Uhm, so what exactly is “homo” then? And what’s Christian? And Jewish too. What’s that? Are... Are those other types of -uh- intelligent, sentient creatures on your planet? Y-you know, b-beside hom-er-h-humans? Or are these subtypes of humans? What kinda are you? What is a great aunt? or Uncle? Does the great indicate a larger size? Oh gawd, a-aren't you humans b-big enough regularly? Oh... W-wait. O-or are you a great- uhm- great aunt, was it? E-er, g-great something? Ohhh. Zyntall (Torrynt swear). I'm sooo confused r-right now... " The timid tiny being, sighed in frustration before their eyes snapped open wide in a panic, and they did an immediate one-eighty with their behavior, and it was off all their previously trust, as wavering as it was, vanished in an instant, squeaking out a quick "sorry. oh, Z-zyntall... I'm so-so-sooo sorry. I-I hope I d-didn't offend y-you or anyth-thing... p-please, oh please, don't hurt me" while gazing everywhere except towards the much larger alien, hoping desperately the 'bite-size' nickname was just a bad joke...

 Clearly they not only didn't get what so hilarious about the whole thing but also thought he was a monster prone to violence – still. Lyle sighed, all the mirth that was previously in his expression draining out of him leaving him with an uncomfortable grimace on their face. How disappointing... They really wish there was another human here to share in the jesting. But alas, that was not meant to be. At least as far as they knew there was no "homo invasion" in the making. Lyle wasn’t naïve. He knew humans were easy to slip into a gray moral state, at best. The role of villains at worst. And many of his kind would likely take advantage of a planet full of tiny, vulnerable people. Lyle couldn’t help but inwardly cringe at the thought, getting nervous about something that wasn’t an issue. At least now. Currently, human-wise, it was just him on this distant planet. And as far as he knew, no one - well, no other human at least- had any clue where they were. It probably just seemed he simply disappeared. Never to be seen again most likely. Trapped on this random alien planet in scenario that is akin to some sort of a personal hell of sorts.

'Wow. Hello, major depressive episode that’s making me overly dramatic. I haven't seen you since I was - what - eighteen?' thought Lyle regretfully. Calling this planet a personal hell was probably a bit over the top. But still, he couldn’t even seem to keep the trust of his single native ally. It only adds to his feelings of lonely isolation. And he feared his lonely angst will only get worse and worse. But only time will tell.

Giving a small sigh, he mentally prepped himself to try and get back his small friend’s trust. At least he was able to laugh for a wee bit earlier. It had been so long since he had done such. It was nice. Hopefully next time it will not lead to a backtracking in his attempted friendly ships with an open local, or even worse, a hostile local. The little laser guns that native being had stung like a b*tch. It reminded him when he got bit a couple times by some fire ants during a vacation as a child.

-----------

So yeah these were rando improvised characters made on the spot.

But Lyle is a guy (he/him. He’d be chill with they/them too)

And Kyvlar is… a Torrynt. So like they/them I guess. Torrynts don’t have genders. Like at all. I guess they hermaphroditic (intersex if talking by human terms but not really as they are capable of reproduction and they aren’t human so… I dunno… Not even sure if hermaphrodite is a useful term. As idk if hermaphroditic animals, in nature, are capable of reproduction… I don’t think so? But I’m not sure tbh…). There is no variants like there are with human “sex”. And male/female concepts are 200+% foreign to these wee reptile-like aliens (albeit warm-blooded minded, so perhaps more draconian than reptilian idk. Also aliens being described as reptilian gives me hives due to a conspiracy theory that is like super bigoted actually n’ stuff. Very yikes. Don’t want to talk it about it rlly…). Their reaction would def be “wtf. That’s the weirdest sh*t ever” to such a thought as male n female binary dynamics & whatnot. No exceptions. They’d be like why a lot of you guys limiting yourself because of whether or not you are a potential offspring vessel or not. I don’t understand.

So Yeah. Uh. Anyways.

Their conversation about this prolly (or close to this):

Lyle: Hi. I’m Lyle. Just some random dude form Earth I guess.

Kyvlar: a random dude what?

Lyle: uh. I’m a dude. I guess I meant that I’m a boy though dudes don’t really have to be boys I think. But not to derail too much… Yeah. I’m a man/guy/boy/brosef, whatever you wanna call the male gender. Please not by brosef actually, heh. Anyway. Yep. A boy. That is what I am. Uh. How about you. I can just tell… you ….you have uhm two legs. Oh damn. Wait. That sounded so stupid. I wouldn’t assume your gender or anything. I just… You don’t look exactly human so..uh. UGH. Nevermind. I don’t even know where I was going with that... Heh. ANYWAY, so yeah what’s your gender is what I’m trying to say. Sorry I’m awkward as f***. I’m not used to socializing much. Been doing deep space sh** on my own for a few years now and.. uh.. yeahhhh….

Kyvlar: *stares blankly*

Lyle: Uh. Yeah. So. A Gender? Do you, uhm, have one? Or…????

Kyvlar: Uh. I think so? I mean I’m mostly a day-by-day I’ll figure it out then type but I, I really want be able to fix my home up. I want to learn to cook. Kinda suck at it now. Uhm. I guess… Uh. I should probably help you get on good terms with my people so they stop trying to kill you. You seem nice n’ stuff… so yeah. There’s that. I could use a little more purpose in my life. Not to-

Lyle: wait. Huh? What are you talking about? Are you talking about an agenda?

Kyvlar: Yes????

Lyle: *snorts* I didn’t say an agenda. I said a gender. As in A. Gen. Durr. Like are male or female or maybe something off the typical binary track??

Kyvlar: Uh. Er. Huh??? I, I’m so confused right now…

Lyle: Hooo boy. I’m so not prepared for this discussion at all.

-----------

One of these days I’m gonna have a character that’s silver-tongue and smooth af and not some bumbling awkward doofus (*cough* like I am *cough*).

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo Preview | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk but it’s... not on purpose??, jungkook looks soft but he’s tattoed and pierced, accidental edging (you’ll... understand) → words: anticipated 10-15K → a/n: ...listen. i am not in the right state of mind right now. i am actually bordering on insane... but that’s not gonna stop me from being a clown so this is!! something i’ve been working on for a Year now but @jincherie​ literally commissioned me to finish writing this piece of shit so here we are... here we fucking are... idk when i’m posting this but it will be Soon and i’m not ready

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there. 

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that. 

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. He feels his eyes bugging out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you. 

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

[avian-writes]

The day we decided to live

The Days: Part 1

Content Warnings: depression, thoughts of suicide

words: 3039

In hindsight, when we had to park the car on a dirt road with only a government power strip on it and cross the barren back road to reach the GPS location, we should’ve known it was a bad idea. But it wasn’t like we were worried for our lives. We never have been.

    It had been a long day: my car broke down after a 10 hour shift and my best friend, Darian, had to come pick me up. Neither of us could figure out what was wrong with it so I called a roadside mechanic who said he could come out and check it out the following day. Tired, we got food and went to my apartment to hang out. We hadn’t done that in weeks, we didn’t have the time or energy. What time we didn’t spend working was spent in bed, not wanting to get up to see the other.

    It was during this that Darian asked, “Hey Jake, attractor, void, or anomaly?”

    “...What?”

    He turned his phone towards me and showed me a screen asking the same thing. “It’s Randonautica.”

    “It’s what now?”

    “You haven’t heard of it? It’s been all over the internet, mostly Tik Tok.”

    I shook my head. I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything lately. “What is it?”

    He explained it was an app that gave you a random location and you just...went there. He almost mentioned something about manifestation but I had already agreed and was taking his phone out of his hand. I needed something to do and distract myself that wasn’t my own anxiety biting at me.

    Most of the screen was taken up by a GPS map with a radius of 2km. At the bottom were the choices of Attractor, Power, and Void. I hit Void then ‘generate’.

    The screen turned black and white text appeared. ‘What would you like to find?’

“Something interesting.” Something that made moving worth it. Something that made life worth living.

‘Imagine it. Manifest it.’

Because we were good young adults, we did as we were told and closed our eyes, trying to manifest a reason to live. Not like we didn’t spend every day doing that already. When we opened them, an owl took up the screen telling us to prepare and I didn’t even get the chance to move when the map came back up.

    ‘Generated point; Void Anomaly’

Under it was an address I didn’t recognize. Zooming in on the map I could see the point was in the middle of woods. “Is that private property?” Darian asked, squinting.

“Sure is! You ready?”

I grabbed my Emergency Drive bag, a bag containing my portable charger, an extra cord, granola bars, chapstick, a notebook and pen, and a water bottle. It was solely for the purpose of when things got bad in my head and I just needed to get in my car and drive. I used it more often these days.

Less than twenty minutes later, we’re both standing on the side of the road across from the point. Darian had to park on a dirt road a ways off, parking on the side in our city would’ve been a horrible idea, and we walked over. We waited for the road to be clear and darted across.

    On the other side, there was a ditch directly off the pavement filled with lumps of dirt similar to snake pouches all along it. It was the only way to the woods with a treeless stretch of tall grass. We both stood at the top of the drop off, staring down into the thorns and possible snake pits.

    “Maybe we’ll find a dead body,” I said, referencing one of the stories I had read on the way there. With my phone plugged into Darian’s car charger of course. No way was I going into this with it even on 99%.

    “Hopefully it’ll be one of our own.”

    I didn’t comment. Especially when I agreed with him.

    A sewer pipe went right underneath the road, leading into the overgrown bank. The grass went up to our knees and it wasn’t until we were already in that we noticed the briars growing along ankle-height.

    “Welp, here we go!” I said with only a slight tint of enthusiasm. I started through the briar patch and Darian reluctantly followed me. Since we had come right from my apartment and neither of us were known for thinking things through, we weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion.

    I had on short shorts and Darian had short pants as well as sandals; at least I had on tennis shoes. As we walked, I could feel every little cut on my legs as the briars dug into my skin and scratched along until I was past. Long cuts of red were scattered on both of our legs.

    Finally, we got through and we were on the edge of the woods. Darian pulled up the GPS and handed it to me since I could read a map better than him. I turned it so it matched where we were facing and held it parallel to the ground. “Look, see! It’s the middle of this pathway where there aren’t trees.”

    “Unless we want to deal with more briars, we’re not going straight there.” Darian pointed ahead of us and sure enough, grass taller than even him along with even more briars grew everywhere in the stretch. The woods it was.

    I took the lead and we headed into the woods. It was only short in width as it bordered a farm; it was the woods on the other side of the stretch that was formidable. It went on for miles according to the GPS map and neither of us were good with directions when everything looked the same and we couldn’t see the sun.

    All throughout the small journey to our destination, I laughed as Darian stumbled his way over fallen logs and small creeks of water going criss cross all along the dirt floor. He nearly tripped right into a tree and I caught his arm.

    “Didn’t you say you grew up on a farm in a rural area? Did you never go exploring in the woods?” The thought baffled me, someone who had spent 85% of his childhood and high school years in the woods, playing pretend and just going on forever until the darkness pushed me back home.

    Darian shook his head. “Our woods weren’t really woods like this. I never went in them much anyway.”

    “What did you spend your time doing?”

    He smiled at me, a real genuine smile I hadn’t seen in months. “Playing video games.”

    It was a sweet bonding moment that got ruined real soon. I spotted something dark through the soft, brightly lit grass and leaped out into the strip. I darted over and stumbled back just as fast.

Darian followed me and lurched back. An animal carcass was strewn across the only patch of short grass, torn apart and unrecognizable. Hundreds, maybe thousands of flies swarmed the area and we both took heavy steps away.

    Flies. Hundreds of little flies. I batted at them, but I could feel little flicks all over me as they flocked to me and Darian. I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep them from getting in my mouth. Waving my hands around in a feeble attempt to get them away from me, I accidentally smacked Darian right in the shoulder.

    “Feck, sorry dude.”

    He didn’t answer me. I blinked through the swarm and if I had eaten that day, it would’ve come right back up. The dead deer was laying in the small patch of short grass, right in between us and the rest of the easy way through the stretch.

    I’m from the mountains, my family is a combination of hillbillies and rednecks, and I had a vulture as a best friend back home. Dead animals were a common occurrence as well as roadkill being the main feature of dinners at family reunions.

    But this was much worse than simple roadkill. This was a mutilation. An attack on the poor thing. It’s entire body was torn open, entrails and organs spilling out into the blood-caked grass. Bones were almost licked clean and we could see the skull through a hole in the neck.

    I felt Sick. I backed away and ran back to the woods, Darian right on my heels. As soon as we entered the dark, shady, and death-free safety of the trees, I keeled over and crouched in the dirt. Burying my head into my arms and trying to take deep breaths. Beside me, I could feel Darian doing the same.

    A pricking at the back of my head nudged at me and I violently shook it away. A pleasant but jealous feeling that I didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing. “Alright, that’s enough for today. Want to go to another location?”

    Darian shook his head and pointed at his phone screen. “We’re not too far from the coords. Might as well go all the way and make this worth it.” He pointedly didn’t look at the corpse when speaking.

    I thought about it for only a moment before shrugging and nodding my head. We continued on through the woods and kept going around the strip. In complete silence, we followed his offline GPS until we were directly across from the bright red point.

    We looked at each other then stepped out of the woods and crossed the barrier further into our nightmare. Not even 10 footsteps away was stomped grass that led back into the woods. This was where the point was supposed to be. Broken glass littered the ground, quite literally; it looked like someone had littered.

    “It’s probably nothing, Jake. Someone else must have gotten these coordinates too.”

    “Aren’t they randomly generated?”

    “We’re not that far from the farm. Probably one of their kids hiding their drinking from overbearing parents.” But even he didn’t sound convinced. I didn’t know why, but something about the area didn’t seem right. Maybe I just wanted to believe that since it was a new place and something was odd about it. I bet if someone came into my backyard, they’d feel something was off too, but it would just be the overturned lawn chairs we hadn’t bothered to pick up after the last storm.

    I bent down and carefully picked up a piece of glass, holding it up to eyelevel to inspect it. It was thin and after looking closely, was curved just a bit. My stomach dropped and I looked around, spotting a broken piece of long, slender plastic.

    “This wasn’t a beer bottle. It was glasses. Like, eyeglasses.” I looked up at Darian through my own glasses and he blinked at me through his. This had gotten too creepy and it seemed he agreed with me as we both started lightly sprinting for the woods.

    As we ran, something hit me. Nothing physical, nothing stopped me from running. But something for sure hit my chest. I stopped of my own accord and turned back towards the strip and started walking. Why?

    Good question. Wish I had an answer for you.

    Behind me, I could vaguely hear Darian asking what the feck I was doing but I just kept walking. Just like when I drive down random roads at night with no real direction, when I go on walks through town and take random turns, it was like something was telling me to go that way. That I needed to see what was there.

As I broke through the clearing, I regretted it immediately. A circle of mowed grass amongst the overgrowing field of weeds wasn’t what we were expecting to find but alright. Just to add to the weirdness factor.

“What the fuck is going on, Jake?” Darian’s voice sounded ten miles away and right at my ear, still incredibly tired.

All I could do was shake my head, an overcoming sense of dread took me over and I turned and booked it. Praying Darian was behind me, I skipped along back into the woods and looked all around me. There was still plenty of daylight, I knew this. My phone said 3:46 pm with no reception. But the sky was growing darker already. Not even in the Winter did it get night this quickly.

I started running and dodging trees, reaching out my hands to feel for bark and shoving myself out of their way. My foot caught on a log and I went face first onto the ground. The warm, soft ground.

All at once, my body relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. I rolled onto my back and took in a deep, deep breath. I almost didn’t need it; I couldn’t breathe but also could breathe finally. Nothing held it back, nothing weighing on my heart to keep it from beating at a steady, normal pace.

    The overbearing, sinking feeling over took my chest; begging to drag me down into the depths of the woods. The trees closed in over head and the sun was successfully blocked out. No light streamed in, the only source being from the far off tower strip.

    I tried to move but couldn’t. I raised my arm and it just dropped back to my side, it was af it was light as a feather, with hollow bones, and filled with lead at the same time. I let my head hit the dirt as I leaned back as all my motivation to stay up left me.

    But it wasn’t scary. Only…strangely comforting. It didn’t feel like it wanted to harm me, simply take away any preexisting pain. Take away everything until nothing was left, including the sadness. Dull all my senses. Block out the noises. Silence the humming noise and voices.

    I could just not move. Let it consume me, take my spirit and mind away. It would be so easy…

    “JAKE!”

    Darian’s voice cut through every thought I had. Any resolve I had to let whatever it was take me broke away. My best friend needed me, and as much as I wanted to die, he needed me to live even more.

    I scrambled to my heavy feet and took off into the strip. I dashed through the grass, ignoring the broken glass, leapt over the decaying deer, waved off the flies, and ran until my legs ached and my chest was burning.

    “JAKE!”

    The grass cut at my legs and arms, sharp searing pain akin to getting sliced with a knife covered me from head to toe but it was miniscule compared to the building anxiety rising in my tightened chest.

    I broke into the circle and there Darian was. Just laying there, staring up at the open blue sky. His arms and legs outstretched as if he was just sunbathing on a lovely day. But the fear striking his face and pulsing veins streaming from his clenched fists and neck told me otherwise.

    I fell to my knees next to him and yanked an arm around my shoulders. Darian had a good five inches and 70 pounds on me, but the shallow breathing and returning clawing feeling in my brain gave me just enough strength to lift my best friend up to get the feck out of there.

    We finally made it past the deer and Darian suddenly slipped away from me. I started to panic until he grabbed my hand and we both took off. We ran in the slim space between the woods and strip, leaping over logs and doing our best to avoid briars.

    It was the most terrifying time of both of our lives. Especially with the feeling now rising out of the ground to pull at my ankles, trying desperately to drag me back down. I ignored it the best I could until I couldn’t.

I briefly stopped, yanking Darian to a stop, and stomped on the nearest stick. It broke right in half and the feeling vanished with a cold, fleeting pass. I slipped my hand around Darian’s wrist and dragged him through the strip.

    Then we heard the sweetest sound, calming music to our ears: cars. Driving past at fast, back road “no cops around, speeds. We ran faster and the road finally came into view. We only slowed down enough to step on the rocks and climb up and over the sewer pipe. Darian pulled me up and we took one step onto the road.

    “Well, we did find a dead body.”

    “Shut up.”

    Probably dangerous to stand on a road at night, but nothing could’ve felt more dangerous to us than those woods. The pavement felt like heaven to us at that moment. We caught our breath and walked across the road in silence. Back to the car, got in, and just sat there.

    Darian started the car and switched on the headlights. The two of us stared into the dimly lit dirt road ahead of us, neither of us wanting to speak. If we did, then that made it real. What we experienced had been real and we had really almost let ourselves be left behind.

    We had almost died. We didn’t know what about what we felt led us to believe death was the end goal, but neither of us doubt we would’ve died if we hadn’t just gotten up and left. No matter how hard it was to do so.

    Something we had both wanted for so long. But given the chance, we didn’t let go. It didn’t feel like the other attempts, to me anyway. I had been in control then.

    “You good?” I managed to croak out.

    Darian huffed out a weak laugh. “Not in the least bit. You?”

    “I’m never going into the woods again.”

    Eventually, he put the car into drive and we left. Back to my apartment. I had work early in the morning, but we didn’t want to be alone that night. So we slept on my floor where I held tight onto his jacket sleeve until the sun rose. Neither of us brought up him choosing to call for help nor me answering that call.