#yes there are probably typos in this i will fix them later i already sat here long enough

[shamanofthewilds]

Exiles Reach Shaman Lore

A Shaman’s Duty & Ghost Wolf Form

And how it reveals the important job a Shaman has in the world and how you can use it in your stories and enhance your RP.

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Each class gets its own little bit of flavor for Exiles Reach. Quests specifically dedicated to expanding on the lore or giving slight context to their power. One bit of lore that was removed ages ago was the quest to gain your Ghost Wolf form as a shaman.

The Ghost Wolf is something I see interpreted and handled many different ways, some of which (while perfectly fine to enjoy how you wish) a bit inaccurate to the nature of a shaman’s ability to connect to the spirits. This isn’t really at the fault of the players, but the game itself failing to communicate the lore and making people have to guess or make up how it works. Not to mention we’ve seen the ghost wolf form used only a few times by characters in game and varies from medium to medium (In-Game, Heroes of the Storm, TCG, Offical Concepts, Hearthstone). So I can understand why there would be a little bit of a mix up.

But this isn’t about the Ghost Wolf form in general, this is covering the specific lore and it’s context on Exile’s Reach and how I would approach this form the view of RP and Story Telling. I get detailed, but anything to help give my take on Shamanic story telling. You can get a lot, from a little!

(Yes this is long, but you can’t say I’m not thorough when wanting to help RPers see how much you can expand your character by paying attention to things that apply to you!)

So let’s begin:

As your shaman reaches the Ogre Ruins with the rest of your stranded crew, you will see a Ghost Wolf sitting close to the fire with a quest called:

A Shaman’s Duty.

◆ Upon greeting him, his quest text immediately addresses to you: “Your companions cannot see me. Only you, for you have trained in the ways of the shaman.”

This sets the stage for you as a shaman to what can, and cannot , be experienced to those untrained in the shamanic ways. Meaning that, unless your character has/had a sudden spiritual awakening, by any circumstance, that more often than not...unless they are in tune and connected to the spirit realm , they will not see , hear or experience the spirits. (This does not include instances where a non spiritually in tune character was given a powerful experience to see spirits where they otherwise would not.)

This Ghost Wolf purposefully reached out to a young and upcoming shaman through the spirit realm and onto the waking realm without anyone noticing but the shaman.

◆ He then explains his dire request for communicating with you. That: “The necrotic energies of this island have ensnared my pack. I need your aid to free them.”

We know in the story of this island that there are many volatile forces at work from Ogres, harpies and quilboar. At this point we know the ogres are pulling at necrotic energy with the intention of raising a powerful dragon from the dead.

This is where the name of the quest makes sense. A Shaman’s Duty. We have now established the important role you have as a shaman and what it is your character will often be faced with. As a person connected to the spirits and with nature, it is your duty to ensure that dark, corruptive and dangerous forces keep their grip off of the elements and the spirit realm. You are going to be among the gifted few tasked with making sure that the sacred balance is not harmed and that the wise spiritual beings (who cannot fix matters like this alone) are not tortured and lost forever.

This also shows the inherent impact magic akin to necromancy and other necrotic related powers have on the spirit plane and why shamans are right in distrusting it. A good thing to note is that this is a massive ritual that would reach farther than one person raising a dead body. Either way, it shows the harmful effects.

◆ Lastly in his quest text he states: “Gather veil blossom from the surrounding area. Burn them on the campfire and  breath deep of their smoke. Then you will see my packmates and release them from their bonds.”

This is now where we establish the common traditions that will more or less span across most shamanic cultures and why the Ghost wolf have established themselves as a sacred piece in this universe’s shamanic practice. The Ghost Wolf imparted wisdom unto the up and coming shaman on what natural substance will elevate their mind and spiritual self through smoke inhalation. This establishes a sacred herb to see to the spirit plane and is a resource for shaman to seek out. We also now see the importance of the common practice of smoking/burning with the intent of ritual use.

Your shaman now has a sacred source of other worldly information about what is around them and see first hand how the spirits communicate their wisdom. Many shaman come from nomadic, nature based, and clan like cultures where travel and connection to the world will be a major point of religious importance. So the ritual use of herbs and nature based materials will be a key function for a shamans on going practice both in aiding the spirit realm and their community.

After you accept your mission given to you by the Ghost Wolf, he speaks to you, with a wise masculine voice that is calm and paired with a ghostly echo.

He cautions you on the complicated and strange nature when peering into the spirit world. Not all can handle being able comprehend a world of the dead and the spirits coinciding with the living.

Before you leave, Warlord Breka Grimaxe, takes notice of your behavior. Her tone indicating the importance of your action and a slight sense of intrigued reverence.

Warlord Breka Grimaxe is an orc warrior and that is important to know for this context. One thing many people seem to not connect is that someone doesn’t need to be a shaman, in order recognize the spirits in a religious or faith based manner. A human can pray to the Light and not have to ascend to a priesthood, so an orc can seek for a sign from the Ancestors without becoming a shaman.

Shamans hold an important role in the culture of orcs, and the Horde as a whole. Her being a witness to a shaman directly gaining wisdom from a spirit she cannot see is a moment of quiet awe inspiring reverence. It will vary from culture to culture, but the Horde over all have a majority shamanic based leaning culture with exception of Elves.

The Alliance side has a much different reaction to you speaking to an unseen entity. The human named Captain Garrick says to you in a tone hints she finds your behavior odd, and not usual for her.

◆ “Uh, recruit? Who you were talking to?”

Humans, and Alliance as a whole, do not have the same mindset when it comes to presence of spirits. While they might have cultures where shamanism has shown itself, the Alliance largely doesn’t see *animism as a main focus of their spiritual and faith structures. The cultures themselves (dwarves, draenei, kul’tiran, pandaren) all manifest and approach shamanism for vastly different reasons and many different ways. Any version of shamanism on the Alliance will always be a little different and it is typically an uncommon sight.

It is very important to know what culture you’re playing as and how this effects them, as well as how their peers may react. EX: Draenei shaman are not exactly the most popular, even if seen as wise and helpful by some. No matter how much reverence they show to the spirits , they will always be the one going a little against the grain in the eye of popular draenei belief and customs. This will shape how you conduct your characters habits, and what you should expect depending on how you portray your shamanism to other characters of the same or different background.

The orc might be more inclined to agree to the draenei shaman.

But other draenei may see them as blasphemous. (Which might be a mindset to consider others in Alliance might have)

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* Animism is the belief that objects, places, and creatures all possess a distinct spiritual essence.

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Veil Blossoms

Exiles Reach introduced a plant called Veil Blossom. The Ghost Wolf instructed you to go gather this plant in order to access sight into the spirit realm. In doing this, you are fulfilling a role as a learning shaman doing something at the request of a wise spirit, furthering your knowledge of nature and ritual practice of gathering herbs for sacred usage.

The Veil Blossom themself were found around the edge of a body water at the Ogre ruins connected to a flowing water source. It can be assumed that this plant might commonly be found around or near bodies of water (and maybe more so bodies with running water).

They are depicted with the model of plant that is tall with long leaves and stalks, making it appear like a type of Reed. It has a tall red feathery cluster of flowers up top.

We gain insight on this plant as we collect it for our special mission:

We can assume that Veil Blossom is not unique to Exiles Reach, but is instead a plant likely found in multiple places in Azeroth. Meaning that for many, this is an annoying plant with not much usage for a majority of people. But a shaman will know it’s sacred usage thanks to the insight of the spirits. Your shaman will occasionally get to learn rare bits of wisdom like this. It’s important your shaman learns to treat substances like these with a sense of reverence or respect. They are what connects them to the spirit realm through ritual burning and will be used often in ceremonies.

These are all things your shaman can gradually learn through experience and exposure in their journey of becoming more spiritually in tune with their cultures practice.

Veil Blossom will get it’s own separate post.

[Link Placeholder]

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Returning to the Camp and Breathing Deep.

Now that you have your ritual plant, you toss it into the fire and immediately see a change to your surroundings. The smoke goes from dark gray to crimson and your sight takes in everything with an ethereal shift as you gain access to see the plane that exists between life and death.

It should be noted, that things in-game are usually quick for mechanics sake and to streamline questing so that it is easier. However it is not unbelievable to think that the smoke can have a fast reaction. But is important to remember context clues when knowing how to approach these details for RP as well as what we know about inhaling mind altering smoke in real life.

The Ghost Wolf instructed you to “breath deep of their smoke”. A ceremonial in take of smoke would not be instant, nor would any effects be instant (usually). Your shaman would of stood there a good few moments...as they took a long deep breath to fill their lungs and let their mind open up so that their eyes can see the unseen. Practices like this are things your shaman may find themselves doing for special ceremonies alone , with other people, or for a specific purpose. So it’s key to pay attention to the importance of this transition and show the calm reverence your shaman has as they feel themselves elevate spiritually.

Once your shaman gained access to the spirit plane, you get another reaction from Warlord Breka Grimaxe and/or Captain Garrick. Without overly explaining it, it shows again the difference in mentalities of how the Horde and Alliance view things like shamanism and spiritual contact.

◆ Warlord Breka Grimaxe (Shamanistic Culture, proud):

◆ Captain Garrick (Non-Shamanistic Culture, as if recalling something):

Now we have access to the spirit plane through a ritual burning of a plant that you learned through the wisdom of your ghost wolf guide.

For this moment, your shaman is given a Veiled Sight. Seeing what lingers beyond the veil. You exist in a duality of life and death, spirit and physical. You walk the land among living, but see what others cannot. A shamans job is to understand this balance, as all things in shamanism are about balance and harmony. This is an experience that drives home that a shamans job is in tune with almost every aspect life. It should be noted, that depending on skill level, not every shaman may be ready for something like this, hence why this has been a guided quest from a ghost wolf. A moment like this might be aided at the request of a teacher as well. Later on in life, this may be an occasional thing your shaman.

And now we see what a gift like this reveals:

The spirits of stranded and ship wrecked people who found their demise on this island. All people who had lives, families, interests and homes. Faces you may recognize, faces you may have forgotten, now before you. It could be over whelming, or it could be loving. A shaman may feel deep care and empathy for all these people, in awe that you see them and now know them. (Or it might be jarring, depending on the person and skill level.)

These spirits are all very aware of your presence. As you run past them, they face you as you move. This can be incorporated now, that a skilled shaman with experience may be able to speak with confidence that the spirits are in fact all around, and are , more often than not , very much aware of those with a spiritual gift. (If you can sense them, they might sense you.)

But again, always think of your character as a person. These experiences will all be different. Yet , it’s good to know background information to better reinforce your stories. Moving on.

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Rescuing the Ghost Wolf Packmates

The next bits of information just reinforce that necrotic magic directly effects and harms the spirit plane, especially when done in such a large amount when referencing the ogre ritual being conducted.

A novice shaman may not be able to feel when the spirits are upset, that is a sensitivity that must be nurtured (and might always be something fluctuating). So it is important that they listen to when they are approached with news from something or someone as important as a ghost wolf , ancestor, or elemental.

For the ghost wolf pack in the veiled plane, they are all bound and immobilized with necrotic magic in the center of a formation of stone with one singular stone standing out from the rest.

Prairie dogs stand just outside the circle in the waking realm, aware that something is happening despite being unable to see it. This actually shows a good example of where shamanism blends with their ability to tap into nature magic and the wilds. A good representation of why druids and shaman often help each other in a crisis that effects the environment. (They were also seen near the lake with the Veil Blossoms)

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Speculation:

It’s important to see the use of the word ensnared, because this could imply these ghost wolves were caught on purpose, which would explain these rings of stone. It is highly possible the ogre here know of these wise ghost wolves and made cursed spirit traps to keep them in place, or its possible it could be detrimental to any spirit that gets close. But this is merely speculation. Which is what you should encourage in your shaman. To always be thinking of the why in a situation like this to better understand how the spirit realm can be corrupted. The ring, however, may be good inspiration when thinking of structures for shamanic uses.

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Upon saving them, each Ghost wolf communicates with you vocally before running off. It shows more importance at halting large form usage of necromancy.

Ghost Wolf says: Thank you, shaman. I am in your debt.

Ghost Wolf says: The ogres' necromancy has ravaged the spirit world.

Ghost Wolf says: You must stop the ritual before it is completed.

Clear view of the circle:

Close up to the large stone design:

Minor speculation unrelated that may or may not have been spoken about: A lot of these magical stones, seen with shaman and druid ect, often have a hole in them. They make me think of “Hag stones” (or adder stones). Stones that have been naturally created to have a hole in them after a long time of being run over with water. The folk lore goes that they bring good luck and ward off evil, and that the hole itself is a portal to the fae realm. Looking through it might give you a glimpse of it.

When expanding on your shamanic lore and your characters practice, look at in real life examples to better get a feel of the connection to nature. Just always do your research you’re not adapting something you shouldn’t be and be mindful of the symbols you are interacting with. But this is a whole other topic.

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Gaining the Ghost Wolf form

Here is where we get direct confirmation of the information that has been more or less consistent on how the ghost wolf form works.

Upon returning , you approach the Ghost Wolf once more to show you have completed your task. The Ghost Wolf and his pack have been severely weakened by the ogres necromancy. They are unable to do anything to stop what is happening (A good indicator that the ghost wolves are in fact something to worry about if you mess with the spirit plane and how powerful they may be)

Then, once completed, you roar/howl as you are given a blessing from this Ghost Wolf and have been gifted with the ability change your form.

They are granting their strength to help fight crimes against the spirit realm.

As a shaman, your duty is to use your gift and the blessings bestowed upon you to continue this balance between the realms.

Now, as we look at this quest. The context is important. Not every shaman was on this mission to this island, and they were not all tasked with the same mission to free the pack mates from necromancy. You must be able to see what this quest is telling you and how you can take this information and use it to tell your own story if you wish to write a story or role play your shaman gaining their ghost form.

This quest is very much in line to the original removed Vanilla quest on the basis that you proved yourself to a great and powerful spirit of the spirit realm and wild. You did this by tracking the spirit and by doing so, gained a mutual trust.

You proved to this Ghost Wolf that you were able to do right upon the  and did so with respect to the balance. You showed that you understood how important this task was and that you are capable of seeing it through.

So this means, that in order to gain the gift of a spectral form, proving yourself in the context of shamanism is key.

=Here is where the information is even more important to understand.=

The Ghost Wolf form is not like a druid form.

The Ghost Wolf form is a borrowed form.

In this quest A Shaman’s Duty, the Ghost Wolf states that he and his pack mates are giving you the last of their strength.

This is directly saying, that when you use the Ghost Wolf form, you are tapping into a borrowed visage by reaching out into the spirit realm that was granted by them. You are swapping places by transitioning from physical to spectral. The shaman now becomes an embodiment of the sacred balance of the living, the spiritual and the natural.

By the Ghost Wolf giving you their strength, they will always be with you. You have proved yourself, and they are repaying their debt to you. You will use this blessing to carry out their want to stop things like necromancy in the face of the spirits.

This can open up a lot of interesting options for story when you create it. You can have a ghost wolf guide your shaman in teachings or appearing only for certain moments. If your shaman is very skilled, you might even be able to make this relationship be that these are the spirit wolves you’re calling into battle like a powerful Farseer.

You might be able to always feel the presence of this wolf when changing, or it can be symbolic that by having this blessing it will remind you of the mutual respect between you and the spirits and what wisdom you gained through them.

All of this can be used for any culture with shamanism. All you would have to do is look at it within the context of their culture and what animal would make sense for your shaman to be showing respect to. The Exile’s Reach campaign is a highly specific story, meant to show you essences of what each class does mechanically and lore wise.

Lastly, as you gain your blessing of the Ghost Wolf you get one final difference in reactions based on what Faction you’re on.

Warlord Breka Grimaxe recalls fondly of Shuja’s first connection to the spirit world. A proud and important moment for her, showing that Shuja likely had went through a lot of training and discipline to finally touch the spirit plane. As an orc, she is proud to see a successful up and coming shaman.

Captain Garrick on the other hand, is only caring about the information to help their mission. She doesn’t seem to put much thought into who you were talking to, just that it at least gets the job done. By shamanism being less of a cultural thing, she cannot approach it with the same reverence as an orc would. She knows something happened (that she knows little about), and is not insulting you, but she pretty much prefers to move on by the tone of her voice.

And there you have it!

This is an extremely short quest, that literally takes ...five minutes to complete.

But you can learn a lot about how you expand your character by really taking the time to see what it is you’re being told and what you’re being shown. It can be easy to just drink down information and move on, but if you really are passionate about rounding out your shaman always take time to look at quests, text and environment to help you expand your characters personal practice.

The Ghost Wolf form is one of the iconic staples of World of Warcraft, and it’s lore has been moved around a lot to where many people forget all together what the wolf spirit means to the orcish people and what shamanism means to the Horde and the Alliance.

I really love being able to show you how my mind pays attention to quests that can help expand my characters experience, and the ghost wolf form is something I’m very interested in getting into!

I hope this helps someone in expanding their ability to see the world of Azeroth through their characters eyes and realizing that with a little bit of work, you can take a little and go an extremely long way!

Aka’magosh and Spirits be with you!

[ptersparkers]

the art of ending things (8)

summary: upon realizing you lack skills in the bedroom when a touron asks you out on a date, you turn to jj, a self-proclaimed sexual deviant, for help.

warnings: smut, folks. and typos, probably. 

notes: yes, i am getting a little emotional. this series is my child and i feel like i’m sending it off to college. i’m utterly grateful that all of you were willing to wait weeks for chapter updates and i’m so happy that this little idea that i had turned into something i’m proud of and something i finished. 

as always, co-authored and co-written with @storiesbymads​. i love her and this story (among other things) brought us closer as friends and i think i love this story more for this reason than anything else. 

You thought it was ironic how the sun was shining brightly in your bedroom when you felt anything but happy.

On the night before you woke, Sarah took the liberty to wipe your makeup off with a washcloth as Kiara assisted you in changing into sleep shorts and a sweater. The brunette sat on your bed with you tucked in her arms as you buried your head to avoid been seen by the girls, but Sarah prompted you to look at her so she could clean your tear-stained cheeks.

You couldn’t remember much of last night when you woke up. When your eyes saw the white paint of your ceiling, you looked beside you at Kiara and Sarah laying on either side of you. Kiara was in a peacefully slumber facing the window while Sarah was on your left, her cheeks squished ungracefully against the side of your arm, allowing you a brief moment of amusement before remembering your heartache.

“Anyone hungry?” you asked, your voice croaking. You cleared your throat when Sarah and Kiara said yes, silently moving to your bathroom to brush your teeth and gave the two girls spare toothbrushes to do the same. 

The downstairs living room was a quiet fortress as you recalled your parents being on the mainland until later that evening. Sarah took the liberty to pour each of you a glass of orange juice while Kiara, knowing you didn’t have the energy to make breakfast, pulled out eggs and bacon, and began to work effortlessly as you sat on the high chairs beside the kitchen island. You couldn’t think. Recalling the last thing you remembered at the Boneyard hurt more than you cared to admit and you couldn’t think about the look on JJ’s face when he said he wanted nothing to do with you without feeling like you were going to cry. You figured you could produce enough tears to wipe out the entirety of the Outer Banks by the end of the day with how much you were trying to hold back. The aching headache you had because of how hard you cried last night rang through your head and you winced when the bacon hit the sizzling pan. “Do you want to talk about it?” Kiara asked as she plated the eggs and bacon. “I feel like an idiot,” you said. “C’mon,” Sarah said, sitting next to you as Kiara stood in front of you. “JJ’s the idiot.” “Maybe we’re both idiots.”

“Don’t say that,” Kiara replied. “We all thought JJ was kind of into you until that stunt he pulled last night.” “No,” you said, putting your head in between your hands. You inhaled heavily before letting out a gargantuan sigh. “We’re both idiots. We made this stupid proposition a few weeks ago and I can’t help but feel like I messed up.” “What proposition?” Kiara asked. You shut your eyes and ran your hands over your face “We’ve been, uh, fooling around?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “You mean that? While you were with Trent?” “I mean,” you began, “it’s complicated. Trent and I were never a ‘thing’ if I’m being honest. JJ was nice enough to, um, teach me things.” “Teach you things?” Kiara asked. “What do you…” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” “It’s bad,” you said. “I didn’t think anything would happen because we swore that we wouldn’t let it affect our friendship.” “But part of you had to know it would, right?” Sarah asked. You made a thin line with your lips as you moved the food around with your fork. “I know, I know,” you mumbled. “JJ never said anything and I thought this was going to be over once Trent and I had sex.” “Did you?” You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “I knew I liked JJ when I couldn’t go through with it. I just can’t help but feel like he felt the same way but when I talked to him last night, he said he wanted me to stop caring about our friendship and that he’d do the same.” Kiara and Sarah shared a knowing look while your gaze was fixed itself onto the plate in front of you. Sarah had spoken to John B. about JJ’s seemingly unrequited feelings and Kiara had her own thoughts about how he felt about you. Both girls, observant in their own right, never wanted to say anything for the sake of your relationship with Trent, but now both of them wished they had. “I don’t need either of you to say it, okay? With hindsight, I should’ve known something bad was going to happen.” “We’re here to be your friends,” Sarah reassured. “Neither of us are judging you.” “Thanks,” you muttered. “I can’t help feel like the dumbest person in the world because everything about this is cliche.” “But you didn’t know what was going to happen,” Kiara reasoned. “Kie--” “Don’t ‘Kie’ me,” she said, waving her fork at you. “You asked JJ for help and he agreed. Maybe what happened between the two of you was unconventional but you two are our friends and I don’t think either of you would intentionally hurt the other.” “I can’t stop thinking about how unfair it was to ask him to help me be more confident for Trent,” you scoffed. “First of all, I don’t ever need to explain myself to men, so I don’t know why I felt a temporary urge to prove myself in the bedroom.” You paused to collect your thoughts. “Secondly?” “If JJ did feel anything for me, I put him in a tough situation because at the end of the day, we both knew I would be going back to Trent with the lessons JJ taught me.” “I can’t say I’ve ever had that happen before,” Sarah said with a frown. You bumped your shoulder with hers. “It’s okay. I think I just want someone to listen because I can’t even think about fixing things with him right now. I just feel like I ruined our friendship by asking him to help me out, you know, sexually.” “Listen,” Kiara said, your attention now on her. “Maybe both of you made mistakes, but you’re young. You have so much more to life than a misunderstanding and if JJ really cares about you, then he’ll want to hear what you have to say and whatever you wanted to tell him last night.” “Yeah,” Sarah piped. “You’ve been friends with JJ since birth and you know how he works. I don’t think he’d throw away all those years of friendship on a misunderstanding, especially considering he was tipsy.” “I don’t know,” you groaned. You pushed your plate, which was half eaten, away from you and slouched with your arms crossed over your chest. “I wanted to be an adult about this and set boundaries with him, you know? But I never thought we had to make a no strings attached’ rule because both of us knew what was going on between us wasn’t a booty call.” “He hasn’t been flirting with anyone either,” Kiara said. “Not since you two started, well, what should we call it?” “I guess we were hooking up,” you replied. “That feels weird to say.” The girls in front of you laughed. “Maybe,” said Sarah. “I never even thought about entertaining the idea that JJ and I might end up together until I took Trent around The Cut because he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. That’s when I really knew all of my feelings that I projected onto Trent were for JJ.” “Love works in mysterious ways,” Sarah said, waving her fork for the dramatics. “You cheesy shit,” Kiara said, sticking her tongue at the blonde. You cracked a smile and both girls felt their heart swell at making you do so in a time when you felt like you couldn’t. “Well, let’s not think about it today,” Sarah suggested. “I know Kie doesn’t have a shift today and I’m free. We could order take out and maybe have a movie marathon? We could go to the beach if you’re feeling up to it?” “Sarah, does your dad still have that huge tent he bought when you were little?” “In the back of my garage.” “And Kie, remember when we bought those lights that we strung around the poles in my backyard and that mini projector we begged your dad to buy?” Kiara clapped. “I already know where you’re going with this.” She pointed at Sarah. “You drive with Sarah and help her get the tent. I’ll grab my lights and we can meet at the supermarket to buy some snacks?” “Sounds like a plan!” Sarah exclaimed. Temporarily, you forgot about the boy who filled your void before making it feel empty again. JJ, on the other hand, woke up an hour before Pope and John B. in the spare bedroom at the Chateau. His plan for the night before had been to drink until he couldn’t feel his emotions anymore, but he’d wound up unsuccessful after having had two cups of beer and a weak shot of expensive, watered down vodka a Kook had brought to the Boneyard. He recalled everything that happened. The girl he sat beside when you came up to him parted ways once she realized things were complicated and that JJ hadn’t made an effort to engage in conversation with anyone else. He opted to head back to the Chateau to sleep it off in hopes of waking up to a different reality. But, when he awoke with the same clothes he wore last night and a few red solo cups on the floor, he knew he had to face the music. JJ wasn’t sure why he was so angry with you. He knew he was annoyed whenever you spoke about Trent, that was for sure, but he knew he didn’t let you explain what you wanted to say before he sent you away. He stared at the ceiling fan above, watching it pathetically spin on the lowest setting before forcing himself to sit upright, a groan forcing its way up his throat as he kicked the covers off his body. His legs dangled on the side of the bed,his head in between his hands, trying to comprehend the mild headache he felt; he wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or his confusing feelings. When he walked out, the first thing he noticed was how the sunny morning was a stark contrast to his despaired feelings and he couldn’t help but wish the sky was as grey as it was when there was about to be a big rain pour. The outside was quiet with the exception of a few birds chirping and a low hum of the grass near John B’s front porch. JJ poured himself a cup of water and ate a slice of whole wheat bread untoasted, not bothering to look in his fridge for something more fulfilling as he pondered whether to return home or to the spare bedroom. John B. was the first to arrive into the kitchen, interrupting JJ’s thoughts. “You’re up early,” he said, yawning. “But you also went to bed early, I guess.” “Wasn’t in the party mood,” JJ’s mumble was muffled by the bread. “You’re gonna choke if you keep eating with your mouth full.” “Oh yeah? Watch me.” John B. laughed at JJ’s joke and rubbed his eyes, making himself a cup of coffee using the machine and coffee beans Sarah gave him. JJ wanted to ask for a cup but felt like it was too much. “Want a cup?” John B. asked nonchalantly as he grabbed the bag from the pantry. “Yeah,” JJ coughed, grateful. “Thanks.” “No problem,” John B. replied, waving the blond off. “Sarah got me enough to last for two months. I think she’s trying to get me to refine my coffee palette.” “Your what?” “Her words, not mine.” A comfortable silence fell over the two boys before John B. spoke again. “What happened last night between you and Y/N?” JJ was quiet. He remembered feeling inexplicably angry last night but it didn’t transfer over to when he woke up. Still, JJ felt hurt and confused, feeling as though you chose Trent over him and wanted to talk about it when he felt most vulnerable because he had just admitted to liking you. He knew he wasn’t angry because he had no right to tell you how to feel, especially when he’d never told you how he felt. Either way, he knew he was hurting. “Y/N chose Trent over me,” JJ said, trying to act casual. John B. raised his eyebrow as he turned on the electric kettle. “Trent?” he asked. JJ nodded. “Are you sure?” “More sure than I’ve been in a while, JB.” John B. was confused because, from all of the things Sarah has told him, and all he had observed, all the signs pointed to you liking JJ. Once Sarah mentioned how the both of you had been acting strange around each other and more attentive when you two were near each other, it all made sense to him. John B. knew JJ wouldn’t be caught dead acting like a gentleman around the clock for anyone, but you were the exception. You were always the exception. That was why John B. couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of you deciding to date Trent over JJ. He knew you just as well as he knew his best friend. John B. knew you were the type of person to put yourself above feeling like you were less than a good human being and he knew that you were aware of who you were and what you deserved. He watched you grow up from a shy kid who would never ask the person who stole your crayons to give them back, to an independent woman who wouldn’t be afraid of barking at a police officer if they looked at Kiara or Pope the wrong way. John B. was starting to think he was becoming more perceptive, and for a moment, he was beginning to doubt that. But it was John B. who looked after you when you hit a low point a few months ago before you regained your willingness to step out of your bedroom, which is how he knew all of this about you. He knew you’d never choose someone who you didn’t connect with and he knew you were, most likely, trying to confess your feelings for JJ. “C’mon,” he reasoned. “She looked pretty happy to see you last night.” “She just wanted to talk to me about Trent,” JJ huffed. “It’s the same thing over and over again, JB. All we talk about is the job Rafe gave me a few weeks back, whatever we talk about with our friends, and Trent. She never even gave me a chance to tell her how I felt about her.” “It’s not too late,” John B. said. “But what if she and Trent are happy together? Who am I to ruin that by confessing?” “Did she tell you that she was with Trent officially?” “Well, no,” said JJ, “but she didn’t have to. I knew she went over to Trent’s hotel, to you know, and that’s why she came to me in the Boneyard.” “But that’s just a theory,” John B. said, pouring the coffee into two cups. He put two sugars and a little bit of cream into his while JJ drank it black. “You don’t really know.” “It’s too fucking early for mind games.” “You don’t know if that’s what she wanted to tell you because you never gave her the chance to say it.” “Again, JB, I don’t know what’s not clicking, but the timeline’s pretty obvious. We hung out, she left and told me she was going to Trent’s, and then she comes a few hours later to tell me she fucked him.” John B. winced at his attitude but tried to keep his composure. He sipped on his coffee and tried to think of something to say, but even he had to admit his mind wasn’t all there due to waking up less than thirty minutes ago. “I don’t know what to tell you,” John B. said as he watched JJ’s shoulders slump. “You should apologize to her, though. You were a bit of a dick last night.” “I will when I get over it,” JJ said. “But right now I don’t even think Y/N and I are friends anymore.” John B. set his cup down. “What?” “She hurt me,” JJ said. “All this time we hung out and then she’d run off to Trent. It sucks knowing the person you love loves somebody else.” “You don’t mean that, JJ. You two have been friends for so long that I don’t think either of you can remember a time when you guys weren’t in each other's lives.” “Everything has to come to an end eventually,” JJ said. “Y/N and I aren’t an exception.” “JJ,” John B. said, turning his body towards his friend. “I know that you’re hurting right now but don’t throw away years of friendship.” “What else can I do? The only other option would be to watch as she and Trent start dating and I’ll have to listen to her talk about what a ‘perfect’ boyfriend he is. It’ll be weird, JB.” “Do you still love her?” “Yeah,” JJ said without pausing. “That’s why I don’t want to be around her. I don’t want to say something I’ll regret and make it awkward for all of us.” JJ sipped on his coffee. “Look, I’m hurt by what she did but I don’t hate her. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” “Which is?” “Making sure things aren’t awkward between us. I don’t want her to think I like her so she can be with Trent, worry free.” John B. kept his mouth sealed, knowing that JJ’s wound was still fresh. He wanted to tell the blond that his plan was cowardly and convince him to talk to you, even if it felt uncomfortable, but John B. knew JJ wanted to talk it out. The boy knew his best friend overthought more than he liked to admit. “Okay,” John B. said. “You do what’s best for you.” The brown-haired boy knew he would have to speak to Pope about this and, hopefully, have Sarah explain your side of the story to him. “Thanks, JB,” said JJ, taking his cup into the spare room. John B. pulled his phone out and texted Sarah, hoping this was all just a big misunderstanding. A day passed without you seeing JJ. It was easy not to see as you refused to step out of your house and you felt extremely lucky your parents had to prepare for some big event at the Thorton’s, leaving you alone with the house for most of the day. Sarah and Kiara had stayed over the previous night but had to part ways per Kiara’s job and Sarah’s obligation to her father’s work, leaving you with your thoughts. You knew you were both at fault for not speaking up sooner and you chastised yourself for not thinking about JJ’s feelings during this proposition. To you, JJ was just a friend helping you learn how to be confident in the bedroom, and the unfortunate side effect was you falling in love with your best friend. Perhaps you were too selfish when you realized it for the first time, caving into the delicious feeling of JJ’s attention on you like there was no one else he would rather look at. On one hand, you knew it wasn’t your fault that JJ wouldn’t listen to what you had to say, but you blame yourself for putting him in that position. You were positive he didn’t like you back and it made you feel even more embarrassed, knowing you had talked JJ into not caring in the slightest about Trent or your love life. 

You knew you’d have to face him eventually, but you were putting it off as much as you could. You’d brave it for your friends and you’d try your best not to feel affected by the way JJ dismissed you like you two hadn’t been best friends since birth. But it would be hard and you knew that when your eyes landed on a photo of you and him, framed on the top of your dresser from last summer after you two had jumped off of a tall cliff. He had convinced you to face the height and offered to jump in with you and it was such a fulfilling moment that you wanted to commemorate that glorious day by framing a photo of you and JJ after emerging from the lake. 

That memory felt like it was created in another lifetime. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d miss the way JJ would encourage you to face your fears and break your habit of choosing not to pursue something if it seemed too difficult. He, physically and metaphorically, held your hand through thick and thin, and never once made you feel like your problems were insignificant. 

Of course, you both knew you were a Kook by birth and the stereotypes that came with that status. Neither you nor JJ were aware what titles meant until you both got older and started to care about what others thought of you, and there was a moment when you were worried about what the future of your friendship would look like. You knew how JJ was, brash and hot-headed, but JJ never treated you like he did with other Kooks. JJ always reminded you he knew who you were, deep down, and never wanted to ruin a friendship because of what other people had to say. 

You wished you could go back to simpler times when you didn’t worry about having feelings for your best friend and ruining the friendship in the process. You wished you never gave Trent your number and you wished that someone else had picked up Kiara the night he approached you. You wished that summer was going to end on a happy note before everybody left for college, just like you had planned months ago. But you were sitting in the middle of your bed, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from falling after having desperately tried not to cry for the past hour. 

For a moment, your mind wandered to how JJ was dealing with the aftermath of the night before. Was he torn apart like you were? Was he overthinking what he said and how he reacted like you were? Or was he nonchalant, barely thinking about you because he meant what he said? You couldn’t decide which of the three scenarios were worse and didn’t want to dwell on feeling sorry for yourself for too long. Part of you wanted to tell your mother everything that happened in the past few weeks and how this situation made you confront your feelings for JJ, like she had always hinted at, but you knew she’d react terribly if she knew the whole truth. 

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard in the group chat message you had with Kiara and Sarah, but you tossed your phone to the side after coming to the conclusion that you were being bothersome by reaching out to them after they had comforted you all morning. You already lost one friend and you didn’t want to risk losing two more. 

You had considered asking Pope to talk to JJ for you, after talking yourself out of calling JJ, to have him explain your side of the story. But the thought was ludicrous; Pope was close with JJ and you thought he’d most likely believe his story over yours. Your mind wandered to the idea of JJ telling Pope everything he told you last night and you anticipated feeling embarrassed upon realizing Pope would side with him. He was a close friend, sure, but you knew he and JJ were closer. You weren’t sure if he would play the middleman this time and bridge the gap between you and JJ, so you disregarded asking Pope for a favor. 

John B. was your last resort and you were putting asking him for help on hold. He was equally close with you and JJ, and John B. expressed numerous times how he viewed you as his younger sister during the many years you two had been friends despite being a few months younger than him. He had always been of sound mind when you felt like you couldn’t think properly, acting as your guide to bring the best out of you. John B. was always gentle, knowing that you always wanted to please everyone while navigating your way through your own life, especially when it came to learning how to put people in their place when it was needed. 

But again, you came to the conclusion that he’d most likely side with JJ. The boy loved him like a brother and they were the two “founding” members of the friend group. John B. and JJ, two peas in a pod. You knew that they were inseparable and they always managed to fix each argument within the hour. It hurt to know that John B. would likely believe JJ without hearing your story, but in that moment, you decided the best idea was to keep your thoughts to yourself and wait until you felt less emotional to act. 

“Life is so fucking unfair,” you complained, staring at the framed photo across your bed before walking towards it, facing the photo down. You were, metaphorically, trying to get over the embarrassment of your failed attempt at confessing your feelings to JJ, and you were trying not to think about how either of you would react when you both saw each other for the first time since you left him at the Boneyard. 

You genuinely didn’t know if you’d be friends with the Pogues after that day. The group would never be the same and you anticipated the both you and JJ acting awkward around each other if you continued to hang out together. While you were willing to put your pride and feelings aside to keep the group together, you knew that JJ would pretend you weren’t there and try his best not to interact with you. You didn’t know how you’d react if he brought a girl with him or what you’d do if JJ talked about liking another girl. 

The whirlpool of thoughts made your head dizzy and you opted to lay on your pillow, choosing to fall fast asleep to avoid overthinking.  

JJ counted the days that he hadn’t seen you. It had been four days since the Boneyard incident and he had successfully avoided you and the embarrassment that came with realizing he was utterly in love with you while you showed romantic feelings for someone else. JJ knew he was being irrationally idiotic when he decided the best way to deal with his feelings was to avoid you because he knew he’d have to talk to you at some point. He didn’t know what the friendship between the six of you would look like and he wasn’t too eager to find out. 

His mind was preoccupied with finding ways to avoid you -- and talking about you -- that he hadn’t spent any time thinking about how he’s act, and how you’d act, when you two saw each other for the first time. JJ figured you’d try to avoid him and make small talk when necessary, and if he was being honest with himself, he might’ve done the same. When he woke up earlier that morning, it seemed as if JJ couldn’t forget the friendship that was lost between the both of you. Instead, his mind kept replaying the moment he looked away from you and the conversation he had with John B. JJ was sure Kiara and Sarah had comforted you, and that you confided in both girls, causing the blond to become fearful that he might’ve lost three friends in the process. 

Everything about you captivated him and JJ cursed this because the both of you weren’t on speaking terms. He did his best to preoccupy himself with working at the garage shop, hanging out with John B. and Pope, or sitting by himself in a clearing where nobody would bother him, but it was no use. Neither being alone nor being around other people prevented JJ from thinking about you and it hurt him to know you might not be thinking about him the way he thought about you. 

Pope had put two and two together after Sarah explained what happened between you and Trent. She had found Pope walking by The Wreck the day after she looked after you and told him everything you told her, including how Trent was someone you thought you liked until you realized you were projecting your feelings for JJ onto him because you were scared about ruining a friendship. The boy sat with his mouth wide open and Sarah desperately asked him to talk to JJ, knowing that neither one of you would be the first to say ‘I’m sorry.’ “I’m just going to say it even if it’s the last thing you want to hear,” Pope said angrily, his voice raised. “Then why say it at all?” JJ barked back. “Because you’re my best friend and Y/N is the little sister I never had,” Pope replied with his nose flaring. He could feel his throat growing sore but paid no mind. JJ stood and leaned back, waiting for Pope to speak. “When things seem to be working out for you, you pull away. You hate it when it seems like your life’s going the way you want it to because you think something bad’s gonna happen. You reject people before they have the chance to do it to you because you’re afraid of feeling like something is being taken away from you. “And, man, I get it. You don’t have a perfect life and you’re used to things going south. You’re used to giving that you can’t enjoy a good thing while it’s happening. Your first instinct is to cut people off and shut them out before you even consider listening to what they have to say and working things out.” JJ looked at the wooden floor and noticed the few splinters sticking up. He made mental notes of where to avoid stepping until John B. got them fixed or filed them down.

“On the night of the last kegger, Y/N broke things off with Trent before seeing you,” Pope explained. “She told him nothing about their relationship felt right because she likes you, JJ. Y/N was at The Boneyard to tell her how she felt about you.” 

JJ’s eyes widened with surprise and he, for once, felt like he wasn’t able to refute what his best friend was saying. Of all the things he imagined in his head, you confessing you liked him more than a friend was not remotely on his list. “Y/N is good for you,” Pope said. “She’s been your best friend since you could walk. She knows how you operate, what you like and don’t like, and how to help you when you’re going through it with your dad. She deals with all of your shit because she loves you, JJ. If you love her like you say you do, you need to accept that she’s going to see things you don’t want her to see.” “Pope,” JJ said, his voice cracking. His body didn’t move and he felt paralyzed in his spot. Pope didn’t hesitate to react and pulled JJ into a hug, patting him on the back for assurance. “You know you’re good for her too. You wouldn’t have agreed to whatever it was that was going on between you two if you didn’t think you were good enough for her. JJ, I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who thinks you’re not good enough for her. You’re not a screw up either. We all have things we’re dealing with on our own even if we don’t show other people. You don’t want to waste your friendship with her over something as stupid as a misunderstanding, right?” “No,” JJ said, wiping his eyes. “No, I don’t.” “Then get your ass out of here and tell Y/N you love her,” Pope said, pointing at the door. “Apologize to her and listen to what she has to say.” “What if I feel like I’m starting to shut her out again?” “Breath and tell yourself you deserve good things to happen. There’s always gonna be something that doesn’t go your way but it doesn’t mean your life has to end there.” “Thanks, Pope,” JJ said. He walked towards the door and Pope followed, watching as his friend walked outside and took John B’s bicycle to your house. Pope couldn’t help but smile because he knew JJ was willing to be vulnerable if that meant mending two broken hearts. When your doorbell rang, you ignored it, thinking it was overnight mail. You paid no mind to the sound and continued to scroll on Instagram on your phone but you were pulled out of your concentration when you heard the doorbell ring for a third, fourth, and fifth time. Angrily, you lifted the covers of your comforter off of your body and marched downstairs with your hand gripping your phone tightly, ready to raise your voice at whoever was bothering you while you tried to forget about a boy who forgot about you. 

But when you opened the door, JJ stood with John B’s bicycle, his chest rising and falling. 

“Hey,” he said casually, his eyes darting anywhere but you. 

“Hi,” you replied, a frown apparent on your lips as your eyebrows creased. 

“I, uh, biked all the way here from The Cut,” he said awkwardly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Am I supposed to congratulate you, or something?” you asked sarcastically after a brief pause, crossing your arms over your chest while you waited for JJ to answer you.

“No, you’re not,” he retorted. “I’m trying to apologize but I didn’t think about how I’d start this conversation.” 

When JJ realized you weren’t saying anything and opted to listen, he spoke again. 

“Pope told me why you were at The Boneyard,” he began. 

“What did he tell you exactly?” 

“He told me you broke things off with Trent and came to the party to tell me you liked me,” JJ finished. He looked at you. “And I assumed the worst before you could say anything.” 

“You never let me explain myself,” you said, straightening your posture. “You told me you didn’t want anything to do with me and that you’d stop worrying about what I did if I did the same for you.”

“I was hurt,” he explained. “There’s no good excuse for me to say that and I know it. But what I said was because I was hurt by you talking about Trent when I wanted to tell you I was in love with you.” 

JJ’s confession made your eyes widen. 

“What?” 

“I’m not saying that just because Pope told me you liked me either,” JJ said confidently. “You know I’m not good at this ‘talking about your feelings’ shit, but you know I tell you everything. I waited too damn long to tell you how I feel and it caused us to nearly lose our friendship.

“And I’m sorry for saying those things because it’s not right to make your best friend feel like they’re replaceable. I’m sorry for not letting you tell your side of the story because it’s unfair to let my voice be heard and not yours. I’m sorry for waiting this long to tell you how I feel about you, but I’m not sorry for loving you in the first place.” 

The both of you looked at one another and JJ was scared for your reaction. 

“That’s one hell of an apology,” you said after a moment of silence. JJ laughed. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think that one out. I probably could’ve done better.” 

You shook your head. “It means more to me that you didn’t plan it out because it lets me know that’s how you really feel.”

“I love you,” he said. “It’s not some casual thing I’m saying, Y/N. I can’t remember a time when you weren’t the most important person in my life and I can’t help but love you.” 

“I love you too, idiot,” you said. JJ smiled at the nickname. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position when I was with Trent. You didn’t deserve to watch me go after some guy when you liked me more than a friend.” 

“Thanks,” said JJ. He chuckled. “Things would’ve been easier if I had let you talk at The Boneyard, huh?” 

“Maybe,” you replied with a delicate smile. 

“Would it be weird if I asked you if I could kiss you?” 

“Only if you didn’t kiss me.” 

JJ leaned forward, not caring that he was tossing John B’s bike into your bushes. He hastily put both of his hands on either side of your jaw, letting his lips press onto yours with the euphoric feeling of kissing his best friend after having confessed. 

“Do you want to come in?” you asked him, stepping inside of your house as you pulled his hands away from your jaw so that you could hold them. You bit your lip and JJ’s eyes widened, understanding your subtle hint. 

“What about your parents?”

“They’ll be gone all weekend for an event,” you explained, pulling him inside. JJ closed the door behind him and you locked it without breaking eye contact, walking forward until you felt JJ’s back pressed against the doorframe. 

“It’s convenient that they’ve been out of town for the past month,” he said, looking down at you. 

“I say we take advantage of the house,” you said. JJ raised his eyebrow. 

“Do you?” 

“It’s my house, Maybank,” you said as you licked your lips, pulling him up the stairwell. “If I want you to take me to my bedroom, you’ll take me to my bedroom.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed as he watched you lead him to the familiar door he’d seen many times before. 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked you once you both were inside your room, your hands tracing along the sides of his torso. You pushed up the fabric of his t-shirt as they went and he could feel the coldness of your fingertips grazing along his skin. You nodded, your bottom lip finding refuge between your teeth. 

“We’ve already slept together, J,” you said. He raised his arms up over his head to allow you to pull the shirt fully over his head and toss it onto the floor beside your bed. Once it was off, he hand found your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. 

“This is different and you know it,” he sighed. Your eyes flickered down to his slightly parted lips. 

“Is it now?” you asked, your shaky breathing betraying whatever confidence you’d previously displayed. It only took him a second to capture your mouth on his own. You could feel the yearning through his skin with his grip on your jaw apparent. 

His fingers danced down your body until they rested just underneath your shorts, toying with the hem of your cut-offs as his tongue made its way down your throat. Everything about him just felt so much better than before, like he wasn’t holding anything back; and it was incredible. JJ knew he didn’t have to hide his feelings for you anymore and he knew he didn’t have to metaphorically show his love and appreciation for you as his best friend and lover. JJ could show you how he felt about you and he wasn’t about to waste any time. 

“Take these off,” he grumbled against your lips as he snapped the waistband of your shorts. You nodded, distancing yourself from him with a pout so that you could shimmy the shorts down your legs, missing the feelings of his hands around your jaw. 

“Your turn,” you said, motioning towards the cargo shorts on his legs. 

“You’re hot when you’re bossy,” he said, tossing his shorts in the same general direction of his shirt before reconnecting your lips. The two of you somehow managed to maneuver yourselves to the foot of your bed, your knees buckling as he sat you down on the down filled comforter. Your hand found his clothed length as he stared down at you. 

“I want you,” you said. 

“That’s good, because I’m desperate for you,” he said. You could feel him hardening under your touch. “You’ve got too many clothes on, don’t you think?”

You hummed in response before slipping your tube top over your head gingerly, watching as JJ’s eyes never left your body. It hadn’t really crossed his mind that you hadn’t been wearing a bra under it until he saw your breasts in full, your nipples standing at attention from the feeling of the cool air hitting them. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned before pulling on of them between his teeth. The other was quickly taken care of by his right hand, his index and thumb twisting and rolling the peak. A whine slipped out of you before you could stop it and JJ felt his cock twitch at the sound. He pulled back from you with a pop as he leaned you back against the duvet, your legs still dangling over the side as he looked down at you. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked again. 

“I trust you, JJ,” you groaned. “Now, please do something.”  

“I’m gonna do so much more than fuck you,” he said before removing his blue boxer briefs, his cock slapping against his torso. You lipcked your lips at the sight and gripped the bedsheets. “I’m gonna make you feel so good you’re gonna beg for another round.”

“Please,” you mumbled as his lips slanted against your throat. “I need you so bad.”

You felt him bite down on your pulse point, his canines nearly piercing the skin. He pulled back to admire the bruise before making his way down your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on your skin. The fabric of your panties grew damper, both from your own juices and his saliva as he kissed your clit through them. JJ’s hand slowly stroked his cock as he teased you and he moaned when he felt your hips push themselves forward underneath his tongue. Your hands found his tousled blond locks as the two of you made eye contact, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you from between your thighs. 

“JJ,” you whined. 

“Patience, baby. I’m just getting started,” he said. Still, he moved back from where he was so that he could pull the flimsy piece of clothing down your legs as his middle finger delved between your folds. “So pretty and wet for me.”

“Only for you,” you said. 

“I have so much I want to do with you, baby, but I’m so hard right now. I don’t know if I can resist not being inside of you much longer,” he punctuated the sentence with a moan. 

Your hand wrapped itself around his cock, desperately trying to push him inside of you. He let you pull him close enough so that the head was just barely pressing into your entrance before slapping your hand away. 

“Do I need to say it again?” he asked, grabbing your hips and tugging you so that you were mere inches away from falling off the edge of the bed.  

“Patience is a virtue,” you said. “One I don’t have.”

He paused for a moment. “Do you remember that time you called me and asked me to teach you how to touch yourself?”

“Yeah, what does that have-”

“Do you remember?”

“Yes, I do,” you sighed, bucking your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you. 

“You think you can show me what you learned while I fuck you?” he asked. You nodded as your hand slipped between the two of you, ghosting over your clit. You would’ve done anything he asked in that moment if it meant he had his way with you. 

The head of his cock dipped into you fully at that point, the rest of his length following shortly after until he was bottomed out. He stalled with a groan. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said before starting up a steady rhythm with his hips. It seemed that every snap of his hips sent your mind spiraling deeper into the haze that was JJ Maybank. 

“J, I’m not gonna last much longer,” you whimpered, clenching around him. From the way you felt his cock twitching, you knew he wasn’t going to either. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, J,” you moaned as you felt your orgasm wash over you, the pleasure rolling over you in waves. His hips stuttered for a moment, his cum coating your walls in thick, hot ropes. The euphoric mixture of being able to finish inside of you while simultaneously allowing himself to show you how much he loved you washed over him like a newfound grace. 

“Fuck,” he said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” you said with a small laugh. He leaned back to pull out of you, his gaze dropping as he watched a mix of both of your cum drip out of you. 

“I’m gonna get hard again, holy shit,” he said as he pushed it back up into you with his fingers. 

“We’ve got all night,” you said. 

JJ smiled. 

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” 

***

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[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

I was wondering if we could get a fluff au where the reader is Scotty's little sister, who is secretly going out with Benny?

sneaky dates, kisses and hugs

A/N: sorry my responding time is terrible but here it is! Hope you enjoy! May have some typos and mixed povs. Sorry if this is bad.

the day you met benny, well more like saw him from a distance and admiring him; but don't be so fooled because he was admiring you too, he just had a good way to hide it. You knew you liked him, you were just shy, since it was Scotty's friend. After that day you started to talk to him and even get to hang out with him. Couples weeks later he asked you out and you said yes. You wanted to keep it a secret because well, one he was your brother's best friend, and welll mainly that was your only reason, and Benny agreed because he knew the boys would be crazy, and well who doesn't like sneaky dates, kisses and hugs. You two basically had a flat out plan to see one another before you go to bed and before your day starts.

He would purposely stay back at the sandlot so you could see one another with no one around. You were currently leaving the house before scotty arrived and you took a shortcut towards the sandlot. As you got to the sandlot you saw the brown headed boy sitting down with his bat and his ball on the ground. Once he saw you he got up dusting himself off so he wouldn't get you dirty, but you didn’t care and he walked over to you and embraced you with a hug and a small kiss in between. “Hello you. How was today?” you asked as he held your hand walking to where his flannel was laying on the ground for the both of you to sit. “It was good, seeing you afterwards makes my day better.” he said as you smiled. “Ohh i doubt that.” you said as he got close to you and held your chin. “Really?” he said as he kissed you. “Because i don't doubt it.” he said as he kissed you again and once your kiss broke your foreheads touch. “Hmm I don't know, is there a really cool homerun you made today that made your day better?” you teased as he grinned at you. “As a matter of fact I did, wanna know what i called her?” he asked as you nodded. “y/n, y/n is her name.” he said as he kissed you again and you giggled. “That's the home run i made today.” he said as you blushed. “What about you pretty girl?” he asked as he played with your hair. “It was good. I got to see you, and we'll hear about your amazing home run,” you said as he plastered a smile and showered you with kisses.

These were one of your best moments since ever really, you spent most summers in your house, but here you are spending time with one of the best guys out there. You two sat there for a while before it got dark once it did you two headed to your house. He always walked you since, it gave you more time to talk and be with one another. “Can you imagine what schools gonna be like, we're gonna end up in so much trouble.” he said as he was daydreaming what school was gonna be like when it started. All he could see was you two giving each other your look and sneaking kisses in storage closets and old classrooms. “Yeah, my moms gonna get very concerned, but I think it's fun for us, right?” you jokingly said as he wrapped his flannel over you and wrapped his arms around you at the same time. “I love you.” he said as you looked at his face to see if he was at all joking. “You do?” you said in a whisper and in awe. You probably loved him since the first time you hung out. “Yeah i do…” he said as you kissed him. “I love you too.” you said as he smiled and you just walked home wrapped in his arms.

Once you got home you noticed your parents weren't home so you had a couple minutes before scotty noticed you were at the porch. He held your hands and kissed them as you giggled at his affection. “Good night sweetheart. I'm gonna see you tomorrow right?” he said as you nodded. “Of course. Same time?” you said as he nodded and you said your final goodbyes. Once you went inside you were quick to realize you still had his flannel on and you walked out seeing he already went on inside, so you walked inside into your room as you wore his flannel that smelt like him. It felt like he was with you in a way. As you got your pj’s on as you heard a knock that only belonged to scotty. You quickly hid the flannel and opened the door. “Hey scotty.” you said as he waved and sat down on your bed. “Hey, how's it going?” he asked as you were fidgeting. “Fine not too bad, how was the sandlot?” you asked as he sighed. “Well, it's okay, um, do you want to come to one of our games, well I mean this one were actually playing with another team. I was wondering if you wanted to come?” he asked as you nodded. “Yeah sure...to like cheer you on? Because you know baseball isn't my thing.” you said as he chuckled and nodded. “Yeah to cheer, please you're better off playing soccer.” he said as you nodded.

As he left as usual you and Benny were ready to call. You two called one another before you got to bed even though you saw one another a few minutes ago. He loved hearing your sleepy voice. And as much as your parents were over you seeing who you were calling late at night you always say it's one of your only friends you met. As you got in bed, you got your phone and called benny. “Miss me already?” you heard his sleepy but not sleepy voice. “Hmmm maybe…” you said as he chuckled. “I'll take that as a yes. I can feel you grinning.” he said as you giggled. “You know me so well…” you said as he sighed. “Hey, we have a game I guess tomorrow. I was wondering if you wanted to come?” he said as you fidgeted with your blanket. “Yeah, scotty mentioned it a couple minutes ago, so yes i would love to come not only to support my brother but also my handsome boyfriend, who happens to play baseball, have you heard of him?” you said sheepishly as he grinned. “ i think i do, know him, do you happen to know this one girl, she plays soccer and well i haven't really gone to one of her games yet I hear she’s great.” he said as he played along with you. “Oh you know she doesn't want you coming to her games just yet.” you said as he giggled. “Well why not? I wanna see her play,” he said with a pout which you felt. “Well she might think she sucks, considering she's played for her whole life.” you said which was a very true statement. You were actually very good. Many highschools have contacted your mother, and as much as you want to deny it, you're probably a superstar just waiting to be found.

“Well tell her i think she's amazing considering i haven't seen her play.” he said as you smiled. “She says thank you.” you said as the call got quiet. “Actually sweets when am i gonna see you play out there?” he said as you sighed. “Not sure...that's a good idea considering scotty and my other parents are gonna be here.” you said as he scoffed. “Oh come on, i'm not gonna sit by them, i'll hide and see you up close.” he said as you giggled. “I mean I have a game next weekend, you could come to that. Oooh you could invite the others so it's not so obvious.” you said as he ahhed. “That's very smart, i will fix something up.” he said as you smiled.

“Well you need to sleep princess..i'll see you tomorrow.” he said as you smiled. “Goodnight handsome. I Love you.” you said as he grinned and adored your voice. “I love you too princess.” he said as you both hung up. You sat on your bed before falling asleep and you were thinking about him. Your brain was filled with thoughts of him and you. You were just waiting till it was tomorrow.

[just-a-fangirl13]

MacGyver fanfic

So this is my attempt at a MacGyver fanfic based on the spoiler we got from the MacGyver writers about Mac and Riley getting unexpectedly linked in season 5. (No this does not have anything to do with handcuffs this is just something I would like to see play out.😂)

I know it's kinda long but I hope you like it anyways.

I WOULD RECOMMEND LISTENING TO ARMOUR BY LANDON AUSTIN in the background for added effect...(I am weird I know😂)

(P.S. please ignore any typos...)

spoilers for. season 1-4.

*this takes place a six months after Mac and Desi have broken up. Bozer and Mac are spending time with each other playing video games at Mac’s flat after a long mission. They hadnt got a call from Matty about a new one just yet. So they were making the most of it after ages.*

“So Mac when are you getting back to dating?” Bozer asked. He was happy that Mac was finally doing better emotionally but he was worried Mac was going to spend the rest of his life building carbon scrubbers and car engines out of blenders, alone. He knew Riley and Mac would be perfect together but saying anything upfront would just end with Mac closing up like a clam shell and not dealing with his feelings. He knew better than to try and get involved.

He did have a plan though. He was going to convince Mac to try out this new dating app called Link’d. It was basically like every other dating app only difference..? It narrowed matches down by people you might have crossed paths with and you also have no idea who your date is until you get to a restaurant the app picked for you. The app reduced any possibility of being stood up or judged because you had no idea what the other person looked like and so no one ever lied. Bozer had already told Riley to try it out but he wasn’t sure if she would.

Bozer had hoped that maybe Mac and Riley would see each other going on dates and the fear of losing the other might kick in and maybe, just maybe they would deal with their feelings.

“Bozer come on, I am not ready yet besides I thought we talked about this. It’s only been a few months since Desi and I broke up.” said Mac. 

“A few? Mac, its been six months and even Desi has moved on. All I’m saying is go on a date or two. You deserve to be happy too you know. Its time to get all that weight off your shoulders and live a little man.”

“Yeah I know.” Mac seemed to be considering the idea. A date sounded like fun and he could use a distraction from everything going on at Phoenix. 

“Fine, then show me your phone.” said Bozer putting his hand out. Mac raised his eyebrow. “Why do you need it? I know I’ve broken a lot of your phones, is this your version of payback?", said Mac laughing nervously, "You'll won't hold my phone hostage until I agree will you?"

Bozer laughed, Mac was really never going to change. He cautiously handed over the phone and Bozer got to setting up Mac’s profile while Mac tried to get a look at what Bozer was doing secretly worried he was going to put him in some ridiculous situation.

When Bozer was done he handed the phone back to Mac.

“There you go. I installed a dating app called Link’d that will set you up on a blind date. Just hit that button and the algorithm will find you your perfect match.” Bozer left out the part where Riley might also use the app. But then again the possibility of them getting Link’d was slim since LA itself had about a few hundred thousand other users.

“A blind date?” Mac was confused. “Boze I dont know if this is such a good idea.” Bozer could tell every worst case scenario was going through Mac’s head right now.

“I haven't hit the button yet. Think about it and press it whenever you want. No pressure Mac. Whoever you end up with will be lucky to know you.”

“Thanks Boze. Ill think about it. Now can we get back to the game so I can kick your ass again?” said Mac with a smile on his face. He really would think about it. After all a blind date meant no pressure right?

*A few days later*

Riley had decided to use the app after all. It was just a date right? It didn't have to mean anything. She wouldn't even have to call the person back if it was a disaster.

Riley’s phone had pinged with an alert last night. She had got a match and had it yes without thinking twice. She was a bit nervous about going on a date with some random guy but Bozer had a lot of faith in the app. She only knew the guy would have a white rose with him so she could identify him. nothing else

She was very tempted to hack into the apps mainframe and find out who the guy was but she remembered her promise to Bozer. No hacking. 

She had looked up the restaurant however. It was a nice romantic place in the heart of the city. Yes she could enjoy herself. No worrying about Mac or Phoenix or Codex or anything else.

She could do this. She could go on this one date, no strings attached and maybe just maybe she would be able to forget about her feelings for Mac for a night.

She decided to wear the new black knee-length dress she had bought a few weeks ago, but hadn't had the chance to wear yet. It felt good to dress up for a change. She could totally do this. After all what could even go wrong. No one at Phoenix knew about this date and she would fill Bozer and Desi in later if it went well.

********

Meanwhile, Mac was at the restaurant at a corner table. It was a nice cozy booth that meant they were away from the hustle and bustle of the 3 star restaurant. He had to admit the app was pretty cool. Not only did it pick a restaurant but it had pre booked a table too. It did help alleviate the stress of picking a place. 

Mac still fidgeted though:- with the candle in the center of the table, the tablecloth, his suit jacket and even the white rose he had to carry so his date would recognise him. He checked the time for the 10th time in the last five minutes. He was always a little late so he didn't want to take any chances and had ended up 10 minutes early instead.

********

Riley’s cab pulled up at the restaurant. She was walking past the huge front window in a hurry. She was just on time.

She walked into the restaurant and gave her name to the host. As she was being led to her table and praying she wasn’t late, her phone started ringing. It was Bozer. Filled with guilt she put her phone on silent. Stupid button wouldn't work and she fidgeted with it while walking. She promised herself she would fill Bozer in once the date was over.

“Riles?” 

Riley looked up from her phone at the sound of Mac’s voice. Was she hearing things now? But nope there he was, with a white rose, sitting at the table where the host had pulled up a chair intended for her.

“Mac? What are you doing here?”

Mac looked handsome as always. He had on a dark blue jacket, with his hair in his usual short and mess style. He had a look that bordered on confusion and amusement.

Surely there was some mistake. Maybe it was a joke. Or maybe there was an emergency mission and Mac was here to pick her up for the mission. That had to be it. Right?

“I was supposed to be here on a date with a girl I have never met before. You?” Mac smiled. Riley’s stomach flipped. Things had just got so much more complicated.

*****

Riley looked stunning. Mac knew that of course but she managed to catch him by surprise all the same.

She was just as surprised as him but now the doubt was creeping in. What if Riley was disappointed that it was him? What if she was really excited to meet someone new and him being here would ruin her night?

Riley had seemed a bit distant lately maybe this was the universes way of giving them a chance to figure things out after all.

“Well I came here thinking i was on blind date too. The Universe has a weird sense of humour." Riley broke into a smile and sat down. Mac was relieved and even more nervous at the same time. 

What was wrong with him? It was just Riles. They would have a nice meal, figure things out and then laugh about this story later right?

Riley picked up the menu and a few seconds of complete silence ticked by. Mac couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

“So” he said. “We should probably talk right?”

*****

“Something on your mind?” asked Riley. A million thoughts ran through her head as she put down the menu. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She had hoped he wouldnt bring it up until later in the night but it was the elephant in the room. What was she thinking sitting down, pretending everything was fine?

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” said Mac. “You know about how you’ve been avoiding me ever since we almost died in that Codex compound from the missile. Then you moved out suddenly without much of a reason. If it was the drilling sounds I would have stopped you know.”

“It wasn't the drilling sounds or anything you did Mac. I just moved out to give you and Desi the space you deserved.” said Riley.

Her thoughts ran back to the moment he held her hand. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to bring that up right now. The truth was Riley had been distancing herself from Mac. 

Desi was her friend and she was never going to tell Mac about her feelings. It would ruin everything. Even after he and Desi broke up, Riley knew that she and Mac would never happen. She wouldn't be selfish and risk their friendship.

“Come on Riles. You’re my best friend. Whatever is going on then, you can tell me. I know its probably my fault but I need you to talk to me so I can fix it.” 

How could she tell him? There would just be a cloak of awkwardness between them that would never go away and it wouldnt be something he could fix. She had to end this. Now.

“I have to go. I'm not feeling too great. I'm sorry Mac.”, said Riley getting up from her chair. Saying those words broke her heart but she had to put space between her and Mac, otherwise he would know. He would see right through the lies.

“Riles wait!”

Stupid heels she thought and walked out the door of the restaurant as fast as she could only to find it had begun raining. Oh great. This night could not be a bigger train wreck.

She turned around to find Mac right behind her at the door. A sad expression on his face. She prayed he would forgive her for this eventually.

“At least let me give you a ride home. You dont have to say anything if you dont want to.”

Riley considered her options. She really didnt want to. But she was not going to get a cab on a Friday night in this rain. She silently nodded and followed Mac to his truck.

******

Mac was wracking his brains to figure what he could have possibly done to upset Riley this much. They had almost been hit by the Reaper drone and then almost burnt alive in that warehouse, the guilt for putting Riley through that had been eating at him ever since.

He was thinking of all the things he had done in the past month, while Riley sat silently peering out the window not even looking at him. 

He could always fix things right? That was what he did best. What was the use of all his skills if he couldn’t even fix things with Riles.

The woman who knew him better then he knew himself. She had trusted him even when everyone thought he was an enemy of the state. Even when he thought he had lost himself. She was always there. He told her things he had never told anyone before. 

Suddenly his mind went back to the moment he held her hand in that Codex compound. He had thought about that many times. Why had he done it? He was sure he was going to die and he had just put Riley at risk too. He wanted her to know he was sorry right? What other reason could there have been?

Before he knew it he had pulled up at Riley's apartment entrance. 

Riley mumbled, “Thanks for the ride Mac. I'm sorry I ruined your night”, she barely met his eye as she open the door and stepped out. 

Suddenly it struck him.

He didn't want to lose Riley. The thought hit him so suddenly it almost sucked the air right out of him. How had he not realised sooner?

It was Riles. It had always been her.

He got out the car in the pouring rain,“Riles wait.” he pleaded, “I'm so sorry.”

Riley turned around to face him.

“You dont have anything to be sorry about Mac. This isn't your fault. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” she said. 

“I do Riles. I have so much to be sorry for.” said Mac walking around the car and towards her. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry i didnt realise sooner. I thought back to that day on the truck. The moment I held your hand, I realise it now, it was the first time I wasn't afraid of dying alone. I never let myself think about it. But the truth is Riles, I dont want to lose you.”

Riley had tears streaming down her face. 

Oh no. He had made a mistake hadn't he. He had completely misread the situation. Riley had never felt that way at all. He had just made things worse and now they would never be able to go back to the way things were. 

But deep down he didn't regret telling her. He had these feelings for so long. The idea of losing her had brought everything back to the surface.

“Riles, please say something.”

All these thoughts were running through his head when suddenly, Riley kissed him. He was taken aback for a second but he kissed her back. He could have stayed there in the rain forever. Just him and Riley. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I am so sorry Mac. You were right.. The truth is I was avoiding you. I thought if I distanced myself I would be able to move on and I would never have to risk our friendship. You’re my best friend too Mac and I just...” she was crying again.

Mac took her face in his hands tenderly and wiped the tears away. “Hey, hey its okay. I think we can both agree for two very smart people we can be pretty dumb”

Riley smiled. It made Mac’s heart do sommersalts.

They just stood there in the rain holding each other.

“So are we doing this then?” asked Riley breaking their embrace.

"I mean I guess your bed is big enough" said Mac with a mischievous grin. Riley smacked him, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Not that. I meant us, dating and all that." She was blushing now.

“if you want to give this a shot? 100% Should we tell everyone though?” asked Mac. He wasn’t sure how everyone would react. A part of him wanted to just keep this between him and Riley.

“I do want to give us a shot. Maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a bit? Phoenix and relationships never seem to mix too well.” said Riley.

Mac nodded and smiled,”Yeah I like the sound of that. And if they get suspicious I guess we’ll just..”

“Improvise.” said Riley, completing Mac’s sentence. They laughed and kissed, standing there in the rain for what felt like forever.

[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, part v

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: one restaurant date, two confessions, and three grades that will make or break natasha’s degree

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,881

trigger warnings: overstimulation, use of a safe word, teeth rotting fluff, strap on sex, ball gags, explicit conversations about whorephobia, orgasm control, angst if you squint

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part one, part two, part three, part four

The warmth of the sun filtered through blinds is what woke you, wrapped tight in Natasha’s arms. The sex-stained blankets were as messy as can be, some of them hugged your intertwined bodies like a tightly wrapped burrito while others were nearly falling off the bed.

It was messy, beautifully and wonderfully so. If you felt the need to move (which, of course you didn’t because who in their right mind would try to disentangle themselves from such a lovely human person) you doubt you could’ve; Natasha held you with arms too strong and heart beat too soft. You wouldn’t dare disturb her if the house was on fire; then again, if the world was burning down around you – you’d rather die in her arms than reach for uncertain safety. It’s there that you fell back into sleep, tucked under her chin and running your fingers through her hair.

Eventually the growling of your stomachs woke the both of you up, each respective organ desperate for nourishment – and the two hard-boiled eggs, sour gummy worms, gluten-free bread, and half a container of mustard wasn’t gonna cut it. The waning sun was an ominous sign of how long you’d truly gone without food, and you soon didn’t feel all that bad about poking your poor g-

Poking poor Natasha awake.

You didn’t feel all that bad poking Natasha awake as your insides beg for sustenance and your head feels light and holy shit, if you didn’t eat right then you were going to start taking bites out of her – and, for the first time, not in a fun and/or sexy way.

“Hey,” you pressed your forefinger to her nose. “Nat.” You poked the end of each eyebrow, then at various locations of her forehead. “Natasha!” Still, she remained asleep, and buried herself further into the blankets as some unconscious act of survival. “Nat.” You poked her right cheek. “Naat.” You poked her left cheek. “Naaat.” You poked each cheek with each hand at its softest part, pushing until you felt her teeth.  “Nat wake uuup.”

She just grunted and pushed you away before she nuzzled back into the covers. “Go away. I want to die here. Let me become a body without organs.”

She paused.

“Or is it organs without bodies?”

You sighed but make no move to displace her. “One, Natasha, we have the midterm coming out soon. If you do not know the original work done by two far left authors from the sarcastic critique by another far left author, I’m breaking up with you. Two, that’s not what that means and you making a vague reference to some postmodern concept does not mean I am going to stop being annoying. Three, would you like to come get dinner with me?”

Natasha shot up, flame-red hair messy and shirt disheveled – it made her look like the top of of a thicket of trees during a forest fire. Along the side of her face, you could see indentations from where her skin was pressed to the pillowcase. “Food?”

You nodded, pushing the strands from her eyes. “Yes, darling, food.”

She wiped at her face and pushed the covers from her legs, eyes half-closed. “Food.”

You picked some of the crust from the corner of her eyes. She blinked indignantly at you but made no move to stop you. “Do you care where we go?”

Natasha shook her head left-to-right silently, then moved to wipe her face once more.

“Okay. There is a very good Chinese place that I want to show you. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha nodded and made a mmhmm noise.

“Cool.”

You kissed the tip of her nose before you got up and scrounged together a passable outfit that would cover the bruises that still littered your body and shield you from the cold. After a few moments, Natasha opened her eyes wide enough to see a few feet in front of her and did the same.

There was s a wonderful silence that filled the air, the comfortable kind. Like the day of that quiz, it’s a wonderful kind of cozy – soothing and sweet.

You could get used to this…

It was a short walk to the restaurant, one you were all-too familiar with due to your many, many nights there. It was the first place you ate at on campus (that wasn’t one of the mind-numbingly mediocre cafeterias) the day you moved in and it had become some pseudo-home, the place always warm and waitstaff always nice (and always willing to let you eat as much as you pay for and abuse their free WiFi).

The menu hadn’t changed much (by “much,” you mean they’ve fixed two of the five typos) since you first started going there, so you should have already known what you want. Still, you opened the folded, laminated paper and read each item with genuine interest, just as Natasha did.

You looked up at her once and awhile just to see her again. Every time you tried to keep her out of your line or sight for more than a few seconds you’d almost burst at the seams, like a sunburst than could only be quelled by looking at her.

“What year are you?” Natasha asked, which broke your unbelievably tender train of thought.

Your brain, which was still very fried, did not compute. “What?”

She reached over to point to the Chinese zodiac calendar on your menu with one of many of her fingers that was inside you last night. “What year are you?”

You mumbled something and shrugged, fake-intense-reading as your neurons attempted to rebuild your capacity for speech. Luckily, Natasha seemed determined to continue the conversation.

“I’m the year of the dog,” she said, nonchalant, as if you were not losing your goddamn mind on the other side of the table. Your brain was fried, your mouth was gaping like a fish out of water, and were your hands shaking? What the fuck were you supposed to say? How should you respond?

Think, you fool! Think!

“There’s a feminist critical theorist who fucks her dog,” you blurted.

Natasha just smiled – god her smile was so big and wide and beautiful - and laughed. “Part of me thinks you’re lying, but part of me worries you’re telling the truth.”

You laughed then, too, smiling big as she did. It set the tone for the rest of the night, mood light and happy as the tired, probably-high waitress took your order and then brought you the food a suspiciously-short amount of time later. It was good, very good.

“And my mom turns to me and she goes,” you wrinkled your noise in an effort to properly invoke your mother’s nasally tone. “This family does not get Fs or Ds or Cs. You better fix this or else.”

Natasha almost choked on her soft drink at your impression. “You were supposed to make an omelet for a foods and nutrition class, what did she want you to do!?”

You took another bite of orange chicken before you rolled your eyes and shrugged. “I have no idea what that woman wants from me now, let alone when I was fuckin’ fourteen.”

You were both laughing as you took food from each other’s plates and swapped small stories. Natasha told you about her own coding mishaps (apparently it was easy to hack into news websites and create fake stories involving certain celebrities and a certain large bird and many, if not too many, phallic objects), you told her about the time you stress-cried in the bathroom so much the janitor kept tissues in a secret compartment for you.

One hand from each of you remained occupied as you held hands on the side of the table farthest from the prying eyes of fellow college students (as if any of them were sober enough to notice, though. Along with being great to you, the restaurant’s very greasy menu meant it was a good spot to quench munchies or quell the pain of an especially bad hangover).

A phone – your phone, you realized – vibrated obnoxiously on the other side of the table. Previously forgotten, you broke from the moment to reengage with the (seemingly) hundreds of people who were attempting reach you via text. At first you thought it’s an email from a client – but then you realized it was a text from a classmate. Specifically, the girl who sat front and center in the lecture hall you and Natasha shared.

“Who’s that?” Natasha asked.

You furrowed your brows as you texted, swallowing the last bit of food. “Oh, Lindsay from our class. She wants to know what I got on the quiz.”

Natasha then realized she never bothered to figure out her grade, and it brought all her anxiety about graduating on time and also making sure you’d never leave her and oh my god what if she failed this fucking quiz?

A few moments of soul-crushing silence passed before you put your phone back down. Natasha watched you like a cat stalking a fake mouse on a string, or a drunk mom at a Christmas party eyeing a dessert table; the drive was genuine, but the goal? Ridiculous. Absolutely, totally ridiculous.

You didn’t press her like she expected, though, didn’t even stare at her with that evil eye Natasha’s sure you got from your mother on more than one occasion. You just went back to eating your food, and put your phone back out of reach.

You noticed her staring at you when you went to borrow (steal) another piece of food from her plate.

“What?”

Natasha furrowed her brow. “Don’t you…Don’t you want to know what I got on the quiz?”

You shook your head as you stole another few bites worth of food. “Not unless you want to tell me.” You shrugged as you swallowed. “I’m not gonna, like, push you if you don’t want to tell me. I’m not my mother.”

Natasha smiled at that and left the conversation there. She was unnaturally quiet for the new few minutes as she listened intently while you told more stories and commented on the food and thought out loud about school and the rest of your life and should you go shopping soon?

Throughout all of it, Natasha remained incommunicative – to the point you started to worry.

“Are you okay?” you asked and reached across the table to put your hand over hers. She smiled, softly, before she replied.

“I really care about you, you know,” she said, low and almost inaudible. You said nothing in return. “And I’m very bad at this. I’m so bad at this. I spent a lot of my childhood in rooms with therapists who said less than I did. I’m not good at,” she waved her hands as she tried to find the right words. “I’m not great at emotions. And expressing them and telling people about them and all that shit. Okay?”

You swallowed the last tastes of duck sauce that coated your back teeth. Despite the sweet substance being a liquid, it felt like a waterfall of boulders cascading inside your throat. “Nat, I-“

“This isn’t me saying I love you, but I want…” Natasha was on the verge of crying, just as you were. She averted your gaze as she continues, staring at the booth cushion directly behind you. “I want to commit to you in some way. I like you, I like the person I am when I’m around you. And I don’t want to lose you because I was too much of a pussy to make a move.”

You said nothing, did nothing. Despite her not looking at you, you stared at her very serious facial expression and watched every muscle twitch for some signs of lying. You saw none.

“I…,” Natasha met your eyes as you spoke. Your mouth was so dry you nearly coughed – but the idea of making any sound terrified you. “I…I need some air.”

You didn’t wait for a reply as you pushed yourself out of the booth and ran out the front entrance.

Natasha didn’t wait for the door to close behind you before she chased after you. She left both of your phones and wallet at the booth, not wanting you to get out of eyeshot but also terrified of the waitstaff thinking the both of you were dine-and-dashers (and terrible ones, at that).

She followed you outside, ache in her heart an excellent distraction from the nighttime chill that dug tiny knives into her pale skin. Still, as her breath was visible in a faint fog in front her, no pain was as unimaginable as the one as losing you.

“Babe, plea-“  began, voice small and nonthreatening as possible.

You interrupted her and avoided looking into her eyes and picked at a loose thread in the sweater you were wearing – Natasha’s sweater you were wearing.

You worried it was the last time you’d ever see her again, and yet you refused to look at her. You refuse dto look at her large eyes and the bags under them, at her nimble hands – thin and agile from years of typing; at her plush lips or beautiful hair or-

Wasn’t that the cruelest irony of all? Of the cognitive dissonant fear of missing something while desperately avoiding looking at it. Still, you chose to jump off the proverbial cliff with your eyes clenched shut and nails digging into the pads of your soft palms and blood rushing in your ears louder than anything you’d ever heard in your life.

“I’m a sex worker.”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed and she breathed heavily, like when your mom got mad at you for bringing home that C your freshman year. “There’s-“

“I’m a sex worker. I make my own porn. I sell my nudes. It’s my main,” you sighed. “It’s my only source of income. It’s how I make money. It is how I will continue to make money. It’s how I stay mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother. It’s how I plan on staying mostly-independent from my very judgmental mother and my very judgmental family and the very judgmental world. And if you think that’s morally wrong of whatever, or that I’m some sort of sub-human, or that I’m evil, or that I should stop…”

For the first time that night, you looked her straight in the eyes. No smiling, no laughing, no wishing to see her beautiful face. Power. Authority. Truth. You tried to channel the red you saw on all those feminist theory books you’d had to read for the class that brought you and Natasha together.

“If you don’t believe in the validity of my labor I cannot and will not date you,” you were snarling as you stomped toward her until your toes nearly touched. “I’m not going to let someone who can’t love what I do love me.”

As you stood there, teeth bared and hands balled into fists, stories of rage flashed like lightning in your brain. Narratives of horror from your media studies class, of actresses whose only chance to scream was in front of a camera. If you had sharper nails, sharper teeth, glowing eyes that would be some award-winning monologue where people clap and call it “mind-blowing” and give it “five out of five stars.” You’d be a prime example of how satisfying rage can be as a subversive practice.

But no. You were no antihero(ine), no supernatural being caught on tape. You were not on the silver screen, you were not being streamed on some overpriced platform, you were not the subject of dissertations on media studies or really good articles on feminism or whatever else academics were doing with their time in tenure. You had filed-down nails and wide eyes and soft skin and an uneasy stomach and shaking hands and breath that faintly showed in the air when you exhaled. You had tears that threatened to fall. You had fear.

Natasha’s eyes flitted nervously, her lip between her teeth. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

Natasha was the one to speak first. Her voice sounded as terrified as you felt – with words that were spat through a set jaw and teeth bared.

“Who hurt you?”

You took a half-step back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What? Natasha, what the fuck are y-“

“Who hurt you?” she whispered, words like knives and eyes just as dangerous. You stepped back, almost scared of her and what she could do to you.

You were pressed against the side of the building then – you could feel the brick and mortar itching at the skin of your back through your top. “Natasha what the hell are you talking about? I don’t kn-“

“Yes,” she stepped back, but grasped at your left hand as she did so. She was a ship tethering to a dock, floating out on the water but always willing to come back to port. “Yes, you do. You know exactly who, what, I’m talking about. What they did. Just tell me who they are, and I’ll ruin their lives.”

You looked for the joke, the punchline. You looked for a glint in her eye that said she was fucking with you and was waiting for you to laugh it off. When you were in seventh grade you got asked out as a joke and the football player made the exact same facial expression you now hunt for.

But you found nothing, no teasing or set up in a larger scheme to mock you. She was serious as you’d ever seen anyone be. “What in the fuck-“

“Tell me who they are. Tell me the name of every person who ever made you feel like shit and I’ll ruin their lives. I’ll steal their identity. I’ll make it so they can never get a job, or a car, or a house again. I’ll do it in a heartbeat,” Natasha let go of your hand and held your face in her food-warm palms. “I will destroy the very existence of every person who ever made you feel like this, because you deserve someone who will protect you from all that bullshit. And I want to be that person.”

The silence was painful, almost. But also comforting. Still, you broke it so speak. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Natasha smiled, and pecked your lips. “Good. Now come finish my food with me, it’s getting cold and our waitress is definitely judging us.”

You broke into a fit of laughter, nearly wheezing as she guided you back inside. The food was good, even though it had cooled considerably while you were both outside – greasy and thick with flavor and hot in your mouth along with your soul and Natasha held your hand on the table and fed you with her fork and you stole bits of her food while she was distracted. At one point, Lizzo played on the restaurant soundtrack and Natasha sung low with you, and you ordered more food to take home and it was hot, too hot in your hands as you carried the large brown paper bag soaked with grease to her apartment. Maybe you were going eat the food in the morning, maybe you were going eat it later tonight. It, truly, did not really matter.

There wasn’t much time between when you put the leftovers in the fridge and when Natasha pushed you onto your knees in her (and your) (it was now shared) bedroom. There also wasn’t much time between when your knees hit the ground and when Natasha grabbed the ball gag from its place in her toy drawer.

“I’m so happy you’re mine,” Natasha cooed as she adjusted the matte black straps. She kissed at your temples when it was secured, murmuring sweet words into the top of your hairline. If there was anyone else watching you, if there were some voyeur witnessing this profession of ownership, you doubt they could hear her. The entire world could be gazing at the two of you under a microscope and they would know nothing. Wasn’t it something wonderful, to share such, dare you say it, love that cannot, will not be observed by a single being outside your pairing? “Such a pretty little thing, a beautiful little toy for me.”

You didn’t dare move, worried even a flinch would disappoint her. Even as spit began to fall down your chin and between your breasts, as it pools in the gap between your legs, you successfully resist the urge to wipe it away. Natasha walks to the end of the bed, perching herself on the covers. The silence isn’t thick or uncomfortable, rather something closer to electric, something you can feel on the insides of your nose as you sniffled.  

Slowly, she raised her right hand and crooked her first finger. You understood immediately and you got on your hands and knees to crawl across the room to her. When you reached the end of the bed you waited, obediently, for her.

Like at the restaurant – you were nearly bursting out of your skin with excitement as you awaited instruction.  

“You’re so pretty, baby,” she cooed. “Now come up on the bed and let me wreck that pussy.”

You do as you’re told without hesitation, scrambling to get on the bed and onto your back. Natasha grabbed a bottle of lube out of seemingly nowhere and poured it over the same strap from the first time she fucked you.

You moaned deeply and reached for something, anything; you whined high in your throat as she pounded into you, the bed smacking against the stained wall with each thrust.

“You’re too pretty for your own good, you know,” her voice was breathless as she spoke. “Normally I would try to keep my toys intact, try to keep them in good condition, but I just can’t seem to help myself around you.”

With each word your back arched farther, your fingers tightened around the sheets.

“F-fuck,” you moaned around the thick plastic sphere in your mouth as you tried to push your back closer to Natasha’s chest.

She grabbed your hair and bit at the curve of your ear before she spoke in a low voice that sent another wave a slick down your inner thighs. “What do you belong to?” she hisses. “Who does this pussy,” she slapped your cunt and you cried out at the stinging pain. “belong to?”

You didn’t hesitate. “You Mommy, I belong to you!”

In that moment, you wondered whether Natasha’s neighbors could hear your screams. But in the one right after, you realized you really, truly, di not give a single flying fuck what they could hear.

“Fuck yes, you’re mine,” she growled as she pressed your face into the sheets, as she loomed over you like a god would punish some human exercising an unholy level of hubris. “Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You couldn’t speak because of the ball gag – didn’t even try to – yet Natasha seemed to know exactly what you wanted to say.

“You wanna cum, love?” she cooed, still fucking into you. “You wanna cum over Mommy’s cock?”

You nodded, the whines high in your throat resembed something close to a please yes please Mommy please I wanna cum I wanna cum I wanna cum.

Just like the lube, Natasha grabbed the hitachi out of thin air before she turned it on low and pressed it to your neglected clit. It was something, it was enough, but only just so. Your muscle tensed and you wailed out as you bucked your hips, as you tried to fuck yourself harder onto the toy. Natasha notices and slows her thrusts, laughing as you become more and more desperate.

“You’re so pathetic,” she hissed. “Such a pathetic little toy. You’ll do anything to cum, won’t you?”

You nodded; words garbled.

Natasha laughed again. “Of course you would, slut. You’d do anything for me, right? You’d do anything I told you to? You’re just a mindless little toy for me, just a dumb little thing with no thoughts besides how you can please me…”

You were drooling around your gag so much it covered your cheeks and pooled on each side.

You’re blissed out, eyes glazed over and body wonderfully lax. Natasha’s isn’t done with you yet, though, because of course she isn’t. You’re now officially her girlfriend, officially hers, and maybe it’s that satisfaction or excitement or whatever in her blood but it it’s letting her stop, not now, not when you look so ethereal with a halo of sweaty hair and the sheets looking like wings and your skin practically glowing.

Not just any angel, her angel – her perfect little blessed creature, sanctified even as she degrades you in such a sacrilegious way.

“I want you to cum when I count to ten,” Natasha murmured as she pushed the sweaty hairs that had escaped their confines from your eyes. “Alright, baby?”

You nodded and tried to chase the fleeting feeling of her fingers as they dusted over your feverish skin.

She turned the Hitachi up a setting, smiling as it met your clit and you cried out.

“One,” she mumbled, rubbing the head against you in small circles. It was something, but certainly not enough.

“Two.”

Natasha knew this. She knew you didn’t orgasm all that easily.

“Three.”

Regardless, she agonizingly slowly turned the toy up a setting. Just as you feared, it remained insufficient.

“Four.”

God, nearly halfway there and you were terrified what would happen if you couldn’t cum. Part of it was exhilarating, but part of it gnawed a small hole in your stomach that left you…empty, somehow.

“Five.”

She ticked it up one, two more settings. You sighed in relief and moved your hips with what little mobility she’d allowed you.

“Six.”

She increased the vibrations again and reveled in your squeals.

“Seven.”

You cried out and wanted to beg for mercy.

“Eight.”

You didn’t.

“Nine.”

You felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe, lungs shriveled up into nothingness. It was as if you could feel each of your cells as they begged for oxygen, as your blood desperately tried to each your heart and brain.

“Ten.”

You came with a deafening scream, your whole body shaking for what feels like forever.

When you came down, your girlfriend was next to the bed, holding what you could only is another section of rope. What she planned to do with it, you had zero idea.

“How ya doin’, baby?” She asks. Natasha could sense something was off, but worried about misreading the signs.

It’s obvious she was not incorrect, though, when you tapped at your thigh three times.

Immediately, Natasha drops the toys in her hands and rushes over – untying the gag and freeing your limbs.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She scanned your body – terrified of finding blood or something worse. “What do you need?”

You swallowed what little spit you could find, your voice hoarse as you spoke. “Red,” a pause as you attempted to swallow once more. “Water.”

It was  all Natasha needed before she was rushing off to the fridge to grab a chilled bottle of the stuff and one of those reusable straws she stole from your apartment.

When she returned to the room she pulled you into her lap, keeping you upright as she leaned against the wall.

Natasha watched every muscle, every twitch as you drank from the straw. Your body seemed unwilling to move itself, relying on Natasha to hold you upright enough so that you didn’t choke. The room was silent except for the sound of your noisy swallowing (and, soon, the slurping of last droplets of water). You were about to ask for more, but Natasha found an unopened plastic water bottle within reach and held that for you, too. It reminded you of the first time the two of you fucked, and suddenly the world didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“I’m done, Mommy,” you told her when half the water was gone. “I’m good.”

“You sure, babygirl?” her voice laced with deep, genuine concern. Her eyes reflected the same emotion.

You nodded, leaning into her and rubbing your knuckles where they laid against her thigh. “I’m sure, Mommy. Thank you.”

Natasha closed the bottle and tossed it into the half-open bedside table drawer before she wrapped you in her arms. “Of course, honeybee. I’m proud of you for using your safe word, thank you for trusting me.”

You mmmed and laid there for a moment, your breathing in rhythm with Natasha. You two sat there, comfortable in the silence. If there was anything else to say, you’d say it – but for the while you enjoyed the wordless space you and her existed in.

It took a long while, after your heart had slowed and your breathing had evened out, but you eventually fell asleep in Natasha’s arms. It was peaceful, deep – somehow impossibly more satisfying than any of the other times you’d fallen asleep, even the times you’d fallen asleep with her. There, secured from harm in her arms and wrapped in blankets, you felt secure. It was indescribable, it was wonderful, it was safe. And to you, in that moment, it was heaven.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Oblivious Actions Part 2 of 2

Revali x Reader

5827 words (hey you asked for a big boi so)

Part 1

Thank you for your patience! I really love how this turned out, even though I suck at endings. Critiques and any typo finds are appreciated if I missed anything. Anyway, enjoy!

Music filled the air, the stable was lively, and full of chatter. Understandable, considering it wasn’t everyday the Champions would grace the common folk with their presence. Many travelers were already making their way up the bridges to Rito Village, in anticipation for the Champion celebratory party set for that night. Around Rito Stable, workers had begun lighting up amber lanterns, in preparation for the sun setting in a few hours. A few Hylians were walking about. One Sheikah was playing his instrument by the campfire, humming a familiar tune, while others watched and danced along. Rito and Hylian children zigzagged between the large, wooden crates, painted with the Hyrulean crest. A worker with a maroon tunic was stirring a large pot of stew, its savoury aroma filling every part of the woods. The winds rustled through the dancing trees, creating its own, cutting melody. However, the chill was not felt from within. 

Inside, the curtains by the stable entrance were half drawn, people lounged around tables, talking and eating. Warm, yellow light illuminated the room, the lanterns occasionally flickering. Workers and guests clattered about. A few men in the corner were on their third pint of ale, while a few Rito women were giggling from across the room, staring at a particular Rito and Gerudo. 

He hadn’t bothered to wear his blue scarf, even though he adored it (and he would never say so out loud), he found that its emblem attracted much unwanted attention. Urbosa, on the other hand, had her sky blue skirt on, draped across the stool she was sitting on. It was the figure of a Gerudo so far into the Tabantha Region, combined with her Champion status that attracted attention. So in essence, it was her that negated any efforts Revali made to stay away from the crowds. He leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling restlessly, waiting for her to be finished with the last of the lingering fans.

With a flick of her wrist, Urbosa finished writing her name across the piece of parchment. The black ink at the tip of the quill soaked into the paper, leaving Urbosa’s cursive name in large letters. A thin and lanky Hylian man took it excitedly.

“T-thank you, Chief Lady Urbosa ma’am! Really! Truly! This means a lot, I’m going to— I mean… my kids are gonna love this.”

The Gerudo gave him a kind look and tilted her head, her emerald eyes gleamed. There was not a sliver of annoyance or mocking on her face. “It’s not a problem at all, sir. I find it encouraging whenever people come up to greet and support us. Don’t you think, Revali?”

Although the blank, wooden image of the ceiling was very entertaining, Rito pried his gaze away and narrowed his eyes at the two of them. The man was rocking back and forth on his heels, hugging two pieces of paper to his chest. One, already autographed with Urbosa’s loopy handwriting. The other, blank and waiting. His posture was jittery and nervous. The Hylian was switching his gaze between the Rito and the quill on the table. 

Ugh.

“Why yes, Champion Urbosa. It’s always nice to meet the adoring fans.” Revali enunciated the end of the sentence carefully. He continued with a regal tone. “Especially, since we’ve wasted the last hour of our free time watching you write the same word over and over. Theoretically speaking, we have greatly supported the ink business with our presence alone.” He leaned forward, speaking directly to the Hylian. “However, I think we’ve taken enough of this gentleman’s time, so why don’t we send him on his way. After all, I’m sure there are more actually important matters that we all need to attend too.” He flicked his wing in a motion towards the stable exit. 

A beat of silence. Then, the Hylian started to sputter, his cheeks reddening. “O-Oh... oh-oh yes, yes! Of course! I’ll just…” he took a shaky step back, “...be on, my, way, then. Thank you very much for your time!” He shuffled outside, nearly tripping on the step out the exit. 

Letting out a huff of air, the Gerudo Chief muttered under her breath. “Ink business...hilarious as always, Revali.” He let a smirk cross over his feathered face, “Yes, I already knew that, thank you.”

Revali turned his gaze back towards the ceiling, finding comfort in the fact that all the pestering fans were gone. Urbosa rolled her eyes. “Would it kill you to be nice? Or at the very least, polite?” He scoffed. 

“I don’t think having to endure lines of mindless devotees is part of our job description. Last I checked, I was chosen for my masterful skill set and bond with Medoh, not my penmanship.”  

She gave a tired sigh. “We both know that’s not the point, it’s about inspiration and giving people hope.”

“If people are so eager to have my name on a piece of paper,” he picked up the quill the Hylian had accidentally left on their table, “they can write it out themselves. By this point most people have the ability to spell, correct?”

The two continued their idle banter for a bit. The conversation at this point was mostly out of a lack of other things to do, as no food or drink had arrived yet. Then, another Hylian approached their table, cheerfully.

“Excuse me, Champions, I have—”

“OH for the love of Hylia!” the Rito interrupted, “I’m afraid I’m not in the mood to deal with whatever requests you have for me.” He held his head towards the ceiling, exasperated. 

“So pardon my bluntness, but why don’t you—”

“Revali,” Urbosa interjected.

He looked back towards her, a sarcastic response already at the tip of his beak. That was when he caught a glance at the Hylian woman in question.

She was holding up a wooden tray, dark and stained. A large pitcher sat on top of it, and she balanced two cups on either end. Her leather cap sat lopsided on her yellow hair. The symbol of a horse etched onto the fabric of their hat and tunic. The look on her face was that of confusion.

“Oh.”

The stable worker cleared her throat with a forced cough. “Um, you ordered the apple cider, right Champion Revali?” She set the cups down without waiting for a response. The Rito fixed his eyes on his drink, mumbling. “Yes, thank you Lucile.” At least, that’s what he thought her name was. He couldn’t bother to remember all of [Name]’s friends. The bronze colored liquid swirled in his cup.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Urbosa quipped in. “It wouldn’t be very responsible of me to let him get drunk, lest he become even more dramatic than usual.” She exchanged a quiet laugh with the waiter. Revali clicked his tongue. “I am in no need of your motherly supervision, Urbosa. Besides,” he laid his wing across his chest, theatrically, “I’m sure I can handle my drink much better than anyone here ever could.” At that, Urbosa gave a wink towards the waiter, whispering something about ego.

After pouring their drinks, the Hylian that was probably named Lucile put the pitcher back on the tray. “Alright, well, call for a refill when you want it. And don’t worry about the price or anything. [Name] said to put the rupees on their tab.” 

At the mention of their name, Revali perked up. “Wait, Lucile, I noticed I haven’t seen [Name] around yet. Are they…?” he let his voice trail off. It’s not like he cared that much, he was just curious. He hadn’t seen them all day. It’s not like he was looking forward to their interactions or anything. Yeah, curious, that was the word.

“If you’re referring to your little get together later, they’re still on for that.” Lucile gave a warm and knowing smile. “The place is busier than usual, thanks to you guys. So it’s ‘all hands on deck’ if ya know what I mean.”  She gave a quick nod outside, where a savoury aroma was starting to swirl its way inside. “They’re making your on the house dinner right now, so just wait a little bit longer.” Lucile tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, and picked up the tray. “Okie dokie, then. I’ll be seeing you.” 

The Rito allowed himself to look outside. The view was partly obstructed by the purpleish curtains on either side, but the unmistakable glow of embers and flickering firelight could be seen. Craning his head forward a bit, he caught a glimpse of a coffee colored boot in front of a cooking pot, tapping along with the music. Huh, only one stable worker he knew would still be dancing along to the music despite working all day. Revali thought back to that time when [Name] would force him to sing along with the sparrows, just to annoy him. Or how he would invite them to Warblers nest to listen to the Rito kids chirp their tunes. I wonder how they’re doing, have they been working all day? Have they taken a break yet? I know I’ve been caught up with Champion duties, but maybe tonight—

“Wandering eyes kill, little Rito.”

Snapping back into reality, Revali quickly blinked and turned to face Urbosa. There was a calm and almost pitiful tone in her voice that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be at the end of.

“Ah, my apologies. I should have asked for your permission to use my sense of vision.”

Unbothered by his comment, she kept the smirk on her face. “You know, I’ve never seen you laugh so easily until the other day.” He let out a loud scoff. What was that supposed to mean? Am I not allowed to express emotion on duty? Perhaps I should don the same stupid expression as that little knight.

“Well, perhaps that’s because everyone else in the group is boring.”

Urbosa leaned forward in her seat, letting her elbows rest on the table. “Let down the act, Revali. Everyone can see the big picture but you.”

“What are we even talking about?”

“[Name]”

“Uh-huh. Right, I think it would save us both time if you bothered to be specific in what you mean.” He lifted his wings in fake surrender. “What about them? You insulted by their choice in flower crowns? ”

Putting his wings down, he went for his drink. Taking up the cup of cider, Revali lifted it towards his face, using it as an excuse to not continue further into the conversation Urbosa so clearly wanted to have. Urbosa let out a huff of air. “Look, I’m just trying to compliment you two. You really are a cute couple.”

Instinctively turning to the side, Revali spat out his drink wildly. His coughing fit caused the surrounding conversations in the stable to trickle into curious whispers. A few other Rito in the back were giggling. Thankfully, he hadn’t sprayed anyone as no one was in range. He wiped down the front of his clothes and part of the table with his wing. He cleared his throat and half stood up, addressing the people that were looking at him quizzically. Revali’s voice raised in pitch and his speech quickened.

“AHEM! Wow, that was absolutely appalling and disgusting. I can’t believe the staff would be so careless as to let a dragonfly swirl around in my cup! I WILL be sure to speak with someone later concerning the cleanliness and hygienic practices of this place. So...yeah…” he let his voice echo in the room for a few more moments before sitting back down completely. Urbosa’s hands were folded as if in prayer, but her fingertips were pushed in front of her lips, as if to keep from laughing.

“Great save.”

“Shut up, will you? What in the hells did you just say? Couple? I think you’re clearly misreading things.”

She let out a short laugh. “Well, the fact that you reacted so enthusiastically says otherwise.”  

“Wha—what…?” He shook his head quickly. “Urbosa, whatever you think you saw the other day isn’t what you think. [Name] and I are very obviously not dating, or seeing each other, or whatever your proper terminology is.”

“You both are very obviously into each other. You always hang out, you have cute banter. You’re dating, no?”

“NO!” He quickly shushed her comment, lowering his own voice and glancing around to see if anyone else was listening in. “The answer is NO because I don’t even like them that much. They’re very stupid, and unattractive, not to mention a Hylian. They’re an acquaintance at most. Maybe a friend.” He propped his own wing on the table and rested his beak on it. “Or close friend. A confidant...or—agh! Point is we’re not whatever you think we are!”

Urbosa let out a huff of air, letting her shoulders slump. “For a Rito, you are quite blind.”

He went for his cup again, fiddling with the chipped white paint that decorated the side. Revali didn’t bother to look up at Urbosa, for fear of unconsciously communicating something with his eyes. “Fine, then. Please, enlighten me into what I am so blind to.”

She furrowed her brows in confusion. Was he seriously not getting it? “You and [Name] seem to talk and visit each other all the time, considering you even know the staff here. You both have known each other since childhood, no doubt you’ve formed a bond. Both of you were so incredibly flustered just being in each other’s presence yesterday. Also,” she held up her head to imitate Revali’s posture, “You look pretty too!’ Does that comment ring any bells? Come on, Revali. And this is only the stuff I’ve seen in one day.” 

Shocked and speechless, Revali let the silence between them settle for a bit. He considered her argument, thinking over what to say next. “OK fine, I tolerate them. Sure. That doesn’t mean it happens both ways…”

The Gerudo Chief looked as if Revali had just told her that the current King of Hyrule was five stacked cuccos. “They practically invited you for a date earlier.”

“But, we do that all the time.”

“You do!?” it was Urbosa’s turn to be shocked.

“Wait,” Revali narrowed his eyes, wheels turned in his head. Did that time he invited [Name] to watch his archery practice count? Or when [Name] had baked him a fish pie when he came to visit them even though they were sick? Wait, wait, no. Friends do that all the time, that’s absurd. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the incessant fluttering in his stomach whenever he thought about braiding their hair...or laughing beside them...or— ah! What did it all mean? He scrunched his face in confusion, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Have we already...what does...are we dating?”

Urbosa held the bridge of her nose with her fingers, sighing. “Everyone with eyes can see it. You are.”

Revali practically squaked. “WE’VE BEEN DATING?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, you’re... dating Urbosa?”

Both Revali and Urbosa whipped around in unison to face [Name], who was standing behind them holding two hot bowls of spicy meat stew. 

Spirits bless his quivering soul, [Name] was here. There were still droplets of cider on his clothes, his braids were probably all frizzled from the trip down here. Was what he was wearing too formal? Too casual? Maybe he should have worn something more colorful. Hold on, was [Name] wearing their hair differently? When did they start wearing that yellow ribbon? It looked nice...should he say something? What was that new leather pouch on their belt, did someone give them that? Why all these changes? Are they seeing someone? Well it would be fine if they were...considering they were just friends. Right, they were friends— Wait a moment, did they just ask if he was dating Urbosa??

The Gerudo Champion, ever quick to regain her composure, was the first to respond. “Unfortunately, no. I’m afraid I’m a bit out of the Rito Champions league. We were talking about something else.”

The slight tension in [Name]’s shoulders relaxed, just barely noticeable. They chuckled, setting down the stews. “Ah-ha, well that’s good. Hylia knows Revali’s much more trouble than he’s worth.”

The Rito in question, who had still been sputtering over the several revelations he had come across over the last few minutes, finally regained the ability to formulate words. “...What? Hey! I’m right here!”

“Oh, sorry about that!” [Name] leaned down to face him, “I didn’t see you there. When you’re sitting down, you’re even shorter than usual! ” To further add to their quip, [Name] booped the tip of his beak with the end of a spoon. The feathers on his neck poofed up from embarrassment, though probably no one but him noticed. After placing napkins and silverware on the table, [Name] gave a deep, exaggerated bow. Their leather pouch hung out, half-open, revealing a few colorful hair ribbons. “Enjoy the meal, and thank you for staying with us, esteemed Champions,” their words were more of a tease towards Revali. “Just holler if you need anything, Revali! I’ll see you...later.” And with that, [Name] strode back outside, the brisk breeze fluttering the edges of their maroon tunic.

Revali’s thoughts were racing. Mainly centered around one word.

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy

Urbosa looked at Revali, a twinkle in her eye. “Truly, you are made for each other. They’re the only one I’ve seen with the ability to actually make you shut up.”

Ignoring her comment, the Rito continued to stare at [Name] as she bantered with the other guests and workers outside. Then, he exhaled quickly, muttering comments that would make any mother click their tongue. Attempting to alleviate the tension, Urbosa asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

Quickly rebuilding his walls, Revali let out the usual quip. “You just did, but you have my permission to ask a secondary one.”

“Do you believe they like you back?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, spare me your useless fledgling gossip and prattle. What are you going to do, exchange handwritten love letters between us? Unfold the schoolyard drama? Maybe later we can skip around in circles as we talk about our crushes before bedtime.” 

She rolled her eyes. It might as well be an exercise when around Revali. “How about you answer the question?”

He turned away, looking outside and watching the dancing trees and people. “[Name] and I have been friends for years. I think I’d know if we had mutual feelings.”

Taking a napkin and placing it on her lap. She focused on enjoying her meal. “Oh but you do. You’re both clearly head over heels for each other already. Considering you're already basically dating.”

Turning back to face her, he started sputtering. “Wait, wait. Let’s back up, shall we? If we’re, as you said, basically dating, does that mean they know this? Do...do they already consider me their significant other? Do they know we’re…” he lowered his voice again, gesturing at himself wildly, “...you know.”

Urbosa slurped her stew, but held Revali’s gaze. She enjoyed its warmth and savory smell for several, several, several long seconds, still looking Revali in the eye. He spread his wings, exasperated. “Your condescending stares aren’t improving the situation.” 

Finally, she finished her sip, giving a satisfied sigh. The spicy taste tingled in her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious. [Name]’s cute and a good cook. You have good taste.”

“Did you just make a pun?”

“Pfft, like you haven’t done that before?” Revali responded with a grimace. 

The Rito asked again, “Can you just please take this seriously and help me with all this? You should already be flattered that I’m even bothering to continue this conversation with you. I don’t just babble about [Name] with anyone. So just...tsk...I don’t know, grace me with whatever wisdom you have.”

Urbosa raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Why should I? I’m not your mother or anything…” She flipped her velvet hair and looked away dramatically. Seems the Rito’s personality rubbed off on her.

Revali rolled his eyes, “Are you really going to make me—”

“Yes.” she said bluntly.

“Well, I’m not—”

“Hm?” 

“I said—”

“What?”

“Can you—”

“Yes?”

Revali sat there, eyes narrowed. Seems there was only one way he was gonna get her to talk. Urbosa gave a hearty laugh, her chocolate smooth voice echoing through the room. She kept her eyebrows raised, looking at him expectantly. After letting out another sigh, the Rito grumbled, barely opening his beak. “Can you please help me with all this...” Urbosa cupped a hand around her ear, a smirk plaster on her face. Revali quickened his speech. “...ugh you’re insufferable...considering you are the closest thing to a parental figure in my life and you’re more of an expert in this than I am, please tell me what in the hells I should do about [Name]—THERE! Happy?”

She started chuckling again, laughter must come easy for her. Shooting him a wink, Urbosa mused, “I think that’s satisfactory. Was that so hard?”

“Very.”

She snorted. Leaning back in her seat, she jeered him further. “Alright, maybe I won’t let you crash and burn this cute relationship of yours, considering it’s my responsibility to look out for all the little children in my life.” Revali scoffed.

Before he had the chance to nag her further, Urbosa continued. “So, Revali, from my own expert deductions on your whole,” she moved her spoon towards him in a circular motion, “situation, I’ve concluded that you’re both idiots.” He grumbled and shot daggers at her.

“Thank you. Very helpful.”

“You’re welcome. Now,” she set down her spoon, “Listen close and listen well, Revali. You’re both in the same boat here. [Name] didn’t react that badly at the prospect of you going out with me. However, their eyes immediately lit up when I clarified that you were not, infact, taken.  

“This means that they also don’t realize the obvious fact that you’re dating each other. Yet, they reacted with a hint of jealousy, so there’s no question they’ve got it for you.” Revali shifted in his seat, but allowed her to resume.

“They were completely oblivious to Daruk’s earlier comment about you being cute together. Yet, they’ve continuously made moves that suggest they really like you. Did you see their face when you put your wing around them yesterday?” She sighed. “ Who knows what other signs you’ve both been oblivious to all your lives.” Finally, she leaned forward and pointed a finger at Revali.

“You’re both too lovestruck to see how lovestruck your loves are for you.” Then, she went for her drink, sipping it slowly.

Taking her silence as a cue to speak, he asked softly. “Alright, so what do I do?”

“I don’t know,” was all that came from behind the cup.

He practically squaked again. “What? But? You just? Why—”

She held up a finger to shush him. “The best I can say is that you should probably openly confess so there’s not anymore confusion between you two fools. How, where, and when? Well that’s entirely up to you. Maybe at the party tonight you can whip up something.”

The likelihood of someone like [Name] showing up to a party filled with stuffy nobles, pestering fans, and overall loud people seemed slim. From experience, Revali probably thought [Name] would spend the night in the woods or something, searching for wildflowers. “I can assure you that’s not going to happen.”

Urbosa gave a final shrug. “Well then, good luck.” She went back to eating the rest of her meal.

Revali cast his eyes to the floor, deep in thought. What was he gonna do? 

Several minutes passed, and Urbosa basked in the rare occurance of the Rito Champion's silence. Thoughts and anxieties swarmed his head like bees to a courser honey comb. Then, the wind swept past the curtains and through the stable entrance, fluttering something under Revali’s foot. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a feather. It was a familiar deep blue, bordering on indigo, the edges were stroked with white. The color and hue was unmistakable.

Losing one or two happened everyday, sure, but what was peculiar was that this particular feather was that it seemed to be from a fledgling. The white marks faded to grey slightly, indicating the not yet fully formed colors of a young Rito hatchling. 

Tsk. I’ll admit I have youthful looks, but I’m not that young.  

Picking it up off the floor, he studied the stiff end of the feather, he was surprised to find it was decorated. A yellow ribbon was wrapped around its end. At one point, it was a brighter, daffodil like color, but now it had faded with time to a more pastel shade. The color matched well.

Why on earth does someone have my—

Suddenly, Revali stood up, almost flipping the table. “Hey!” Urbosa held the table steady. “Revali? Are you alright?”

Earlier, they were wearing a new leather pouch. It was half open, there were trinkets...ribbons inside.

“Revaaaaaaali?”

When they were joking around, they fake bowed. Did this...did this fall out?

“Are you alright? Where’d you get that feather? Is it yours?”

[Name] kept this? After all this time? That idiot, don’t they know about Rito custom by now? Someone might get the wrong idea.

Or the right idea...GAH! Whywhywhywhywhy—

Breaking his eyes away from the feather, he pushed in his seat and started to leave. “Well, you’ve had your free meal, hope your food was good Urbosa. Now I have to go.” Revali started shuffling out towards the exit, hastily shoving the little feather into his own pocket. “I’ll meet up with you at that idiotic party later. Right now I need to be somewhere.” 

Urbosa started to chuckle. “So, heading out early to your date?” Nearly outside, The Rito abruptly stopped and turned to face her. Her eyebrows were raised in suspicion. “And Urbosa, if you tell anyone at all, and I mean even the slightest whisper in the breeze, about our conversation, I have a bomb arrow nocked and ready for you.” He gave her a death stare, but she just laughed.  

Her chocolatey voice resonated through the air once more, laughter must truly come easy for her. After shooting him a wink, she smiled.

“Good luck, little Rito.”

- - - - - 

Ironic, that the Champion of the sky would frequent the area of his first failure. But, the woods had their own calm and beautiful atmosphere, made all the more pleasant when he and [Name] would hang out here through their childhood. Revali knew these trees all too well, from when he first crashed into them as a child to when he practiced his archery in the time before the Flight Range was built.

Walking along the dirt path, he spotted them up ahead. Their secret spot wasn’t that secluded, it was by a small grassy clearing within the forest. Tall pine trees swayed in the wind, the setting sunlight was cut apart by the shifting shadows. The rose, orange, and yellow light coated the sky and shimmered through the branches. The bushes during this time of year held small buds, some had already bloomed into more colorful yellow flowers, although most were still a young green. Kneeling on the ground [Name] was shuffling through a leather pouch, spilling the contents on the ground and searching for something among the mess. A few hair ribbons, a spare quill, a comb, empty elixir bottles, and other junk cluttered the forest floor. Sensing a presence behind them, [Name] spun around to find Revali, standing there with his wings folded behind his back. 

“I don’t suppose all that is to help the fertility of the forest?”

[Name] rubbed the back of their neck, brushing aside their hair, embarrassed. “No, I was just...organizing my things.” Trying to move the conversation away from that, they asked, “So, how’ve you been, Master Revali?” 

The Rito brushed his wings against the pocket on his side, where a certain item was tucked away. Tilting his head, he innocently asked, “Are you sure you weren't looking for something just now? We both know you have a habit of being terribly irresponsible.”

[Name] started to formulate an excuse at the tip of their tongue, but one glance at Revali’s expression told them it would be useless. “Alright, fine. Yeah, I lost something, but I’ll find it later. We don’t need to worry about it right now. Why don’t—”

“What did you lose?” He didn’t mean to come off so blunt, but he needed to know. He wanted to be sure. He needed to remove any doubts from his mind. [Name] gave a hasty shrug.

“Uh, just an old trinket. It’s nothing, really. It’s just this dumb thing I had as a kid—”

“So what is it?”

“Nothing! OK? You don’t need to push it, there’s no need to concern yourself with it…” their voice trailed off.

“Was it blue?”

Both their hearts stopped. [Name] suddenly looked up into Revali’s eyes. The looks they both gave each other confirmed their wordless questions. Letting the silence fall a bit longer, [Name] finally dared to whisper.

“How did you...?”

He reached for his pocket. He meant to do this confidently, to swoop in and present it with flair. Perhaps say a quip like “Aha! Of course you kept this. My feathers are of the most dazzling color and quality after all!” Yet, no words escaped his beak. He held out his feather, the pale yellow ribbon hung lazily in the wind. He held it out in front of him, his usual confidence left him. No need to get my hopes up early, just please tell me, if it’s true.

The feather stood between them, shifting back old memories. The sounds were only that of the forest. Crickets softly chirped, and the wind danced through the trees. The sunset trickled through the leaves. Revali let out a cough.

“Ah, well....I believe you left this at our table.” 

Neither of them made a move. [Name] was just standing there, bewildered, their gaze constantly shifting between Revali and the feather. They rubbed their boot on the ground awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Finally, the Rito started to speak again.

“Did you know—”

“Yeah,” they said. “Yes...I’ve known about the whole Rito culture thing since when we were kids. You exchange feathers to show that a piece of you is bound to that person for eternity. Then you can, like, braid it into their hair or something? You only do it with your soulmate, or significant other, or whatever the proper terminology is.” Memories started to stir in the back of Revali’s mind, but they continued, waving their hands in front of them in surrender. “I mean, when I first asked you for it, I had no idea about the custom. I just thought it looked nice,” they rubbed the back of their neck, their cheeks rosening. “When I got back to the stable, some elderly guy told me about it. But I didn’t have the heart to throw it away or anything. I just kept it under the floorboards so no one would find it. 

“Ah, but tonight there were so many people, plus the Champions… I thought it would be safer on me.” They gestured to Revali, “And, of course, I was wrong, haha….” They let their shoulders slump. “Goddess above, I’m sorry, this is so weird huh. I didn't want to tell you in case you...took it back. I probably should have, I don’t have the right to keep something that should be sentimental...but…”

Their voice trailed off. Revali continued to say nothing. Taking this as a cue to say something more, [Name] added, “I’m sorry, obviously when we were kids you didn’t mean anything that way. I should have told you sooner.” 

His heart was racing. Well, both of their hearts were. Taking in their words, Revali could feel his stomach start to flutter, the winds played with the end of his braids. Still holding the feather in front of him, he extended it towards them shakily. “Well, take it. It’s yours.”

They looked up from the ground in shock. “R-Revali! Don’t feel obligated to do anything just because I—”

“And there’s a comb among the junk you’ve littered on the forest floor, correct?”

They took a step back. “Wait, wait. Does this mean you—”

He suddenly took their arm and twirled them around, facing them away from him. “Yes, now sit down already. I’m not gonna do this standing.”

His feathers were poofed out, from the mixed emotions of pride, embarrassment, and adoration. Plopping [Name] in the grass, he went over and picked out the wooden comb among their belongings. 

Seeing [Name] about to churn out more excuses and questions, he held up his wing to shush them. “Shut up will you? This is long overdue.” He sat down behind them, the grass prickling against his feet. Revali started to carefully undo the yellow ribbons in [Name]’s hair. Softly, they asked “So for you, how long? When we were kids? Teens?”

“A while,” he simply stated. “It just took me some time to really accept it I suppose.” Silence overtook them once more, though its atmosphere was much more pleasant and warm. Parting their hair into sections, Revali started to lighten the mood with a quip.

“Did you know we’ve already been dating over the last few years?”

“What?!”

“Yeah, you’re pretty much an idiot for not seeing it. I mean, all those times we’ve been in each others’ company. I don’t know how you’ve gone this long without realizing.”

They laughed. “Maybe the idiot Rito I’ve been hanging out with rubbed off on me.”

“Maybe.”

Finally, he placed the feather within their hair. After braiding it halfway, he twisted the yellow ribbon with it, and finished off the braid. The colors of his feather and the ribbon matched perfectly.

“Is it done?”

Before he could give an answer, [Name] brushed their hand against their hair. They both sat there, in the grass, for another eternity. Suddenly, [Name] turned around, and planted their lips on his beak. After releasing him, they stared into each other's eyes for a moment. “Heh, I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” they mused. “What’s with the look? Should I enlighten you on the Hylian custom then?”

His feathers were now fluffed up mainly from embarrassment, but he regained his composure at their smile. “I’m quite aware of what a kiss is. It’s just that Rito have something better.”

Revali wrapped his wing around the back of their head, moving it gently towards his. Pressing their foreheads against each other, they both smiled, half flustered. His soft face tickled their skin, but they smiled for more reasons than that.

“This works too.”

“Of course, I’m an expert at this sort of thing.”

A beat, and then they both laughed. The sun was almost completely swallowed by the horizon . The Rito Champion was probably going to miss the party, but it didn’t matter. He was busy with more important matters, anyhow.

[ererokii]

What Goes Around Comes Around

T. Shouto x Fem! Reader (inspired song fic)

Song: What Goes Around by Justin Timberlake

Warnings: angst, cheating, like one scene of sex (very small scene), characters are 18+

Italics mean flashback

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is my first fic and my first attempt at writing angst so I’m sorry if this is quite shit and of course it had to be my boy (pls forgive if there are typos). Also big shoutout to @shoutodoki and @shoutosplaything (also thank u for beta reading gabbi) for letting me tag them!

Don’t wanna think about it

Don't wanna talk about it

I’m just so sick about it

I can’t believe it's ending this way

Just so confused about it

Feeling the blues about it

I just can’t do it without ya

Can you tell me is this fair?

14 days

It’s been 14 days since the last time you saw Shouto Todoroki. You refused to acknowledge him as the man that you once loved but deep down inside you knew that you still love him. Everyday your thoughts kept haunting you as if it was a song that kept repeating itself without your permission.

Was I good enough?

Did he not love me anymore?

Could I have known before it happened?

Could it have been fixed?

Maybe I wasn’t putting enough effort?

You thought that your relationship was perfect. Like every other couple, you had your ups and downs. To something as silly as leaving the dirty dishes there or something as serious as miscommunication. Regardless, that was the best relationship you’ve been in for a while. Thought Shouto was the one to be. The one you would spend the rest of your life with. You guys were the It Couple. All your friends would always compliment on your relationship. Soulmates. That’s how everyone described your relationship with Shouto. A bond that could never be broken. The universe bringing two people together to forge the most perfect relationship. That’s what everyone used to say.

Tonight, just like every night you stared up at the ceiling refusing to let sleep take over your body as all you saw was Shouto when you closed your eyes. Laying on the couch, you stared up at the ceiling like you were in a trance, unmoving. The blanket lazily hangs off of the couch as you refused to shield your body from the cold. The unfinished dinner stayed on the granite counter in your kitchen, the half-empty wine bottle laid untouched on your low table. How pathetic you thought to yourself as you let out a weak chuckle and sat up slowly, running a hand through your messy hair. A bang like knock to your door startled you, making you turn your head quickly and could have sworn you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Who in the hell..” you mumbled and stood up, wiping your sweaty palms against your shorts as you made your way to the door, stopping in front of it. You let out a deep sigh and fixed your hair quickly to the best of your ability.

“Who is it?”

“Y/N.”

You let out an indescribable noise as you quickly covered your mouth. Why was he here? What does he need? Is he drunk? Millions of questions raced through your mind. Even with the door separating you two, you could still feel his intense gaze burning holes right through it.

“Y/N please open the door. I just want to talk to you and explain things.”

“There is nothing to talk about Todoroki” you snapped and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. He internally cringed whenever you used his last name. It sounded so foreign to him whenever the word escaped your mouth that he honestly forgot what it sounded like.

“Please all I ask of you is to let me explain”

You let out a low groan and unlocked the door quickly, opening it with force that even Shouto was surprised you would agree to face him.

“Explain?! You’re gonna explain how you oh so magically or you tripped and stuck your dick in another girl’s vagina?! Cause if you have an amazing explanation please be my guess and enlighten me.”

“Y/N come on don’t act like that..”

“No! You have no right to tell me how I should be acting! And don’t you fucking dare call me by my name. We aren’t formal anymore” You snapped and felt tears starting to form. You wouldn’t give him the pleasure to see you cry. Not again.

~~~~

The thought of marrying Shouto has been on your mind for the longest. Being in a relationship for 3 almost 4 years with him was amazing, you were deeply in love with him and you wanted to take the next step.

Recently you noticed a difference in Shouto’s behavior. He lost his loving touch. As time went on you noticed the bridge separating both of you as if it forbade you to meet in the middle once again. It started off small. He would come home later than usual. Yes being a Pro-Hero called for him to be out at unusual times of the night but this didn’t feel right. It wasn’t right.

“Shouto!” You called out from the front of your apartment, slipping on your shoes. “I’m going to be out for a while with Ochako! I shouldn’t be gone too long!”

Silence.

You were met with silence.

A frown formed on your face as you glanced at the man sitting down on the couch, staring down at his phone. ”Shouto?” This time you were met with a grunt. Least it was better than silence. “Did you even listen to what I said?”

“No. What did you say”

Ouch. That hurt.

“I said I was going out. With Ochako” you announced slowly, expecting that he would take notice this time. ”Uh-huh. That's cool.” he mumbled, not looking up from his phone once as a small smile formed on his face. ”Well..okay then I'll see you later then. I love you.”

Once again you were met with silence but this time he lifted his head up to meet your gaze. The look in his eyes looked unrecognized, something you haven't seen since the beginning of your friendship. ”Ok. Stay as long as you want.”

That was some of the red flags you should have taken notice of, but you were so blinded by your love for him that you didn't bring it up.

You told your best friend, Ochako Uraraka about the situation and she simply told you that you were probably overreacting and just needed to speak with the man himself. “Ochako you know he doesn't even acknowledge me anymore. He doesn't say ’I love you’, he's not affectionate anymore and always pushes me away whenever I try to have sex with him. Is it me? Am I doing something wrong?”

The brunette girl sitting beside you swirled the red wine in her glass as she stared down at it. ”I really wish I knew the answer for you Y/N-chan. From what it sounds like you just need to sit down and talk with him. It could possibly just be miscommunication.”

”What if he's cheating on me?”

”I'm going to have to stop you right there. Todoroki may be a bit dense at times but he isn't an idiot. If that were the case I would personally go down there and show him that he doesn't mess with the best girl around. In case you didn't notice, you're the best girl.

A weak chuckle escaped your lips as you took the final sip of your wine, relishing the way it went down your throat and left a tangy aftertaste. “Maybe I’ll buy a little something on the way back. Maybe some strawberry milk and soba noodles from his favorite place.”

“I mean you can do or you could just go straight home and talk to him without any bribery.”

A sigh exited your mouth as you placed your now empty glass on her white table. ”I really appreciate that you let me come over”

A smile tugged on her lips as she wrapped her arms around you, hugging you tightly against her smaller frame. “Of course Y/N-Chan! Let me know how it goes after!”

Then that’s how you found yourself in front of your door, reciting a small monologue on how you would approach the man. You opened the door quietly, staying put when you heard the soft creak of the door. “He should be home..” you whispered to yourself as you shut the door behind you once you entered your shared apartment. “All I have to do is approach and speak my mi-“ Black heels? When did you leave black heels here?

You didn’t. The only pair of shoes that were beside the black heels were your white slippers. You felt as if your heart dropped down in the depths of your body. It was a misunderstanding. It had to be.

You began walking towards your room, taking quiet steps despite feeling that your feet were dragging across the floor. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t capable of doing that. Right?

Turning the corner to enter the hallway you stopped your motion and stared. Across the hallway was your closed bedroom door. It felt like a journey that hasn’t even begun. Before taking a single step towards your destination, you heard it.

“S-Shouto!”

That was it. The moan. The noise of skin slapping against skin and the creaking of your once shared bed where it was him making you feel that good. Him touching you in a way that no one else could feel his touch. It used to be you. Only you.

“No no no” you repeated like a mantra and walked over quickly only to stop in front of the door, hand resting about the door knob. You were hesitating, but why? You already had your answer. Was it because you were in denial? You thought this was a dream?

Taking a deep breath you grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door open quietly.

There it was. The scene you always hoped you would never see. Your now ex-boyfriend, drilling some woman into your mattress. Your presence seemed to be ignored by them.

“Fuck baby you fuck me so good!”

“You’re so fucking tight” Shouto grunted and threw his head back and closed his eyes before opening them again, tensing up on once he spotted you standing right behind him. His hips stilled as his hands let go of the woman’s ass.

You couldn’t believe it and started shaking your head in denial

“Y/N this isn’t what it looks like”

“Oh? What is it then huh? I know I’m not fucking blind. I can see what is going on with my own two eyes.”

He got off the bed quickly and grabbed a spare sheet, placing it on top to cover himself up. “Please Y/N” he whispered. He sounded desperate as he reached to grab your hand while taking a step towards you.

“How long has this been going on.”

“What?”

“How long have you been doing this behind my back.”

“...6 months.”

The past 6 months seemed like a lie now. Every kiss. Every touch. Every ‘I love you’ was nothing but a lie. Now, you remembered all the red flags that were thrown your way but your denial got the best of you. The constant fighting, blowing you off on dates to go hang out at ‘Midoriya’s place’ or even ‘Bakugo’s place’. Coming home late even when he wasn't called for work. It all made sense now.

”Baby we can talk about this”

“No!” You snapped and pointed a shaky finger at him. “Do not beg me. I gave you everything I possibly could. I put in all my time and my energy for this relationship and for you to just..” you trailed off and covered your mouth with your hand, suppressing a sob from fleeing. ”You know...instead for future purposes. If you want out of a relationship j-just tell them. Don't cheat on them from behind. And don’t you dare call me that fucking name again.” You said as confident as you could but in reality it was the opposite of confident. Your voice was wavering, your once perfect mascara was running down your face mixed with your tears.

Shouto gulped and clenched the sheet in his hand. “I still love you Y/N.. we can talk this out please. Just give me a chance.” He whispered and looked directly into your eyes. Broken. Torn. Guilty. The look in his eyes seemed to stare right through your soul.

“If you really loved me, you would have never cheated on me in the first place. You would have come up to me and spoken to me how you felt instead of doing this behind my back… I’m going to leave. When I come back, I want you out of my apartment. Take everything you own and leave.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What goes around, comes around

~~~~

You shut your eyes tightly as the memory and clenched your fists right by your side.

“I was drunk. I went to a bar right when you left to go visit Uraraka.” Shouto said as he took a small step towards you. It felt like the world was suffocating you.

“A bar? That’s your excuse for cheating on me? Drunk for 6 months? Please. I’m not stupid. I know plenty of men that get ‘drunk’ and they don’t cheat on their significant other. I didn’t expect that coming from your mouth. You disappointed me. You let me down. You made me feel like it was my fault.”

“That’s because it’s not!” He suddenly yelled and you flinched slightly at the sudden change of his tone. He let out a deep sigh and kept going forward till he had you caged between him and the wall inside your apartment. “It was all me. I was stupid. I’m sorry for hurting you..I should have just came up to you and spoke to you how I was feeling. I’m sorry.” He whispered and placed his finger underneath your chin to make you look up at him.

You gulped and felt his intense gaze stare through you. His bi-colored hair tickling the top of your forehead. His face was close to yours, you could feel his hot breath hitting your face as he cupped your cheek.

“I’m afraid of losing you..I don’t want to lose you Y/LN” he whispered into your ear, smiling faintly when he saw you shiver. Even like this, he still had the same effect on you and you loathed it. “We can just forgive and forget.. I’ll make it up to you I promise just please forgive me”

You wanted to. You wanted time to go back and give you what you wanted. A meaningful relationship. Being with Shouto was on your mind everyday as if it was mocking you. You desperately wanted to be in his loving arms again, feeling his body on yours. Now that you were caged behind him, a low level panic started to arise in your body. Could you ever forgive him? How could you forget? What makes this different? What if he does it again?

“She cheated on you didn’t she”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, she cheated on you. Didn’t she?”

His quietness was all you needed as your answer. You shook your head and looked up at him, stroking his scar gently with your thumb.

“And you felt if you came back to me thinking I’ll let you back huh? You think that because she cheated on you it’ll make us relate on a different level and make everything better right? How’d it feel? It felt horrible huh? Like your heart was being ripped into two then stomped on.”

Shouto growled faintly and gripped your shoulders a bit tighter, opening his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“No. I’m not done fucking talking. I cried. I cried and cried for your sorry ass. You and I are not feeling the same type of pain. I loved you. She didn’t. I..I still love you” you whispered the last part under your breath

Shouto sucked in air as he tensed up. Time seemed to stop as the earth stilled. No one said anything. You missed the silence with him. Under different circumstances you would have enjoyed it. “You..you still love me?”

“Course I still love you!” You cried out and pushed him off of you, walking towards him as he kept backing up with each step you took. “But I can’t be with you. Part of me wants to forgive you and throw myself at you but the other half is telling me you’ll just do it again.”

“You think I would do it again?”

“I mean you did it the first time. So what would make it different from the next? Todoroki you just.. you need to leave.”

He quickly reached for your hands and cupped them, holding them to his chest. “I can’t lose you Y/N..” he whispered

“You already did.” You said coldly and pulled your hands out of his grasp. “What goes around comes around huh? That’s your karma now. Get out. I never want to see you again. I want the guilt to swallow you alive.”

He stood there unmoving, hands grasping around nothing as he looked up at you. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry. I hope we can start over again soon. I hope you can forgive me.”

You watched as Todoroki walked down the steps and into the dark night. It felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders but the hole in your heart was still wide and open. Closing the door till he was no longer in sight, you let your head fall against the wood, letting out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Goodbye Todoroki Shouto.”

Is this the way it’s really going down?

Is this how we say goodbye?

Shoulda known better when you came around

That you were gonna make me cry

Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around

Cause I know that you’re living a lie

But that’s ok baby cause in time you will find

What Goes Around, Comes Around

[thegirlwholied]

fic writer interview game

(though I go such long spans between updates 'fic writer' is a generous description... look, I may not have glorious purpose but I have glorious excuses)

& thanks @aurorawest for the tag 💕

name: Cara

(...not sure how many of you out there know this actually- except those of you who know me IRL! - as while I love my name I rarely reference it here & do enjoy that a certain corner of the internet knows me as lyin)

fandoms: I am a dabbler, a renaissance fan, a reader-of-all-trades (master of none!)- I'm all over the place; if I like something I check the Tumblr tag; if I reblog it I have probably at least stalked the AO3 page to see what folks are up to (I am in my own little fandom corner- but kitty-corner to many avenues!).

two-shots: the closest I've come to a two-shot I wound up putting up as a one-shot instead (or we could count my one fic that only has 2 chapters, but in my head it has more)

most popular multi-chapter fic: I had to check but my guess was right, it is Glass of Water, & you know, imho the one thing ol' fan fic dot net still has going for it over AO3 is its cool statistics - I don't know who you are, 50-100 people from all over the world reading till the last chapter every month on FF Dot Net even now, but much love!

actual worst part of writing: making myself sit down & get going. When I really get going - I forget to stop, I forget to eat, I don't hear people talking or music (when I toured the Louisa May Alcott house they described her writing like this and I related so much), I go for hours upon hours without meaning to and then I stop and - tend to stay stopped too long. I'm not good at the 'write everyday' process; I'm best at it when traveling, when I'd settle in at a coffee shop or location (or on a plane!), write some, & have to move on, but, uh, global pandemic put a cramp in that. I know it has to be on the page to count but I really, really do a lot of my writing in my head first. Most of my fics, if you've read one, are first drafts, straight up. They just got rewritten in my head & half-started notes & beginning scenes until I finally sat down and the whole thing came out at once feeling right. Or half comes out in one burst and the rest in another burst however much later. Typically I'd adjust a few typos & post. This is by no means writing advice! It'd be bad writing advice! But just how I operate. I've tried other ways but I've learned over years that my work's better when I accomodate/work around my natural creative process rather than trying to change it. (Also deadlines. I'm so good at delivering on hard deadlines; I am weak with soft deadlines.)

how you choose your titles: as this is a fic specific 'interview', how I title fics is very different than my og fiction. Most commonly: song lyric (...actually I did title my og fiction grad school thesis after a song lyric too; i may not hear/play much music while I write but I sure think about writing while listening to it), canon reference that is typically One Dramatic Word, poem/quote references with a heavy lean on Yeats.

do you outine?: not for fan fics, but I have a general shape in my head of 'this chapter where this happens' - if I have an unfinished fic with expected number of chapters, those are pretty accurately predictions; I have at least a big picture of what happens in each chapter. & probably some of the conversations, sometimes even already jotted-down dialogue. A written outline? Not so much (my original novel did have a list of chapters with notes to keep it straight but they looked like "Chapter Thirty-Seven: epilogueeeeeeee denoumenttttttttt job" - direct quote down to the # of t's, there)

Ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice?: I still convince myself I will finish All the Things! but uh some have gone wayside yeah. One I really thought would be cool & know is blowing in the wind was this Buffy fic (yes, A Fic Not Appearing On My Actual Fic Profiles) which was a *whole* Big Concept thing even though I thought I could do it in 5 chapters. ...And then I didn't.

spicy tangential opinion: not that spicy but the fanon/canon gulf is often wide & deep for certain characters in particular &🎶I'm frightened by those who don't see it🎶. really, a character’s fanon version at times may be more fun (though more often it softens character's edges amd I like edges) but... with *certain characters in particular* it feels like that distinction’s been weirdly lost. Also, random, but probably because,my formative years were fan fic dot net, not livejournal, I always feel odd when my AO3 replies to comments (instead of reviews) are a) public and b) add to the comment count. AND I tend to wind up in a loop of 'wouldn't this person rather I spent this time working on an update' where I just... never reply which seems counter to the expected AO3-cultural norm these days, so I feel guilty? Despite the guilt I just reply to so many emails for a living (3 inboxes just for work, plus then my personal email & texts!)... so for the record my default approach is 'I appreciate all comments SO SO MUCH & do read them all but please message me on Tumblr instead if you want a response". 

These opinions are 'pumpkin spice' levels of spice, not exactly cayenne here, but hey I think I achieved tangential

callouts @ me: I always think I will get there faster than I do - this is true when I am driving places too! My friends expect me to be late even though I don't expect me to be late!- so I have been known to, let's say, overpromise on update speed. (I meant to do my work today, goes a favorite poem that always applies @ me) (Time between 2011 and 2021 feels especially timey-wimey and oh no 🎶well, I guess this is growing up 🎶).

(also @ me: overly fond of parenthesis.)

& definitely some people-pleasing tendencies that spill over into, not so much my writing itself, but how I feel about it.

best writing traits: detail, dialogue, ...deaths? Lol but really. My favorite thing as a reader is when writing make you laugh & cry so those are my favorite compliments as a writer. Humor/angst: always my fic genre. Even my closest-to-fix-it fics are labeled 'somebody lives' not 'everybody lives'. ...and I need to update them (dammit)

tagging: ...this is way too long to tag, aka inflict directly upon, anyone else, except @aurorawest who asked for it 😂

[keichanz]

Working Hard

NOTE: TITLE CHANGE. previously titled Workin’ Hot

anyway, i totally meant to post this in the morning but when i finished it last night i forgot to send it to myself so i could post it at work. oops lol. and hey lookie that, just in time for Valentine’s day too! it’s not at all Valentine’s related, but it’s inukag and that’s all that matters amiright ahahha.

moving on tagging my ladies because if i don’t they’ll maul me in my sleep: @clearwillow @sssuperbartola @lemonlushff @tsukinohimeusagi @dangerouspompadour @meggz0rz @cammysansstuff @britonell @eternalnight8806-3 @bearpluscat @morikothehalfangel @hinezumi @ideasthatbuildcities @thunderpot @fantastiqueparfait @umacaking​ 

sorry if i forgot anybody <3

also please note this is entirely unedited so beware the typos and other errors haha.

lol totally forgot to add this but here is a layout of Kagome’s office to get a better perspective. 

“Damn dog’s working you to the bone today, eh, missy? When’s the last time you had a break?”

Kagome smiled, however she didn’t look up from the huge printer as she continued to feed invoices and purchase orders into the tray to be copied. The stupid thing kept jamming on her whenever she looked away for even a second and she was already behind schedule as it is. As it was, she’d have to stay at least until seven now instead of five like she’d originally planned, but that was because the maintenance guy had failed to show up at the allotted time of two pm to fix the malfunctioning air conditioner. He’d called and said he would be late, but hadn’t mentioned how late, and now Kagome was stuck after hours in a stifling hot office with no AC and with a million and one things she still needed to do. She was tired, and hot, and hungry, and she just wanted to go home, but she couldn’t leave until the damn AC guy showed up and she had no idea when that would be.

Her job sucked sometimes, but at least the people she worked with made up for that.

“Hi, Bob,” Kagome greeted one of their driver’s and only looked up once the last PO had gone through the copier. She sighed and collected the copies, stacking the purchase orders in a neat pile on the desk to be received later before taking the originals and filing back where they belong. She left the invoices on Sango’s desk to be done first thing in the morning; she knew her friend would appreciate the help, little as it may be.

“You know as well as I do that Tai has nothing to do with me still being here,” she said, walking barefoot to the filing cabinets; she’d kicked off her heels long before since it was just her in the office and Tai always locked the front door after he and Sesshomaru left for the day.

“I volunteered, and there’s too much to do to take a break. With Kagura on maternity leave and Ayame out sick, it’s only me, Sango, and Shiori to pick up the slack, but because Shiori’s still in training there’s only so much she can do.”

Sliding the last PO into the appropriate folder, Kagome shut the drawer with another sigh and finally turned to face her friend and favorite driver of Taisho Metal Finishing. Rotund, bearded, and with a perpetual flush on his face, Bob treated her like his own daughter and she in turn saw him as a sort of father. Though he constantly harassed and teased her, always stealing her keys and pretending to hide them somewhere in the plant, he also always asked how she was doing and made sure she wasn’t overworking herself. She adored him for it, and usually she would take the time to sit down and chat for a few minutes if she ended up staying late, but right now she simply didn’t have the time.

“It’s hot as balls in here,” he grunted and whipped a hand over his sweaty brow. “Drinking enough, at least?”

Smiling, Kagome ambled over to her desk and lifted up her cold water bottle in answer before taking a swig.

Bob nodded, satisfied, and finally allowed a grin to stretch his tanned face. “That damned AC guy still not here?”

Kagome wrinkled her nose and shook her head, taking another sip of her water before setting it back down and ambling over to the back table to grab the incoming PO’s. Back over to the printer, she fed them into the copy tray and poked around on the screen to get the settings she wanted.

“No,” she muttered and the annoyance was obvious in her tone. “He hasn’t called since the first time when he said he was going to be late, I don’t even know if he’s on his way, and—”

The printer whirred, beeped obnoxiously at her for several seconds, then flashed an error message at her on the screen.

“—and this stupid thing keeps jamming on me!”

Scowling, Kagome refrained from kicking it in sheer frustration – her bare and unprotected toes would not appreciate that act – and huffed out a harsh exhale before angrily jabbing her finger onto the screen to clear the message and start over.

Unable to keep from chuckling despite her obvious frustration, Bob shuffled over and patted her shoulder, squeezing once.

“Take a break, missy,” he told her gently and guided her over to her desk chair. Kagome gave in easily, thinking that perhaps he was right and it was time she took a break. “You’ve earned it. Now, if I leave to go unload my truck, will the printer still be in once piece tomorrow?”

“Oh, shut up,” Kagome laughed and swatted his arm. Bob released a hearty laugh, patted her back, ruffled her hair, and retreated back to the even hotter floor where his truck sat at the dock waiting to be unloaded.

Kagome watched him go with a fond smile. Bob had always been able to lift her spirits and make her day a little brighter and she was grateful to him.

Sitting back in her chair, Kagome grimaced when her clothes stuck to her sweaty skin uncomfortably and she sat back up, fanning her flushed face with her hand and blowing out her cheeks in another sigh. Of course the AC just had to go on one of the hottest days of the summer; it had to be at least eighty in the office, and it was probably reaching one hundred out on the floor where all the hot water tanks, ovens, and machinery were. She couldn’t imagine how the floor employees had faired today. The drivers at least had the reprieve of leaving to pick up and drop off orders in their nice air-conditioned trucks.

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome glared down at her blouse, bit her lip, and gave a mental “to hell with it” before unbuttoning it and shrugging it off. It was only her in the office anyway and she didn’t care if any of the drivers saw her in just a skirt and her camisole. Hell, they were probably walking around without shirts out there since the bosses were gone. No one to yell at them for it.

Feeling better already without her blouse sticking to her skin, Kagome splashed some cool water into her hands via water bottle and dabbed at her face and neck, sighing as the chilly water cooled her heated skin. It was a brief reprieve, but welcomed none the less. It was hot, dammit. She fished around in her desk for a hair tie and bundled her hair up into a loose bun, wondering why she hadn’t had the smarts to do this in the first place.

“Much better,” she sighed, feeling better already. “Alright, now back to—”

The door that led out into the plant opened up and an unfamiliar male voice called out, “Hello? I was called to fix a faulty air conditioner unit. Someone sent me up here to talk to a…Kagome?”

“Oh, thank god,” Kagome muttered to herself and then said louder, “Yes, hello! Just a moment please, wait right there and I’ll come show you where it is.”

Using her feet to drag heels out from under her desk, Kagome slipped them back on and stood from her chair, taking a moment to smooth out her skirt and make sure her hair wasn’t a complete mess. Hoping she looked at least halfway presentable, Kagome stepped out from behind her desk and—

“Oh!”

Either impatient or he simply hadn’t heard her, the repair man had followed her voice from the lobby into the office where only employees were permitted. Wearing stained coveralls with the repair company’s logo on the left breast, the man had black, greasy looking air that fell down his back in unkempt waves and leering red eyes that sent not so pleasant shivers crawling along the length of her spin. He grinned at her and Kagome took an involuntary step back, feeling a chill course through her entire body despite the stifling heat. The man set a heavy looking toolbox on the ground and advanced toward her, his scarlet gaze unabashedly dropping to ogle the cleavage bared by her clingy camisole.

“Um, s-sir,” Kagome stuttered and took another step back. “Y-you’re not allowed back here. Please, the—the AC is upstairs…if you’ll follow me—”

“Kagome,” the man murmured and his smirk had a sinister lilt to it. “Was it you I spoke on the phone with earlier? It was, wasn’t it,” he continued without waiting for an answer. “You’re even lovelier than you sound.”

Kagome paled. Oh god.

“Ah, sir, p-please,” she squeaked and hated how her voice wavered, “This isn’t—the…the air conditioner—”

“Can wait a few more minutes,” he murmured, his voice like a serrated knife cloaked in velvet; malice hidden behind purring tones and slick words. “I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Naraku. Pleasure to meet you, Kagome.”

The way he said her name had a sick, heavy feeling settling in her stomach and she swallowed several times through a throat tight with sudden anxiety. She offered a strained smile and backed up again. He followed her, seemingly either uncaring he was making her so uncomfortable, and completely oblivious.

Kagome suspected it was the former and it made her heart race.

“W-well, Naraku,” she said and licked her dry lips. His eyes followed the movement and she shivered in a mix of fear and disgust. “It’s…nice to meet you, too.” Lie. LIE. “I, uh, I can’t leave until you’re gone, so…if you could…go upstairs, down the hall, and to your left, you’ll find the room where the AC is.”

There was no way in hell she was going to be alone with this man for any length of time now. He can go find the damn AC by his own creepy self. And maybe she’d run out and grab Bob to keep her company in case he came back downstairs for whatever reason. She knew he’d keep her safe. Or maybe even Sha—

“Really?” he drawled and the grin he gave her stretched his mouth, ruby eyes glinting with fiendish delight.

Oooh shit. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“I-I mean—th-the drivers, they—one of them could come in any minute and I won’t be alone and—”

Oh god, she was rambling and not making any sense and he was getting closer and Kagome felt the first tendrils of panic skitter across her skin like thousands of needles—

“Hey, asshole. The fuck you think you’re doing?”

While Kagome gasped and caught herself on the back table behind her as relief surged through her entire body, Naraku paused inches before her and looked over his shoulder to level a carefully neutral look at whoever interrupted them.

Standing behind the reception desk, a six foot wall of solid muscle donned in ripped jeans and a black ball cap, Kagome’s inadvertent savior only spared her a brief glance to assure she was alright before pinning her tormentor under the weight of his unwavering amber gaze. To his credit Naraku seemed unaffected and merely stared back, not moving away from her, but not getting any closer either.

When still the asshat didn’t move away from the clearly uncomfortable woman, dark brows snapped low over his eyes and a deep growl echoed in his throat. Fucker apparently had more balls than brains, but at least he had enough sense to not ignore his presence. A wise decision; if he hadn’t, Inuyasha would have been forced t use a much more physical means to intervene, and he was positive neither his dad nor Sesshomaru would appreciate that.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” he started, voice low, gaze narrowing just the slightest. “Or maybe you’re just stupid, but I asked you what the fuck you think you’re doing. This area is off limits to anyone but employees, asshole. Beat it.”

He gestured behind him with a jerk of his head, indicating the lobby where he should get the hell out of his sight, and fast.

Once more Naraku proved that he was below average intelligence when he again refused to move away from Kagome and instead merely half-turned and pegged the half-demon with a narrow-eyed stare.

“The lady and I,” he began, either not noticing or ignore as the lady in question subtly inched away from him, “are having a conversation. One you quite rudely interrupted, I might add.”

“Conversation’s over,” Inuyasha told him firmly and his tone brooked no room for argument. “Now I suggest you leave the lady alone, get the fuck outta my sight, and go do what you were specifically hired to do. And in case your sense of direction is as shitty as your hearing, that would be up the stairs, down the hall, and to your left. Door’s labeled ‘Employees Only.’ Can’t miss it.”

Naraku pegged him with a sinister glare that time and Inuyasha didn’t miss the way his hands clenched into tight fists. His gaze sharpened and he tensed, but didn’t move.

“Kagome was just about to show me herself,” the repair man claimed and swung twin pools of unnerving ruby red said woman’s way. Kagome froze in her gradual bid to escape and Naraku smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“Weren’t you, Kagome?”

Wide brown eyes cut to his and beneath his ballcap Inuyasha’s ears pinned against his head as another growl welled in his throat.

“Tough shit,” Inuyasha snapped and watched as the asshole visibly tensed before once more turning his head to level him with a murderous glare. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if she promised to give you a goddamn tour of France, dickhead. Kagome is busy, I have shit to do other than waste my time standing here talking to someone who clearly forgot his helmet at home and licks windows in his spare time, so do us both a favor, grab your shit, and go do your fucking job.”

Maybe it was the low, ominous growl that even Kagome could hear now, the sudden ring of the company phone that shattered the tense silence that followed, or perhaps it was Kagome driving to go answer it, but whatever it was evidently Naraku finally decided to heed the hanyou’s request. He pursed his lips, glowered balefully at the silver-haired figure for several charged seconds, then wordlessly picked up his tools and stomped by him toward the stairs.

Kagome hunt up the phone, looked over her shoulder, then gratefully sank down into her chair with a loud, relieved sigh. She pressed a hand over her heart and closed her eyes, taking a moment to breathe as she willed her tense muscles to relaxed. She heard him approach and when she opened her eyes again, her water bottle was being held before her by a clawed hand.

“I can’t thank you enough, Sha,” Kagome said and grabbed her drink with a grateful smile. “You have some pretty incredible timing.”

Leaning back against the printer and crossing his arms again, Inuyasha studied her quietly for a moment as she took several deep gulps of the cool liquid before replying.

“Bob asked me to check in on you,” he revealed and Kagome blinked in surprise. “Said he looked pretty sketchy and got a weird feeling about him when he asked where to go.” He cocked a brow. “Suppose he was right.”

Kagome sighed. “And how,” she muttered, setting her drink on her desk. God, if Sha hadn’t intervened when he did…

“Any idea how long it’s gonna take?” he asked and nodded his head toward the ceiling.

“No,” she answered, wrinkling her nose. “And I can’t leave until he’s gone.” She didn’t sound very happy about that and he couldn’t blame her.

Inuyasha frowned. “Are you staying late because of him?”

Kagome shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. You weren’t exactly lying earlier; I really am busy. I still have quotes to send, tags to make—oh! Those are yours, by the way,” she said and pointed to a colorful stack of papers – the aforementioned product tags – on the table. “Then I need to file invoices, finish some receiving, update pricing…the list goes on.”

Inuyasha whistled low, mentally wincing in sympathy. “Damn. Sounds like you’ll be just as busy as me. That idiot Houjo dropped an entire fucking skid of Horschel – an entire skid – from the forklift earlier and it’s giant goddamn mess.”

Kagome’s eyebrows rose and despite herself her lips twitched. “Was that what I heard a few hours ago? That huge crash?”

He grunted and Kagome took that as her answer.

“Oh, man,” she said and her smile was sympathetic. “I hope it wasn’t expedited.”

Inuyasha winced.

Kagome’s mouth dropped. “No.”

He groaned that time and Kagome had to bite her lip to stop from giggling. She really did feel bad; the Horschel brothers were not going to be happy when they hear their entire order had been destroyed.

“Oh…I am so sorry,” she said sincerely. “That’s just…damn.”

“Yeah,” he rumbled, dragging a hand down his face. “Looks like neither of us will be leaving any time before seven, I’d wager.”

“Well,” Kagome piped up, ever the optimist. “At least it’s Friday?”

Inuyasha’s ear flicked beneath his cap and the corner of his lips flickered with the beginnings of a grin.

“Good night for pizza and Netflix.”

“And breadsticks. And—oh! Chicken wings. Hot chicken wings.”

“You absolute mad woman.”

“I know.”

Inuyasha snickered while Kagome dissolved into giggles and as he watched her laughing, face flushed, dark eyes bright and raven hair piled up into a messy bun, the urge slammed into him so hard he didn’t even think to resist. And if he was being honest with himself, it was something he’d been wanting to do for quite some time, and well…no time like the present, right?

“Listen,” Inuyasha began and Kagome cocked her head, curious, but before he could continue, the phone on his belt chose that moment to ring and he released a muttered curse. Sighing, he rolled his eyes, gave Kagome an apologetic look, and when all she did was smile and wave a dismissive hand, he unhooked the annoying device and pressed the call button.

“The hell do you want, I’m busy.”

While Inuyasha talked on the phone with who was probably one of his drivers, Kagome’s smile lingered on her face as she watched him, unabashed taking the opportunity to really get a good look at him while he was distracted.

Good lord, but the man was…mmm. Donned in the light blue company uniform shirt paired with dark jeans and scuffed up shitkickers, Kagome would be lying if she said he didn’t look utterly delicious. Most likely in deference to the heat, he had the top half of the shirt’s buttons unfastened and the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His skin glistened with a fine sheen of sweat since it was much hotter out on the floor than in the office, and the white ribbed tank top be wore beneath his shirt clung to his chest very enticingly. His long hair was tied into a low ponytail and he had a five o’clock shadow that attractively darkened a strong jaw.

Inuyasha Taisho – or Sha, as most people called him – was the shipping manager and in charge of the drivers that worked for the company. The son of the CEO and half-brother to the president, he didn’t let his relation to the big bosses make him any different from the other employees. He didn’t receive any special treatment either, which was fine with him anyway. He was a hard worker, and though Kagome didn’t work with him much and saw him even less, she knew he was also a valued part of the company and made sure his drivers were on time with both deliveries and pick-ups.

He spent most of his time out on the floor if not in a truck himself, but when she did see him in the office, he always treated the office ladies with respect and was never rude or impatient if he came to them with an issue with the paperwork. Kagome genuinely liked him and had to admit she was a little disappointed she couldn’t work with him more often, but knew his presences was required out on the floor so she didn’t complain.

…Much.

Oh, who was she kidding? For a while now Kagome had been wanting to know far more about him and not just the surface knowledge a coworker was privileged to.  She wanted to know his favorite food or if he was a coffee drinker. Was he an early bird or a night owl? Cats or dogs? McDonald’s or Burger King? She wanted to know his quirks, the little details, and okay fine, yes she was crushing. Big time.

But while Kagome was over her with moon eyes and a dopey smile, he hadn’t so much as spared her a second glance so she’d never approached him like she truly wanted.

“Keep your dick in your pants, I’ll be there in a minute,” Inuyasha drawled and promptly stopped the insistent whining in his ear by hanging up the phone. He grumbled and shook his head, clipping the device back on his belt. Christ, he leaves for ten goddamn minutes and the entire floor is having a fucking conniption because he’s not there.

“Do your people need you?” Kagome asked with a teasing smile.

Inuyasha snorted. “My people are idiots and can’t do a damn thing for themselves apparently.”

Shaking his head, he sighed, studied her thoughtfully for a moment, and decided he’d ask her later, after McCreepy Fuck was gone. She had work to do anyway and he didn’t want to distract her more than he already had.

“I’ll stick around,” he said and flicked a brief glance toward the ceiling in explanation. She beamed at him and his heart skipped a beat. Christ he was done for. “Anything happens, you call me. I’ll hear it. I promise.”

He could see it as she visibly relaxed and he was obvious it meant a great deal to her that he was willing to hang around so she wouldn’t have to be alone with him.

“Thank you, Sha,” she breathed, truly grateful. “It…means a lot to me. Really.”

Inuyasha nodded, expression softening. “No problem,” he murmured just as his phone rang again. Kagome giggled as he tipped his head back with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes heavenward.

He quirked a grin, tipped his hat at her – relishing in her quiet laugh – then grabbed the tags she’d already created before turning around to head back toward the floor, unclipping his phone and answering it with a barked, “What, Miroku? I told you I’d—no, dammit, don’t let him on the forklift again—!”

The door to the plant slammed shut and Kagome was once again left alone. Or as alone as she could be given the circumstances, but she decided not to dwell on that, standing up and getting back to work to distract herself. Let’s see, first she’d finish filing the invoices, then the receiving, and after that get those quotes sent she wasn’t able to send earlier…  

It was perhaps two or so hours later that Kagome had just hit send on the last quote when she heard the AC unit kick on with a stuttered whirr, some clicking sounds, and then smooth out into its usual background buzzing noise.

“Finally,” she muttered and closed out of Gmail before shutting down her computer. She was honesty a little surprised that Naraku had actually stayed upstairs, but then again, he probably didn’t want to get on a certain half-demon’s bad side if he bothered her. Inuyasha had indeed popped in several times to give updates on the goings on of his drivers and to also just see how she was doing. She liked that he took her discomfort about the repair man seriously and loved that he seemed so protective of her. It gave her all the nice warm and fuzzies.

Warm and fuzzies that had abruptly traveled southward at an embarrassingly fast rate when Inuyasha, sans his uniform shirt, had at one point during a brief chat unconsciously grabbed the hem of his tank top and pulled it up to wipe the sweat from his face. Kagome had gotten a very nice view of his toned abdomen and the line of silver hair that disappeared into his jeans which in turn pointed out the enticing V of his hips. Kagome’s face had gone very red, and when she’d finally managed to life her gaze, she was met with the sight of a cocked brow and a knowing smirk.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been able to look at him again after that without turning five shades of red and she could still hear his little chuckle as he all but swaggered away.

Cocky bastard. Damned if she didn’t absolutely love it.

Standing from her chair and glancing at the clock on the wall that read 6:32 pm, Kagome sighed, stretched, and went about tidying up the workspace to be ready for Monday morning. The plant had gone quiet about forty-five minutes ago, signaling that most of the warehouse workers had gone home and it was just the drivers now unloading their trucks and putting away product in its required bay. She knew Inuyasha was still here, though Bob was gone, having left about half an hour ago.

Kagome wiped clean the day’s notes and messages from the dry erase board on the back wall and tided up the table, humming under her breath as she placed pens and markers in their appropriate place. She shut down Shiori’s computer because she forgot to again, turned around—

And screamed.

Naraku raised his brows as scarlet eyes glinted in amusement.

“My apologies,” he murmured, a smirk curling his lips. “I did not mean to startle you, Kagome.”

Hand pressed against her rapidly beating heart, Kagome recovered quickly and put more distance between them with a few steps backward. Jeez, he was quiet; she hadn’t even heard him come down the stairs! She also highly doubted he hadn’t meant to startle her because if that were true, why hadn’t he said anything and just stood there like a creeper?

“It’s, uh, fine.” It wasn’t. “All finished?” As discreetly as she could she inched toward her desk. It wasn’t much, but if she could just get to the pepper spray in her purse…

“It’s running,” he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he blatantly stared at her chest. “Replaced some wires. Took longer than expected…”

He trailed off and Kagome frowned, deliberately crossing her arms over her chest, her back to her desk now. His gaze flashed back to hers and he adopted a look of nonchalance as if she hadn’t just caught him ogling her and Kagome had to bite back a snort. God, this guy was all kinds of sleaze and she couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

“Good,” she said with a nod. “You can put the invoice on the reception desk on your way out. Thank you for your service. Have a good weekend.”

An obvious dismissal delivered in a clipped, firm tone that suggested he’d do well to heed it.

Imagine her surprise when he didn’t and instead reached out too fast for her to react and snatched her wrist.

“I think I’d rather stay a while,” Naraku purred and his smile dripped with ill-intent.

Kagome gasped and yanked at her hand, her neutral expression falling to be replaced by an outraged scowl.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, gritting her teeth as she struggled to escape his grip, but he was surprisingly strong, tightening his fingers around her wrist to the point of pain. Kagome winced at clawed at his hand with the nails of her free hand, digging into his skin, but he barely noticed, his smile broadening as a chuckle escaped his lips.

“My dear,” he chuckled, tugging her closer and ignoring her attempts to free herself. “You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know you didn’t want that half-breed to interrupt us earlier.”

Kagome gaped at him. He couldn’t be serious.

“Don’t be shy, now,” he purred and oh good god, he was serious. “It’s only you and I here, after all. Your eyes were begging me to touch you, to bring you the pleasure that no vile half-breed could ever—”

Before he could finish his disgusting monologue that was making Kagome want to hurl in his face – or punch him in his face, which ever came first – Naraku was suddenly yanked away from her and the grip around her wrist vanished. Kagome stumbled backward, rubbing the abused flesh and watching with great satisfaction as the creep was bodily slammed face-first against the filing cabinets.

Roughly cranking the fucker’s arm behind his back and shoving his weight against it to put strain on the shoulder, Inuyasha reveled in the hiss of pain that reached his ears as Naraku struggled against his hold. He only tightened his grip, claws digging into his arm, and when Naraku tried to headbutt him by throwing his head back, Inuyasha retaliated by slamming his face into the cold metal of the cabinets in front of him.

“Alright, you demented fuck, listen up,” Inuyasha growled in the bastard’s ear, unwilling to let him get away with the stunt he’d just pulled. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on that makes you think it’s okay to touch her, but my fist is begging to make nice with your face, so unless you wanna be nothing but a bloody fucking smear on the wall, you have three seconds to get the fuck outta my sight after I let you go. We clear?”

Naraku grumbled something and Inuyasha pulled on his arm. The fucker paled, gasped, and then nodded, and satisfied Inuyasha gave him one last shove against the cabinets before releasing him and stepping back. He purposely placed himself in front of Kagome and crossed his arms, fierce scowl on his face and fangs bared as a steady growl echoed in his throat.

To his credit, though he looked mightily pissed, Naraku didn’t even spare the two of them a glance as he grabbed his toolbox and hightailed it out of there. Seconds later the door slammed closed and Kagome was able to breathe easily again.

“Ugh,” Kagome muttered and leaned back against her desk, her knees feeling weak. “If I never see him again, it’ll be too soon.”

Inuyasha only relaxed fully when he heard the sound of a motor starting up and then fading away as the asshole left the premises and he turned to face her, eyes immediately zeroing in on the reddened skin of her wrist. He frowned and gestured toward it with a nod of his head.

“You alright?” he asked, wanting to take her delicate wrist and massage away the soreness while at the same time removing the fucker’s stench from her skin. God, he hated that he touched her.

Kagome smiled at him and he was happy to note that it was genuine, her eyes soft as she regarded him fondly and with something else that made his heart rate kick up a notch. Did she…?

“I’m fine,” she answered, rubbing the skin for a moment before bracing both of her hands on the desk, fingers curling around the edge. “Thank you, Sha. Once again you proved to have some pretty impeccable timing. Any later and you probably would have witnessed me decking him in his stupid face.”

He snorted. “What I wouldn’t give to see that,” Inuyasha remarked and moved so he was leaning against Sango’s desk, arms and ankles crossed as he faced her. “You’re welcome, but this time I actually had an ulterior motive for showing up. I wanted to ask you before, but it didn’t feel like the right time.”

Kagome’s eyes lit up and her smile was hopeful. “Oh? Ask me what?”

Inuyasha studied her for a moment, golden eyes heavy-lidded and intense as they searched her face. Kagome held her breath, biting down on her bottom lip as her heart raced in her chest, butterflies rioting in her belly.

“Sha?” she breathed when still all he did was stare at her.

Something in his expression shifted as his gaze locked with hers and Kagome felt goosebumps ignite on her skin that had nothing to do with the significantly cooler air in the office courtesy of the now working AC.

“Call me Inuyasha,” he rumbled as he pushed away from the desk and closed the scant distance between them. Kagome didn’t move, didn’t stop him as he grabbed her hips and lifted her into the desk, nudging himself between her thighs as hands first slid along the solid muscles of his arms before slipping her own around his neck.

Kagome sighed and closed her eyes as he blazed a trail of soft kisses along her neck.

“Inuyasha,” she murmured and was rewarded by a gentle nip to her ear.  “What did you…”

“Do I really need to ask?” he whispered in her ear and kissed along the line of her jaw.

“Mmm.” Kagome turned her head, nuzzled his temple, and breathed, “So, Netflix and chill?”

Inuyasha laughed, Kagome giggled, but then the sound was promptly silenced by his mouth as he kissed her with a slow but passionate thoroughness that left Kagome whimpering and pressing herself against him. She eagerly returned his kiss and she felt his pleased growl in some very nice places. Her blood heated, her stomach fluttered as arousal sparked a flame deep in the pit of her belly, and when his hand dropped to nudge her forward into the cradle of his hips, she gasped at the feel of him, thick and ready for a long night of hard—

“Fuck,” Inuyasha cursed against her mouth and he felt her lips curl into an impish smile. Despite himself he chuckled and nipped her lip before soothing the brief sting with a swipe of his tongue.

“My place?” he groaned and closed his eyes, tilting his head and letting his little vixen lavish his neck with nips and kisses of her own as her hands slid beneath his shirt to run her fingers over his stomach. He shuddered and moved his hand to grab her thigh, shoving her skirt up to feel the soft flesh beneath his palm.

“On one condition,” Kagome purred and curled her hand around his neck to tug him back down for another hot kiss. He indulged her with a heated growl, slicking his tongue along hers, fangs nipping soft flesh, relishing in her sweet taste.

“Name it,” he growled, willing to give her anything she wanted as long as she kept kissing him like that because fuck.

“Pizza and wings afterwards. You’re buying.”

Inuyasha laughed. God, he was already half-way in fucking love with this wonderful woman.

“Deal,” he rumbled and with a wicked grin, he stole her mouth in another kiss that Kagome happily returned, hands diving into his hair while he pushed her back and then she let him do some very unprofessional things to her on the surface of her desk.

Hardly Working

[pastelpinkcheeks]

Tolkien Secret Santa 2020!!!

Here’s my gift for the 2020 exchange! Happy holiday to y’all ( @officialtolkiensecretsanta ) and a fantastic New Year ! This was written for @stormwarnings​ uwu I hope you find it cute and funny and that there aren’t many typos on it... I am really bad with the typos. Anyways. Have fun!

Title: In which Thorin learns about Hobbit Christmas 

Rating: G

Summary:  Decorations up in mid-November, a pantry filled to the brim with food and declaring war on your cousin because of presents? It's the Christmas holiday at the Shire and Thorin wants to know all about it.

Read it under the cut or at AO3! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28287660

 The hobbits had this thing called Christmas and Thorin was just discovering how much of a big deal it was. Oh, he wasn’t an ignorant old dwarf, thank you very much, he had some idea of what this Christmas holiday was supposed to be. There were feasts, and celebration, and presents, very similar to the dwarven traditions of Yuletide.

All in all, probably not that much of a big deal. Just harmless winter time fun!

Oh, boy, was he wrong.

It was the middle of November. Thorin was happily bouncing young Frodo on his knee and reading him a children’s story. Only five months since he decided to move into the Shire with his dear Bilbo and Frodo already adored him. The young man was nothing but a toddler, but Thorin was terribly blessed at how quickly he managed to charm Bilbo’s nephew.  Young hobbits weren’t always fond of his rugged looks, and his beard was always raising suspicion around the Shire. Fortunately to him, Thorin was amazing at making different voices for the characters.

“…and then they lived happily ever after.” Thorin finished the book, making the three-year-old clap his little hands in a mismatched rhythm.

That was when Bilbo dropped a heavy box by his feet, startling both dwarf and hobbit. “Good, you’re done! Frodo, darling, guess what we’ll be doing today?!”

The young toddler stared at him with wide eyes. “Dunno?”

Bilbo smiled and opened the cardboard box. “We will be putting on the Christmas decorations!”

Frodo shrieked and hopped of Thorin’s knee, falling to the ground on his chubby knees and palms. He quicky raised back to his feet and dove inside the cardboard box, pawing at all the colored tinsel. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“I thought your Yuletide celebration only happened in the end of December.”

“Yes, Thorin, but we start decorating earlier.” Bilbo said as a matter of fact.

“You start decorating in November, then?” He hummed, wondering why bother decorating before Christmas itself was knocking on their door. Wouldn’t they be tired of the decorations by the end of December, when the holiday was due to happen? He did not mention that, though, because both Frodo and Bilbo were happily scavenging inside the wooden box.

He ought to write that down. Get used to the Shire festivities!

    And the Shire was boiling with celebration all over the place. Bilbo was consistently sending Thorin to the market to buy more and more food, and even though Thorin had no problem with eating a lot or stocking up food, their pantry was starting to cranky under the weight of all the stuffed hams, salted pork meat, gigantic pumpkins, pots and more pots of honey, a lot of bottles filled with red wine, dark ale and blonde beer. There were also huge blocks of hard cheese, and small blocks of blue cheese pilled on top of each other. Not to mention the vegetables, that, for all Thorin knew, would be stale by the second week of December.

“It’s just in case one of the in-laws drop by and we have to make a quick feast.” Bilbo ushered him off whenever Thorin complained.

“A feast is never quick, Bilbo.” Thorin frowned. In the paper Bilbo had just gave him, there was a small list of items to buy. “Why do we need an entire mutton?”

“Oh, I don’t know, why do we need it?” He placed his hands on his waist, tapping his overly large foot on the wooden floor. “Because it is Christmas!”

If the cranking pantry was worrying Thorin – Frodo can very much be standing under one of the wooden planks when they inevitably break down from the excessive weight! Have you considered that, Bilbo?! – he had not been prepared to deal with the market in the beginning of the third week of December. Not even the halls of Morgoth, during the first age, had been as crowded with mad creatures as that market. Thorin was blessed with height, otherwise he would have been swallowed by the crowd of fussy hobbits.

Patiently, Thorin stood by and waited. Everyone around him was yelling, leaning on the counters and trying to get their goodies first than the others. Fussy hobbits, Thorin thought with a frown. He could be the arsehole and use his louder, deeper voice that compared to theirs was like thunder, but he wanted so much to be a good lover to Bilbo, and he wanted to charm his family. He couldn’t be that guy who went to the market to yell at other people. He couldn’t be that guy.

So, he waited patiently in line and bought all the goodies Bilbo had beautifully written down on his note. Thorin always loved his calligraphy, how he added little dots on top of his letters that more looked like small crystals.

    The other thing he learned was that entire feuds were held over not giving a gift to someone during the Christmas week. Not during Christmas day, no, not that. That was too late for hobbits standards. If you actually cared for friends and family, sending presents had to be done till the Christmas eve otherwise you were as good as declaring war on them.

And Bilbo was considering finally declaring war on his cousin, the dreadful Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

“Is it worth it?” Thorin asked, fixing the golden tinsel that Frodo had ripped from the top of the entrance door. “What is it about the Christmas spirit again?”

“Oh, don’t you even start.” Bilbo tapped his feet. “Every holiday I give her something good. Something made of silver, or perhaps a new embroidered apron. And guess what? The damned woman will still try to abscond with my silverware.”

“Maybe…” Thorin touched his beard. “Maybe you should give her something extremely valuable. You should humble the woman until she is too ashamed and won’t even try to steal anything.”

“Or perhaps I should give her absolute garbage since she will inadvertently pick something else from this very house!”

And Thorin sat back on the armchair, watching as his lover fussed around the house, trying to select whatever piece of trash he could find lying around the house. Frodo appeared a few minutes later, his child-like voice asking what his uncle was looking for. Thorin bent down and picked him up, setting the young hobbit on his knee. “Your uncle is going on a personal vendetta against his cousin Lobelia.”

“What’s vendetta?” Frodo asked.

“Well… it’s when someone does something bad and you decide to do something bed to them as well.” Thorin frowned. Perhaps he shouldn’t be teaching something like that to young Frodo, and shouldn’t be telling the young kid that his uncle was a mean little bastard when he wanted to. “Actually… why don’t we go wrap up the presents and leave your uncle to his own devices?”

Little Frodo happily nodded and followed Thorin to one of the many rooms inside Bag End. Thorin was sure Frodo had quickly forgotten all about ‘vendetta’ when later that week, during the Christmas, he quickly found out just how good the memory and understanding of a three-year-old could be. When Bilbo was, with an overtly sweet smile, delivering his neatly wrapped present to Lobelia, little Frodo asked:

“Is that the vendetta?” While pointing to the colorful present.

“The what?” Lobelia blanched, frowning at the kid.

Bilbo paled. “Now, where did you learn that word?! Little kids really have a fascinating way of learning, don’t they? Frodo, dear, come, let’s get you another cookie in reward for your excellent vocabulary.”  Said Bilbo while hiding the present behind his back and taking Frodo by the hand.

“But what about my gift?!” Lobelia asked, still confused by Frodo’s words but greedily staring at where the package had disappeared.

She would, obviously, receive her package later. Not the collection of old toothpicks Bilbo had smugly wrapped up in a big box, but a bottle of old brandy he received from Lord Elrond himself. Next year, perhaps, he would fool Lobelia and give her what she deserved. But the important part about a vendetta was not letting the victim know about it!

Now… Bilbo asked himself while he quickly wrapped up the bottle, where did Frodo learn that word?! It didn’t take Bilbo two seconds to figure out where he learnt that, or, even better, whom he learned it from.

    Despite Thorin going on and ruining Bilbo’s marvelous plan of fooling Lobelia without technically declaring Christmas war on her, he couldn’t stay mad at the big oaf of a dwarf he had brought into his home. Their first Christmas together, and Bilbo was immensely appreciative of how much Thorin was trying to learn Hobbit customs and blend in with Bilbo’s gigantic family and never-ending family drama. He already loved Frodo, which covered the essentials, but seeing Thorin learning some of the Shire Christmas carols really warmed up his heart.

And, boy, did he sing them in dwarven fashion, all low notes and rumbling voice?

It was nearly morning when Bag End was finally clear of family members. Frodo was asleep, had been asleep for hours now, and Bilbo was putting the trash out. Thorin was smoking outside, and the Sun was making the sky shine in different colours. It was now light enough to see without the aid of a lamp.

Bilbo sat down next to Thorin. “How was your first Christmas experience?”

Thorin let out the smoke and tapped the pipe down, removing the burnt leaves. “You hobbits take it very seriously. It was enjoyable.”

“Even after all the times I sent you to the market?”

“Even after the multiple lines I had to stand by.” Thorin nodded and smirked. “Now, were you consciously sending me away? I thought you were too busy that you weren’t even noticing that.”

Bilbo snickered. “I wanted to make sure we had everything in case anyone would drop by earlier than the Eve, but, in honesty… I like it. Having this domesticity between us, being able to send the mighty King of Erebor whenever I wish to buy, I don’t know, carrots and salted pork.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Thorin… this, this thing… it works, doesn’t it? Do you feel like it works? God, am I rambling? Sometimes I get overexcited.”

“It works.” Thorin said, making Bilbo shut up all at once. He leaned down to kiss Bilbo’s curls, the little braids he himself had put there. “I wasn’t sure I could trade rock and stone for sunny meadows and green hills, but it works.”

Bilbo stared at him. From the greying hair at his temples to the sharp tip of his nose. Wow, Bilbo thought, enamored, what a dwarf! He looked around for a second; in the next weeks the Shire would be snowy and wintery, but so far, it was only December. None of them were too fond of snow.

“Next year, maybe, we should go to Erebor. So you can teach me about your holidays.”

“It involves less fussing about unexpected relatives dropping by and more drinking competitions.” Thorin warned.

Bilbo’s nose twitched. “Then you better have some sugar and grease to help me with all that speculative drinking.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy, Pt. 11

Summary: It’s the day after the stuffing chapter. New Asgard decides which system of government it wants. Not much smut, an awful lot of politics.

Length: 6.9k. A more sensible person than me might try to edit this down, but honestly, I feel like you’d all be horribly disappointed if I didn’t write all the words.

Warnings: Eh the usual. Kinky food stuff, smut, drinking, swearing, mental health wonkiness, Asgardian politics, body shaming, intrusive media, social media shittiness, uncomfortable family relationships, mentions of starting a family, mentions of dead characters, smutty pictures, some ridiculously long speeches that might give you feels. I think that’s it.

Notes: This chapter, quite literally, took months to write. Apologies, therefore, if it’s a bit disjointed or I contradict myself. This bad boy is now over 50k in total (!) It took a while, because I couldn’t quite decide how I wanted it to go. Also, writing a story a day for the entire year is quite time consuming and a really fucking terrible idea. Typos and errors are all my own but please alert me to anything spectacularly bad so I can fix. I’ve not given this any distance, so I am hella word-blind.

Also, one of you gets a mention :P

Need a reminder of what’s happened? Pt. 10 & the masterlist.

If you like what I do, please let me know.

It wasn’t the cockerels crowing that woke you, but the dogs excitedly greeting someone.

“Whuh time issit?” you mumbled into Thor’s hair, your hand resting on his still full tummy as you spooned the sleepy Thunder God.

“Too early.”

He wasn’t wrong. Groggily you pulled yourself away, rummaging around for something to throw on so you could investigate who your visitor was.

Opening the bedroom door, you spied the Valkyrie crouched down by the settee, rubbing Geri’s tummy.

“Why?” you asked, not really awake enough to form a proper question.

“Why what?” Valkyrie responded, continuing to fuss the dog at her feet.

“Why are you here? Now? At this godforsaken time?”

“Has Thor forsaken this time in particular?”

Your glare said it all.

“I jest, sorry. Have you been online? Checked your phone? Seen or heard the news?”

“For fuck’s sake, Brunnhilde,” you said, startling the dogs and finally rousing Thor, “I’ve literally just gotten up. Because of you. When would I have done any of that? And why does it matter?”

“I’ll make the coffee, you go get Thor.”

You’d barely turned and taken a step, when you collided with the solid mass that was your lover.

“What’s wrong? Why is the Valkyrie here?” he asked, holding you to his stomach.

“Not a fucking clue.”

You weren’t exactly a morning person. Even less so after a few cocktails, and when your awakening had been rude. Not the good kind of rude, either. Thor knew, from prior experience, that waking you unexpectedly was like deciding to disturb a wasp’s nest. Nothing good would come of it and it wasn’t something you’d likely repeat in a hurry. You were a surly, venomous grump, sure to sting whatever had disturbed you.

Either Brunnhilde was more foolhardy than he thought, or something was seriously wrong.

Brunnhilde returned to find you slouched on the settee, buried in Thor’s hoodie with the hood pulled up and over, almost to the point of covering your eyes, in a vain attempt at ignoring the world. The steaming mug of caffeine placed on the table next to you was met with a snort of derision, and it was with no small amount of trepidation that Thor sat next to you, before pulling you onto his lap. Maybe whatever had brought the Valkyrie would concern only him, and you could doze off against his chest.

“Did you enjoy your pizza last night?” Brunnhilde asked, breaking the frosty silence.

“Yes,” Thor smiled at the memory. “How did you know we had pizza?”

“That’s what brought me here. I’m sorry it’s so early.”

Why would pizza have brought her here, Thor wondered. Did she need a recipe? Did she have some left over? Was she planning to open a pizza place in New Asgard?

“Someone… someone, erm, they snapped some pictures of you. The two of you. In the restaurant. They must’ve recognised you.”

“So?” Thor queried softly, hoping that you had begun to return to sleep in his arms.

“Well, they sold them to some media people. You’re, erm, trending on Twitter. I wanted to tell you before you saw for yourselves, some of the reporting is… unflattering.”

Yeah. Thor could already picture it. Being fat and in the public eye was just a magnet for the worst kind of people.

“If they’ve worked out who Y/N is, it’s not been published yet, but it’s only a matter of time,” Brunnhilde continued.

“Ah, balls,” you said, finally joining the conversation.

“Indeed. A few months back, I asked some friends to do some digging on you. Don’t be alarmed, I just wanted to be prepared for the time when it eventually emerged that you and Thor were together. I didn’t find anything to be worried about in what they found on you, but I understand that there may be things that you’d prefer to stay private. The silence of those involved can be arranged, if you wish.”

There were certainly things in your past that you weren’t exactly proud of. You probably should’ve realised that you couldn’t stay under the radar forever.

“No, it’s ok. Don’t waste your resources, or those of your friends. I’ve been alive long enough to know that if the tabloid press thinks there’s a story, they’ll dig it up somehow. Or just make one up. I’ve done what I’ve done, and that’s the end of that. Anyone commenting on my life probably has stuff they’d rather keep secret,” you answered with a sigh.

“Very well. Do you want to read the dossier?”

“No, no. I’m sure it’s very thorough and accurate. Thor, do you want to read it?”

“Anything you wish to tell me about your past, you can tell me about yourself,” he answered, running his fingers through your hair. “Whatever you have done, it’s of no consequence. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Some youthful follies could not reverse my love for you.”

You nuzzled your face into his chest hair to hide the tears you could feel beginning to sting your eyes.

“Is that all, Brunnhilde? May we return to bed?” Thor said.

“Yes, of course. Apologies once again for disturbing you. I just wanted you to hear it from a friend before you heard it elsewhere.”

You were fast asleep again by the time Thor gently laid you back on the bed. You must’ve been warm in his hoodie, the early rays of sunshine beginning to seep into the bedroom, but he didn’t want to disturb you. His mind was all over the place, so he decided to check the news on your tablet while you were tucked into his side.

Thor’s Hammered!

King of Ass-gard

Pizza Gut - Avenger destroys pizza buffet

Thor quickly put the tablet back down. It stung to read the words they wrote about him, but even worse was what they wrote about you. They didn’t know you, why did they get to judge you, speculate about who you were and why you were with him? You were just another name on the long list of loved ones he wasn’t able to protect.

Gingerly removing himself from your side, relieved when he didn’t wake you, Thor decided to sit back on the settee, letting Loki slither over him. The snake wasn’t as helpful as his brother, but he found it calming anyway.

15 minutes later, the sound of a message being received made him jump. Unlocking his old phone, he saw it was a message from Brunnhilde.

I know you said you didn’t want to know about Y/N’s past, but I think you might find this interesting…

There were several links at the bottom of the message. Thor didn’t want to pry, he really didn’t, but he couldn’t help but be curious as to what was that important that Brunnhilde had felt the need to send him a link.

Moving as quietly as he could, he returned to the bedroom to grab the tablet, before settling back down to see what had been sent.

Typing the address was a torturous process, his fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to easily manipulate Midgardian devices, although he was becoming more careful with them. Still, he nearly dropped the tablet when he saw where the link took him to.

It was a gallery of pictures. Pictures of you, to be exact. You weren’t naked but it was obvious that these weren’t the kind of pictures you shared with friends or family. He’d heard about these kinds of sites, adult sites they were called. The model had a different name, but it was definitely you. No doubt about it.

Pictures of you in corsets that pushed up your breasts and cinched in your waist. Pictures of you with chokers around your throat. Some pictures where you wore clothing made of a strange material that seemed to fit you like a second skin. Some more where you wore beautiful lingerie in vibrant colours, brilliant blues and vivid violets.

The pictures on the next link were a little different. Leather gloves, ball gags, handcuffs. Fishnet stockings and knee-high leather boots. Why had he never seen any of these outfits? Carefully gripping the tablet with one hand, he moved the other inside the waistband of his pants, rubbing at the head of his excited cock.

For a split second, he considered what Brunnhilde had thought of these pictures. Had she shown them to Sif? What if they’d both enjoyed them?

His cock grew harder at the thought.

And he knew he should feel a little ashamed. You hadn’t mentioned these pictures, so it probably wasn’t something you were proud of, but he couldn’t help but look, hope that others had looked, and seen just how sexy you were.

He didn’t really understand the third link. That seemed to be a niche site. You were barely visible, clad in rain gear, and wrapped in heavy duty tape to secure you to a post.

But, Brunnhilde really had saved the best until last.

Bound, gagged, blindfolded. Eyes wide in another as you looked at the woman stroking your hair as you sat tied to the chair. If he had to be king, he’d insist on having a throne, just so he could recreate that image with you. Only, in his version, you’d be wearing a lot less clothes, his face between your thighs, eating you out until the only thing keeping you upright were the ropes that held you in your place.

It was funny. He’d not really enjoyed being in chains, in a cage, when he’d encountered Surtur. But the thought of you being bound, held captive while he pleasured you in all the different ways he knew how. Now, that was something he liked the idea of.

Freeing his cock, he began to stroke in earnest, the images he’d just seen and images of what he’d like to do to you fuelling his desire. The harder he thought of them, the harder he got, and the harder he pumped his fist.

His orgasm was explosive, and Loki hissed at him angrily. Geri and Freki perked up their ears to see what the fuss was about. He knew he should move and clean himself but he was comfy, he was relaxed, he could rest here for a moment or two.

***

Evidently it was more than a moment or two when he awoke to the sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen. There’s no way you couldn’t have seen him, and there’s no way he could pretend it was anything else. He’d fallen asleep with his cock out, the evidence crusted onto his tummy.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he approached the kitchen with caution.

“Good morning, my love,” he tried.

“Good afternoon,” you corrected. “Dare I ask?” you said, looking at his gut pointedly.

Nothing good would come of lying, so he tried his best to explain the truth.

“Ah, well, what happened was, you see, Brunnhilde sent me an electronic letter with some links on my phone. So I looked at them on the tablet,” he explained.

“Brunnhilde sent you porn?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean maybe? The links were to pictures of you.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “Brunnhilde’s friends found those.”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them. I enjoyed doing them.”

Thor doesn’t ask for an explanation, doesn’t press you, doesn’t tell you about his fantasies. You’ll tell him when you want to, if you want to. He’ll tell you when you’re not trying to cook avocado eggs Benedict.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbles before walking off to the bathroom. He’s glad that you’re not angry or upset, but he’s still embarrassed that you caught him in that position.

The shower is cold, but not cold enough to cool him down from his thoughts. Thoughts of those photos, thoughts of last night, and thoughts of what he’d like to do with you in the future. He could probably roll around on Jötunheimr and still feel too hot.

He’s quiet during brunch, but you don’t press him. You just hold his hand, silently telling him that everything will be alright.

You’d briefly checked your phone before Thor had woken up. There were so many notifications, you were afraid it might crash, and you’d put it back down again. Today was an historic day for New Asgard, you didn’t want to overshadow it by worrying about what Twitter trolls had to say about you. It keeps buzzing on the table next to you, and you continue ignoring it.

“Are you going to check that?” Thor asked. “It might be something important.”

“I don’t really want to, I’m afraid of what I might see,” you said.

“I understand, but the longer you leave it, the worse it will be. Maybe just check if there is anything from your family. You don’t want it playing on your mind throughout the day.”

Thor’s right, and so with a resigned sigh, you picked up your phone and looked at your notifications, dismissing anything that wasn’t important.

A message from Sam on Skype that read I knew you had a thing for older men, didn’t realise you liked them THAT old ;-) now I know where you are, let me know when I can visit. Ignore the haters, they’re just jealous.

There was also an entire chain of emails from your mum, without a subject. She’d never quite gotten the hang of email.

Is this you/??>????? And then a link to a news website.

It is, isn’t it.

WHy didn’t you tell us. Where you were????

Your father is looking at flights.

He’s found some cheap ones with Ryanair, we’re coming over in a fortnight. Flying to Oslo. Charlie is coming too.

He can’t find anywhere to stay in New Asgard, are there no hotels????

Answer me.

“Ah, fuck,” you said, staring at down at your phone.

“What’s the matter?” Thor asked, worried that you’d seen something critical of you.

“My family knows where I am now, they’re coming to visit,” you mumbled. “In two weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news, I can’t wait to meet them,” Thor said, kissing your hand.

“Yeah,” you said doubtfully. You loved your family, but they could be tricky at times. They were hurt, of course, by your vagueness on the subject of your whereabouts. You already knew they were going to make some unintentionally hurtful comments, either about Thor, or about Alex, or both. They were also likely to do the same about you.

“Two weeks,” Thor mused, still enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting your family. “I think that gives me sufficient time to build a place for them to stay.”

It was lovely that he was excited by the prospect, but you groaned internally. Something told you that Thor was not going to have time for much if the vote went the way you thought it would.

“I’ll tell them we can accommodate them somewhere,” you said, firing off a quick email. “Now, let’s forget about this and focus on the task at hand. Brunnhilde wanted us there no later than two, that only gives us an hour.”

***

At 2:10 you arrived at the mead hall, Thor in his full regalia, you in the dress he’d gifted you for the May Day feast. Geri and Freki loping along behind you. You went to add the one remaining cake to the long table of food, while Brunnhilde intercepted Thor.

“Is everything alright, after this morning?” she asked him.

“Yes, I think so. Y/N is strong, although her family have elected to visit. That seems to have shaken her,” Thor sighed.

“It must be hard to face someone you thought was dead, even if you love them, once you’ve been through the grieving process,” Brunnhilde noted.

“It is.” Thor knows it’s hard, he went through it enough times with Loki, but he’d do anything to have his brother back. Or his mother, father.

There are flowers everywhere. Bouquets on tables, bunting hanging from the rafters, and people everywhere with flower crowns on their heads. Thor’s pleased with how well they’ve turned out. He makes a note to thank everyone involved, as well as to the plants for blooming so abundantly for him. There was something very satisfying about growing things and tending to them, becoming one with nature.

He’s not surprised when you return with a flower crown, plus one each around the dog’s necks. He doesn’t think they’ll last long, which is why he’d made sure to cultivate flowers that wouldn’t make the dogs sick when they inevitably tried to eat them. Thor particularly likes how you look with your flower crown. He’s seen you wear one before, of course, but they really do suit you. He hopes that if he has to be king, then perhaps one day you’ll wear a different kind of crown.

“Hello, Brunnhilde. Apologies for our lateness. I didn’t grab a crown for you but if Thor doesn’t want this one, I’m sure you can have it,” you offered, holding out the wreath.

“That’s quite alright, I’m not really one for crowns,” Valkyrie answered with a small shake of her head. “I’ll leave you two to mingle, just don’t be late for the vote announcement.”

“We won’t,” Thor assured her, knowing full well that they won’t start without him. “I fear this may not be the only crown I accept today,” he continues, taking the flowers from you and placing them on his head.

“I’m sorry,” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll support you, no matter the outcome.”

Thor knows this, and he’s glad of it. He’s still not comfortable with being in charge, quite content with his life, building things, tending to the plants, and playing with his animals. But at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. After Loki died, he was so very alone. Korg and Miek were great, but there was something missing in his life, a much closer form of companionship that he’d finally found again.

“Let us mingle, I’m sure there are many children who will be glad to pet the dogs,” Thor said, looping his arm with yours at the elbow.

*** By the time it gets to the hour of the announcement, Geri and Freki have had their bellies rubbed by seemingly every child in New Asgard, much to their delight.

A little boy had brought you a small posy of flowers, and was extra pleased when Thor held him in his strong arms and let the child place the flowers in Thor’s beard. It’s very haphazard, and a little one-sided but Thor’s pleased with the end result, when you show him in your pocket mirror.

It makes him ache desperately to have a child - well, children - of his own. He thinks about what kind of uncle Loki would’ve been.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have stabbed them.

It’s too hot in the mead hall. Thor’s been trying to drink slowly, aware that he’s drinking out of nerves more than anything.

Dutch courage, you’d called it. Allegedly, Dutch soldiers had drunk jenever before going into battle. Thor considered that a little risky. Drinking was best done after battle, being clumsy while handling a weapon didn’t strike him as the best strategy. Then again, it seemed to work fine for Brunnhilde. It didn’t really happen to him, but supposed many people got nervous before a fight.

Thor knew you had a Dutch friend, a teacher. He wondered if they might bring jenever with them if they ever came to visit?

Bruce came over, crowds of Asgardians parting easily for his bulky frame.

“Hey buddy,” he said, hugging Thor. “Are you ready?”

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Thor answered. A few years ago, he’d thought he was ready. Had almost been crowned king.

He never thanked Loki for royally screwing that up. It was only now, with hindsight, that he could appreciate the favour his brother had inadvertently done him.

“It’s time,” Bruce told Thor, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thor looks back at you, but you shake your head. This is an Asgardian matter. Your place is at the back with Geri and Freki, not onstage with Asgard’s elite.

“Do you know?” Thor asked Bruce, desperately.

“No Thor. Even if I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Bruce noted. “Whatever happens, you have people that care about you. It won’t be like it was before.”

Thor joins Valkyrie, Sif and several others onstage. Bruce waves his hands, dampening down the crowd that buzzes like a hornet’s nest. Despite all the assurances, this is still a volatile situation and Bruce says a silent prayer that everything works out for the best.

“Thank you all,” Bruce addressed the crowd. “Thank you for trusting in the process and for allowing us, as outside observers, to count all of your votes. No system will be perfect, but we hope that you will all respect the outcome, whatever it may be. It took three rounds of voting for an option to gain over 50% of the vote. I’ll now hand over to Captain America, who has the results.”

Bruce steps down, stands to the right hand side of the stage as Sam steps forward. Anticipation builds around the room, like static during a storm. Sif holds hands with both Thor and Valkyrie, holding in a breath as she waits to see which of the people she cares about most will draw the short straw of heading Asgard.

She fervently hopes that the people will have chosen another option, but she doubts it. Most Asgardians fell on one side of the divide or the other - traditionalists who wanted to continue the existing royal family, and those who felt that Brunnhilde was the best leader amongst those left.

“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, grateful that someone the Asgardians were familiar with had addressed them first. “The result is very close, but let me assure you, it is accurate. We counted every single ballot ten times, just to ensure there was no discrepancy. With 50.8% of the vote, the people of Asgard have chosen the option of an octarchy.”

The room erupted with people cheering, complaining, or otherwise chatting with people about what it all meant. Sam waited for the commotion to die down before continuing.”

“Furthermore, the proposed solution, as outlined within the election materials is that Thor, son of Odin.” Sam paused, Thor’s full title sounding odd coming out of his mouth, but that was what the piece of paper he was holding said. “Thor, son of Odin, shall rule as king, and head of state.”

Thor paled visibly and your heart went out to him, glad that Sif was holding his hand.

“Succession will be a matter of blood, as it has always been, unless Thor shall have no issue. In that event, the people of Asgard will once again convene to decide how they wish to be governed. Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall serve as his second in command. She will rule in his absence or if he is incapacitated, if Thor does not have an heir of legal age.”

Sam shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Bucky write the speech, he should’ve known his metal-armed partner would try to stitch him up with flowery Asgardian language. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky smirking, standing next to Bruce. Sam makes a mental note to put on his suit later, pick Bucky up, and drop him in the North Sea.

“The other six members of the council will be chosen as follows. Thor, son of Odin, and Brunnhilde, of the Valkyrior, shall each choose one. Two more shall be elected by the people of Asgard. The final two shall be selected at random in a lottery of all citizens who have come of age. These positions shall be reviewed every ten years, unless circumstances, or the will of the people dictate otherwise.”

The place descends into chaos, even the dogs start barking at all the noise, and it only stops when the valkyrie gets to the front of the stage and lets out an ear-piercing screech. Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at her, wincing.

“Settle down everyone, settle down,” she shouted. “I respect this result, just as I said I would, and I pledge to serve both Asgard and its king to the best of my ability, as long as I am able to do so. I would like to thank you for your trust and patience during the time in which I served as Asgard’s caretaker. I know that not all of you were happy with the situation, but I hope I served you well. There is one among us, who I would like to nominate for inclusion on the council. However, I am aware that some of you may feel it is a conflict of interests. As many of you are aware, the Lady Sif and I are in love. She is my nomination if you will accept her.”

Raucous applause erupts. Sif is well liked, and most people are pleased to have her helping to steer Asgard’s course, even if she’s a little too eager to head into battle at times.

“Very well, I thank you all for your trust,” the valkyrie continued. “While I have the floor, there is one more thing I wish to do. I was going to do it later, but I think now is best, to declare my love in front of all those I serve.”

This time it’s Sif’s turn to go pale, as the Valkyrie sinks to her knees, turning back to Sif.

“Lady Sif,” Brunnhilde began. “I have lived long and travelled far, and there is no beauty that can compare to yours. Your love shines brighter than any star, and I am a better person for you sharing it with me. I have no title or riches to give you. This is but a small trinket, for I have already given you the greatest gift I have to give, which is my heart. I would be honoured if you would accept this ring as a token of my love, as is the custom on much of Midgard, and agree to be my wife.”

Sif is openly sobbing, and Thor’s not sure he’s ever seen her cry before. Scores more around the room wipe away tears as Sif slowly moves forward, allowing the Valkyrie to slip the ring onto her finger. Once it’s in place, Sif takes Brunnhilde’s hands and pulls her up, embracing her tightly and kissing her fiercely to a chorus of cheers.

It’s a wonderful sight, and you’re glad that there’s something for Asgard to celebrate, even if the vote didn’t go everyone’s way. Your throat goes dry as Thor nervously makes his way to the front of the stage to speak.

“Hello everyone. Apologies if I seem nervous, it has been many years since I last addressed so many,” he said, fiddling with the hem of his cloak. It’s far too hot to be wearing it, but he’d insisted that this was an important occasion and that he should dress accordingly.

“My congratulations to the Lady Sif and the Lady Brunnhilde. Theirs is an excellent union, and I wish them an eternity of happiness together.”

Thor waits until the cheering dies down before continuing.

“I, too, respect and honour the results of this vote. No man can outrun his destiny, and it seems mine will always be to rule Asgard as its king, even though I feel ill-equipped to do so. Fate apparently wills it so. I have not led Asgard well these last few years, and I apologise for that from the bottom of my heart. I have been remiss in my duties. I know that some of you do not trust that I have changed, but I give you my solemn word that I have. That I will act for the good of Asgard, and the other eight realms, as long as there is life in my breast.”

The entire room draws a collective gasp as Thor sinks to one knee. Panic sets in. This can’t be happening. Surely he’s not about to propose as well?

“I kneel before you, as your humble servant,” Thor continued, and you sighed in relief. “Too long, the people of Asgard have knelt before the throne. No more. I kneel before you all, and ask for your forgiveness. I am not the man I was, but I hope with time, that I will become someone better, someone worthy of the position that I find myself in.

“Asgard is not a place, it is a people. My father told me that, and I see now how true it is. I thank each and every one of you for trusting and believing in Asgard, in each other, when I did not trust or believe in myself. Together, you have created something strong and beautiful. I thank you for sharing it with me. You have rebuilt, you have shown incredible strength and fortitude.

“I am sorry for abandoning you. It is the most dishonourable and cowardly thing I have ever done. I asked the Valkyrie to rule in my stead, because I felt she was the best person for the job. I am truly sorry for abandoning Asgard in her hour of need. Thank you, all of you. Thank you for preserving our traditions and stories. Thank you for building a new home for us all. Thank you to everyone who has helped today. Baking delicacies, creating flower crowns, playing music. All that you do, on this day and every day, to ensure that we survive, that our culture survives, is appreciated by me.

“I hope to be able to thank you all individually, but please understand, it may take me some time. I kneel before you, as your king, humbled by the faith you still place in me. I shall work to rule as a king of the people, not above them. The throne should not be an untouchable pedestal on which I am put.

“Although I do not have a crown, I kneel before you, ready to serve Asgard, completely and unreservedly.”

“About your crown,” a voice called from the stunned crowd, as all eyes turned to look at Lorelei. She walked slowly through them, people parting for her, before she stopped in front of the stage, directly in front of Thor.

“When Hela attacked, many of us realised that Asgard was in peril. As we fled the city, some of us gathered up important artefacts. I apologise for keeping this from you, your majesty, but there never seemed to be an opportune moment…” she trailed off, reaching into a leather satchel, slung low against her hip.

Several people fainted, as with trembling hands, she pulled a crown from it.

“My-my father’s crown,” Thor mumbled, stunned.

“Yes, your majesty,” Lorelei explained. “I apologise again for keeping it secret, but you had already lost so much, I did not wish to remind you of your father. I have kept it safe, all these years. I believed that one day, you would be restored to the throne. I believed that day would be today.”

With trembling fingers, she reaches out the crown as Thor lowered his head. Tears were running down his face, into his beard, for everyone to see as he sat back up, slowly rising to his feet.

A collective sense of shock reverberated around the room, and you anxiously stroked your two dogs, who sat flanked you on either side.

“Thank you, good Lady Lorelei. This truly is an extraordinary gift. I thought I would never see this again, let alone wear it. I do wonder, now, what else was saved from Asgard, but that is a matter for another time,” Thor advised. “I have but one more matter to discuss, before it is time to feast. There is much to celebrate this day, and I hope it is one that will long be remembered.”

Thor paused, taking a moment to look around the hall. His friends, his people looking up at him. It filled him with a tiny spark of confidence that everything would work out fine this time, unlike when he had told Loki it would, all those years ago, after Asgard was destroyed.

“Like the Lady Brunnhilde, I too have someone I wish to nominate to the council. Like her, this person is one who is very dear to me,” he noted, looking across the heads of everyone to look you in the eye.

Thousands of heads turned to face you as you froze, wishing the ground would swallow you up.

“I wish to nominate the Lady Y/N. She has done so much for Asgard, though her time with us has been short so far,” Thor admitted. “As an outsider, I believe she has much knowledge and wisdom to offer us about Midgard, its people, and their customs. Her counsel is invaluable to me, and I would like to offer her a place at this table, if there are no objections.”

Deathly silence descends, everyone waiting for someone to say something.

“A wise appointment, your majesty,” Leifr spoke up, and a chorus of cheers echoed around the room.

“It is settled then,” Thor exclaimed happily. “The other four positions shall be determined in due time, but now I say it is time to eat, drink, and dance our fill. There is much to celebrate as we enter into a proud new chapter in Asgard’s history.”

Everything was a blur for several hours as you try to process exactly what’s happened. Thor being king again was something you expected, and he seems to be taking it well. His speech was genuinely moving and you could see many Asgardians visibly softening to him as he spoke.

But appointing you to be one of Asgard’s eight rulers?

No. No no no. This could not be happening. You didn’t belong here, didn’t want that kind of responsibility.

Judging by the way people keep congratulating you, it definitely is happening. You barely have an appetite, pushing your food around, eating small amounts whenever Thor prompts you to try this dish or that.

It had been a productive few hours for the other three newly instated rulers. Between them, they’d managed to hash out a plan for getting the other council members appointed. They’d even found time to draft a press release with Pepper, covering the events of the day. The world media would be taken aback. New Asgard had never released any information before. Along with the details of the election, Pepper had made sure to note that the new rulers would be willing to engage with journalists going forward to ensure transparency about what the kingdom was doing, but that they would not interact with any outlet that did not respect Asgardian privacy or engaged in hurtful gossip about them.

Apparently, the prince of another country, and his wife, had done something similar a few years prior.

You sit completely zoned out, a zombie. Utterly alone while surrounded by people. Geri and Freki lie protectively at your feet, aware that something is wrong.

Even Thor can sense that something is amiss. You’re paying no attention to him eating increasingly absurd portions. He even mentioned that he was getting full and you just nodded politely, a slightly vacant smile plastered to your face. You didn’t even try to touch his stomach, where it sat pressed up against the table.

Eventually, Sam manages to make his way over, whispering in Thor’s ear. You’re dimly aware that they’re talking about you, by the way Thor keeps glancing nervously in your direction.

“Let us go for a walk,” he said, standing up and tugging at your elbow. “Young Sam said that you look like you could do with some fresh air.”

Moving on autopilot you follow him, Geri and Freki loping along behind you. He leads you down to the beach, the sun setting in the distance as Thor gently maneuvers you into sitting down on a driftwood log.

“Are you quite alright?” Thor asked, running his fingers up your bare arms as he crouched awkwardly in front of you. “You seem distant, distracted.”

“This is all just very overwhelming,” you said, looking at your hands where they rested in your lap.

“I agree, much has happened today. We can return home, if you wish?”

“Why did you appoint me to the council?” you whispered, voice shaking. “I don’t know if I’ll still be here in ten years. What if we split up? I don’t belong here, I’m not Asgardian. I don’t want this responsibility, I’m not qualified, I don’t want to do this.”

Thor’s heart sank and he let out a sad sigh, finally sitting on the soft sand, his hefty stomach making it hard to keep his balance while he crouched. He’d done it again. He’d thought only of what he wanted and hadn’t consulted you. He’d upset you, ruining your evening.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tipping your chin up to make you look at him. “That was thoughtless and selfish of me, I should have consulted you before announcing my plan. Today has been trying for you, and you were already anxious and upset. I’m truly sorry for burdening you further.”

“I know you didn’t mean to Thor, but I’m so scared and sad.”

“Oh my love, no. I really am such an oaf,” Thor said sadly, pulling you into the small amount of lap he had left. If he kept on like this, he was going to really struggle to hold you like this soon.

He wants to kiss your lips, to kiss away all the hurt and worry he sees in your eyes, to kiss it better like his mother used to kiss his and Loki's scrapes and grazes. But he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. All he can do is cuddle you while you cry, chest heaving against his, while he rubs little circles onto your back, mumbling apologies all the while.

“I’m so sorry. I never meant to upset you, to make you scared or anxious. I can see that I was mistaken, even though I only meant it as a good thing, as a compliment to your character and your intelligence. I truly know of no other in the whole of Asgard more capable than you, not even Brunnhilde,” Thor explained. “You are wise for one so young, and far more learned than any of us when it comes to this land we find ourselves in. Please, allow me to apologise unreservedly for the hurt I’ve caused. Allow me to make it right, allow me to pick another to serve in your place.”

You're so silent, shaking in his arms. It hurts Thor in a way he’s not felt since his father banished him. What if he's finally gone too far? What if this is the thing that pushes you away from him?

It scares him more than the thought of Thanos returning once more.

“A trial,” you said softly, as you raise your head.

“Pardon?” Thor asked.

“Until the end of the year, I will serve for a trial period. But if at the end of that time, I still don’t want to do it, then you must replace me, without any reservations.”

“Of course, of course. Are you absolutely sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I am willing to try. I trust you. I trust you not to force me into anything I can’t handle. I’m humbled that you and your people have accepted me, and are prepared to give me this chance. I know it’s a great honour. So I will try to repay that trust that you have, I will try to serve Asgard, even if it doesn’t come easily to me.”

“No one who seeks power or has it come easily to them should ever be allowed to wield it,” Thor noted, rubbing his nose against yours. “Thank you, my love for agreeing to try this. I will honour your request should you change your mind at any point. I admit, I was scared that I had lost you, that my foolishness had driven you away.”

“You’ll have to do more than that to get rid of me,” you laughed wetly, wiping your face on the back of your hand.

“That’s good news, although I hope never to test that theory,” Thor told you, relieved. “Do you wish to return to the hall? I’m sure you could persuade me to have some more wine and sweet treats. As you can see, I am not quite at capacity,” Thor teased, moving your hands under his tunic to touch his taut tummy.

“I think I would like to head home. I’m emotionally exhausted and I just want to faceplant into your tummy and go to sleep.”

“Also an excellent plan,” Thor admitted, standing up with your still in his arms.

“I’m not too tired to walk,” you tried to insist, looking down at your bemused dogs as they trailed alongside the gentle giant carrying you.

“I know that, I just wanted to hold onto you some more.”

Thor’s going to be extra affectionate for the next little while, still reeling from the feeling of almost losing you. Now he finally has something to lose again, he’s resolutely determined not to let it happen.

@innerpaperexpertcloud @morganhoran1671

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 23/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle and Weaver get a big break in the case, but find it tempered by the mountain of missing pieces.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt: We’re all a little stronger than we think we are. I've barely read this over before posting, sorry for all the typos.

[AO3]  

We’re all a little stronger than we think we are.

Dr. Hopper’s parting words replayed in Belle’s mind as she walked the three blocks back to her office.

The last few days had been lighter than any since her work on the Branson case had begun. A weight had been lifted by her confession to both Archie and Ian, and the therapy session which she was just leaving had only added to it. Today, their topics focused on ways she could relax and control any future panic attacks, which she assumed she would probably need no matter how much she wanted to tell herself otherwise.

The weekend had been quiet and comfortable. She and Weaver had worked some on Saturday, but admittedly they were distracted by movies on TV and each other. Sunday, they’d gone for a walk in a nearby park, and by the time they got back to the apartment, she was ready to tear his jeans off. Smiling, she pulled a lock of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was quite certain that the only other time she’d had more sex in a forty-eight hour period was when they’d been on their honeymoon.

He hadn’t said anything about the miscarriage after Friday night, and she hadn’t either. She wasn’t sure what he was feeling or thinking about it, or if he was at all. Several times she’d almost brought it up, but always hesitated when the moment came, afraid to shatter the cocoon of safety and happiness they’d created for one weekend. She was determined to talk it over with Dr. Hopper next week, before she dared to breach the subject with Weaver. Archie would know the best way to go about it, and he would help her get her mind straight beforehand, as he had many times when she was practicing her closing argument for an important case.

Monday had brought no news from Nevada, but this morning she’d gotten a call from Clark County letting her know to expect something by no later than Wednesday. It put an extra spring in her step as she pushed the revolving door to the city building that housed the District Attorney’s office. Her cell phone chirped in her coat pocket, and she pressed the elevator button before pulling it out. An notification lit up on the screen, an email to her official account, but the lift was already moving and her signal went out as it began the slow climb to the sixth floor.

Belle shoved her phone back in her pocket and stepped off the elevator, wanting to wait until she was with Weaver before she read the email, just in case it was good news. Her lips parted as she rounded the corner and saw his outline through the frosted glass of her office. He was seated at the conference table, leaning back, as far as she could tell, and a naughty idea on how they might celebrate this possible good news flashed across her mind.

Weaver turned as she opened the office door, and smiled. “Go well?”

She nodded and walked over to her desk. “Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Then she held up her phone and grinned. “I have an email.”

“Just one? I’ll alert the media,” he deadpanned, pushing back from the conference table.

Belle rolled her eyes and dropped her purse in her bottom drawer before kicking off her walking flats and wiggling her feet back into her work heels. “From the Clark County Clerk.”

Weaver stood, his mouth curving crookedly. “Say that five times fast.”

“You’re the worst.”

He laughed as she pulled out her chair. “And yet you love me.”

She huffed and pushed up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Allegedly.”

He made a soft ‘oh’ sound and slipped an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. “I have a fair bit of evidence from this weekend that says otherwise.”

Belle bit her lip and smiled as he dipped his head and kissed her neck. “None of which is admissible in court.”

Weaver’s nose nudged at her ear as he chuckled and whispered, “You’re the only judge I care about convincing anyway.”

Giggling, she shoved his chest until he stepped back, and then shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. Now, can I check my email?”

He gave her a sly look, but motioned towards her computer. Her stomach flipped as she sat down and opened the lid of her laptop, hoping that what they would find wouldn’t kill the delightful buzzing anticipation between them. It seemed to take twice as long for her email to open and the new message to appear, and she started tapping her foot impatiently while Weaver’s hand squeezed the back of her chair. She clicked on the message, opening it in a full window so they could both read it.

They exchanged a look, and Belle scooted forward, saving the attached documents to the folder for the case. There were three in all, a scanned image of Molly Macreedy’s foster care agreement, and two exported PDFs from the Nevada DMV database containing the records for her foster parents. The image had been pasted into the email and stated her foster parents’ surname as Tremaine. Belle opened the DMV records for each parent, putting them side by side on the screen before she sat back in her chair.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Weaver said, breathless.

“No wonder we couldn’t find anything on Eloise Gardener,” Belle said. “She never existed.”

“Eloise Tremaine,” Weaver began, sticking the DMV photo up on the whiteboard next to a picture from Eloise Gardener’s autopsy. “Former foster parent to our first victim, Molly Macreedy, aka Baby Jane number 3-2-5. She was left at a fire station in North Las Vegas, estimated to be about three weeks old at the time.”

Detective Rogers shook his head and put up the DMV photo of Robert Tremaine on the other side of the board before turning to face Captain Graham Humbert, Belle, and DA Midas. “Robert Tremaine, real estate developer from Henderson, married Eloise Smith in 1993. They had no kids of their own, but had at least fifteen foster children, that we know of.”

“We’re still waiting on all the records from Nevada,” Belle added.

“Robert died in March of 2013,” Weaver continued, leaning against the wall of bookshelves in Belle’s office. “No particulars on that just yet, but shortly after that any paper trail on his wife goes cold.”

“What about his estate?” Graham asked, frowning.

Weaver shrugged. “Real estate records show the sale of the house was handled by an attorney. That’s all we have on that so far.”

Midas leaned forward on the table. “Tremaine’s business, anything about that? Real estate development in Vegas was pretty lucrative at that time.”

“And fairly shady.” Rogers’ eyebrows lifted. “We’re looking into possible organized crime connections with that, but that’s a whole can of worms unrelated to our serial murders.”

Graham flipped through the small packet of papers Belle had compiled thus far. “What was Eloise doing in Seattle?”

“We don’t know,” Weaver answered. “If there is a link to the mob with her husband’s business, it would stand to reason that she’d want to get away from Vegas, but Seattle doesn’t seem far enough to run from that kind of thing.”

“But,” Belle interjected. “It doesn’t explain how Jack and Nick Branson knew about the history between Molly and Eloise, or why they were killed.”

“So...you have adoption records and foster parents for one victim, from another state, and not much else.” Graham looked around at the group and dropped the papers back on the table.

“Hey, we -”

“Now wait -”

Weaver and Rogers start defending themselves at the exact same moment, but stopped when Midas stood up.

“Captain Humbert is right,” Midas said. “It’s interesting background, and it’s a possible lead to - something - but it’s not helping us build a case against the Bransons, and this office -.”

“Nick Branson worked construction in Las Vegas,” Belle interrupted. “Maybe that’s the connection. Maybe it’s through Robert Tremaine’s business that he - I don’t know - came into some contact with Eloise.”

Midas frowned and looked at Graham a moment before fixing Belle with a hard stare. “Follow it up, but don’t waste time on goose chases and rabbit holes. The murders were here in Seattle, not in Las Vegas. We’re not even sure Eloise was murdered by the Bransons -”

Belle attempted to interrupt him again, but his glare quieted her immediately. “You’ve shown me no definitive proof that she was. Meanwhile, we have five victims that we do know they killed, and a trial for them starting in two months. I’d like to avoid that kind of public spectacle if at all possible and get these two psychopaths to take a deal on those five murders.”

The tension in the room made Belle uncomfortable and her eyes darted to meet Weavers’ before shifting back to her boss.

“Am I clear, ADA French?”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, detectives,” Midas said, nodding to Rogers and Weaver. “Captain Graham.”

Midas strode out of the office, and everyone left in the room collectively sagged in defeat. The air of excitement that Belle and Weaver had maintained for the last thirty-six hours at the news of Eloise Gardener’s real identity fizzled to nothing as Belle laid her head down on the conference table.

Weaver shot a look at Graham. “What the hell crawled up his arse?”

Graham sighed and ran a hand over his face. “The mayor,” he said, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “the city council, Alderman Samedi, Victoria Belfrey…”

“Belfrey?” Belle said, lifting her head. “What the hell does she care?”

“Apparently she had a deal with Samedi to build cost controlled housing on that vacant lot,” Graham explained. “The whole thing is in limbo now because the lot is a crime scene and hasn’t been released, and we can’t do that until we move forward on Eloise Gardener’s, or Tremaine’s, or - whoever the hell she is’s - murder.”

“So no pressure then,” Rogers muttered flatly, snapping the cap on one of the dry erase markers.

Belle pushed back from the conference table and stood up. “Okay,” she said, holding up both of her hands, palms outward. “We need a new plan. Rogers, figure out where the hell Eloise was living in Seattle. Hopefully having her actual last name will yield more results, but there could be something under her husband’s name, or his company. Ian and I will focus on the other victims, and see if any more of them are also adopted, or were in foster care.”

Then she turned to Graham and gave him a sickly sweet smile, that hand him rolling his head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Captain Humbert, if you could please reach out to your federal law enforcement contacts, and see if there’s even a whiff of organized crime around Robert Tremaine, that would be most especially helpful.”

Graham let out a snorting laugh, and gave Belle a salute with two fingers before he gathered up his things. “Yes, ma’am.”

Plans made, and men dispersed, Belle was left alone in her office. She sat down on the sofa, head in her hands, and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly between her lips. Archie’s voice was once again in her head, and for a long moment she let herself focus on it, trying to block out the irritated voice of her boss and the nagging on in her head that set her anxiety up to an eleven.

Feeling calmer, Belle looked up, her eyes staring straight ahead at the white board with pictures of Robert and Eloise Tremaine hanging side by side. She pushed to her feet and walked towards her, her vision narrowing to the image of Eloise, with that awkward expression so common with driver’s license photos.

“Why were you in Seattle, Eloise?” she asked no one. “What were you running from?”

[17mounteens]

BGM (Joshua)

You keep going to the same cafe for reasons you don’t want to admit, and eventually it turns into what you least expected.

Whether or not you admitted it to anyone - or yourself, for that matter - one of the main reasons you always ended up at the same cafe was the young man who often played guitar there.

The coffee wasn’t exactly cheap nor did it taste like anything special, so you couldn’t reason going there for affordable or especially good drinks. The cafe wasn’t exactly quiet either, so you also couldn’t claim you went there to be able to focus on your studies.

Yet despite everything, you always ended up there, sitting by a table where you could see the small stage clearly; where you could quickly move your eyes back to your laptop if your gaze met the guitar player’s, and after that you could perfectly hear him smile while singing.

And every time, your ears would feel like they were on fire, and while trying to add words into your assignment, all you could think about was how lame you felt and how awfully cute he was.

That evening was no different. 

You had an almost finished project open on your laptop, only missing final touches, and you had convinced yourself that you could finish it best at the cafe. Next to your laptop you had an almost untouched latte, and from the corner of your eye you could see the guitar player - Joshua - setting up the microphone, his guitar case already open by the bar stool.

Holding back a sigh, you brought your cup to your lips and took a sip while staring at your screen emptily.

This is so lame, I don’t even know him and he sees hundreds of people every day, you thought to yourself.

While you thought about how silly you felt, Joshua was putting the microphone on the stand and looking at you from the corner of his eye with a smile on his lips. 

At least there was one familiar face, and at least it was one he liked seeing, too.

Once the microphone was in place, he grabbed his guitar and took a seat on the bar stool. You watched him check if it was in tune while absent-mindedly writing the concluding words of your project, including typos you’d fix later, and let out a quiet, dreamy sigh at the way Joshua’s lips formed a small pout when he focused.

You were brought back to the moment a while later when you heard him tapping on the microphone.

“Hi everyone,” he began softly and took a look around the cafe, where many people were seated, some talking with each other and some directing their attention at him. “Some of you might know me, since I play here regularly, but for those who don’t, I’m Joshua, and I... I hope you enjoy my music. Hope you’ll all have a good evening.”

Towards the end of his words he turned his eyes to you, and your heart skipped a beat when your gazes met.

Will you stop, you thought to yourself, mainly at your heart, and moved your gaze back to your laptop while joining the other customers in giving him a small applause.

With a smile playing on his lips Joshua then began playing. His songs were mostly calm and mellow, the perfect background music for a cafe like that, and you loved each and every one of them. 

For most part, you were focused on listening to the songs he played, although you also tried to put some finishing touches on your assignment, sometimes with more and sometimes with less success.

It was difficult to focus when you just wanted to focus on him.

Time passed, and eventually Joshua took a break. While he grabbed his water bottle to drink a little, you turned to your phone to reply to some messages you’d gotten. With that being done, you stretched your neck and shoulders a little and brought your latte to your lips to have a sip, not minding that it had already gotten a bit cold.

“So, I’ve seen you here a lot.”

You froze with your cup still on your lips at the familiar, soft voice, this time very close and obviously aimed at you. 

Slowly, you put your cup down and moved your gaze up the beige sweater, only to be met with kind eyes that had a playful glint in them as well as a small smile.

Oh no, he probably thinks I’m weird, a voice in the back of your mind said, but you pushed it away. “Ah, yes, I, I really like it here.”

“Me, too,” he replied, his smile widening a little, and pointed at the seat across the table you were sitting by. “Is this free?”

“Sure,” you said, your eyebrows rising in surprise, and closed your laptop when he sat down on the seat. “So...”

“This is probably really weird, and I promise I’ve never done this before,” he said, visibly embarrassed with his cheeks a soft hue of pink and his ears red, and scratched his cheek a little, the armhole of his sweater bunched around hid hand cutely. You tilted your head and you hated the way your heart was racing in your chest, but nodded regardless, encouraging him to continue. “I’ve just... I don’t know, felt this good energy from you? You’re always here, never miss an applause, you’ve got a nice smile and you’re like, the only one who can’t look into my eyes for more than one second.”

“That’s not true,” you began and moved your gaze into his eyes, only to move it away almost instantly, too taken aback by the playful, knowing look in them. Biting on your lower lip lightly, you nodded slowly. “I get your point.”

“But why?” he asked cutely, almost sing-sang, and laughed when you simply shrugged. “People tell me I have mesmerizing eyes.”

“I mean, they’re not wrong,” you said and immediately wanted to bite back on your tongue, but figured that you had already lost whatever small chance you had of appearing cool. “It’s just... you’re very... stressful. I get stressed.”

Joshua’s smile turned into a smirk, and he nodded knowingly. “Okay. Do a lot of people make you stressed, or is it just me?”

“Just you,” you said blankly and looked into his eyes, this time actually keeping the eye contact, no matter how hard it made your heart race. “But I... guess I can get over it.”

“Maybe,” he hummed and looked at you with a warm smile. “So, would you like me to go away or, alternatively, tell me your name?”

“Y/N,” you said without thinking about it much, and chuckled quietly at Joshua raising his eyebrows, having probably expected a different response. “And you’re Joshua?”

“Correct,” he grinned and took a quick look at the clock, figuring that his break time was up. “I need to continue now. Will you still be here in an hour, or will I see you another time?”

“Considering you remember me, you should know by now,” you said with a hint of cheekiness in your voice, and grinned a little to yourself when the hue of pink on Joshua’s cheeks deepened.

“Right. I’ll catch you when I’m finished, then,” he said and got up, and you nodded.

As you watched him return to the small stage, your heart fluttered a little, and you couldn’t help but wonder about how things sometimes turned out the most interesting ways.

From there on watching Joshua was, oddly enough, a lot less stressful. And somehow knowing that he knew of your existence and of you enjoying watching him, you also allowed yourself to openly adore him, and whenever your gazes met, you’d just smile at him. And he’d still smile back while continuing singing.

The hour Joshua had left passed by quickly, and you were also finally able to finish your project, which you took longer than anticipated to finish because you were, understandably, distracted every now and then.

While you hadn’t agreed on anything, it was almost at the same time that you put your laptop into your bag and Joshua hung his guitar case on his shoulder. He walked up to you when you were picking up your bag, too, and you held back a gasp when you turned around to see him standing next to you.

“May I join you for a while?” he asked, and you were quick to nod, knowing that you lived a while away, anyway.

Joshua ended up living further away from the cafe than you did, but you enjoyed your walk together regardless. While it felt the slightest big awkward because you didn’t really know each other, it didn’t in the least stop the two of you from talking about mundane things as well as your lives as you got to know each other, at least a little bit.

And by the time you reached the beginning of the street you lived in, where you would part ways, you realized that maybe, in all of it’s lameness, you had a tiny crush on Joshua - the tiny kind you would have on someone cute and interesting you didn’t really know yet.

“I’ll see you next time.”

Someone cute and interesting, who you probably soon would know better, and you could already tell that if he continued being as cute, funny and mildly flirty, you would fall for him.

From there on you continued going to see him perform, but now you felt less pressure to look like you were actually doing something, so occasionally you’d just bring a notebook with you to doodle on. Joshua and you eventually exchanged contacts, too, and after the initial awkwardness over texting with him, it got comfortable, too, and you began learning a lot more about one another.

Days and weeks passed, and you felt more and more attracted to him, in several ways, and it always made your heart flutter when he’d show the signs of potentially feeling similarly about you, with the subtlest yet somehow most obvious flirting.

When you walked home together, his hand would brush against yours, always by accident. When your gazes met, he smiled, and sometimes he would be the one to avert his gaze with a blush rising to his cheeks.

Sometimes it was as obvious as heart emojis here and there, and regardless of what it was, it never failed to make you smile and your heart flutter in your chest.

Several weeks after your first proper talk, by then fairly comfortable around one another, you were walking away from the cafe again, your hands constantly brushing against each other’s.

You smiled to yourself.

“Are you going to hold my hand or are you waiting for me to do it?” you asked, breaking a rather comfortable silence, and turned to look at Joshua expectantly.

He pursed his lips, and while reaching for your hand, spoke softly, almost in a whisper. “Uh, yeah.”

You felt butterflies fly about in your stomach when he squeezed your hand lightly, and you held his one back. There was something about the usually fairly playful and confident guy turning into such an adorable, almost embarrassed sight that made you feel all the more warm.

And yet, he always knew how to take you aback.

“Are you going to ask me out on a date or are you waiting for me to do it?” he asked teasingly, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Waiting, I guess,” you muttered, and smiled when Joshua laughed out loud heartily.

“Then, Y/N, would you like to go out on a date one of these days?” he asked and stopped walking without letting go of your hand, which had you stumbling closer to him. You looked into his eyes, staring right back at you, and tried to will your heart to calm down, but it was in vain. “You know, for more than just this walk.”

“I’d love that,” you said quietly, and once you had averted your gaze, you felt a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Me too,” Joshua said softly, and you giggled quietly when you felt him intertwine your fingers.

When you had first seen Joshua play the guitar at the cafe, you could never have imagined that months later, you’d be holding his hand on your way home, planning your first real date, and some days later, kissing him.

The universe did work in mysterious ways.

Admin Scooter

[taronfanfic]

Fast Forward

A/N: There’s probably way more typos in the next few chapters. I’m writing with a splint on my right hand so it’s making life tricky, slowing me down, and kinda doing my head in too. Sorry in advance!

Chapter 18

The motorway signs continued to point straight ahead for Heathrow, and you found yourself glancing over to Taron as he watched you spot them and almost laugh to himself. He didn’t say a word though. Not until he’d indicated for the next exit and joined the M25, leaving the signs for Heathrow behind and heading south instead.

“If we had more time it would have been abroad. A romantic city break in Paris or Barcelona.”

“I’ve always fancied Milan.”

“Next year then! I hope you’re not disappointed.” Taron looked across to check your expression. You couldn’t stop your face from giving away how you felt, regardless of the words which left your mouth, but this time around you weren’t disappointed. Still being in the same country as your Dad gave you some relief. If anything were to happen you could get to him fairly quickly and not need to worry about flights.

“It’s going to be perfect.” You smiled back to Taron before turning slightly in your seat so you could admire him properly as he continued to drive you to your destination.

You arrived just before lunch, turning off the country road into a long, winding, private driveway which lead through the dense woodland of the New Forest before opening out into a small carpark at the front of a large country house.

“Wow, this looks amazing.”

“It’s going to get better, trust me!” Taron jumped out the car in excitement and collected your bags from the boot before following you in to the main reception so you could check in for the night. The receptionist handed over your room key before telling Taron that everything would be arranged as requested and that access would be allowed from 3pm.

As you sat down for lunch in the large garden conservatory, receiving glasses of complimentary prosecco to enjoy whilst you looked out over the view of the small country garden, you finally got chance to ask Taron what else he’d been planning.

“Please can I know now? You surprised me with the location, and I love it, but I hate not knowing what else is to come!”

“Where do you want me to start?” He laughed. “I’m genuinely amazed I’ve not let anything slip so far. This place is amazing. We’re going to the spa after lunch, got a couples massage booked because, well, you deserve it and I’m going to love seeing you so relaxed.”

“Oh my days, heavenly.” You smiled warmly back to Taron and reached across the table to take hold of his hand. “Then we can get into our room?”

“Yes. But it’s not exactly a room… more of a house.”

“A house? Just for us?”

“Yeah. I want to leave that bit as a surprise though. The last surprise, I promise. We’ve got dinner booked in the main restaurant at 8, but can get dessert delivered back to the room, house…if we get the urge to leave early.” He smirked and you knew full well that would totally be happening.

“Okay, okay, say no more. I’m getting impatient for it all but I also don’t want to rush any of it. This is so dreamy, Taron. Thank you, honestly it is perfect. Such a special place to spend our first anniversary.”

“It’s the least you deserve, especially after the last few weeks. That’s why I was so desperate to make sure it happened. I couldn’t have you missing out on all of this, I’d have been gutted.”

“So would I, if I’d have known! But ignorance could have been bliss, I guess.”  You shrugged a little, thinking about how Taron was still oblivious to your Dad’s hospital appointment today. The thought made you check your phone and there was a new message waiting from your Mum.

We’re settled in for the day. They take it slow when it’s the first one so we’ll not be home until late. I’ll let you know how he copes with it. Hope you’re thinking of us and get a chance to call us at some point if you’re not too distracted by Taron. I know your Dad would appreciate it. Mum X

A momentary sadness fell to your face and as you looked back up to see Taron frowning at you, you knew you couldn’t keep it from him for any longer.

“Sorry.” You apologised immediately for your drop in mood. “It’s just my Mum.”

“Everything alright?”

“Errrm…”

“Y/N? You’re worrying me.”

“No, it’s ok. I knew this would happen. Don’t worry.” You shook your head as you instantly changed your mind and decided that you’d both have a better day if it wasn’t discussed. One more day wouldn’t change anything. The secret was still there and the last thing you wanted was for Taron to be worrying about you.

“What’s she said?” Taron asked, “What’s happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. Today is about us.” You forced back a smile, but Taron pulled his hand out of yours and shook his head.

“I saw the way your face dropped when you read it, and I know you too well Y/N. This will eat away at you for the rest of the day so talk to me now and then we can enjoy everything when it’s sorted.”

“It’s fine. Honestly. I won’t let it get in the way.”

“Please? It’ll make me feel better.”

“It won’t.” You replied before realising that you’d only made him more curious, intrigued and determined to find out what it was.

“Go on then…”

“My Dad has another hospital appointment today. My Mum wants me to phone him later.”

“and? … it’s clearly important.” He didn’t take your summary at face value and the shortness in his tone told you he was already pissed off that you hadn’t mentioned it before. There was no way you could avoid the conversation for any longer so you took a deep breath before continuing.

“Its erm… it’s his first day of Chemo today, and that’s kinda why I wanted to stay the full week with him before. The doctors changed their minds on the cancer diagnosis after his operation and so he might not be cancer free. They don’t know for sure.” You couldn’t look up from your hands, your fingers tightly gripped together as you finished your sentence and the silence took a firm hold against your table in the restaurant. There was no sense of comfort or reassurance coming from Taron. His eyes were firmly fixed on a spot out the window as he worked out what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me? When you knew it was cancer.” He finally asked, very calmly.

“I didn’t want you to worry about me. I didn’t want you to drop everything and come up to be with me.”

“Why not?”

“Honestly? It would have made everything worse. The atmosphere at home was already bad, so it was better for my Mum with you not being there, I think she felt like we could handle it as a family without having to think about anyone else.”

“I’m not family.” Taron nodded to himself simply.

“You are to me.” You reached out for his hand. “I did try to tell you, but it’s not an easy thing to say over the phone.”

“Or in person it seems.” He finally looked back to you and you could see the hurt in his eyes that you’d kept this from him for so long. This was not how you wanted your first anniversary to go. “I’m trying not to be angry because I know this isn’t really about me. You’re putting your parents first and I get that. But I always would have done Y/N. If you’d have explained it to me I would have understood and I’d have respected your choices. I’m not a monster.”

“I’m sorry. I did plan on telling you, I really did, and I tried to… but after a while it just. I don’t know. Became easier not to. Especially when his first day of Chemo was today. I didn’t want you to be looking for signs of me being upset or distracted by it. I wanted today to be about us and only us. I wanted it to be special and not like this. I’ve fucked it all up now.”

The silence returned as you both sat and took it all in. Taron was right about his respect and understanding; you’d made a presumption about how he’d react and that was unfair. You never gave him a chance or the choice on what to do. You’d shut him out of a big part of your life and essentially said to him that he’s not part of your family; he wasn’t close enough to you to be included. He never deserved that. You knew you’d fucked up and there was only one thought racing around your mind. He deserved someone better than you.

“I think I should go.” You spoke quietly as you stood up from the table.

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02 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words:  8,048

Author’s Note: Hello, everyone! Before anything else, Laura and I would like to thank you all for the overwhelming support we’ve received for part one. We are beyond thrilled that you guys are liking this series as much as we are!! Without further ado, let’s get down to business (to defend the huns).

“There is no way in hell I’m wearing this, you hear me?” you screamed against the phone for the third time in less than ten seconds. A high-pitched ding indicated the audio had been sent, and that was your signal to toss the device aside. Jungkook would not listen to it, like he had not listened to the other ten voice messages you had blessed his chatroom with.

The last message you had received from him had been short and dry, more of a user’s guide than a text. It exhibited his advanced SAT vocabulary and his outstanding talent to be concise. Lambda Kappa Pi. 11pm. Say you’re my girl and they’ll get you in. Good luck with the dress.

My girl, as if there was a dimension out of the multiverse you had been thrown into in which you would say such nonsense. My girl, your brain echoed, this time in his voice, that you imagined would be hoarse and whiny during sex. No, no, that was not an image you wanted in your mind.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook’s girl,” you spoke as you imagined yourself babbling at the entrance of the frat house, clad in that skin-tight little red dress. Imagination is a very powerful weapon to use against oneself, and it immediately transfigured you into a Legally Blonde character, one of the sweethearts from Delta Nu but with no rich daddy, no fake tanning, and no equilibrium to stand over the sky-challenging high-heels he had sent along with the dress.

You’d look far more like a clown that had just ran away from the circus, that’s for sure.

You clenched your jaw at the absurdity of that idea, ignoring the butterflies that begun dancing in your stomach. His girl. Stupid ass. You would never do something like th—

—Ding!

In a reflex, you practically threw yourself on your bed to reach for your phone, chest bubbling up with the ridiculous excuses that he could have sent back to you. Instead, however, what you were met with was a simple series of condescending texts:

Jungkook’s only neuron said: u’ll look great bby

Jungkook’s only neuron said: im getting heated just thinkin of u in that ;)

You said: You prick

You said: That dress doesn’t even cover my ass properly

Jungkook’s only neuron said: that was what i was hopin for

You groaned out loud as your eyes read his message, mind working faster than the quick progression of your thumbs against the screen — you better be ready for me to ruin you with the favor I have stored up, then, you texted back.

Jungkook’s response arrived all too soon. There was no physical time to toss the phone back onto the bed, to try the diminutive piece of clothing on and see if there was a way your boobs could survive without suffocating. As the notification blared through the speaker, you imagined him, expecting your reply by the phone, biting his nails. In your imagination, he was nervous, at least a bit; but Jungkook and his cohorts did not know nervousness, at least not when confronted to tests of women. They followed all those ludicrous bro-code-or-whatever-they-called-it rules; and making girls wait for their replies was in the book.

“Ruin or be ruined, that’s the world we live in,” you read out loud, trying to find in between the words Jungkook’s personal trademark. Unexpectedly, there was no baby. No typos. No superfluous exhibition of his very pompous personality. Had he asked for help? Perhaps Namjoon, the only one in the frat house with a functional brain. Maybe Yoongi, but it sounded way too contained to his taste.

“Quote your sources next time,” you typed rapidly, grinning all the way. “See you later, bby.”

Now Jungkook’s Only Neuron could type and ruminate over your odd response all he wanted. There would be no more texts until the party — except perhaps a picture or two of you in that dress, blurry and terribly illuminated. The ire of the gods would fall upon him when he tried to zoom in into your boobs only to find pixels. A taste of his own medicine, that was what you called this cruel stratagem.

Now, there were only a limited number of things which could count as social humiliation for you. As mentioned aforetime, failing a ridiculously easy class or exposing your underwear were near the top of the list, alongside some awfully personal experiences, but you never thought there would be something to top all your expectations. Turns out that 90’s movies make a so called “makeover” to be something great and empowering when, in reality, it had to be the spiritual equivalent of intestinal cramps in the middle of a road trip. And yes, you had been through that. No further comment.

Maybe the movie director of your life was sadistic. Maybe that experience was karma for ruining poor Jungkook’s mental health earlier that day. Whatever it was, it was the new number one on your list of social humiliation. You could not claim you hadn’t gotten anything out of that night — but experiences make you grow, right?

You knew you had fucked up the second you walked up to the fraternity house — that stupidly large, greek-like mansion that pulsated under the progression of the awfully loud music — and saw a pair of underwear on the grass, lost amidst a sea of bottles and beer cans. And then a bra. And then an used cond— Jesus Christ! Were those kids acting out Animal Planet? There were limits. There had to be. Goodbye to your long lost purity.

To top it all off, it was cold. Not nice, chilly cold, but winter-is-here kind of Game of Thrones bullshit. The wind was like cold daggers against your skin, piercing your naked legs as you moved closer to the entrance door, benumbing your senses to the fullest extent. Whatever it was that you had in store for Jungkook, it had to be equally torturous to that walk of shame — the night had not even started, and you were already constructing an escape plan.

“Hey,” you said as you stopped in front of two athletes, crossing your arms before your figure — thank God for your common sense, since the leather jacket you wore both covered your insanely tight boobs and gave you a bit of heat. You wouldn’t have started a conversation with them if not absolutely necessary and, in that case, they were blocking the passage. “Excuse me, please.”

One of them turned to you with arched eyebrows, looking you up and down, “You seem familiar,” he mumbled, infecting the atmosphere with a terrible scent of alcohol. To be fair, you thought you knew him too, but did not want to get into friendly terms with any of them. “Whatcha’ doing here?”

Hell, here goes nothing, “Jungkook called me here.”

“Jungkook, who?” The other one — the travel-sized counterpart — laughed, hitting his friend’s shoulder in his drunken haze. “We know no Jungkook.”

They were still blocking the entrance, and you were not in the mood to commence an arrogant dissertation on why they did know the Jungkook you were referring to, and why was their ruse so evident. Shivering inside the leather jacket, you tried to find a way around the words he wanted so desperately to hear. “I am his friend,” you said.

The smaller of the two scoffed. “Jungkook has no friends.”

“I thought you knew no Jungkook,” you smirked, devilishly, but the brainless pair would not subside in their efforts to rip a confession out of your — literal — cold body. “For fucks sake. I am his girl. Jungkook’s. The one that gets to fuck him every night while you two try to resist the homoerotic dynamics you have seen yourselves trapped into. Now let me in, Tweedledee.”

“A straight-up bitch. Hot.” They murmured as you made your way into the hall. Inside, a myriad of bodies crammed the room, pressed against one another. Girls in short dresses and stressed boys trying to get their attention roamed around, red cup in hand. Their scent was sweetly rancid, a mixture of alcohol, sweat and pheromones you would not be able to stand for long without a drink in your hand.

No. Wait. Probably wouldn’t be the wisest of ideas to be intoxicated while pretending to be someone else’s girlfriend for the night. You got awfully sincere when you had alcohol, and the last thing you needed was to ruin your saved favor, especially after going through all the trouble you did. Next step would not be to drink away your disgust, as compelling as that seemed to be, but to find out your pathetically inadequate fake boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath, you skirted the overabundance of bodies as you made your way past the main living room, finding solace in a somewhat calm corner of the ambient. You leaned your back against the asperous wall, taking your phone out of your purse. Numb, your thumbs cried under the effort of unlocking the device and moving to his contact — that arrogant smile on that nauseatingly perfect display picture — to type your impatient messages:

You said: Hey, loser

You said: I’m here already

You said: Where can I find you?

You waited for a few seconds to see if he would get online, but nothing appeared on your screen. For a moment your mind wandered towards the possibility of it all being a prank, after all: to get you, a serious and stuff girl, in that outrageously small piece of red fabric would be a huge joke on itself, even more if he managed to show it off to his friends. If that was the case, you would transfer colleges. Not to be overdramatic or anything.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I told you to wear a jacket, baby girl.”

The second you raised your gaze, you came to regret your reckless decision — not in the cutesy, hesitant manner you were feeling aforetime, but in the this-was-a-horrible-idea-and-my-life-is-over type of shit. Not because you were in any sort of danger, but because you accepted the fact that you had absolutely no way to control yourself near the sheer sexual temptation that was Jeon Jungkook. Not like that.

In all his glory, the idiot looked the best he ever did. With his black hair slightly disheveled, parted almost in the middle, and eyes gleaming under the neon lights of the frat house, he looked like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot for Men’s Health. His team’s jacket — blue and white, with the symbol of your college — had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins in his forearms; unbuttoned so it presented you with the v-cut shirt he wore underneath, grey. You could see the outlines of his fucking abs with that crap. Muscle pig. It was absurd. He should take it off.  

And of course, there were those fucking thighs. But you would not allow your gaze to fall under his waistline just yet. Yet.

A hum from his part interrupted your momentaneous fall into inferno, making you realize how quickly your heart started to beat. “You’re lucky you’re hot as fuck,” Jungkook acknowledged, his own eyes falling to your form, eyebrows slightly arched. “I always knew I had good taste for girlfriends.”

The silence between you was bubbling with an unspoken tension. Sexual, Cosmopolitan would have defined it as purely sexual. "Ten Easy Tips to Know if your Crush Wants you Too," or something of the sort would had been plastered all over the cover, where a barely-legal model would have judged you with doe-like eyes.

Jungkook's roseate tongue came out to wet his lips, to fill the void words had left behind with a heavy sigh. You wondered what those lips tasted like. Had you been asked to guess, you would have said cherry, or strawberry — although you were certain he had been drinking beer or, worse, cheap tequila shots.

The faux courage that had been motioning your body forward ever since you abandoned the dorms was now slipping in between your fingers as you reached for the hem of his jacket. "You look—" you started, but your mind went blank in a maelstrom of adjectives, amongst which you found barely no insults.

"—smoking hot?" Jungkook ventured. He was not mistaken, but still you scoffed. It the quintessence of your being, the endless sarcasm; you could not just abandon the truth of your nature for a boyfriend. A fake one, to top it all.

"I was going to say stereotyped, but hot also fits. I guess," index pressed against his chest, you leaned forward reducing the space between your bodies to naught. Air escaped in between his teeth when your lips caressed his ear with your murmurations. "What now, baby?" you mumbled, oblivious to his fingers as they traveled up your arm in a tender caress.

"Honestly?" the impish gleam of his eyes was a bad omen or, at least, the indication that you were not prepared in the slightest for what was to come. "I want to kiss the hell out of you, but not here."

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget that it was all an act. Without a second thought, you found yourself biting your lower lip in sheer desire. Lucky you, the boy would most likely think that was part of the fake love, and not your raging hormones coming out to say hello. “I would very much like that, yes,” you purred out against his skin, pressing your chest against his own. His heart was beating fast, but yours was no different. “Where to?”

Jungkook seemed to take a second to calm his nerves, clearing his mind from the impulses that flashed within his needs — if he were to be sincere, you two could forget that plan and just have a private place for yourselves, but there was a protocol to follow, his reputation at stake.  “Couch,” that word came out in a serpentine whisper, muffled as if had been verbalized miles underneath the sea. Against your waist, his palm held your skin in an almost protective manner — yet, both of you were holding back now.

You hummed in agreement. His scent was intoxicating you, the heat of his body was monopolizing your most logical of conceptualizations. “Take me whenever you need me,” you agreed as one of your hands slid down his chest — jesus, those fucking abs — and towards his own hand. You intertwined his fingers in his, loving that position a bit more than you probably should. “Should we?”

If he had said something in return, you did not hear it. Before you could control yourself any further, the boy was already guiding you past the chaotic ocean of exhilarated bodies, holding down to your hand as if it was his own version of salvation. Jungkook was lucky he was hot — very fucking hot, at that — otherwise you would have cracked another joke or two about how eager he appeared to be. Still, you were certain it would backfire.

“I see you want to put up a show,” was what you said instead, accompanying his harsh movements as the two of you arrived upon the center of the room — the heart of the party, if you could say that. From your peripheral vision, you could see splashes of blue and white moving around, signaling that more of his teammates were around. Classic show off. “Want everyone watching.”

“You have no clue, babe.” Jungkook turned around just in time so he could see the glimpses of lust coruscating inside your eyes. Bedroom eyes. Cute. “I want that jacket off.”

“No deal,” you told him promptly. With a groan, the boy threw himself on a beige couch nearby, sitting somewhat close to where another two jocks conversed vigorously, waving their red cups in the air like they were not half full. It was only a matter of seconds before they saw the two of you — more precisely you — and his pretty spectacle would finally begin. “Why do you want to expose your girlfriend like this?”

It was no problem. He could take it off himself.

As a response, Jungkook simply placed his hands on his thighs, signaling you that it would be your seat for the night — seems like you would be sitting in his lap, after all. “Come here, baby,” he requested. Okay, you would be lying through your teeth if you said that the place did not appear to be as inviting as possible. “Let me have a taste of you.”

To hell with it. If you were going to act it out, you might as well put up a show, and calm down your raging hormones as you did so.

And fuck, there were some things that 90s movies could never prepare you for. There was no scene, no soundtrack, no music video able to distract you from how firm his legs were as you sat down on top of them, dress slightly moving up your thighs. There was no director, no storyline that could guide your hands around his neck as you tilted your head and closed your eyes, falling to the absolute misery that was Jeon Jungkook. There was nothing in the entire world that could have made you pull away.

What a terrible fucking idea.

Jungkook groaned as soon as your lips met, quick to set the pace as a quick, needy, sloppy kiss. His hands, before so vacillating, now had traveled to your ass, where he squeezed your flesh, making you press down your hips against his, not letting it go for a second. You melted against his kiss, allowing yourself to sigh and moan against his mouth as his tongue encountered yours. Lacking places to hold onto, your hands moved to his cheeks, then to his hair, intertwining in his black locks and pulling on them.

Okay, there were things you regretted. You thought there was nothing capable of topping the preposterous plan of pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, but that was because you had not reached that point of the night just yet. Because you had still not pulled away just enough so you could speak, caressing his lips with your own, speaking in a voice so filled with lust that you were surprised yourself. “Is that all you can do, kiddo?” you provoked him. “Come on, Jeon, is this how you treat your girl?”

He smirked. “Believe me, princess, there’s nothing I’d love more than treat you the way you deserve. Anything for you. But, you see, the audience is waiting and, as much as I would love to fuck you raw in this couch, I’d rather give the show I promised, and then renegotiate the initial clauses of our little contract,” then, a small pause, “if you are interested, of course.”

The boy was an idiot, or so you had thought: Jeon Jungkook, the dumbass that lets his dick make every essential decision, and doesn’t grasp even half of the references you throw at him. Apparently, that was not the case, and his intelligence was extensive only when he had to protect his pride and bring to term an important business. In other words, he wasn’t dumb, he wa just a selfish little prick.

Fingers sauntering up your thigh, Jungkook murmured in-between delicate kisses, and it made it impossible for you to deliver a witty remark. Every few words he would stop to taste your flesh with the tip of his tongue, and then nip it with his teeth. Lost in the feverish reverie of his tender caresses, you abandoned yourself to the feel of his kisses as his lips marked the path towards your jaw, your cheek. With a sigh falling from your swollen lips, you hoped to express the thirst he had incited, but he merely watched your reaction, diverted. Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing.

“For now,” he said against your ear, marking each word with a tap of his finger against your thigh. “This will have to do.” His thumb slid past the hem of your skirt and fuck, how you wished he were to continue his journey towards your underwear. There had been no specifications about that matter, but you had added your distinctive touch to the outfit. Jungkook did not know yet, but he would have loved to take that off you.

“I really think you can step up your game, Jungkook.” You looked around, biting your lips. None of the players around you were particularly interested in your little affair. Short skirts and exhibitionism were the daily bread of all those jocks. Luckily, that night no one had pulled out their dicks to measure them or start a peeing contest. Perhaps later in the night, when alcohol run freely through their bloodstream, eliminating their inhibition — or what was left of it, anyways. “This show of yours will impress no one.”

As if motioned by the fuel of a good challenge, Jungkook pounced over your lips. His touch was no longer delicate, contained, or meticulous, as it was before. Earlier, all he had wanted was to create a beautiful painting in which you, a girl that would have never had any interest for the jock in the class, was head over heels for him. He cared not about his audience, not anymore, as he could not bring himself to think of the friends he was supposed to impress. His only and most primal desire was to prove himself, to erase the disdainful sneer tainting those lips that were like nectar against his tongue.

You threw yourself off his lap and leaned your back against the arm of the sofa, being trapped between it and his large figure. In the impetus of his sudden adoration, you lost your hold on reality and allowed for him to overtake you, pressing his chest against your own. Jungkook’s hand in the small of your back cushioned your descents to the inferno of his hips pressed against yours, hands exploring your waist, and the curve of your breasts over the tight dress.

It was getting more and more difficult to come to your senses when all you could feel were his palms against your breasts, only to go down to your ass a second later. Your dress was being pulled upwards, your heart overtaken by the intoxicated by rhythm of the song as one of his legs moved in between yours, pressing down on your core — gradually at first, but then strong enough for you to moan loudly against his mouth. This kid was playing with fire. You loved it.

You were out of breath and out of mind when a voice called from the outside world, that universe of flashing comets and red asters circulating around your sweltering bodies. “Hey kid! Jungkook!” the unknown timbre insisted further and, before you could recognize it, Jungkook had pushed himself away from you to smile at a stranger. Whoever it was, you wanted him killed for interrupting your search for nirvana. “You know we have rooms for that kind of unholy shit. Leave all the exhibitionism for Jimin, he loves it.”

With a smirk, his victory became plastered across his douchebag face, “I got carried away, sorry,” Jungkook explained, lips shining with the remnants of your gloss. His hand was still against your waist, but he showed no shame when he winked in your direction, purposefully following your eyes as they grew darker — he was loving it. “Tastes like heaven, y’know?”

The other guy, whose name you could not quite recall, simply rolled his eyes at the out-of-character sentence, “Whatever you say, dude,” he mumbled underneath the music, unaffected by show you two had put up. Instead, his gaze seemed to be a bit lost in the remanent liquid that dwelled on the bottom of his red cup — poor kid was completely wasted. “Uh, by the way, before I forget. Namjoon has been looking for you for like two hours or whatever. He says, and I quote, that he wants to see it or he won’t believe it.”

Jungkook’s smile grew by a few millimeters, finding in that sentence the opportunity he needed. He didn’t need half of your GPA to understand what his friend was referring to, “Yeah, sure thing, man,” he answered. You were amazed how casually he was acting for someone who still had one hand holding tightly to your ass, but you could not claim you did not like it. In fact, he could strip you naked for all you cared, fake boyfriend or not. “Where is he, by the way?”

Chewing on his words for a second, the guy paused. His chocolate-colored eyes got lost in the horizon and, at last, you came to understand that he must have consumed something other than alcohol — hey, no judgement, you were not precisely the morally superior person in that conversation. “He was at the game room with the dudes. I don’t know if they’re still there.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook exclaimed, his palm squeezing your ass once again. Only then did you notice that, in the meantime, his shirt had rolled up a bit. Now you totally could see those abs you have always dreamt about and, good lord, they were even better than what you imagined. If you were not acting then, you would have cursed out his unnamed friend for interrupting that slack of paradise — but hell, the ghostly sensation of his lips on yours still got the best of you. Fucking prick. He was too powerful. “Thanks, Tae. You didn’t see anything.”

Tae… Taehyung. Oh, now you remembered. The kid who got high and ate pizza from the bottom of the pool in freshman year. Disgusting and slightly worrisome. You thought some memories could be left forgotten.

Taehyung suspired. “I did, though,” only then did his gaze navigate back to you, lingering on your face for a couple more seconds than necessary. You didn’t know if it were the drugs acting up, or if he was examining your artificially naive expression. “Hot choice of panties, by the way. Your ass looks great in lacy black. Cheers to that.”

“You have really good taste, buddy.” With a radiant smile, you agreed. Past the blur of weed and alcohol, Taehyung replicated the gesture, and raised his red cup in a giddy toast. Whether he was lauding the glorious roundness of your ass, or the intricate beauty of your one and only pair of expensive panties, you did not care. There was no use for shame within those walls, especially when your ass was indeed hot confined within the soft lace. “Imaginary cheers to that.”

It was a moment of amicable comradery, even though Taehyung was one shot away from becoming the buffon of the party. Around your waist, Jungkook’s fingers tightened but, before you could turn around to face his predictable displeasure, the moment ended, and you were presented with a luciferous smile.

“Noted. Thank you dude, see you around.” Jungkook screamed over the loud bass of a terrible remix of a very popular song you wished was shorter. The constant chit-chat developing around did not help communicate but, luckily, you were not required to hold a challenging conversation that night. With a peck in the lips and a light squeeze of your ass, Jungkook prompted you to move. It was strangely loving — for a jock, at least.

Once anew, he guided you through the crowd, a hand in your waist and the other buried deep in one of the pockets of his jacket. The picture was magazine-worthy. One of those blurry shots, taken with a Polaroid, that could had made it into the cover of an Indie album — even if Jungkook could have starred in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, jacket and all.

“Where is that fucking game room?” The question felt extremely bitter against your tongue when you had to wipe someone else’s sweat off your arm. The party was heating up, and not in the good way. “Please tell me it isn’t some Fifty Shades of Grey shit.”

“Didn’t picture you as one of those.” Jungkook let go of your waist to interwine his fingers in yours. It was calming, the chilliness of his hand against your sweltering skin. “But no, here we never watched that. The dudes are, you know, more into anal compilations and shit like that— not me!” He rushed to say, hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Baby Jesus wouldn’t not approve.”

That was, by far, the weirdest conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Pity, now that I thought we would make a great pair.” You sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find another hot dude to watch my kinky porn with.”

“I— sweet lord.” With shaky hands he massaged his cheeks. You were exhausting, even for him. Good. “We’ll discuss that later.” Jungkook opened one of the doors in the hallway, leading into a big space that was, precisely, only meant to game. “Now we have business to do.”

Biting down on your lower lip, you took a couple steps into the large area, absorbing its details. The first thing you noticed, as your company closed the door behind you two, was that it was soundproof — finally, a blessing for the night. As the excruciating buzzing in your ears still lingered, your hearing started to focus on the diverse conversations that dwelled beyond those closed doors. From what you could notice, there had to be around fifteen people in there — stereotypical jocks and cheerleaders, if you were to be quite honest — and they were mostly segregated into two smaller groups. One of which, you recognized, had the individual you two had been looking for.

Now, Kim Namjoon was a specimen of his own kind. You had no idea what kind of satanic pact had he resorted to, but it had been good enough to gift him the brain of a Harvard professor and the body of a professional athlete — all wrapped up in that team jacket, which suited him so dangerously well. You would be lying through clenched teeth if you were to say you had not checked him out at least once or twice during your shared Advanced Literature classes — but that was a secret that would be buried with you. Again, he was still one of those fraternity types, and blowing up their egos was as easy as blowing other, less christian areas.  

Again, you would be lying if you said you had not considered that either.

Jungkook’s arm found the curvature of your waist once again, making you fall back into your usual acting state. Next to you, the boy was smiling freely — not in a sympathetic manner, but in a I’m-getting-good-sex-tonight kind of smile. He could keep dreaming, for all you cared. “What’s up, Kim?” he cheered, guiding you around the grey couch. Considerably large, it was surrounded by two armchairs, forming a square-like shape in the center of the room. On the wall next to it, a baseball game was silenced on the LED screen. “Thought I wouldn’t see you tonight.”

Namjoon had his elbows resting on a marble table, seating on one of the tall benches that surrounded it. You were surprised he had even found empty space in there, since all you could see was a pandemonium of empty bottles and pizza boxes. “I should be one one saying that, Jeon.” The other jock smiled just as freely, exposing those dimples you had always found unbearably cute. He did not look at you for a second. “You are not one to vanish during a party. Did you get laid or something?”

“See, Namjoon, your friend Jungkook is trying to get laid tonight, but let’s see how that goes, right honey?” You butted in, to Namjoon’s dismay. Very delicately, like the Disney princess you were not. You sat on the couch, paying no mind to the many diverse types of stains dotting it. Kim Namjoon was not going to ignore you, like you were a nothing but a pretty decoration Jungkook carried around to show off — especially not when you could beat his non-existent genius ass any day during a debate. “Hi, Namjoon. Didn’t see you in class last Wednesday.”

“Hangover.” He explained, taking a bite off a chewy slice of cheese pizza. “I have to confess I am surprised. I thought you were joking when you said you two were—”

“—dating, yes. I’m a married man now, Namjoon. No more getting laid with just anybody.” Jungkook flopped by your side. His hand went immediately towards your naked knee, and there it stayed. Very subtle.

“What do you guys talk about?” Namjoon pried, impertinently. In his timbre you could perceive a hint of disbelief, and it was understandable. He had seen you in action, going after your debate opponents like a shark in bloody waters. Jungkook was, compared to the you he had witnessed, a kindergartener in nappies, and he simply couldn’t comprehend how the two of you could work together — or even compliment each other, honestly.

“Volleyball.” Jungkook said, with an enthusiasm that made your wry smile pathetic. “She loves volleyball.”

Namjoon crackled at the unexpectedly joyful response. “Never seen her in a game.”

“I’m more of a theoretical fan of — of the sports.” Eyes disappearing into the fakest smile, you tried to escape the trap Jungkook had thrown you into. Namjoon was correct. You had not set foot in a court ever since high-school, and even back then you had only done so because it was mandatory. “I have watched Haikyuu at least thrice. I’m an expert.”

“She’ll come to the next one.” Jungkook kissed your cheek, interrupting your excused before it was too late. The touch of his petal-like lips was, at the very least, pleasant. “We made a deal. She wears my jacket and I use the shortest pants I own for the game.”

Namjoon chuckled at the idea, still skeptical. You knew he would be a hard one to convince, since he usually saw through your bullshit — both in debates and in real life.  “Yeah, right,” was all that he managed to say, still dodging your gaze. Oh, you saw what he was doing. Sneaky motherfucker. Sly little snake. By avoiding you and focusing on your fake boyfriend, he was both pressing on the one easier to slip on the lie, and annoying you. He knew how you got when you were hot-headed and that was, once again, a recipe for disaster. “In all seriousness, weeaboo anime aside, what do you… theoretically like about volleyball?”

No eye contact still. Fair. Two could play that game.  

“Physics,” you answered within a heartbeat, almost surprising yourself by how naturally that  response came from in between your lips. Not necessarily a lie, too. But that was a long story. “I told you this already. Volleyball can be explained with high school-level of mechanics. Energy and work, force, projectile motion… You know the deal.”

Namjoon hummed, watching closely the line of cheese that dripped down his pizza. “Yeah, I know the deal,” he told you. He had not bought it. “And I know you know it too. My question is,” he paused, looking up to point at Jungkook. “Does he?”

Well, you just had to know it would backfire like that. Still, you barely had time to feel panic starting to germinate in your throat before Jungkook interrupted the conversation with flawless grace, “Not much, that is why she’s teaching me,” perfect. Simple. Fail proof. You could barely believe that the single neuron that inhabited his mind managed to make a synapsis with itself and come up with that. “Yo, man, why are you so defensive all of a sudden? You’re making my girl uncomfortable.”

My girl. You hated how much you liked that.

His friend hesitated for a second, chewing slowly on the piece of food. It didn’t seem like it was any good. In the very least, it was cold. “Yeah. My bad, dude. Bad week,” Namjoon was quick to apologize, which you did not believe for an instant. He was smarter than that, more arrogant than someone that would so fast admit to his own fault. “Guess I just can’t believe you managed to get a girl like Y/N. Life sucks sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you were the one who asked it, even if both of you were thinking it. It was your turn to try and not to get defensive, but it was getting harder and harder by the second. You crossed your legs, which induced for your red dress to slip up your legs. Namjoon followed the movement, and then his gaze was stuck. Oh. Maybe there was another reason for his lack of eye contact. “Don’t tell me that the great captain Kim Namjoon is suddenly jealous.”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. But you do look hotter than ninety-five percent of the chicks I’ve seen all year,” and then, his next sentences were directed straight at Jungkook. “I don’t know if you had the chance to see it already, man, but she has a great taste for underwear.”

Ninety-five was a good percentile, but you were indeed hot in that dress. Namjoon trembled, almost imperceptibly, when you slid your legs over Jungkook’s lap, to cuddle against his chest. In all honesty, the posture was not comfortable, not in that dress. Had you been back in the dorm, in your PJ’s, the tale would have been completely different; but Namjoon’s expression was a poem — a terrible one, at that — and that was enough satisfaction for the moment.

When you sighed, Namjoon replicated it, in a long-drawled, cheese-scented exhalation. The sound he emitted was pitiful, but it helped you comprehend fully the frustration the poor boy was submitted to, and the ultimate reason behind his pizza binge. His was a severe case of blue balls, and you were the one and only cause it. Cute.

“Namjoon, if you really want to address my exquisite taste in underwear, you can tell me directly,” you said. A thread of cheese remained in precarious equilibrium in between his lower lip and his hand, as he struggled for once to follow your words. The genius had short-circuited over lacy panties and the grossest kind of PDA. Another achievement unlocked in the marvelous experience that was college. It would look beautiful in your curriculum, right beside your volunteer work. “Jungkook is more used to seeing me without it. He wouldn’t understand our fantastic taste.”

“Babe,” Jungkook whined, caressing your thigh to make you cognizant of his presence. “I do love your underwear—”

“—Scattered all over your bedroom.” You whispered in the most impish little voice. By the glance he returned, Jungkook had loved the image. Maybe it was just your imagination, maybe you were in character and your discerning was altered, but you could have sworn his dick had twitched at the thought. Interesting.

To drown his sorrow, Namjoon took yet another slice of pizza. The boy could eat. He was still munching his previous victim, and it was making you hungry. Jungkook was very hot and all, but he had not offered to get you a drink or something to eat. Chivalry was, indeed, dead. “Let me ask you a question, Y/N,” Namjoon murmured in-between greasy bites. “It’ll be easy. I promise.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What is it, exactly, what made you fall for our ace?” Namjoon inquired. It was an unexpected question. A cheerleader could have asked the same, waiting you to offer a bland response in the trite language all popular girls had long mastered like: his big, big eyes; his toothpaste commercial worthy smile, the humongous size of his — not his brain, that was for certain.

But it was not a cheerleader the one to make the question, but Namjoon. Out of all the athletes in the house, Namjoon was the only one you had ever exchanged more than a few words with. Interesting words. The kind that — put together in a coherent sentence — form conversation two functional adults can take pleasure in. “Does he read Whitman to make you sleep?” He pressed further.

Before you could think twice, the words were already departing from your lips. “He rants about your pep-talks, that’s enough to have me snoring in seconds.”

He scoffed. “Nice comeback, it’s a pity that you’ve been avoiding my question like the plague,” Namjoon said in what appeared to be a groan, patience starting to run thin. At last, he appeared to have finished eating his horniness away, for he dropped the last slice of pizza back in the box. “Let me rephrase that, then—”

Next to you, Jungkook fumbled on his seat. “—Namjoon, bro, that’s enough,” he said firmly, almost an order. From the way Namjoon’s eyebrows moved together into a frown, you could tell that such serious demeanor was also uncommon amongst his group of friends. Jungkook was only serious in two situations: during games, and when his white knight complex had been activated. You would guess that was the latter. “I know it’s hard to believe, all right? Even I don’t buy it sometimes. But this is exactly why we didn’t tell you guys earlier, I knew you’d have a blast interrogating my girlfriend. And this is not cool, alright? It’s not cool that you’re over here talking about her underwear and acting like you’d be a total catch compared to me. Fuck that shit, dude, don’t ruin the night for us just because you got some jealousy stuck up your ass.”

Silence. The other boy took a second, then two, to chew what was left on his mouth, closely analyzing his friend. You could see the wheels moving inside Namjoon’s brain and — unlike Jungkook — he had more than one synapsis to make. “Hey, fair enough,” he said. And then he started smiling. Actually smiling. Putting-the-Cheshire-Cat-To-Shame kind of smile. “What has gotten into you tonight, uh? Jesus. I’m just fucking with you, didn’t think you’d get this overprotective. That’s some serious shit you’ve gotten yourself into, Jeon.”

Jungkook seemed to take an instant to fully digest the unforeseen change of demeanor, then joined his friend in his laugh. “Bro, what the fuck? You were annoying as hell,” he was clearly puzzled, even if you could see sheer alleviation in that smile. Oh, honey. He was not acting over there, was he? Poor kid really took that to heart. “Get outta here with that interrogation bullshit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Look at that, you already know one famous victorian character,” Namjoon sarcastically celebrated, turning back at you — still living in the apex of confusion. You should have stayed home and read a book, where men are predictable and fraternity athletes as just a ghost in your memory. “You’ve been a positive influence so far, Y/N, props to that. I’ve been trying to get him to at least watch the movies for ages.”

“He only agreed to watch it once I explained Iron Man featured in it.” Taking advantage of your fake-girlfriend privileges, you slid your hand under Jungkook’s shirt. Fingers dawdling over his warm skin, you delighted in the sensation of his muscles quivering under your touch. It would not be noticeable to Namjoon — although he was particularly sharp that night. Words encompassing your feathery caresses, you murmured into his ear. “I’m thirsty, babe.”

Namjoon looked away when you nuzzled Jungkook’s neck, to bury his jealousy under another pile of cheese.

“Do you want some beer?” Jungkook blinked twice, trying to decipher the sudden change in the inflections of your voice. It was no longer playful, teasing, but dripping something he could have only categorised as desire. Jungkook was dense, enough to miss the a very evident innuendo by a mile. “I can go get you something.”

“No, not that.” Your fingers treaded an undiscovered path towards the lines of his hips, and the hem of his pants. His brain had missed the memo, but his dick was extremely eager to catch up, and was now constricted against his belt. The moment he rose from the couch, the boner would be exposed, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to drag you away from the room and towards his bedroom. “Jungkook… Let’s go.”

“I need to go to the bathroom first.” He excused himself to Namjoon, who had decided to embrace his solitude by hugging the pizza box and returning his attention to the baseball game. His team was losing. Big night for Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook pecked your lips and scurried from below your body. The room was cold now that he had left, and Namjoon was not willing to talk.

“So… pizza, huh?” you said, fixing your clothes. The last thing our brave captain needed was to take another glimpse at your ass.

Namjoon stared into the screen, absorbed by the little figures moving around. It was hard to believe that someone like him could he find baseball so entrancing. “So…Jungkook, huh?”

There it was. Jealousy, in its rawest form. He would never be so explicit in front of Jungkook, they were friends after all, but with you Namjoon could say whatever thoughts crossed his mind. “You know Jungkook isn’t as stupid as he wants all of campus to believe. He might not be a genius like you, but he is smart. He’s just a little bit caught up in the popularity game,” you said. The words leaving your mouth surprised you. Kind words for Jeon Jungkook, what a night to be alive. “Don’t be so surprised, Namjoon.”

The baseball game was no longer as relevant, for Namjoon deigned to look at you. Browns knitted in incredulity, he dropped the last slice of pizza and cleaned his hands in the team jacket. Symbolically, it was not a good thing, but he was probably overdosing on cheese. “I’m not surprised. Maybe you like him, after all.”

“Maybe I do.” You confessed with a quick wink and a guilty smile. “He gives good head, too.”

“That’s too much information.” Namjoon was nauseated, but he would never say it aloud. There was also the possibility that it was not nausea the grimace transfiguring his cute face, but jealousy. “You should go get your boyfriend, though, I think he got lost in his own reflection or something.”

Just like Namjoon had suggested, you followed Jungkook’s trail towards the bathroom. Trail, as in asking the couples making out in the hallway where the bathroom was. The first pair had not responded you, they were too busy sucking each other’s tongues to even form a coherent sentence. Titty in hand, the man in the second pair of lovers, explained where to find the bathroom — that was also known as the knocking shop.

To be fair, you knocked, but the music was too loud and the sound too timid. When you received no indication from Jungkook, you opened the door. At first you could not see past the outrageously pink sink. It was horrifyingly ugly. Jungkook rested against it, his forehead was pressed against the mirror, his warm exhalations creating beautiful designs over the reflective surface. One of his hands gripped tightly the sink, the veins of his arms visible, like rivers you had loved to explore through your fingertips. His other hand was trapped within the confines of his jeans, pressed against his dick. With every sigh and every moan, he would roll his hips against his hand, fucking himself into oblivion. All signs of arrogance vanished from his features when he was about to cum. Vulnerability looked so pretty on him.

You wished there was a joke you could crack, even if to yourself, that could serve as a coping mechanism to whatever the fuck you were being presented with. Still, nothing came out of your lips besides a loud, slightly horrified:

“What the actual fuck, Jungkook?”