#Even though I know it’s basically poison I have so much social anxiety and a drink just makes things feel more natural | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Try to have fun, his ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

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

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

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

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

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

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

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

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

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

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N L/N.

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“SHIT! Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

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

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

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

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

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

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

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

x x x x x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

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

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

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

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

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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fernpost · 3 years

Text

looking forwards

[link to ao3]

Angus McDonald, boy detective. Greatest detective, if you asked him. And if you asked most of his clients.

He could solve any case, any mystery or murder or missing persons case. He’s always able to find the truth.

He just struggles sometimes, when it comes to himself.

His own emotions are swirling masses of weird bubbly feelings . He does not like how hard it is to decipher his own feelings.

Deciphering people's feelings about him is often just as hard. He knows social cues. He’s studied them thoroughly, and knows why people say what when he’s asking them certain questions and what they’re hiding when they ask him to leave.

Working a case is easy.

He’s solved plenty of murders before. Those are easy. Child’s play! And Angus is not a child anymore. He’s twelve whole years old, and had the first birthday party he’s ever really enjoyed to celebrate with all his friends.

Sure, most of them were adults, but he’s always gotten along really well with adults.

And they’re his family, so it’s fine-

Well. They’re not really his family. He’s not blood related to them. He’s not sure he has any immediate family now that his grandpa is gone. He’s never asked Taako or Magnus or Merle of Kravitz or Killian or- or any of them if they consider him family.

They’re his friends. That’s fine. He’s perfectly content with that (he thinks. Again, his own emotions are confusing).

But that’s okay. Because he’s going to school soon. It’s kind of far away from where most of them live, though. Far from the home Taako, Lup, Barry, and Kravitz have been sharing. Where Angus has been staying.

Very far from where Magnus has been setting up his school. And a whole day's ride away from Killian and Carey’s home.

The school is three hours away from Angus’s ho- from Taako’s house, where Angus is staying.

He hasn't- he hasn’t told Taako he’s going to school yet. He doesn’t know how to tell him he’s going to need to move out because obviously he would never ask Taako to uproot his whole life- all of them to uproot their lives just for Angus to be able to attend school. Not when they finally got settled down.

He really doesn’t even need school, but when his parents passed away and he went to live with his grandpa he dropped out. And if he wants to go on to college (if Lucas is serious about the potential teaching job) he needs to at least graduate high school. He was almost done too, but his grandpa didn’t have a lot of money like his parents did, so he started solving more and more cases to help out.

His parents didn’t give his grandpa any of their money because they didn’t expect him to be around when they passed on- not that they were bad people! He doesn’t mean to make them sound bad. They weren’t bad. They weren’t the best, he guesses. They’re not as fun as Taako, or as warm as Lup, and didn’t give as many hugs and Magnus, and didn’t talk to him about science like Barry, or-

But they were nice. They just weren’t really into parenting. They still left their small fortune to him, he’s just not old enough for it.

He’s thinking of petitioning the banks and saying he’s perfectly independent to get the money so he can move out easier.

He wonders if Kravitz would help, because he’s really good at that type of stuff, and the bank workers would be much more likely to listen to an adult than him.

Being young had its perks when solving cases, but it sucked for his day-to-day life.

It also sucked when his stomach churned for no reason that he could deduce. He’s just sitting in the kitchen, watching Lup cook in her still-slightly-fresh body as she sings a funny folktale song (Barry is sitting next to him, and he’d leaned over when she’s started singing to tell him how she learned this song early on in a world that had no writing system, and the song was about a man who could never remember where he left his pants. Angus didn’t really get it, but Barry kept laughing and smiling like it was the funniest thing in the world. Angus was pretty sure Barry would laugh at anything Lup did as a joke, though. He didn’t need to be a great detective for that).

But despite how good the food smells, his stomach hurts really bad. He’s barely eaten today, so it can't be food poisoning. Not that he’s had that since moving in- the Taaco’s are wonderful cooks and he trusts anything they feed him implicitly.

He tunes out Lup as he thinks.

The stomach pains are probably anxiety. Kravitz was telling him how he used to get them all the time, so it’s possible it’s just that.

But he shouldn’t be anxious . He’s a big kid- he’s just waiting for Taako to get home so he can tell him he’s moving out.

He has already looked for an apartment. Once Lucas' Academy of Arcane Sciences is fully up and running, he should have a highschool diploma and will be able to move on campus to work on his own degree. And be a student teacher while he works on it. It’s very exciting! If he should be feeling any physical effects from his emotions, it should be excitement, not this. This gross conglomerate of mushy feelings he can’t piece together.

He hates this.

Lup is holding a spoon to him, and Angus snaps back to the present to hear her softly ask, “you okay, little dude?” He doesn’t like the look of concern on her face- she’s been through too much to have to worry herself with him (he can’t get the century out of his head, these people are so amazing and they just let him hang around them. He doesn’t know what he’s doing right and he’s scared he’s going to stop doing that and they’re not going to like him anymore).

“I’m fine, Miss Lup! Thank you for asking.” He folds his hands tighter in his lap as he smiles. Whatever is on the spoon smells great, but he’s not sure his stomach is up for it yet.

Lup continues to stare at him for another second before pushing the spoon a little closer, “if you say so. Now, tell me, how’s it taste?”

Angus shakes his head and pulls back, “my stomach isn’t feeling too good right now, I don’t want to infect the rest of the food if it’s contagious.”

A hand appears on his head and he jumps a little, still not used to the casual touch-language of the household, and Barry’s nasally voice joins the conversation. “You don’t feel hot. Want us to call Merle over and give you a check up?”

The spoon is back, “it’s a good soup, Ango. It shouldn’t upset your stomach, and I can just get a new spoon. Barry can call Merle while you give me pointers.”

“You don’t need to, it’s fine really.” He waves his hands at Barry before turning to Lup. “And I’m not sure what help I can be with the cooking, I haven’t improved much these past few months even with Taako walking me through those other recipes.”

Lup snorts, “you’re improving much faster than Barry ever did. And I haven’t been helping Kravitz much with it, but he’s worse than anyone I’ve ever met at cooking. You’re doing just fine.”

Angus straightens up, discomfort momentarily disregarded, “Mr. Kravitz hasn’t needed to eat or cook in a long time, so he’s forgotten a lot of the basics so it’s not fair to judge me against him.”

“Sure, sure.” Lup waves her free hand in the air, the other still holding the spoon. “Still, this spoon is staying in the air until you taste it.” She glances at Barry, “and don’t worry about bothering Merle, he’ll never admit it but he likes the excuse to come over. Barry will pick him up; gives him more practice on perfecting the portal spell.”

Angus frowns, but reaches out to take the spoon anyways, “you really don’t need to call him. I’m sure it’ll pass by tomorrow.”

A hand is now on his shoulder, and Angus glances over to make eye contact with Barry, who speaks. “I won’t call him tonight, but if you still feel bad tomorrow we’ll tell him, okay?”

“Okay.” He’s not going to tell him if his stomach still hurts tomorrow, because it shouldn’t. Because he’s going to tell Taako right when he gets home and there will be nothing making him anxious or sad or excited or whatever that will make his stomach hurt. Because he’s going to do it.

He punctuates the thought by sticking the spoon in his mouth. Lup has turned back around, a fresh spoon stirring the pot, so she doesn’t see Angus’s eyes widen, but she turns back to face him with a smile when he gasps.

“This is really good, Miss Lup! Thank you.”

“Anything missing from it?” She crosses her arms, a new spoon dangling from her fingers as she twirls it around. It feels like a test, and the stomach ache is back.

Maybe it is from anxiety, because he used to get them before really hard tests. But why is he anxious? Taako is most likely going to take the news well, because Angus will finally be out of his hair.

(But maybe he doesn’t want that. Maybe Taako being okay with him moving out would hurt. Maybe the thought of Taako not just being okay, but being excited at the thought of him moving out is making him sick with worry and sadness and-)

“I’m not sure what else. It tastes perfect as-is.” He can’t think about cooking anymore. “I’m going to read on the couch, if that’s alright.”

The twirling of the spoon pauses, before she gives him a smile he knows is a bit forced, “okay, but when Taako comes home complaining that something is missing from the soup we’re blaming Barry.”

“Hey!”

Angus slides from the stool, moving to the sink and placing the spoon in there before heading to the couch. The living room is open to the kitchen and dining room, and he can hear Lup puttering around in there as she and Barry speak quietly to each other.

He’s unsure if they’re talking about him, or just being polite because he said he was reading, but his stomach twists again anyways. He picks up his book from where he set it on the coffee table this morning, and tries to read- he really does.

But he can’t focus.

The words blur together as he stares down at them blankly. He’s so zoned-out he misses the sound of the door opening, and the ensuing whispering in the kitchen.

It’s only when a hand is on his shoulder does he notice someone else is in the room, and he almost jumps out of his skin. Turning his head quickly, he catches sight of the gaudy sequin coat Taako had bought a few months ago. He’s paired it with a pair of jeans with tassels, and Angus doesn’t know much about fashion, but he’s fairly sure that’s not a normal outfit combination.

“Lup said your stomach hurt? Did you eat the so-called muffins Barry made yesterday? Because I told him those were toxic for human consumption. Probably dwarven consumption as well.”

Angus shakes his head, eyes following Taako as he slips his coat off and throws it on the armchair. He’d taken one look at those burnt muffins and slid them behind the milk, hiding them to prevent anyone from eating them. The elf walks around the couch and sits on the opposite side as him, tucking his knees under him as he stares at him with those eyes that are far more observant than most people think.

“Uh-huh. I’m throwing them out anyway. Don’t want to risk it.”

Angus nods, fiddling with the pages of his book. He runs a finger down the edge, finding a temporary calm in the weird texture of the uneven edges. He’s wearing a crease into the sides, he knows, but that’s fine. His grandpa liked to talk about the beauty of a well-loved book.

He’d spent all night planning on what he was going to stay. He wants to make sure Taako knows he isn’t throwing his kindness back in his face, and that he is going to be able to do this mostly on his own. He doesn’t have many belongings, so the move itself would be pretty easy. There won’t be much for Taako to worry about. Angus has always been very self-reliant. He isn’t a pushover, and is fine taking care of himself. While living here has been nice, he’s fine going back to living like that.

A foot knocking against his knee gets his attention, and he glances over to Taako. The elf’s face is pinched, ears flicking back and forth.

It’s a weird expression to see directed at him. Taako speaks, “you with me, Agnes?”

He nods, eyes flitting away. The nickname is an endearment, something he figured out soon after he started living on the moonbase. Their story being projected into his mind only reinforced that knowledge; seeing how Taako interacted with the others (and how the others teased everyone as well) proves that Taako being mean normally shows he cares.

He states instead at the fireplace; it’s still kinda dirty because no one has wanted to clean it out from when Lup caused it to flare up during a particularly intense board game night (they banned board games when the fire was going after that, at least while Lup was in her lich form. Far too much magical energy waiting to be released).

“Angus. You sure you’re feeling okay?”

He doesn’t mean to flinch, but seeing a hand come towards his face after already being stressed all day caused him to react unfavorably.

The hand yanks itself away, and Angus forces himself to look over at Taako, apology already leaving. “Sorry, sir. I just didn’t expect it- I’m fine, really.” He almost says ‘I promise,’ but stops himself. He doesn’t like lying, and it wouldn’t have been a lie but it wouldn’t have been the full truth.

Taako doesn't seem to believe him anyways, as he squints at him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Angus starts, “I’m not sick!”

“I know you’re not sick, but you’re acting all weird.” He wiggles his fingers, and it almost makes Angus laugh.

He takes a deep, steadying breath. It only makes his stomach clench even more. His face gets hot, and suddenly his throat is tight and he can’t- he can’t do it- he doesn’t want-

“I need to move out.” The words leave him at once, just barely slow enough to be comprehensible.

The soft conversation in the kitchen stops at once, though neither of them walk over to the couch. Taako is staring at him, face blank.

He finds himself beginning to ramble. He hates it, he’s normally more composed, but working a case is much, much easier than navigating people he cares about. “Mr. Miller offered me a position at his school once I graduate, and the school is on the other side of town. I can’t make the commute each day, it’s too far and the walk would be too much. So, I found a small place that’s cheap, and once I get access to my parents money they left me I’ll be fine on that front. And-”

“Miller? Lucas Miller?” Taako cuts him off. He hasn’t done that in a long while, and it shuts Angus up immediately.

“Yes? He’s opening his school, the Academy of Arcane Sciences.”

“And he wants you to teach there?”

Angus' face flushes, and he gets hot with indignation. “I’m very smart, sir. I am very qualified to teach, and it’s not a stretch that he would seek me out and-”

Taako puts his hands up. “Not what I was implying. You’re just young.” He glares off to the side, before pulling his crystal out. “Thought Miller was above hiring a child.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“How old are you, then?” Taako glances back over at him, eyebrows raised in that annoying way he gets when he thinks he’s made an excellent point. He’s typing without looking down, and Angus wants to know what he’s doing.

“I- that’s not what I meant.”

Taako leans back on the couch, looking back at his crystal. “You should be focused on being a kid, not teaching nerds at Lucas’s subpar school.”

The indignation that started when Taako brushed off what he’s been worrying about has been building and building. He clenches his hands into fists, letting the book drop to the floor as he stands and yells, “stop trying to make me have the childhood you wanted!”

He regrets it immediately, but can’t bring himself to look at Taako. The room is so, so quiet. It’s almost worse than if they yelled at him. He runs past the couch, dodging the hand that reaches out as he passes by Taako. He slips into the room he’s been staying in, closing the door and locking it behind him. He sits on the floor, back resting against his bed, and shoves his face into his knees, pulling them tightly into himself.

At least he made it easy, right? He’ll wait for Taako to cool down, finish packing his things, and leave.

He doesn’t even know why he said that. He knows Taako was just being nice, even if he phrased it poorly. He just wants him to be a kid because he knows what it’s like to not have a childhood. Angus had no reason to say that. He didn’t mean it.

The hot press of tears builds in his eyes and he forces them down. He has no right to cry when he was the one in the wrong.

Knowing Taako, Lup, and Barry are in there, talking about him, is almost as bad as the guilt. Not knowing what they’re saying is disquieting.

It doesn’t take long for a soft knocking on his door to fill the room. He says nothing, but looks up at it. He stares at the handle, checking it’s still locked.

“Angus, it’s Lup. Can I come in?”

He considers not answering. They’ve been good about not barging in before, when he makes it clear he wants to be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone, though. He’s just not sure he wants to have this conversation.

“Yeah.” He stands, unlocking the door and holding the handle. Breathes. Opens the door.

Ears tilted down low, Lup stands there with hands in a neutral position at her side. Gods, she’s being so aware of her movements right now so she doesn’t startle him. He turns, walks over to his desk, and stands by it. He’s now very aware of his backpack and small suitcase against the wall, half-packed. Not enough to be obvious, but enough so that when he told them he was moving he could do so quickly.

Lup is staring at it. She hesitates, then goes to sit on his bed. She doesn’t shut the door all the way, leaving it just barely cracked.

He hates being treated like this.

“We’re not mad.” She begins, and Angus can’t bring himself to look at her as she talks, staring instead at his bags. “Taako isn’t mad either. We’re just confused as to why you want to move out.”

Angus furrows his brow, glancing over to Lup for a second before retraining his eyes on his bags, “I told T- I said that it was too far for me to walk there each day.”

“Me and Barry have basically mastered rifts, we could bring you there and back you know. So could Kravitz.”

“I already thought about asking you to, but you’re called to go help the Raven Queen randomly, and I wouldn’t want to be stuck on campus.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “I didn’t phrase it very well out there.” He forces himself to make eye contact, “I am very grateful for everything you all have provided me, and I’m not leaving because I’m unhappy or anything. I just know I’ll be fine on my own, and I really want to go to school.”

Lup purses her mouth, “I’m not going to argue that you aren’t responsible or that you couldn’t live on your own. But you are young, there’s no reason you should be teaching at this age.”

“I’m not though! I’m finishing high school, and then student teaching until I graduate from his school. I’ll just be helping the professors until I have the proper qualifications.” He clenches his hands, trying to keep himself calm. He doesn’t like when people don’t understand what he’s saying.

She takes in what he says, keeping her gaze steady. “Okay. That’s better. But, you still shouldn’t be living on your own, little dude.”

“I used to-”

She holds her hand up, “come on, this is a group conversation. The other two people living here should be here for this.” Angus casts an anxious glance at the door when she says that. She continues on, “before we go out there, though, we do need to talk about what you said.”

Panic fizzles through him again. “I know! I didn’t mean it, and I’m really, really sorry. I just got frustrated because he was patronizing me and I don’t like being treated like that. I’m very smart and capable- I’ve done- I’m just-” He feels his emotions begin to well up again, and it only makes him more upset. He knows he’s more mature than this. He’s caught numerous serial killers, solved murder cases, and helped so many people. He can keep up with serious adult conversations, as well as banter with everyone easily. He’s good at words. He hates getting sensitive like this.

“Hey, hey. Angus, it’s okay. Breathe.” She steps towards him, moving slowly to not startle him and he hates how he’s already shown that she needs to do that. “Taako was being rude when you spoke to him, no one is denying that. But what you said at the end was also pretty rude. And we understand needing to take a minute to ourselves, but we have to make sure we have hard conversations. You’re telling us you don’t want us to treat you like a child, and we are not going to baby you. But you are still very young, especially compared to us.” She closes the gap to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, kneeling down. “Being mature means hard conversations. Being nice means having harder conversations. All we want from you, Angus, is for you to be honest with us and listen to us when we want to be honest with you.” She removes her hand from his shoulder and spreads her arms wide, offering a hug.

If he says no, she won’t make a fuss. He knows this.

He crashes into her, smushing her face into her shoulder. Her arms tighten around him as she runs her hand through his hair. “Here’s the plan. We go out there, Taako apologizes to you for being an asshole, you apologize for snapping, and then we all talk about you moving out, okay?”

Pulling his head away from her shoulder, he nods. He knows if he tried to speak, he would devolve into tears. She smiles and pulls him back into the hug.

They stay there for another moment, before Angus pulls away. Lup stands and gestures for him to lead the way.

His stomach clenches again, but some it’s not as intense as it was a few minutes ago.

They walk down the short hallway, and find Taako and Barry sitting on the couch. Both are staring at them as they enter the room, and Angus finds his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I shouldn’t have said that, sir. I’m sorry.” Angus says it fast. He hopes it doesn’t sound dishonest, the way it tumbled out of his mouth, but he knows if he slowed down the tears would fall too and he doesn’t want that.

Taako moves to stand, but Angus watches as Barry’s hold on his hand keeps him on the couch. Taako, instead smiles. “It’s okay, Ango. I was being an ass first. Should have listened to you all the way instead of cutting you off. Taako’s better than that.”

Lup brushes past Angus, moving to sit on the armchair next to the couch. Angus stays where he is. “I am still moving, though.”

No one speaks for a moment, but all three of them look at each other. After a moment of silent conversation, the type born from living together for a long, long time, Taako speaks up. “Okay. We’ve been talking about getting a bigger house anyways. This one is too close to the city and when the others visit it’s far too crowded. We need more extra bedrooms.”

Angus blinks. Then blinks again. “What?”

Lup sighs. “That’s one way to bring it up. We’ve already been talking about it- there’s a chunk of land just outside of the east end of the city. It’s not far from the school we assume is the one you plan on attending. Magnus has already said he’ll help us fix up the house there.”

He is still wildly confused.

Barry gathers that, and he sighs, “we will all move. So you can be closer to your school.”

He starts shaking his head, “no, you guys just settled down, you don’t need to do that.”

“Do you really think you could make us do anything we don’t want to do?” Taako asks as he begins to walk over to Angus. He mimics the position Lup took earlier, squatting in front of him. “If you really don’t want to live with us, fine. But we had already been talking about getting a bigger place. This isn’t a sudden decision- if Krav wasn’t on some mission he could tell you the same thing. The house we were looking at was empty before the Hunger arrived, and it got fucked up even more during the fight, so the land there is cheap. So if you want to stay with us- and I’m not asking what you think we want, I’m asking what you want- then one of the rooms will be yours.”

The tears he’s been working so hard to hold back begin to fall, so he just nods quickly. He lets Taako pull him into a hug, “I’d- I like living with you. Are you- you sure?”

“When has Taako ever lied?”

Angus just laughs, and does so even harder when he hears a pillow thwack against the back of Taako’s head (it’s a common occurrence in this house).

He feels someone approach on the side, and their hug is yanked to the side, both of them stumbling as Lup pulls them towards her, and he glances up to see Barry hovers right beside them. Taako must see him too, “Come on, Barold. Looks like it’s hug time.”

It’s awkward, and not at all very comfortable, but it’s warm. Angus’s tears have dried up, and he’s about to pull away when the familiar zip of a portal being created precedes Kravitz’s voice.

“Oh, am I interrupting?”

Taako laughs, “just missing out on a group hug.”

“Come on,” Lup speaks up now, her voice coming from just behind Angus’s ear, “it’s a family hug.”

Angus barely has time to process that when Kravitz steps forward. He’s almost as awkward as Barry, but it’s nice.

They separate eventually, Lup heads back to the kitchen to finish the food, with Barry close behind. Kravitz gives Taako a hello kiss, the two of them sitting on the couch, and from their low tones Angus can tell Taako is giving him a quick rundown of… today.

Angus see’s his book was placed on the coffee table at some point, and sits on the armchair once he grabs it, pushing Taako's discarded jacket to the side. Opening it to where he left off, the page is bent with a large crease down the center, from when he dropped it on the floor. He reads for a minute, before Taako speaks up.

“Mending should get rid of that crease, if you like.” Taako says.

Angus just smiles and shakes his head. “It just proves it’s used.”

He shrugs, looking down at his crystal, and Kravitz nudges him. It causes Taako to huff and hold out the crystal. A flyer for a recreational soccer team is displayed.

Join the new Neverwinter recreational soccer league! Ages 10-14. Help your kids make new memories and friends- Create everlasting bonds!

Angus frowns, “what’s this?”

“Soccer team. Was looking for one in the area when we started looking for potential houses to move to. Planned on signing you up.”

Tears begin to well up in his eyes again, and Angus finds himself frustrated. Not with Taako, no, of course not. Not now, not with this. But with himself, and how emotional he’s being.

Because he’s been talking about Caleb Cleveland books at Taako for so long now, and he’d always assumed he’d only been tolerating it. But Caleb Cleveland was a part of a soccer team- it wasn’t even a big part of the books. Angus has probably only mentioned it once or twice. And yet, Taako specifically looked for a soccer team and-

“Thank you, Taako!” He grins, and the way Taako’s ears are flickering, he knows he’s embarrassed.

“Just thought you could use the exercise. You know, you can’t be running around solving crimes if you can’t run.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he snarks back, “but sir, you never do physical training and you saved the world.”

“I just transmute my legs to be strong and fast if I need it. Or get Magnus to carry me.”

He leans further onto Kravitz, who smiles. “Or he just calls me to pick him up.”

“Exactly!”

Snuggling back into his chair, Angus holds the book close to his chest, “thank you, really, sir.”

“Come on, little dude. We’ve been over this. The ‘sir’ thing is so formal.”

“Would you prefer me to call you ‘sappy bitch’?” He turns up his fake innocent charm, the one he uses often on cases, as he says it.

Kravitz bursts out laughing, and he can hear Barry and Lup in the kitchen do the same.

Taako flares up, pointing an accusing finger at him, “who taught you that kind of fucking language!”

“I’ve always known curse words!”

“Not in my house!” Taako stands, and Angus climbs out of the chair and starts running. He knows what will happen if Taako catches him, so he runs to Barry, calling out for help.

Barry, the traitor, only holds him still so Taako can grab him and ruffle his hair. He begins yelling at Barry, cursing his name, but it’s hard to get the words out through his laughter.

Kravitz is the one who saves him, pulling him out of their arms and holding him high in the air. “Do not assault the child, please.”

Taako steps towards Kravitz, “you heard what he called me, didn’t you?”

“And he was right.”

Taako’s affronted gasp is so loud, it must scratch at his throat as he begins coughing.

Angus is giggling, kicking his dangling feet lightly in the air.

Whatever Lup is pulling off the stove smells delicious, and he cannot wait to begin eating.

As they sit down, Taako looks over at him and says, "you know, you should be careful about accepting a teaching job at Lucas's lame school. Taako here is working on a much cooler idea, and he could use a smart kid like you, if you can pass the rigorous application process."

"What is it?" Angus asks, getting excited. He hasn't heard Taako talking about anything like this.

"Top secret."

Angus laughs, "it won't be for long!"

"You're pre-emptively fired, then."

"Wait-"

#angus mcdonald #taako #lup #barry bluejeans #taz balance #my works

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spencerspecifics · 3 years

Text

This is chapter two to that fic I posted a few months ago! I'm calling this fic "Technical Analyst". Enjoy :)

Technical Analyst (ch.2)

Chapter one here

———————————————————————

Derek started his search for more information at the beginning, the FBI database. He knew Spencer’s first and last name, plus his old division, he should be able to find it easily.

And he did, it wasn’t a lot of information, though. All Spencer’s personal information was blacked out, only could be opened by a unit chief or anyone else higher up. Which meant he’d have to go crawling back to Hotch to learn anything about the guy.

Damn, he was almost back at the start of his search, knowing nothing. But he wasn’t, he still had a bit of information on Reid, but not a lot, not enough. So he read all he could on the guy.

He’s a doctor, but in what, medical training? That seemed like the most reasonable answer, but if that’s the case- what’s a medical professional doing working on their computers? Derek wanted to learn more about that.

Past that, all Derek could see about him was his previous work in domestic terrorism. And he had an okay record. The chief unit agent had a few notes about him on the reports from their cases, such as; “While Dr. Spencer Reid is a bright individual, we found the information he does hold to not always be the most helpful. With that being said, we’ve set him on the research end of our work, to help him learn more and to help our field agents stay focused.” “Dr. Spencer Reid is an amazing researcher for the domestic terrorism unit, but he doesn’t socialize strongly with the rest of the group.” “Dr. Spencer Reid seems more interested in the scientific behavioral aspects of why our unsub’s do what they do, while that is helpful for de-escalation when we encounter our unsub’s, (which our other agents take care of, as Dr. Spencer Reid isn’t in the field much.) it is not necessary, as he is not a profiler, even though he has trained with SSA Jason Gideon. We have now set him on research full time.”

Derek kept scrolling, similar notes kept showing up, Dr. Spencer Reid was smart- but not always conventially, he was specifically interested in behavioral studies- so why wasn’t he with Garcia? Or on the field with the BAU? Not to mention he had trained with Jason Gideon, one of the BAU’s best agents. Morgan had only met Gideon briefly before he retired, and since then he hadn’t heard much of the guy (except for what Rossi would say once and a while.)

Derek had enough bread crumbs about the genius to put his next move together, he was going to ask the genius about his favorite behavioral cases (if he had looked over any, which Derek had a feeling he had). He was also going to try and apologize, Derek didn’t know if he upset the guy about the domestic terrorism unit question, but it was just plain curiosity. He wasn’t trying to upset or offend, he was just curious. He had no open cases, after all, what was he supposed to do? Finish logging his cases like a normal person? No, and he had already had that done (the last thing he had needed was Spencer putting them through VICAP, which he did at that insane speed of an hour). So Derek was making work for himself, investigating this genius he had never heard of before.

Spencer had made it back to his way too small office, practically shaking from an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t pinpoint as he did his best to shut the door behind him (which sadly took a few tries, as his hands were shaking a bit too much for him to get a hold on the handle. He ended up pushing the door shut with the toe of his shoe instead).

Was it anxiety? Stress? Anger? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t angry at anyone, more at the bureau as a whole. He was mad he was demoted, but he had been living with that for six months now, the time frame for being reasonably mad had long been over by now.

But as soon as Derek had asked him why he was out of domestic terrorism, something flipped inside Spencer’s head. He never had to explain why he left before. Not to his mom in his letters to her, he just told her he was transferring to a different unit- to which she said that was good, and the less scary work he had to do was better for him (and for her piece of mind).

And when he had met Garcia, he didn’t have to explain himself, she never really asked. Hotchner or Strauss must’ve told her in advance why Spencer was now going to work alongside her and Kevin, but she kept her curiosities surrounding Spencer’s career path to herself. Kevin was the same as Garcia in that regard, he never asked. And Spencer wasn’t that close to Kevin, anyways. All their conversations revolved around computer work, or the occasional conversation about Doctor Who. But that was it, it never got personal.

Point is, Reid never had to explain to anyone why he was out of domestic terrorism. No one asked, no one dug deep. No one was curious. And Spencer couldn’t just answer Derek by saying; “They kicked me out because I didn’t click, I didn’t have any field hours. And because I wasn’t important enough to them to be saved. They let me go, budget cuts.” No, Spencer couldn’t say that.

It’s not that Spencer couldn’t admit defeat. He could, it’s just in this case, these people didn’t need to know about his defeats. He was working with them for a week. A week, that’s all. He didn’t want to tell them his life story, he didn’t want to tell them all the bad parts about his life. He didn’t want them to know about his failures, especially this one. It embarrassed him. The less the BAU agents knew about him, the better, in his opinion.

Spencer was standing in his office, still having not moved from where he pushed the door shut after he had entered. He just needed a second, he was still slightly shaking.

Maybe he should start seeing a therapist again. But maybe not, it’s not like he was having an attack of any kind. He was just overwhelmed. The thought of explaining why he left domestic terrorism was too much, the anxiety behind the explanation, then the embarrassment, not to mention his anger towards the bureau, and the stupid stress he felt of his daily job of being a glorified IT worker- it was just too much.

Spencer took a deep breath in. The shaking was slowing down ever so slightly, a good sign. He stepped towards his desk chair, sitting down while he kept trying to slow his breathing. God, he felt pitiful. He was shaking over having to explain himself, and while his reasoning was valid for not wanting to explain- this response his body was doing was not normal.

Spencer just kept breathing, counting off the digits of pi he could remember as he went. Numbers always helped him clear his head.

Spencer had continued counting, all the way to the forty-seventh digit of pi, before he fully felt calm again. Good, he breathed a sigh of relief as he tapped back onto his computers.

Now, hopefully, he could get some work done.

And Spencer did, he was able to help transfer a bunch of completed cases to Strauss, before another knock at his office door pulled him out of his work pace.

“Yes?” He said, turning around in his chair once again to see who was at the door. This time, it was Kevin who pushed the door open slowly as he entered, stepping in a bit to the room, but leaving the door open. “Hey, how’s your first day with the BAU going?” He asked curiously, just making small talk. He was probably trying to get out of work he was being told to do, either that or he was on break and bored.

“It, uh, it’s going okay. Nothing’s happened, really. I met agent Prentiss and agent Morgan.” He told Kevin casually as he turned back to his computer to finish logging in the files information, he knew Kevin wouldn’t mind if he turned away to do work while they talked. Kevin knew he was good at multitasking.

“Oh dude, Morgan-“ Kevin groaned, shutting the door behind him quickly as he entered the room to lean against Spencer’s desk, so Spencer could keep working and see Kevin. “Garcia loves him, and he’s a nice guy. But should I be jealous?”

Spencer wasn’t good in this conversational aspect. Ask him what the most poisonous frog in North America is, and he could answer you no problem (it’s the poisonous dart frog, no surprise there.) but this? Spencer couldn’t navigate this. So he took Kevin’s question scientifically.

“...I don’t think so. Garcia is a good person, she wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt someone. Especially you.” Spencer answered after a moment of thinking, turning to look at Kevin to gauge his reaction, “Right,” Kevin nodded in agreement, as that answer did make sense to him, “But should I-“ Kevin started, then stopped himself quickly.

He smiled down at Spencer sheepishly, “Sorry. I know you aren’t a therapist, my bad, man.” He apologized simply, Spencer just gave him a polite small smile in return, it’s all he could muster. “How did the meeting with IT go?” Reid asked, changing conversation topics easily.

“Stupid. I know how to fix my keyboard, so does anyone else here with basic understanding of computers. I bet the janitors could do it.” That elicited a small laugh from Spencer in return, as it was true. Fixing a keyboard definitely wasn’t complicated. It was just stupid nonsense that Kevin had to talk to IT, but that’s what they dealt with, day in and day out.

Kevin left quickly after that, he had just been on break, and before Spencer knew it kevin had to go running off to the child abduction unit to help them with their computers.

Though Derek had devised a plan on what he was going to say to spencer, he still had no clue how he should go back to the genius and start the conversation. He had no work related reason to go back, all of the files that needed to go through VICAP were sent.

Maybe Derek should get a paper cut, ask for the doctors help? No, a paper cut doesn’t require a doctors expertise. Not to mention he wasn’t even sure if Spencer was a medical doctor.

So Derek was stuck, looking over files at his desk that he most definitely was done with, as he messed with pens on his desk absentmindedly.

Emily noticed his mood shift into restless boredom pretty quickly, but she had her own work to do, too. So as she watched him tap away on his desk, she was doing her best to work. She had to get these cases filed correctly, after all.

Her urge to stay focused on work didn’t last long, though. Derek’s mood was just too much to not pay attention to, she would rather talk to him than do file work, anyways.

“Okay- what’s wrong with you? Drink too much coffee?” She asked him as she set down her case file onto her desk, Derek stopped tapping his pen to make eye contact with her. “Hm?” He asked simply, he hadn’t heard her, he was absorbed with thinking of what to do to get to Spencer and talk to him.

“I said,” Prentiss said, as she leaned forward a bit in her chair, “What’s with you?” Yeah, she was totally more interested in bugging Morgan than doing her cases. Derek just shrugged, he wasn’t about to tell her what he was actually thinking. That would just make her even more sure that Derek thought Spencer was cute, which wasn’t the case. He just was curious about the guy, and now he had struck a nerve in spencer, so he had to make it right and apologize. It was a normal thought process to have, but he knew Prentiss wouldn’t see it that way.

“Nothing,” Derek lied easily, gesturing to his finished case files as he spoke, “It’s just.. finished all my cases, and I can’t leave yet. So, I’m bored.”

Emily took his answer and nodded, “Wanna do mine?” She joked with him, gesturing to the short stack she had on her desk. Derek chuckled in response, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t know ‘bout all of that.” He said, the stack, though short, had at least fifteen files, and as much Derek was bored (which was true, he was just stuck thinking.) he wasn’t bored enough to warrant work.

“Aw, c’mon, help a girl out. Here.” Prentiss said, grabbing a few off the top and passing them across her desk to his, setting them on the edge of his desk. “Just do these for me, please.”

Derek nodded, giving in. “Okay, sure. What’s left on these to do?” “I don’t think much, just finish filling out the descriptions on how we profiled the unsub, then get them into VICAP for me.” Emily specified, looking back to the rest of the stack of files.

VICAP. Derek couldn’t get them into VICAP, he didn’t know VICAP well enough. But Spencer did, and it wouldn’t take Spencer long. Perfect. He now had an excuse to get back to Spencer and talk to him more.

Derek just nodded, even though a small amount of excitedeness was now growing inside of him. Because now he had an excuse to keep talking to this mysterious genius.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He told Prentiss simply, she gave him a smile in return, along with a “thanks”, before turning back to the file she had sat down on her desk originally in favor of talking to Derek.

Now, all Derek had to do was fill these cases out. Easy.

And it was easy, as expected. Derek got them filled out no problem, writing the profile explanation had been something he’d been doing for years.

And it was always easy for him to do, it was just explaining the order of events- from ‘we spoke to local law enforcement’ to ‘we surveyed the area the victim was found in’ to ‘we looked at recovered evidence at the scene’, all the way to the end goal which usually was something like; ‘we figured our unsub was most likely a male in his 30’s with a menial part time job and bad temper’.

It was that, rinse and repeat. Except of course, every case was different. But the bullet points were all oddly similar.

But still, it didn’t matter. Derek had a reason to go back to Spencer now, to apologize, say “sorry I struck a nerve, doc.” And he wanted to. After all, he didn’t wanna piss off the computer genius the BAU was employing for this week.

So, Derek finished the case files as quickly as he could humanly manage, before making his way out of the bullpen. Thankfully Prentiss wasn’t there to ask him where he was going, as she was in a meeting with Hotchner. And double bonus, J.J. and Rossi were both at some profiling seminar for today. So the bullpen was practically empty. It was beautiful.

So, Derek made his way out of the glass doors, down the hall, back to Spencer’s office. He hoped to redeem himself of his earlier fuck up.

Spencer had his soundproof headphones on, totally oblivious to the outside world. After all, he had finished all his work for the day, now he just got to read, just as he had hoped for. So while Bach played through his headphones, his mind was focused on the thick Russian translation copy of the crucible. He was excited to see how Russian people viewed such an American phenomenon of the Salem Witch Trials.

He was ecstatic to say the least, translating the Russian letters to English in his head at lightning speed while he kept reading along. It was only when he was tapped on the shoulder that he got pulled out of his methodical pace. He pulled off his headphones as fast as humanly possible, turning around in time to see agent Derek Morgan back in his office. Crap.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt-“ Derek started, gesturing at the thick book in Spencer’s hands. “Oh- um, you’re fine. Sorry.” Spencer spoke quickly as he set the book down on his desk, leaving his headphones wrapped around his neck awkwardly, Bach’s light piano melodies could be heard very softly.

“What’re you reading?” Morgan asked Spencer politely, “The Russian translation of The Crucible. I’ve already read The Crucible, but knowing the Russian word choices and ways they choose to phrase such a strictly American experience is something fascinating to me, I notice that their word choices often-“ Spencer started on a tangent, only stopping when he looked up to see Derek’s face in the classic stare many people gave Spencer over his lifetime. A mixture of ‘slow down’ and ‘what the hell’ and ‘all I did was ask a question, I didn’t wanna hear him rant’.

Spencer slowed himself down, “Sorry. Uh-“ he looked down at Morgan’s hands, there were files. Perfect. “Have work for me?” Spencer asked politely, Reid’s swift change in conversation seemed to surprise Derek as he gave him a perplexed look.

“Uh, yeah- these just have to go into VICAP.” He said as he handed them over to Spencer. There were only four this time, Spencer could probably finish these in fourty five minutes, an hour tops. That meant Spencer would still have plenty of time to read, perfect.

“Okay, I can do that.” Spencer nodded as he took the files from Derek’s now outstretched arm. Derek let his arm fall back to his side once Spencer had taken the files and set them on his desk, next to his now empty coffee thermos and computer mouse.

“Hey- I also just wanted to say sorry about asking about your work in domestic terrorism earlier. Wasn’t my place to ask.” Derek spoke up awkwardly, after Spencer had started to look over the files. Spencer looked back up at Morgan when he said that, though. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

He never had to explain himself before, and now someone was apologizing to him. Normally, people wouldn’t. What was Spencer supposed to do now? He hadn’t ever been in a situation like this before. He felt like his IQ was going back down drastically, and not just because Derek was an attractive male, standing in Spencer’s office, wearing a short sleeved t-shirt that showed off his muscles in a way no one should ever show them off.

Well, it was partly that. But Spencer was doing his best to ignore that part of his brain. But now his entire brain was in the pitfall. Not sure what to do.

So Spencer muttered a ‘thank you’ and nodded quickly, pulling eyes back down to the files and not on agent Derek Morgan, because Spencer didn’t know what to do.

They were stuck in an awkward silence, for what felt like forever. But Derek didn’t want to leave it his way, that’s the last thing he wanted. After all, Spencer was a friend of Garcia’s, which makes them acquaintances by default. Plus, this guy was gonna be running the computer tech side for the next week or so of the BAU. He couldn’t make it awkward, what if a case happened and they had to go out there and work together?

Derek was overthinking this, but only because he cares so much about Garcia. That was his reasoning on why. Not like his reasoning mattered, though. He still hadn’t said anything to Spencer past the awkward apology. He had to say something new, now. Either that, or he should just tuck tail and leave Dr. Spencer Reid’s office that was the size of a walk in closet.

Derek wasn’t about to dip out, though. So he spoke. “I saw in your file that you worked with agent Jason Gideon, what was he like?”

Spencer’s eyes went back up to Morgan’s again. “He taught me a lot, he’s very simple and to the point. I thought you knew him- since you’re on the BAU?” Spencer responded to Derek’s question with a question.

Derek shrugged as he made himself more comfortable, leaning up against the file cabinet that was behind him. He was hoping to stay for a while and talk, and it seemed he was getting that. Spencer watched him as he did so, “I only met him once before he retired, I’m more familiar with Rossi and Hotch.” He spoke in return.

“I’ve read Rossi’s books, they’re phenomenal. I’ve wanted to approach him and talk about his work on some of the cases he’s done- but I never get the opportunity to.”

“You’re working with the entire BAU, you’ve got the opportunity now. You realize that, right?” Derek asked Spencer curiously. Spencer nodded, “I do. But I checked his schedule, he’s at a seminar right now:”

Derek chuckled, he didn’t know Spencer well enough to make presumptions about the guy, and he had agreed with the BAU a long time ago not to profile each other- and by that logic, he had also agreed not to profile Spencer. Not that he’d want to, though. That’s just not fair.

But oddly, Spencer checking Rossi’s schedule sounded like something this guy would do. He’s too smart to be working as a technical analyst in a small ass office. Derek still wanted to ask him so badly ‘why are you here?’. But he knew he shouldn’t. So he redirected the conversation again; “What’s some of your favorite behavioral cases?”

Spencer hadn’t meant to keep Morgan in his office for over an hour, explaining in depth about his favorite behavioral cases. It just happened on accident.

Usually Spencer stopped himself when he rambled, but Derek didn’t seem to mind. And once Spencer started talking, it was near impossible to stop. It was only when Prentiss knocked on the office door, peeking her head inside- did Spencer realize how much time he had taken away from Derek.

“Hey, I was looking for you, Morgan. You finish those files?” She asked him innocently, “I did, just getting our new tech analyst to put them in for me.” He responded easily, Spencer looked back down at the case files. Yeah, he needed to do them.

“I’ll get started on them now,” Spencer nodded, “Sorry.” He told Derek after Prentiss had left, leaving the office door cracked open.

“No worries. I enjoyed talking to you. Hope we do more work together.” Derek told him with a small smile. Crap, Spencer didn’t like this guy one bit. He was too nice, too handsome, too charming. This was a dumpster fire of a situation.

Thankfully, this seemed to be the end of it, at least for now. These were Prentiss’ files. He could finish these and leave them on her desk. No more interaction with Derek Morgan, which is definitely what Spencer needed.

“I’ll see you, doc. Thanks again.” Derek told him, that smile still on his face as he exited, shutting the door behind him. Spencer didn’t respond as Morgan left, he was just feeling his face blushing red, goddamnit. He was going to curse at Penelope garcia for having such an attractive best friend. This just wasn’t fair. This was going to be a problem, a nagging, buzzing fly around Spencer’s mind until the week was over.

Thankfully this was just a week long ordeal. Spencer could handle that. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was a permanent worker on the BAU.

Reid brought himself back to focus, working on the files. Which he did at record speed, like always.

“Dude, I was looking for you for like- an hour. Were you with the doctor the entire time?” Prentiss asked Derek curiously as soon as he sat down in his desk chair again.

Morgan shrugged, “I gave him your files, we were just talking.”

“For an hour? About what?” Prentiss asked him, surprised because Derek wasn’t that big on long conversations.

“Spencer used to work with agent Gideon. He told me about that.” “No shit, really? That’s cool.” Prentiss muttered, definitely a tinge of jealously in her voice, “I’m gonna ask him for whatever tips Gideon taught him.”

“Maybe I know those tips.” Derek joked, wagging his eyebrows up and down as a way to piss emily off. She rolled her eyes at him, “No way you remember all he said. You were probably too busy staring at his face.”

“For the last time, he isn’t cute.” “Uh, yes he is.” Prentiss scoffed at Derek for such a weak rebuttal. Now it was Morgan’s turn to roll his eyes, “I’m done talking to you. I got your files done, Prentiss.”

Now, emily was sarcastic; “Oh and thank god you did four of my fifteen files. I never would’ve finished without you- seriously, thank you so much Morgan.”

Derek just continued rolling his eyes, deciding to roll around in his office chair to face the other way, facing his filing cabinent. “What’re you even doing?” Prentiss asked him, “Ignoring you.” He replied easily, eliciting a giggle from Prentiss, before hearing her reply; “Whatever man.”

———————————————————————

taglist: so far just @electricsockhead bc they commented a while back they wanted to know of any more chapters coming out. If you want to be on my taglist send me a message :)

#fanfic #fic #writing #Dr. Spencer Reid #Moreid #Derek Morgan #criminal minds #cm #BAU #Emily Prentiss #Aaron Hotchner #jennifer jareau #Penelope Garcia #angst #Spencer Specific Fics #Spencer Reid #criminal minds fanfiction #this is for the anon who asked abt this fic #I see u bb

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

war paint | 3 | captain

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

The first few weeks of your enlistment were inarguably the worst you’d ever lived.

If not on patrol, soldiers were awakened before dawn every morning and marched to the training pitch behind the castle where you drilled in different formations with various weapons. You were run through exercises that seemed designed to drop anyone with less than iron willpower, then set to menial tasks like cleaning the barracks or repairing any damaged weapons or equipment. The midday meal was the first break in your day, followed immediately by training in basic first aid and survival skills, then by more weaponry drills that took you until the dinner bell.

Between your extra training with Nishimura and the time you had to invest in sneaking off to use the lavatory or a spot to bathe in private, you were hardly resting. Even the time you did spend bathing, you spent in a constant state of anxiety, wondering if a random bunk check would reveal you missing. You hadn't chanced more than a wild, lightning fast scrub down in weeks.

At the end of the first week, you’d collected your enlistment fee with hands blistered from sword work, and it took you longer than you’d ever admit to count it out, stopping every few seconds when your eyes drifted involuntarily shut. You’d been happy to send it off to your family, though, with a short note that told them you were doing well.

Which was, of course, a lie.

You weren’t exactly the most popular among the kingsguard thanks to the show you’d put on when you arrived, and you had the misfortune of dorming in the same room as Nishimura. Despite Captain Bakugou’s warnings, he’d gone out of his way to make life uncomfortable for you, slipping bugs into your sheets and loudly discussing you in less than flattering terms well within earshot.

More than that, you were terrible at nearly everything and it was obvious. Kaminari helped you to the best of his ability, and so did Sero, the guard who’d poked fun at your age at the castle gates. Neither of them, however, could make up for the fact that as a woman, you were somewhat smaller and slighter, and hadn’t had the same opportunities building up muscle mass as men your age. Every sword felt like an anvil in your hands; lifting a mace like hauling a boulder.

The only thing you seemed to excel at was the first aid trainings. You found yourself listening with rapt attention as the court physician walked your battalion through wrapping injuries and cleaning wounds, noting which easily obtained herbs and flowers could slow blood loss or ease pain. Kaminari was always eager to pair with you during the practical exercises, as you were among the least likely to accidentally poison him with the wrong herbs. It was gratifying to be good at at least one thing.

Your favorite part of castle service, though, was the patrols.

After your first month of training, you’d been assigned thrice-weekly patrol routes and found that it was like wading into a cool river on a hot day. Patrols got you out of whichever drills were happening at the time and took you out from under Captain Bakugou’s purview and behind the relative safety of the castle walls.

Though monotonous, you only had to walk a specific route throughout the castle with a partner, and you were rarely supervised. On your first patrol with Kaminari, you also found that patrols were - for him - more of an opportunity to make social calls.

“L/N,” he said, nearly the minute you stepped inside the castle walls. “We’ve got an excellent route today.”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

He chuckled, gesturing you along. “Come on, our first stop is right over here.”

“Our first stop?” you echoed.

Kaminari grinned and grabbed your sleeve, pulling you into a side door. On the other side sat a cramped office stuffed with bright fabrics and colorful spools of thread. A woman with shocking pink hair hunched over a spill of pretty silk, working tiny, perfect stitches into the fabric.

“Mina!” Kaminari boomed and the woman sat up with a smile.

“Denki!” she said, reaching over to hug him. “It’s been a while since patrol took you over here! I have so much to tell you!”

Kaminari laughed and pulled you forward. “Me too. Mina, this is L/N! He lied about his age and wormed his way into the kingsguard.”

You whirled on him. “I’m old enough to be in the guard!”

The absolute wrong gender, but definitely the right age.

He gave you an innocent look. “I’m just passing on the popular opinion.”

Mina chuckled. “Oh, ignore him, L/N. We all do. It’s quite nice to meet you.”

Kaminari whined but Mina just laughed again, redirecting his attention to the dress she was making, saying it was for the princess-to-be. Apparently, Prince Shouto’s bride had been a kitchen girl that Mina and Denki had both been acquainted with, and they talked eagerly of the wedding they’d both been invited to and the food that would be there.

“Think old Bakugou will show up?” Kaminari asked at one point, making himself comfortable at Mina’s workstation. Mina met this with a shrug.

You gave them both a questioning look. “Why would the captain be invited?”

Kaminari turned to you conspiratorially. “Captain Bakugou and the prince grew up together - they’re something like old friends. Plus, Bakugou’s a marquis, he’s probably got an invitation just for political reasons.”

“He’s a marquis?” you asked. That explained the Lord appellation on your contract, then. “Why join the palace guard if he’s titled?”

Kaminari shrugged. “Probably not enough opportunity to torture innocent civilians in Musutafu. If he wants to hold the land, he’s got to be nice to them, hasn’t he?”

You grimaced, thinking of all the drills he’d run you through since you’d gotten here. That definitely wouldn’t endear him to anyone.

“Speaking of our favorite captain,” Mina said conversationally, “I heard he’s been meeting with the prince more often than usual.”

“Wedding stuff?” Kaminari asked, but Mina shook her head.

“As if he’d touch that mushy shit with a ten foot pole. He wouldn’t know romance if it pranced in front of him wearing a soldier’s uniform. No, I heard it’s because a bunch of papers and other valuables went missing from the prince’s study last Thursday night.”

Your mind wandered back to last Thursday, wondering if you’d been on patrol when it had happened. You only dredged up a memory of snuggling down into your bunk, relieved that Nishimura and his goon friend Hasumi were out on their own patrol and your bed was thankfully bug free.

Kaminari’s eyebrows went up. “Important papers?”

Mina raised a thin shoulder. “From what I heard, it seemed to be a weird selection. A couple letters, some wedding arrangements. But a land treaty disappeared as well. They think it’s a spy.”

Kaminari whistled. “Bet old Baku is pissed this happened on his watch. No wonder he’s been in such a foul mood lately.” He turned to you. “Don’t you think he’s been a little too happy when one of us gets clipped by the wrong edge of the sword?”

You thought back to his threats in the mess hall. “He seems normal enough to me.”

Kaminari mulled that over. “I suppose he’s usually that awful.”

Mina smiled. “Talking of which, shouldn’t you be getting on with your patrol? I’d hate to find out what he’d do if he found out you were in here gossiping.”

A spike of panic stabbed through your heart and you grabbed Kaminari’s sleeve. “Excellent observation, Mina. We really should be going. It was wonderful to meet you!”

You tugged Kaminari roughly back through the doorway. You thought it was a testament to his own fear of the captain that he went willingly enough.

The rest of your patrol proved uneventful, however, Bakugou thankfully never being alerted to your social stop. Your patrol ended just after the dinner bell and you ate quickly in the mess hall, then rushed off to the training pitch.

Today was also the last day of your punishment for fighting in the mess hall on your first day, and you thought dreamily of all the rested muscles and extra time you’d have on your hands once extra training ended. You might be able to sneak off to bathe at a normal time of the evening instead of in the dead of night, starting tomorrow.

Your good cheer faded quickly, however, as you arrived at the pitch to find Captain Bakugou there.

Nishimura was just behind you and he stopped short at your side. “Where’s our usual drill officer?” he demanded.

A horrible grin cut into Bakugou’s features, bearing his sharp canines. He looked like a wolf ready to tear into a nest of rabbits, and your stomach flipped. “Ojiro’s off duty tonight. Thought I’d see if you’d learned your lesson myself.”

You inhaled sharply, and Bakugou caught it, laughing. “Thought I’d forgotten about you two fucks, didn’t you?”

You lowered your gaze and took a deep, steadying breath. Just tonight. You just had to get through tonight and you would be free.

Nishimura seemed to steel himself as well, sweeping a hand through his dark hair. “What are our drills tonight, Captain?”

Bakugou’s crimson gaze flickered over you both. “Fight me.”

You looked up, startled. “Fight you?”

He looked you over disdainfully. “You’re a goddamn soldier, you telling me you can’t fight? Didn’t seem to stop you in the mess hall.”

You bit your lip, but Nishimura stepped forward, that violent gleam in his eye. “Yes, sir.”

Bakugou grinned. “I’m gonna fucking wipe this field with you.”

Nishimura didn’t dare correct his superior, but his hand went quickly to his sword and he leaned forward eagerly. Before you even had time to blink, the clash of metal rang out across the field and Bakugou had Nishimura on the defensive, pushing him back into step with you. You hadn’t even seen him go for his sword.

Swearing, you fumbled for your own blade, whipping it out just in time to catch the swipe Bakugou aimed at your side. You stumbled under the force of the strike, tripping backwards.

Nishimura growled and lunged again, but Bakugou was faster, parrying his attack and following up with his own. A low chuckle escaped him as he caught Nishimura with the back edge of his blade, winding him and sending him staggering back.

Bakugou whipped back to you, targeting you with another fast swipe that you barely caught in time. The strength of his blow almost knocked your sword from your grasp, shuddering up your arm and leaving you gasping.

“What the fuck are you in the kingsguard for if you won’t fight?” he snarled. Another swipe came your way and again you barely caught it. Your heart beat frantically in your chest and you tried to duck out of range of his arm.

“Come back here, pretty boy,” Bakugou taunted, advancing on you, but Nishimura cut in with another attack. Bakugou whipped the edge of his blade up again, faster than your eye could follow, catching the strike. You caught the curl of that savage grin on the corner of his mouth again before he moved, ducking under Nishimura’s arm and twisting his blade. It slid along the edge of Nishimura’s sword with an awful screech, then caught the hilt at an angle, ripping it straight out of Nishimura’s grip.

A kick from Bakugou had Nishimura on the ground and just as quickly he twisted back around, stalking back towards you. Your heartbeat quickened in fear as he approached, crimson gaze burning into you.

“You don’t belong here if you can’t face me,” he ground out. “Fight me or I’m discharging you. That’s a fucking order.”

You trembled, but lifted your blade. You needed the money to send back to your parents. It was too early to be discharged - if you left now, they’d have no way of clearing the debt.

You thrust your sword forward but Bakugou dodged easily. You quickly flicked through all the maneuvers you’d been drilling the past month, and followed up with a lunge. Bakugou grinned, flicking it aside with a quick twist of his wrist.

“Put your back into it, shrimp,” he demanded.

You gripped your sword with both hands, bringing it down on him with all the force you had in you. Bakugou deflected, and before you knew what was happening, your sword was rent from your grasp, skidding along the dirt of the pitch behind you.

The flat of Bakugou’s sword came up to tip your chin up to him.

“Pathetic,” he spat, “you fight like a damn woman.”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. Bakugou’s sharp eyes caught it and he smirked. “You gonna punch me, pretty boy?”

You struggled to tamp down the hot anger bubbling up inside you like a spring from the earth. “No, sir.”

He eyed you distrustfully, pressing the flat of his blade into your chin a little harder. “I’d think seriously about what the fuck you think you’re doing here. This is the kingsguard and I don’t need weak little shits like you endangering the royal family or your fellow soldiers.”

You stared back at him, not daring to speak. Your blood rushed in your ears and your heart hammered wildly in your chest.

After a long moment he lowered his blade, sheathing it back at his hip. He looked over at Nishimura, who was delicately picking himself up off the ground.

“Disappointing,” Bakugou said roughly. “I’ve seen enough here. You’re both dismissed - back to your dormitories.”

You nodded, backing away from him. Nishimura stalked off, and you turned and picked your way gingerly back across the field, stopping only to pick up your sword and tuck it back into the belt at your waist. You set off slowly for the barracks, something like hot tears stinging at the back of your eyes.

You didn’t look back, but you swore you could feel a pair of crimson eyes on you as you slipped quietly through the dark.

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 29

; Hoseok x Reader

;Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Warnings: Discussions of periods and contraception

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I know it’s taking a long time for me to update this but I hope you enjoy it :D Please reblog if you do and let me know what you think my commenting on this or sending me an ask!

; Flower Masterpost

“Hey, meeps,” You hear Hoseok’s voice calling to you from the end of the aisle, his new nickname for you now gaining its own nickname as well. “If sunflower oil is made from sunflowers, and coconut oil is made from coconuts...then baby oil…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving you a scandalous look as he holds up a bottle of baby oil. For a moment, you just stare at him blankly before sighing and rolling your eyes in amusement. Taking the bottle from him, you place it back down onto the shelf before linking your arm through his.

Thankfully, he lets you direct him back to the little section they have in this makeup and skincare store that’s fully dedicated to Korean beauty. This is one of those strange stores where they have tons of products that are basically on sale yet also have branded stuff alongside it. Not that you cared though; it had the Korean brands you swore by for your skin and you were more than tempted to try out the Japanese beauty stand next to it.

For someone who isn’t particularly bothered about the whole concept of skincare, though you had managed to convince him to at least improve his routine, Hoseok was being a pretty good boyfriend right now. He hadn’t complained about the half an hour you’d spent perusing the makeup to find new stuff to put into your collection and he still wasn’t complaining as you filled your basket with face masks.

If anything, he’d managed to entertain himself quite well.

But you think he was being good purely because you’d gone with him to a concert last night. It had been for one of his favourite bands, Metallica, and he’d ended up with a spare ticket as Jungkook had ended up ill with food poisoning. He had been about to go on his own, but you hadn’t liked the thought of him being lonely so you’d gone with him.

You’d recognised some of the songs they’d played from whenever Hoseok played them in the car or the house but it hadn’t been your scene. Still, it had been fun enough and you’d more than enjoyed seeing Hoseok happy as he’d rocked out to his beloved band.

It did mean that you were exceptionally tired today though as the two of you hadn’t gotten home from the stadium they’d performed in until after 2 am. That had been the closest performance apparently and you’d been shattered, sleeping until well after 11 am. Hoseok had promised you a day of relaxation, which you’d jumped on by asking him to do a full Korean skincare routine with you tonight.

He’d agreed, and you’d eagerly dragged him out to this store to replenish your supplies. The makeup was just because it was there and you couldn’t resist it. Already you were coming up with ideas for looks in your head that you could create and then put onto your Instagram. Moving places had meant that you hadn’t done many looks lately and you were eager to change that.

Especially now that you had a yard to take nice photos in. Hoseok and you had both been working hard on the weekends and evenings to transform the yard from the overgrown mess it had been into something nice. Nothing too amazing or expensive as it wasn’t your own house but nice enough that it made from some pretty aesthetic photos.

Placing a final bottle of moisturiser in your basket, you smile at Hoseok and hold it up proudly. He just looks at you in amusement for a second before smiling back.

“All done! We can go to pay now.” While you pay for all your new stuff, he goes and waits outside for you. Which you discover means he intently window shops at the video game store, getting that look on his face when he wants to do something.

Feeling that your bladder is a little too full right now, you glance over to where the public restrooms are and move over to Hoseok. “You can go in if you want, I’m going to the restroom so I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes your bag for you like the gentleman he is before disappearing inside, immediately making a beeline for the Playstation 4 section. You have a feeling he might be about to drop some money given how interested he’d been in some of the new games that have been released in the last few months.

Any thoughts of games are wiped from your mind very quickly though when you’re on the toilet. The sight of red staining your underwear has your eyes widening in horror as you realise that your period has decided to make an early appearance. For a moment you simply stare, brow creasing before you reach for your bag and grab your phone.

The period app you use says that you shouldn’t have started for another four days and you curse your body for doing whatever it likes. Scowling at the stain, you attempt to clean it before sighing in defeat, acknowledging that at least you were wearing black jeans today.

Another rummage in your bag causes you to find another problem, this one sending ice water running through your veins. Grabbing it and placing it onto your knees, you visually scan through every space and almost pull out the entire contents before letting out a small sound of despair.

You had no tampons.

Cursing to yourself quietly, you finish up and make do with an almost ridiculously large amount of toilet paper. Rushing out, you wash your hands before moving over to the machine that always had condoms, sanitary pads and tampons.

Only to see the ‘sold out’ sign on both the buttons you need. Groaning quietly, you do a little dance of frustration as you realise there are not even any other women in the restroom for you to ask. Not that you would. As if your social anxiety would allow for that!

So instead you have to slink outside and into the game shop, lip jutting out in a slight pout as you become hyper-aware of yourself. Can other people smell the blood? What if you leak through all the toilet paper and it does somehow show through your jeans?! What if you leak through onto a chair!

Hoseok wanted to get something to eat after this and you were dreading having to sit there for ages. Playing with your fingers nervously, you move over to where he’s crouched in front of the PS4 stand. He already has two game cases in his hand and is reading the back of another one, your bag of goodies on the floor between his feet.

Glancing up at you, he grins brightly before showing the cover of one of the cases he’s got.

“Look! The Spider-Man game is on sale! You want to play this, right?” Absentmindedly, you nod. The back of your mind takes in the fact that he’s also got Divinity: Original Sin 2 in his ‘buy’ hand and the other case he’s considering is the Doom remake. You wish that you could let him browse more but the drug store wasn’t close by and you didn’t want to just abandon him suddenly.

Still, the thought of what was going on down below was overwhelming and you found yourself shaking his shoulder slightly.

“Hey, are you done? Can we go?” Reaching down, you take your bag back and stand back as he rises, the crease between his brows letting you know he’s a little confused as to why you’re suddenly rushing him. He knows full well that there’s nothing important you need to do.

Still, though, he doesn’t question it and instead nods slowly. While he goes and pays for the games he’s buying, you go to wait by the entrance. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you realise that the low ache in your back that you’d had for a day or so was one of those early symptoms you got of your period.

Only you hadn’t thought anything about it. Not when you’d spent a few hours last night stood up. You’d just thought it was because you’d done a lot of work in the yard combined with the concert. Apparently not.

You’re pretty much already walking in the direction of the drug store by the time Hoseok comes out, causing him to have to jog to catch up with you. All you can think about is whether or not walking faster or slower would make things worse.

“Woah, hey, where are we going?” Hoseok asks, matching his speed to yours. You’re just thankful that there are not too many people out shopping today because it would only increase your stress levels if there was a big queue that you had to wait in or something.

“Just, to this store.” Admittedly, you’re not being very open and honest right now. But you’re embarrassed. Hoseok is fully aware of your periods and that they’re very much a thing that happens. They’d become a little more irregular recently as you’d had a copper IUD put in around a month before moving in with him.

Nothing drastic or anything, but then again they were also sometimes longer and a little heavier than you were used to when you were on the pill. It wasn’t exactly something you enjoyed talking about with anyone though; Soyeon and Chungha were pretty open about this kind of stuff but you had always mostly stayed quiet whenever they talked about it.

Which was silly. They were women who fully understood what you were going through and Hoseok understood that it was a monthly event. So it wasn’t like he’d be shocked to find out or anything. If anything, you’d probably done a bit of a bad job in explaining some things to him as you’d always got too shy whenever he’d asked things.

That was bad, you were well aware. But you’d only really got comfortable talking about sexual things with him. You knew that there were guys who thought it was gross that women bled for a week or so. Hoseok had never made those kinds of comments, but still. You were a work in progress.

“We’ve already been in here, why are you dragging me like Jason Voorhees is running after us with a knife?” He whines when you enter the store. You’re not surprised he’s confused because he’s right, you had come in here earlier and picked up what you needed. Still, though, he follows close by.

“I thought we didn’t need anything else.” Comes from him next, his lip pouting and you get the sense that he wanted to spend more time in the game store. A rush of guilt and shame washes over you, causing you to grip his hand even tighter as you shuffle awkwardly in place for a moment.

Finally in the store though, you realise just how silly you’re being with him. It’s not like he’s going to get outraged or upset. And you’re sure he’d have been much more willing to come along if he hadn’t been dragged along half the street with no idea what was happening.

Leaning into him, you cough slightly before swallowing as you feel yourself go hot with anxiety.

“My period started.” You whisper, keeping the words quiet enough so that he can hear them without having anyone else overhear. Though the rational part of your mind knew that you shouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. It was a natural, bodily function and all that.

Your mind has never quite done things rationally though.

Hoseok has heard you though, you can tell by the way his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. But his expression is blank for a moment before his brow creases in obvious confusion, lips pursing as he contemplates what you’ve just told him.

“Okay...so why are we here?” Annnnd there it is. That famed male obliviousness to female problems. You couldn’t get annoyed at him though, not when he was good with you on everything else. He was cute.

“It’s early? And I have nothing to use. So I need to buy some.” His face changes immediately when he understands finally, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as he lets out a noise of recognition. It then contorts into worry for you, his eyes glancing down to your crotch area with wide eyes.

“Wait, so that means you’re...just…” He creates a rushing gesture with his hands, imitating a waterfall as he makes a ‘whoosh’ noise with his mouth. It’s a little too loud for your liking and you hiss at him, poking at his stomach before quickly pulling him over to the menstrual health aisle.

“I’ve used some toilet paper but it probably won’t last. It’s come on pretty hard and fast today. Please don’t laugh.” You beg him and his face sobers immediately, eyes darting over your own as he takes in your distressed appearance. Licking at his lips, he inhales deeply before nodding.

“Okay, you use tampons, right? So like...which ones? You never keep the box.” Automatically he starts to look over all the boxes of tampons; staring at the brands, types and absorption levels like he’s reading signs in Mandarin or something. It makes you want to laugh, despite the situation.

You appreciate his eagerness to help though, even when he points at random boxes with absolutely zero knowledge of what it was.

“What’s the difference in the brands? Is there a difference? Or is it like...when you buy those store brand biscuits and realise they taste the same as the branded biscuits only to find out that they’re made in the same factory and just relabelled?” That makes you snort with amusement, particularly as he’s now holding up a box of Tampax and a store brand to try and see the difference.

He’s not finished yet though, and even though you still feel the urgency to just grab some and run, you can’t help but let him entertain you. Because that’s what he’s doing. You’re not oblivious, you’ve realised over time that if you’re feeling anxious or uncomfortable or shy, Hoseok will often use humour to distract you away from your negativity.

It’s nice, which is why you let him carry on for a minute or so more.

“What are the drops for? And what’s the difference between regular and super? I mean, I think you’re pretty super but is this like...super big or something? Wait, is this plastic?! How does it absorb blood if it’s plastic?” Rolling your eyes at him, you bite your lip to stop the laughter that wants to escape before reaching past him to grab the box you usually buy.

Lifting it, you decide for a quick crash course in tampons. As your boyfriend, you never know when you might need him to run out to the store for some and the last thing you need is him bringing the entirely wrong type back.

“I use Tampax, purely cos it’s just the brand I’ve always used and I’m familiar with it. Super and regular are like the absorption so you’d use a super for the first few days when a period is heaviest. Hence why I’m getting these. The drops are the absorption rating too basically and it’s not plastic, that’s just the applicator that makes it easier to insert.” You say it all pretty quickly, but quietly enough that only he hears.

Not that there’s any need, the store is loud enough that your conversation can’t be overheard and on top of that, there’s no one in this aisle anyway. But Hoseok nods thoughtfully, scanning the front of the box carefully.

“When we get home, I think I need a crash course in periods because I’m feeling pretty useless and dumb right now.” Laughing, you lean up to kiss his cheek quickly before heading in the direction of the cashiers.

“We can do that for you. It’s better to be educated after all. This is where I find out that you have this bizarre knowledge that is unbelievably wrong and I cringe.” Hoseok doesn’t answer back to that, causing you to look back and chuckle at his meek shrug and wince.

“What can I say? I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to learn and education in high school was terrible. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself.” Humming lightly, you grin at him as you pay before heading out of the store. Looking in the direction of the toilets, you twist your lips as you consider your options.

“You want to eat at that place, right?” You ask, nodding your head towards the Japanese place that was down the opposite end of the street. Hoseok looks that way and nods, confirming his desire to you. Already you can feel your stomach rumble as you imagine the delicious food.

“Okay, we’ll just go there and I’ll go straight to the restroom in there. Come on.” Reaching you, you take his hand and smile up at him, your walk not so hurried now compared to before. Not that you aren’t completely aware of the fact that you’re free bleeding from your vagina right now, but walking faster might just aggravate it more.

You had what you needed, so now you could relax a little more.

“Why are there so many steps in this? Don’t you get bored?” Hoseok mumbles, his words a little slurred due to the fact you’re rubbing serum into his cheeks. He’s already been here for ages in the bathroom as you’d used a cleanser to clean his face before exfoliating and then using toner on some cotton pads.

You could tell that he was amused by the whole situation, even though he’d seen you do this many times before. But it was different experiencing it for himself you supposed. Still, he looked so adorable and you cooed to him, squishing his cheeks even more in amusement.

“No. It’s relaxing. You’re supposed to relax.” That makes him scowl, the expression not nearly as intense as he was going for given you’ve got his lips in the cutest pout. Still, you’re finished with that part so you let him go, laughing as he runs his fingers over his skin.

“I’m not relaxed. More...manhandled.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes as you get to work rubbing the serum you need into your skin, focusing on your eyes. The dark circles beneath them were far too...well dark for your liking.

“Okay, how’s your skin lately? Dry? Oily?” Frowning at you, he twists his lips as he considers your question. He’s been taking better care of his skin than he had been before dating you, but you knew that he still didn’t care that much. Surprisingly though, he has an answer for you.

“Dry?” Nodding to yourself, you reach through your box of face masks and pull out a moisturising one. Handing it over to him, you take your own and rip it open, pulling out the mask and carefully putting it on. Hoseok watches you intently before opening up his mask, his face immediately twisting into a cringe.

“Ewwww, oh my god. Why is it so slimy?!” He whines, holding it over the sink like it’s some monster that might kill him. With the mask on your face, you can’t laugh properly like you want to.

“Stop being a baby and put it on.” With a little more whining, he does so, lining it up and putting it onto his face. What follows is then complaints that it’s also cold and feels weird, causing you to roll your eyes at him once more as you help to smooth out any creases in it.

“Right, we’ve got to keep this on for twenty minutes so let’s go watch some Netflix,” Looking over him, you take in how he still manages to look handsome even with a white sheet mask on. “It’s not fair that you always look so good. Honestly.”

Hoseok just shrugs before licking his lips, his reaction immediate as he registers the foul taste. “Oh fuck me, what the fuck. This tastes fucking vile!”

“...you’re not meant to eat it, babe, they don’t make it for the taste.” He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the remaining residue before following you out to the couch in the living room, Netflix still paused on the large television screen. Kasumi is curled up on her cat tree, fluffy body small as she sleeps quietly.

For around ten minutes, neither of you speak as you continue to watch Warrior Nun. It’s surprisingly got both your attention hooked, so you’re a little surprised when Hoseok suddenly speaks up and distracts you.

“Hey...I know this is a weird time to talk about this but after your whole period thing today it reminded me. So, I’ve been thinking lately. You definitely don’t want kids...right?” He looks at you and you get the impression he would raise his brow if he could. When you nod in response, he blows out a breath slowly.

“Okay...how would you feel if I said I wanted to get a vasectomy? I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids but there’s always a chance that you might and a vasectomy is pretty final. Despite what people say.” Now it’s your for your expression to be mostly hidden by your face mask, your eyes widening until your eyelashes are uncomfortably touching the edges of the holes.

“You want that? I thought guys normally got all weirded out at that prospect. And I don’t want kids, ever. Full stop. Are you sure?” Of all the things you were going to be discussing tonight, you did not expect it to be this. It’s almost amusing that Hoseok has decided right now is the time for something so serious, when you both look so silly.

“I do. I just...I don’t want to risk a pregnancy and I know you’re scared of that too. Also, it’d put less stress on you, I know most birth control is usually aimed at women except for condoms and it’s a lot easier for me to get a vasectomy than for you to get anything done.” That makes you snort in acknowledgement, shifting on the couch until you pull your leg up and wrap your arms around it.

“Yeah, because god forbid a woman not want to fulfil her natural duty and pop out a kid, right?”

“I’ve been looking into it, I’m pretty sure I could get one. If not, I’ll just talk the doctor’s ear off until they let me. Because it’s gonna happen. It’s way easier and less stressful than anything you have to do.” His dual concern for not wanting to cause an accidental pregnancy that neither of you wanted along with not wanting the burden to fall too heavily on you warms you, causing you to reach out and grasp his hand tightly as you squeeze at it.

“Is it easy? Or quick?”

“Apparently. Some guys say it doesn’t hurt at all, others said it hurts. But...I’m pretty sure I want it. I just wanted to check with you that you’d be okay with the idea too. As I said, it’s final.” Hoseok smiles at you as best he can, causing you to shuffle a little closer to him. You’d like to rest your head against his shoulder but you’d just get it covered in face mask gunk.

“I mean, it’s your body. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Pointing this out to him, you look up and tilt your head, your statement almost a question.

It makes him sigh and focus on your hands, shifting them until he could interlink his fingers with your own. You let him do so, figuring he should probably be taking the lead in this conversation. It is about him after all.

“We’re in a relationship. A serious relationship and this decision would affect both of us. It’s cutting off the chance for biological kids, despite people saying you might be able to reverse it. I feel you should have a say too.” Nodding slowly, you hum lightly as you consider his words carefully.

“Well, if you want it then I’ll support you completely. I never want children so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s your decision, but I just want to make sure you think it over properly and do research, okay? Don’t go rushing into it.” That makes him snort in amusement.

“Meeps, if there’s one thing you should know by now; it’s that men do not take decisions regarding their dick and balls lightly. You can be damn sure I’m going to be 100% in my decision if I’m going to let someone come near my balls with a scalpel or somet.” The way he says this is so matter of fact that you can’t help but laugh, the sound not as big or bright as you’d like it to be given you still had your mask on.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m talking about someone knifing my balls while I’m sitting here looking like a dollar store Michael Myers.” Hoseok points at himself, his bemusement clearly obvious despite his poor Halloween costume and you giggle softly.

Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair that’s currently being held back by a bandana and smile at him softly. “Come on, let’s go get these off and start looking human again.”

Hoseok follows you immediately, already peeling the face mask off and making casual comments about how the mask isn’t as slimy as it had once been. You take off your own and drop it into the small bin in the bathroom, making sure that he does the same.

“Okay, rub it in and pat it dry. Make sure you get the excess to go on your throat and stuff, it’s good for your skin there too.” Hoseok looks in the mirror, his face shining obscenely from the residue leftover and grimaces.

“Ew, this feels...gross,” One hand presses to his skin, rubbing it in and cringing. “Is this what it feels like when I cum on your face?”

The comment is so random that you pause for a moment, all thoughts disappearing as you comprehend what he’s just said. A glance at him makes you realise he’s being completely serious, his expression focused on rubbing his face as you’d told him. It’s moments like this that make you love him even more, the blasé comments he makes that are so funny and yet also x-rated.

“No...not really. That’s more...well it’s not all over, you know? And it’s thicker than this. And I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You know what your cum feels like.” A snort from him gives away his bemusement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never smeared it all over my face before.”

“Maybe you should. Experience it for yourself for once. It’s not all that good for you by the way, despite what people say. It has protein but it’s not enough to make it worthwhile or anything, so don’t think I’m going to be asking you for your special facials anytime soon.” Looking away from him, you grab the next item on your routine before looking at him with a smirk.

“Damn, there goes my plan to be self-sufficient. Could’ve made a whole organic spa thing out of it.”

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theworldbrewery · 4 years

Text

what does it mean to play with a high (or low) stat?

fun fact: “commoners” (i.e., your average unskilled random) have a 10 in every ability score.

they are the average of the average. the most middle-of-the-road we can achieve. and they will never reflect your Player Character’s reality.

but they are a great baseline for determining where your characters are outstanding, and where they will struggle.

An average person can lift 50 lbs comfortably, has enough hand-eye coordination to play a decent game of ping-pong against an equally-matched opponent, can fight off most communicable diseases, knows how to read, can tell when they need more information to be able to act, and is able to handle basic social contact when there is no reason for conflict.

***note--I’m using these “averages” to talk about what a non-disabled and neurotypical person will be generally capable of without training or honing a particular skill. Being within 2-3 ability score points of the average doesn’t necessarily require justification, but it might still be fun to explore***

so your barbarian with an 18 in strength isn’t just an outlier, it’s a major difference from what Jane Ordinary can manage on a typical day, and the sweet-talking powers of your 20-charisma sorcerer are going to feel supernatural compared with what the traveling horse salesman is used to. When you’re creating a character, whether that’s an NPC with class levels or a player character, consider why a character’s stats are the way they are.

If they were naturally gifted, is that why they felt called to the class they chose? Did they work hard to be where they are today, and let other abilities fall by the wayside? Did a higher power imbue them with strength, charisma, or wisdom to make a perfect vessel for their plans? Reimagining the reasons behind your statistics can help develop your backstory and even factor into your character arc down the line.

***Another note: be especially self-aware if you’re going to play a neuroatypical, mentally ill, or disabled character and you aren’t yourself a member of the group you’re representing. I love representation but don’t be insensitive---and if anything I mention here comes off as insensitive, let me know and I’ll adjust accordingly!***

STRENGTH:

At first level, a higher-than-average STR score is going to reflect a lot of training, whether intentional or not. The character may have grown up chopping wood and hauling logs around a woodland village, spent their young adulthood in a mine, or studied with bodybuilders in a remote bodybuilder monastery.

In contrast, a lower-than-average STR score might correspond to a pampered lifestyle, one where the character never needed physical labor to get by; or perhaps they have a disability, such as a bad back, or a chronic illness that leaves their muscles weaker than usual.

DEXTERITY:

A character with a high DEX is flexible and fast. They might have been an acrobat in a circus, flipping around on the trapeze. An urchin whose two options are move fast or get arrested is also likely to be dextrous, as much as a noble who, as a child, often crept around and hid in their family estate to avoid lessons or spy on the adults. They might be from a tree-dwelling community where leaping across platforms is commonplace, or use their dexterity on the rigging of the ship they made their home. A very dextrous person might even have EDS or another condition that makes them hyper-flexible.

A low DEX might, like low STR, match with a disability like arthritis or an old leg injury that never healed properly, or it could align with pressure to behave properly in polite company--never running, climbing, or skulking around. Low DEX could also translate to clumsiness, a fear of taking physical risks, or a tremor that makes Sleight of Hand difficult.

CONSTITUTION:

High CON is a matter of resistance to illness, poison/drugs/alcohol, and general hardiness or stamina. A high CON character might take vitamins and supplements to keep their peak physical condition, do exercises to increase lung capacity or practice running to build endurance. They may take small doses of poison to build up immunity, or maybe they’ve been a low-grade alcoholic for so long their liver is adept at filtering out toxins. They might have done charity marathons to raise money for good causes back home.

Low CON might therefore translate to an arrhythmia or other chronic illnesses such as asthma, POTS, or even severe allergies. The low CON character could have been trapped in a sheltered upbringing that never exposed them to disease or required them to stand and move for hours. Maybe they have never been exposed to drink or drugs and are an incurable lightweight.

INTELLIGENCE:

A high-INT character may have spent years under the tutelage of scholars, worked hard to get into an educational institution, or learned history and magic from the elders of their community with the intent to carry the knowledge into the next generation. They may have autism that helps with information recall, ADHD that leads to hyperfocus on a few specific topics, or another form of neurodiversity.

A low-INT character may have never had the chance to learn from their uneducated family, or be so without a community that no one bothered to teach them. They might have a learning disability, memory problems, or chronic fatigue that causes brain fog.

WISDOM:

A high-WIS character is generally observant, able to assess the intentions of others, clear-headed, and pragmatic--or at least practical. High Wisdom may come from being taught from a young age to pay attention to one’s surroundings, be a part of a community’s religious or ethical worldview, or be a necessary skill developed for survival in a world full of hazards or underhanded strangers. High WIS scores can also derive from anxiety or trauma that make characters more sensitive to information and more likely to observe patterns that otherwise go unnoticed.

Low WIS characters might have very little life experience, or be naive because of the way they’ve been taught to view the world. They might have issues with visual or auditory processing that affect their perception, have low empathy that makes insight a struggle, or experience depression, psychosis, or paranoia that leads to difficulty assessing what is real.

CHARISMA:

High CHA characters may spend months or years mastering the performing arts, honing their ability to lie or stretch the truth, or practicing their most intimidating posture. Or their Charisma may stem from being completely genuine and trustworthy, without any apparent artifice. Characters with sociopathy may know how to turn any social encounter to their advantage, and those with high empathy may be simply likeable. A high-CHA character could be funny, attractive, talented, or have a magnetic personality for any number of reasons, including trying to impress a particular social group or person, a career goal as a comedian or performer, or being raised with rustic hospitality.

A low-CHA character may have trouble with eye contact or even be compulsively unable to lie (or a compulsive liar that’s simply unconvincing); they might have sensory issues that make them sensitive to music or certain vocal timbres, or they might be brusque and businesslike. Low Charisma can stem from a roughshod upbringing, a cultural emphasis on stark honesty even when unsolicited, or a lack of awareness for someone else’s perspective. Even a speech impediment or a trauma that leads to skittishness can read as low-Charisma if you want to play it that way (though it doesn’t have to be).

Sometimes, a character is in the middle-of-the-road but you still want to include one of the options mentioned above. In that case, they could have multiple “conflicting” influences in their background. A character with ADHD might be very good with a specific subject but the ADHD also manifests as memory issues, reflecting a 12 Intelligence score and its ambiguity (and proficiency in specific skills will reflect the specificity of hyperfocus, for instance).

None of these are hard-and-fast rules. If you want to play a character with chronic pain that doesn’t have a matching low score, that’s also amazing! But if you’re starting from the stats and want to figure out the “in-game justification” for why someone’s abilities are where they are, I hope this little outline helps.

If you like our posts, consider donating to our Ko-Fi @ theworldbrewery. We are saving up for Volo’s Guide to Monsters (and I’m kinda looking forward to trashing Volo’s opinions)

#dnd #d&d #dungeons and dragons #rpgs #character creation

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pathopharmacology · 4 years

Note

Hey. I'm the anon that checks in on you occasionally. First, sorry for thanking you for doing your job, I understand now that was tone deaf and I'm sorry for being an ass with that. Secondly, you've gone completely dark since this pandemic started and I'm really worried about you, especially since IIRC you work in emergency. You don't have to be okay (although that sure would be nice!!). I'm guessing you're not. But I'd like to know you're alive. And I want you to know you're not forgotten. We're not friends, though we're mutuals last I checked, and I want you to know someone cares even if there isn't shit I can do to help. Stay breathing. Keep your head above water.

Shit, friend, I am so sorry I freaked you out like that. God’s honest truth, I haven’t checked tumblr in ages, because I kinda noped out of most social media after we lost our first baby and then never really found my footing again after because a bunch more Life Stuff happened (more on that below). I don’t know that I’ll resume any sort of presence here, but for those who do want to stay in touch I have a twitter account (@patho_patho) I use occasionally. It honestly never occurred to me that anyone would worry. Again, I’m super sorry about that. I never intended to scare anyone.

Anyway, life update! The tl;dr version is that I found out I was pregnant in November of last year, freaked out SUPER HARD about it because of how things went the last time, freaked out SUPER HARD some more when covid-19 started showing up in the states, left the emergency department for a care management position right before the hospital implemented a hiring freeze, basically didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant until I was like almost 26 weeks along and it was incredibly obvious anyway, and — several months later — ended up having an unplanned (but non-emergent) cesarean delivery when my water broke three weeks early and the baby was breech.

The little dude is now 8 weeks old, growing like gangbusters and marvelously healthy. Unfortunately, our entire state caught on fire recently, so I’ve just spent the last week with him up at my parents’ house because the air is poison and their ventilation situation is way better than ours. Fun stuff.

I can’t explain how good it was for my mental health to get out of the emergency department. I was struggling even before everything happened with my first pregnancy, so when I got off my “postpartum depression is even more awesome when your baby is dead” medical leave, I was in a REAL bad way. We were thrilled when I got pregnant again, but it was also much earlier than we’d intended (apparently I’m super fertile, hooray?) and I spent the first trimester pretending like it wasn’t happening because I wasn’t sure I could survive the loss of another child. Covid started being a thing riiiight as I was heading into the second trimester, and...let me tell you, being pregnant during a pandemic is absolutely terrifying, and it was even more terrifying when I was still working in the ED. Those early days, when we really didn’t know much except that it was really, really bad? God, that was brutal. I was having panic attacks on my way to work, because I was scared shitless that I was going to get it and either I would die (thus killing my baby), or there would be complications of some sort (which would kill my baby), or me and the baby would be fine, but I would give it to the Dude or my parents and then one of THEM would die and...

Anyway. Bad times. It was bad times.

I was interviewing for a number of positions when things started amping up, and accepted the care management job literally days before the shelter-in-place orders went into effect, which led to a hospital-wise hiring/transfer freeze. The transfer still went through, thank god, and my new job has been amazing. They were super cool when I finally told them I was pregnant, especially when I explained why it took me so long to disclose it in the first place (basically, I wanted to wait until the final diagnostic tests were done and I knew 100% that this kiddo wasn’t sick the way our first was). I’m currently on maternity leave, and every once in a while my supervisor will text with a demand for more baby pictures. It’s really nice, actually. Care management is challenging as fuck, but it’s also really rewarding and interesting, and I’m glad I was able to make the switch before the whole world imploded.

(Also, it’s super nice to be in a position where the stakes are not literally life and death, and I’m also not putting my own life on the line every time I go into a patient room? I might’ve been okay with that once upon a time, but, uh, a lot of shit changed for me last year)

That’s pretty much it, unless y’all want to hear the whole pregnancy saga (which probably isn’t all that interesting, to be honest, except for the last bit with the c-section and all). Parenthood is deeply scary and deeply amazing. Everyone talks to you about postpartum depression, which makes it super easy to be blindsided by postpartum anxiety, which is like regular anxiety except your hormones are completely out of whack and you cry a lot and also refuse to sleep because you’re convinced your baby will die the moment you stop looking at them. Being a new parent during a pandemic is even scarier than being pregnant during a pandemic, and I honestly have no idea how I’m going to explain all of this EVERYTHING to the kiddo once he’s old enough to ask what the fuck was up with 2020, anyway.

Again, I’m really sorry I scared you by going radio silent. I’ve got all my notifications turned back on in case you or anyone else has any follow-up questions, and people are always welcome to check in over on the twitters (which is a garbage site, I freely admit, so I totally understand if folks would rather not). I definitely aten’t dead, and right now I’m doing better than I have in a long while.

Now I just need the air to stop being poison.

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honeypwark · 4 years

Text

[ Pretty Girl ]

↳ Run Away era

↳ Kiryoung goes rock climbing... for some reason. She meets a new face. They get lunch.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Kiryoung has no idea what she’s doing here. That’s not entirely true, though. It started with Yeonjun teasing her, as per usual. This time, it was about her height (a rather unoriginal and overused topic of teasing amongst her members). More specifically, he was teasing her about how her height correlated with her strength and how she was “super weak and wimpy” compared to him and the other members.

She, of course, defended herself by saying there’s no feasible way she wouldn’t be the weakest member as all of the boys have at least eight inches on her. Her mistake came when she tried to claim she was fairly strong for her size. For context: she is not fairly strong for her size. She’s actually probably fairly weak for her size seeing as all her workouts consist of cardio and weight loss and not muscle gain. So unless you’re talking about heart health, Kiryoung is rather unfortunately weak.

This all leads her to where she is now, sitting on a bench after signing in for a session at a rock climbing gym. The connection between Yeonjun’s teasing, her attempt to defend herself, and sitting in a rock climbing gym? Yeonjun bet her that she couldn’t rock climb because she’s too weak (which she is) and she agreed to go rock climbing to prove him wrong (which she won’t be able to).

Basically, Kiryoung is definitely stressing out while sitting on this bench, not sure at all where she’s even supposed to start. She doubts she’ll even be able to do any of the courses or routes or whatever they’re called.

Someone sits down beside her as she’s worrying in her head, “This might be weird, but you look extremely familiar.”

Kiryoung looks to her left and sees a very pretty girl looking at her intently as if trying to piece together who she is. Kiryoung goes a little red in the face and shies away from the girl.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Kiryoung says.

“No, I swear I’ve seen you before.”

The pretty girl doesn’t stop looking at her, beautiful round eyes continuing to search Kiryoung’s face even as she shrinks away from her. The girl gasps as realization crosses her features.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims. “You’re Kiryoung! From Tomorrow By Together! Oh my god, I loved your guys’ comeback.”

So that’s why this girl recognized Kiryoung.

“Thank you,” Kiryoung says, trying to make herself sound more confident as she seems to be interacting with a fan.

“Oh, I should introduce myself,” the girls says, “I’m Jeon Somi.”

Confidence levels are dropping dangerously low. This is not her fan, this is the nation’s girl group’s center, the first place winner of the first Produce series. How is she supposed to maintain any amount of confidence in her presence? Kiryoung really has no idea how she didn’t recognize the Jeon Somi but figures it must have something to do with being flustered by her sudden appearance and intense staring.

“Y-You’re Somi?”

“Mhm,” Somi hums her affirmation. “And you are Kiryoung, right? I just want to make sure...”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Imagine if you weren’t and I just accused some random person of being in an idol group. That would have been embarrassing.”

Somi has avoided her embarrassment, but Kiryoung can tell that hers has just started. She’s finding it extremely difficult to speak to the other girl, let alone look her in the eye. Curse you, social anxiety.

“Do you like rock climbing, too?” Somi asks.

“No.”

“Oh...”

“I-I mean I’ve never done it before. This is my first time.”

“Oh!” Somi looks much more pleased with that answer. “Do you want to do it with me? I can show you the ropes.”

Kiryoung looks around, confused, “What ropes? Do they have rope courses here, too?”

Somi bursts into laughter, “Oh my god, you’re hilarious.”

Kiryoung laughs with her nervously, realizing her mistake of taking an idiom too literally and hoping to play it off. Somi doesn’t seem to notice that she was being serious. If she does, she chooses not to say anything.

“Okay, okay,” Somi says, calming herself down. “Do you want me to show you how the gym works? I’ve been coming her for a while.”

“Um...”

Kiryoung weighs her options. On one hand, if she says no, she might come off as mean or rude and give a bad first impression to her senior artist. On the other hand, if she says yes, she’ll have to live through many more embarrassing and awkward moments and learn that she really isn’t physically cut out for rock climbing with an audience. Neither are very good options.

“Sure,” Kiryoung answers quietly, too scared to be rude right now in order to avoid embarrassment in the near future.

The very near future because, with Somi’s instruction, Kiryoung makes it about four handholds before she falls off the wall and lands flat on her back, unable to catch or right herself.

Somi jumps off the wall after her, “Woah, are you okay?”

Kiryoung sits up, “I don’t think I’m cut out for rock climbing.”

“You only just started,” Somi laughs. “Come on.”

Somi extends her hands to Kiryoung, offering her help to get up. Kiryoung hesitates for a second before accepting it, letting the taller girl pull her to her feet.

“Let’s try the easiest course,” Somi says, “I probably should have asked you what your skill level is before we started.”

Kiryoung switches her hand and footholds a few more times than during her first attempt before the shaking in her arms becomes too much and she has to let go. She’s higher up that she realized, landing on her feet but falling back onto her butt. She looks down and sighs.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung looks up and finds Somi crouching down beside her. She looks away shyly.

“I’m not very good at this,” Kiryoung says.

“Well, no one really is their first time unless they’re already muscly and stuff.”

Kiryoung sighs, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only came because I’m trying to prove to my members that I’m not weak. Even though I am. I’ve got noodle arms.”

Kiryoung wiggles her arms out in front of her to prove her point. Somi laughs and this time, Kiryoung can laugh easily with her. Somi falls back onto her bottom, sitting beside Kiryoung.

“So you’re trying to prove to your members that you’re not weak but none of them are even here to see if you succeed or fail?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung is silent for a long moment, the sounds of the gym filling the brief pause in the two girls’ conversation.

Kiryoung groans, “I’m so gullible.”

Somi bursts out into laughter again, falling to her side.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid!” Kiryoung says. “I could have gone to a park and caught frogs instead of wasting my time with rock climbing!”

Somi just laughs harder. Kiryoung’s irritation at herself fades and she ends up laughing with Somi. Finally, it seems Kiryoung isn’t so nervous around the younger girl. Eventually, they collect themselves and stand.

“Well, we can keep trying if you really want to but my session time runs out in ten minutes anyway,” Somi says after checking the time, “So do you want to get lunch together?”

“Lunch? Together?”

“Yeah. We could talk more and get to know each other.”

“Um, yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

After trading out her climbing shoes for her normal ones, Kiryoung waits for Somi at the front of the gym. It’s started raining harder since they started climbing but Kiryoung brought an umbrella, knowing the forecast for the day. She pulls her phone out and starts searching up nearby restaurants, not wanting to walk too far in the rain. Somi, back from the bathroom, stops beside Kiryoung.

“I’m kind of in the mood for ramen; are there any places nearby?” Somi asks.

“Uh, let me see... Yes. There’s a ramen place about three blocks that way.”

Kiryoung quickly memorizes the directions to the restaurant and tucks her phone away. They walk out of the gym and stand under the overhang. Kiryoung notices Somi isn’t carrying an umbrella or a rain jacket.

“Do you not have an umbrella?” Kiryoung asks.

“No, my dad dropped me off and I ran inside,” Somi explains. “I figured I could just dash from awning to awning.”

“We can just share mine,” Kiryoung says, opening her kiwi-patterned umbrella.

“You don’t mind sharing?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung shakes her head with a smile, “Not at all.”

Kiryoung holds her umbrella up a bit more so the taller girl can fit under it. Kiryoung feels her face grow warm with how close she is to Somi. They start walking, bumping into one another as they try to walk under the same umbrella.

“Here, let me just...”

Somi takes the umbrella from Kiryoung and pulls Kiryoung’s hand to loop through her arm. Kiryoung’s face gets hotter.

“Better?” Somi asks.

Kiryoung just nods.

They start off again, able to walk much more comfortably side by side now. Kiryoung tugs on Somi’s arm when they’re supposed to turn, leading the two of them silently. They eventually make it to the shelter of the ramen restaurant. Somi motions for Kiryoung to enter first, no overhang or awning making the transition inside without getting wet a little difficult. Somi stands halfway inside the restaurant as she closes Kiryoung’s umbrella, shaking it out before stepping inside fully.

“At least one of us was prepared,” Somi says, handing Kiryoung her umbrella back.

“You can go sit down; I’ll grab the ingredients from the bar,” Kiryoung tells her.

“Can I trust you not to poison me?” Somi asks.

“W-Why would I poison you?” Kiryoung stutters.

Somi smiles at her, “I’m teasing.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You really are gullible,” Somi quips.

The taller girl walks off to find a table and Kiryoung goes to the bar where she picks out a two person serving of ramen, some onions and scallions and green onions, a bit of soy sauce, and four pot stickers. She pays and is given a pot of water, finding Somi and placing it all down.

“This looks fancy,” Somi says, “I usually just get the ready-made seasonings.”

“It’s a lot better if you season it yourself,” Kiryoung tells her, setting the pot of water on the table’s stove.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Once the water has started to heat up, Kiryoung starts to add her seasonings to make the broth. She glances at Somi at one point, noticing how the younger girl is watching what she’s doing intently. She looks back at what she’s doing, making sure not to mess anything up. When the broth is boiling, she adds the noodles and not too long after, the pot stickers. Kiryoung turns the heat off once it’s finished and moves the pot off the stove onto a hot pad.

“Alright,” she says. “You try it first.”

Somi breaks her chopsticks apart and picks up a few noodles. She transfers them onto her spoon with a bit of broth and blows on it. She looks at Kiryoung.

“Here’s to no poison,” she jokes.

Kiryoung giggles.

Somi eats the noddles and broth, face lighting up as she tastes it. Kiryoung feels her heart swell a bit as Somi looks pleased with her ramen. Somi swallows her first bite.

“I think I just fell in love with you,” she says.

Kiryoung giggles shyly again and waves her off, “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s seriously so good,” Somi says, already getting another bite of noodles ready, “And food is the quickest way to my heart.”

Kiryoung smiles happily at her pot of ramen, breaking apart her own chopsticks to begin eating as well. They talk casually with one another, eating and learning about one another. Every so often, Kiryoung watches Somi’s face as she eats, always equally delighted to see Somi so pleased with her cooking.

“Yeah, all my members bully me,” Kiryoung says as she concludes her explanation of her relationship with her members.

“That’s so mean,” Somi says, “You’re like the sweetest person ever.”

“You just met me today.”

“My statement still stands; I am a wonderful judge of character.”

“And my character is sweet?”

“And gullible, a great cook, blunt, a little socially awkward.”

“Oh...”

“But you’re also caring and inquisitive. You’re curious about the world.”

Kiryoung smiles a little at Somi’s observations.

“You’re also super cute.”

Kiryoung blinks at Somi. Somi looks back at her.

Kiryoung shoves some noodles into her mouth to avoid any further awkward eye contact.

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shemakesmusic-uk · 3 years

Photo

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Alt-pop newcomer LVRA (pronounced loo-rah, real name Rachel Lu) has shared her first new track of 2021, ‘DEAD’. Following up on 2020’s debut EP LVCID, she explains: “There’s a unique power you gain when you stop caring about what people think of you. It’s an ongoing battle, though, and ‘DEAD’ is about the conflict between the fantasy of not caring and how you feel in reality. The video captures that, with a version of myself who has her shit together and another that is fighting to survive.The use of red represents fear in the human condition, but in Chinese culture it also symbolises happiness. One rarely comes without the other.” The track – a cultural mix that matches LVRA’s heritage with bleeding edge ultra HD pop – is the first taster of a second EP, which is set to follow later this summer. You can check out an Oscar McNab (Lacuna Common, Oscar Lang). directed video above. [via Dork]

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Los Angeles artist Wallice follows debut single 'Punching Bag' with new coming of age anthem, '23'. Wallice finds herself caught between two places on fresh cut, '23'. “Too old to be a runaway”, but also too young to consider herself as grown up, the 22-year old yearns for a past that still has not happened yet. Working with producer David Marinelli since her return to California, Wallice has crafted a sound that is unique without taking itself too seriously. An angst-driven remonstration at the powerlessness of her age, '23' is also the clearest stamp of her musical identity to date. The expression of this purgatory is a cathartic garage-rock headbanger complemented beautifully by Wallice’s playful lyrics. “I just can't wait to be / all grown up and 23,” she admits in the song’s irresistible chorus. “Tell me what is wrong with me / I miss my Ohio fake ID”. In artfully portraying the limbo state of the age, Wallice describes the events in her life that have led to her own disaffection. “It’s hard not to compare your own professional success to that of your similarly aged peers. I dropped out of university in New York after studying Jazz Voice for a year, and my dad was VERY disappointed, to say the least, so it was hard not to feel like a loser in that sense. “The specific age 23 doesn’t have any milestones associated with it, but it’s more the idea of just looking forward to the future,” Wallice continues on the meaning of the track. "Much like how people ‘reset’ every new year, it’s comparable to be ‘older and wiser’ with each birthday, but instead of constantly looking to the future, it is important to be happy with where you are”. [via Line Of Best Fit]

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Coach Party have shared their new single 'Everybody Hates Me'. The Isle of Wight group are gearing up to release their incoming EP, with After Party pitting their potent indie pop influences against bittersweet lyricism. Out shortly, the EP is teased by new thumper 'Everybody Hates Me', with Coach Party adding a neat gloss to their guitar pop sound. Out now, 'Everybody Hates Me' comes equipped with a neat video steered by Daniel Broadley. Vocalist Jess Eastwood comments: “‘Everybody Hates Me’ isn’t a metaphor for anything; it’s literally about those times when you convince yourself that everyone, including your best friends don’t actually like you, and your self-confidence is so low that you don’t even blame them. Disguise that sentiment in an up-beat singalong, and there you have the third single from our new record. The video is a direct extension of the song. It swings between the insecurities of feeling like you’re not good enough amongst your friends, and the sense of unity you get from those same people when you finally wake up from your rut. Everyone feels that way from time to time, but you gotta remember that sometimes your irrational self is going to take over. And when it does, try to remember that you’re awesome, and your friends really are your friends.” [via Clash]

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Pussy Riot have gone hyperpop on their latest song 'Toxic'. The Dorian Electra collaboration features glitched out production by Dylan Brady of 100 gecs and tackles a relationship gone bad. Written, directed, and edited by Pussy Riot’s Nadya Tolokonnikova, the music video features jarring, bloody imagery matching Brady’s production. “Care about yourself, cherish your mental health, and stay away from relationships that poison you!” Tolokonnikova writes in the YouTube description. “Amen.” In the song’s lyrics, Tolokonnikova tells off an ex. “You are my daily poison so annoying,” she sings. “You’re even more toxic than my employer.” The hook continues the theme. “This combo is deadly — ’cause we used to be friendly,” Electra laments. “And now my heart is a weapon / You made me… toxic.” [via Consequence of Sound]

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Baby Queen has dropped a brand new track, ‘These Drugs’. Bella Latham’s second new track of the year – following up on the anthemic ‘Raw Thoughts’ – she explains in an Instagram post: “This is a story I really needed to tell you and I didn’t know how to for a long time. When I first wrote this song, I honestly didn’t think I was going to be allowed to release it or that releasing it would be a particularly good idea. It just felt really important and that’s all I’ve ever wanted music to be; so I knew I had to share it with you.I was in a very bad place at the time… very depressed and convinced I wasn’t a good person and didn’t deserve good things. Life is different now. I’m happy. I’ve learnt that the antidote to my misery is gratitude and caring about myself even when I don’t want to, until it becomes a habit. It’s natural to look for escapism but there’s more freedom in working to build a life you like… and by that I literally just mean learning to love yourself. You, with all your scars and all your regrets, are home to an actual life! You’ve been through so much and you’ve come out the other side stronger because of it – it’s remarkable really. You’ve got to invite the sad parts of yourself in to have a tea party with you. Don’t ignore them and cover them up. If you don’t look at them, they’ll make themselves seen! You are so worthy of love and I hope that if you don’t see that yet, you will learn to in time. Anyways guys,” she finishes, “this is all very intense. I love you very much and I hope you can understand and relate in some way.” [via Dork]

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Greentea Peng has shared her new single 'Nah It Ain’t The Same'. The UK neo-soul voice is an outstanding talent, someone who pushes herself further into that hip-hop / jazz nexus with each release. Produced by Earbuds, new single 'Nah It Ain't The Same' is out now, one that reflects the chemistry she has with her live band The Seng Seng Family. Dipping into drum 'n' bass, her vocals have a calming, beatific feel, with 'Nah It Ain't The Same' tugging at matters personal. She comments: “Deliberations of a (hu) MAN, subject to the pendulum's swing, I give you ‘Nah It Aint The Same’ off my album MAN MADE. An expression and exploration of my utter confusion and inner conflicts amidst shifting paradigms.” Greentea Peng stars in the new video, with Machine Operated sculpting the video. [via Clash]

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renforshort has debuted a brand new single, ‘virtual reality’. The first taster of a forthcoming second EP, the track sees her “connect” with Kellen Pomeranz (Pom Pom), Jesse Fink and Beabadoobee collaborator Pete Robertson. “’virtual reality’ is a song that tackles many topics. But at its core, it really is about anxiety, routine, boredom, isolation, loneliness, and fear,” she explains. “I think a lot of people have a very unhealthy relationship with technology because it’s never really been restricted enough to consider mental health and overall health, and that has fucked so many people up, now more than ever. Ever since I was young, social media has played a major role in my mental wellbeing, and I became so accustomed to it, it became a part of my routine and it came before everything else. The moment I wake up, almost instinctively, I check my phone. Depending on what I see in the morning, basically determines how I’m gonna feel for the rest of the day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. And what’s most ironic about this all is you’re likely going to read this on social media or listen to the song on some sort of electronic device…” [via Dork]

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Flock of Dimes has shared the second single from her forthcoming album Head of Roses, out April 2 via Sub Pop. Following recent single, 'Two', 'Price of Blue' is another standout from Wasner’s second solo LP, an album that showcases her ability to embrace new levels of vulnerability, honesty and openness, combined with the self-assuredness that comes with a decade-plus career as a songwriter, producer, multi-instrumentalist and prolific collaborator. It comes accompanied by an unearthly new video filmed in black and white, co-directed by Wasner with Graham Tolbert. Wasner says: “This song is about trying, and failing, to connect. It’s about the ways in which, despite our best efforts, we misunderstand each other, and become so attached to stories that we’re unable to see the truth that’s right in front of us. And it’s about the invisible mark that another person can leave on your body, heart and mind long after their absence. It can be difficult to make sense of the memory of your experience when the reality on the surface is always shifting—when the story you’re telling, or the story you’ve been told, unravels, leaving you with a handful of pieces and no idea how they used to fit together.”

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Berlin-based indie-soul five-piece, People Club, announce their new EP Take Me Home, which is due May 7 and the band are sharing the title-track and new video. The title track 'Take Me Home' is a song about the realisation of mortality in old age and the cynicism that often plights the elderly after losing their loved ones and being left alone with their regrets. It is accompanied by a music video shot by long standing collaborator, Felix Spitta. Speaking of the process the band say, “Once again we worked with our very talented friend, Felix Spitta, who also shot the video for our last single Francine. We basically spent a day fooling around at his house with a smoke machine and an old tape TV camera with a red filter. The result is hazy and disorientating, just like this year has been so far.”

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Introducing MARY., the dreamy alter-ego of musician and songwriter Stef T. The self-produced debut track, ‘Day to Day’, interlaces elements of electro-pop and R&B with a voice that enchants, along with an official video filmed, edited and directed by David Risdon and Charlie Rose Creative. Reading like a page in a diary, ‘Day to Day’ offers a candid and emotionally raw glance at being overlooked as a woman in a man’s world. She is put together, glamorous and poised on the outside, but on the inside she is simmering like a pot ready to boil over, fed-up and on the brink of snapping. Speaking of the track, Stef T explains, “’Day to Day’ is a reflection on what it is to be a woman in a role where you are always unseen; constantly giving yet never receiving. As woman, we are often undervalued for our day to day work in all aspects - as mothers, in relationships, in our careers; having to push extra hard to get the basic recognition and thanks that we are entitled to. This song is a commentary of a large part of my life where I settled, sacrificed and worked, only to be used and taken for granted. It is about learning to survive a toxic relationship, discover your own individual worth again and reclaim the power that you gave away to someone else. Producing this song myself is the only thing that made sense in context with the intention of MARY. as a project. She is an entirely self made, independent woman, who does it all and doesn't need a man to confirm that she's doing a good job. This is something I have personally struggled with, so I created the MARY. persona to feel more empowered in my storytelling as an artist, in an industry without a large visible number of female-identifying producers.”

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Los Angeles based dream pop trio Tashaki Miyaki have just released a single and video of the title song from their forthcoming second album, Castaway, which will be released on April 23 via Metropolis Records. Singer, drummer and producer Paige Stark states that the song “is about the challenges of romantic love and how we are all bad at it in one way or another. The idea of a castaway in all this is that no one understands the relationship except the people in it, so you really are stuck on an island alone together there. Maybe you make it back to the mainland, or maybe you stay on the island.” Stark also shot the Sofia Coppola-inspired video on film, adding: "I wanted to tap into all the feelings that can come up in love relationships: anger, sadness, loneliness, vulnerability, stillness, joy, romance, longing. The actress in it has a beautifully expressive face and I've known her for a long time. I knew we would be able to create those moments together. I wanted it to feel like the camera was her lover, capturing her in various private moments, moods and feelings.”

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With her Vanilla Shell EP celebrating its one-year anniversary last month, Danish-Chilean composer Molina is back with another abbreviated record in the form of the new single 'Cold,' featuring vocalist Jonas Bjerre, arriving with a pair of B-sides. The brief collection of songs continues her simultaneous journey inward toward the roots of Chilean music and outward into her own unique vision of the future. The project lands with a video for the A-side, which dreams up bizarre fantasy iconography in the tradition of Grimes and Björk to complement her subdued take on these artists’ out-there recordings. Blending ambiguous electronic sounds with the familiar drone of cello and Bjerre’s backing vocals, the track’s distinct persona may have more in common with the experimental soundscapes of artists like Jenny Hval or Julia Holter. [via Flood]

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Maisie Peters has debuted her brand new single, ‘John Hughes Movie’. Described as the first single from her soon to be announced debut album, it’s a song about unrequited love, inspired by the legendary film producer and his classic coming-of-age teen comedies like The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles. The track comes alongside a video co-written by Maisie and director Louis Bhose (Loyle Carner, Arlo Parks, Lewis Capaldi). Maisie explains: “I wrote ‘John Hughes Movie’ when I was 17 about a house party that I had gone to. It’s a really honest depiction of being a hopeless, melodramatic teenager, being awkward and drunk and getting your heart broken by people you don’t even remember anymore. John Hughes films encapsulate that foolish romantic energy of high school and everything that I, a small town English wannabe Molly Ringwald wanted to be, but was not.” [via Dork]

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Chloe x Halle have shared the music video for their song 'Ungodly Hour.' The video was debuted on Wedneday night's episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon and shows the Bailey sisters going underwater for a sci-fi-style visual filled with choreography and elaborate adventures at the bottom of the ocean. Watch the Alfred Marroquín-directed video above. [via The FADER]

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South London's Josie Man has returned with sentimental new single 'Cuts & Bruise', marking her first release of 2021. 'Cuts & Bruises' follows October 2020's 'Grow' single, and is accompanied by a Andrea Mae-directed video that shows couples enjoying tender moments, including Josie Man and her boyfriend. [via Line Of Best Fit]

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Jessie Ware has shared a new short film for her song 'Remember Where You Are'. Her album What's Your Pleasure? arrived last year, a disco-fuelled missile that presented some much-needed good vibes amid lockdown. The songwriter returns to the record for her song 'Remember Where You Are', a soulful and uplifting slice of UK songwriting. There's now a full video for the song and it's steered by BAFTA winning director Dominic Savage. Starring British actress Gemma Arterton, it opens on Valentine's Day and finds the star wandering through deserted London streets. A glimpse of hope and renewal, it taps into the growing feeling that this time, lockdown might be coming to a permanent end. "It was a real pleasure to collaborate with Jessie and Gemma on this short film that is inspired by Jessie Ware’s beautiful music. It was also inspired by the real feeling that was felt when we filmed in the deserted streets of eerily strange lockdown London on a Saturday night/Sunday morning,” Dominic said. “The feelings and emotions in the film are a true reflection of what that felt like, and what this time invokes. Sadness, nostalgia, pain and defiance. But when we climbed Primrose Hill and the sun started to rise above the city, there was real hope and joy for a future that will surely be ours. Listening to Jessie’s music. There is no doubt of that." Jessie adds... "This song has always meant a lot to me and I was determined for other people to hear it and for it to be single. I am so touched by how many people have embraced this song, particularly when it's one of your favourite actresses and an acclaimed film director. Working with Gemma, Dominic and their team has been an absolute joy. To have them realise my song with a beautiful ode to London and the longing for human touch and interaction couldn't be more of a compliment. It's a truly cherished piece of work." [via Clash]

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Jaguar Jonze has shared her new single and video 'CURLED IN' ahead of the release of her second EP ANTIHERO on April 16, both via Nettwerk Records. 'CURLED IN' presents all her best qualities at its outset. From the track’s rip-roaring, slicing guitar to her perfectly forceful, omnipresent vocals, 'CURLED IN' is a pure cathartic release. "Tear me apart, just tear me apart," she all but demands: "I've never seen wrong be done right." She's fulfilling her simplest needs, and it's freeing. "It's a bit of a twist for me to be a masochist." As a survivor of abuse, these words' unafraid power is all too apparent and an engaging statement to hear expressed.

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Following the release of eclectic and impressive debut singles 'ASOS,' 'Right Time,' and 'Papercut,' rising left-of-center pop singer and songwriter Dava returns with a fresh and bold new single 'New Ceilings' available now via Sony Music's Disruptor Records. The moody anti-pop record was co-written by Dava and Mike Adubato (Del Water Gap, Grace VanderWaal) who also produced the track, and is the latest off the Los Angeles-based musician's forthcoming debut EP, Sticky, due out later this year. On the inspiration behind her new single, Dava shares, "This song was written about survival and staying true to yourself. I was having a hard time financially after moving to LA and my phone was shut off while on my way to this session. I was upset with myself for prioritizing music when I really needed the money from driving Uber to stay afloat." She continues, "The day I wrote 'New Ceilings' I was angry and I wanted a song that felt empowering and validated all the work I had put in up to that point. I ended up choosing different songs for my project but when I revisited this one year later, I felt it needed to be heard because of how authentically it embodies my struggle."

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London-based Fifi Rong, a multi-talented avant-pop songstress, has shared the video for her stunning single, ‘Another Me’. Directed by Rok Pat, the video for ‘Another Me’ is stylistically simplistic, as Fifi Rong uses her own body as a medium of art, painting herself and inviting the simple imagery of waterside reeds and plants. A tranquil mysticism embraces the single as Fifi Rong acts as a gentle siren, luring the unsuspecting in yet known the inevitable outcome of the relationship. Speaking of the concept behind the single and video, Fifi Rong tells us: “In any doomed romance, timing is always mysteriously wrong. This is my first full CGI music video and it visually portrays the elusive nature of the character surrounding the key message: 'you won't find another me'. The undertone of the song displays a sense of pride and confidence in the character’s melancholy. Dressed in nothing but petals, I wanted my character to symbolise purity, nature, truthfulness, vulnerability and the divine feminine form. Acting as a rotating statue, I wanted to mark the passing of time and seasons as if a unique and lonely piece of art on display.”

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of-another-broken-heart · 3 years

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I’m just going to copy/paste this because it took me hours and I’m drained.

I guess I have to format it again if I want it to show up at all...

I couldn't even make it back home before breaking down crying again.

Driving while chronically sleep deprived, exhausted, fatigued, and dissociating is bad enough. Doing it with all that AND without being able to see? How special.

I barely had time to sit down, my phone rang. I answered it, begging for someone to hear me. For thirty straight seconds. "Hello? Hello? Hello???" Finally someone spoke, but they couldn't hear me. I'm sobbing. They hung up. I scrambled to call back, from my computer, because at least then I'm not fighting a lack of reception as well as my anxiety. They called again. I didn't answer. I waited for my computer to ring through instead. I'm put on hold. I'm sobbing. It was just to ask what my pharmacy is. Which I already answered on my paperwork. Which I answered, again, at check-out. And I was forced into a third confirmation via a pointless, needless, anxiety-attack inducing phone call hazing. For something I already answered.

It's not fucking fun. People don't choose this. I didn't choose this. But does it matter? "Call," the command comes. "Just call." "Call to confirm." "Call to ask." "Call." "Call." "Call."

I want you to think of something that takes physical hold of your body and brings to you to tears. I want you to hold that and sit with it until it does those things. I want you to choose to reduce yourself to a sobbing mess, struggling to breathe, alone. And I want you to picture a world where you are commanded, demanded, required to do this. For virtually everything. Imagine needing help - but you must first re-traumatize yourself with your most painful memories until your nose is running and your eyes burn from crying. And you're exhausted for the rest of the day, too. Maybe multiple days. Absolutely exhausted. So fucking depleted that taking yourself to the bathroom is almost impossible. Feeding yourself - even eating something out of a can, or microwaved - is a herculean effort. Does that sound fun? Of course not.

As for the appointment itself: It's the same. Much better bedside manner. But it's the same underlying capitalism-serving "care" system. It's my fault. I'm not trying hard enough. I'm not blacking out alone on the side of the road enough. I haven't dissociated hard enough and/or blacked out while driving yet, so it can't be that bad, right? Not until I'm maimed or dead, right? Why address the root of a problem when we can just plaster on endless band-aids instead? When we can blame you for hurting, instead of the environment that's poisoning you? I'm not medically sedating myself into an obedient little wage slave, and that's the real problem. I should aspire to produce capital for someone with most of the remaining hours of my life. That's the purpose of living, that's the reason for "health"care - not to care about health, no, just to keep the wheels of capitalism well-oiled with wasted human life. Inherent human value? Quality of life? Nah.

They refused my medical history. I brought the 72-page pdf on a flash drive. Because that's how I was given it. Because I can't afford to buy and operate a personal fax machine and/or print out a chapter book's worth of pages of medical records. I went through the trouble of getting the files, and it took over a month - only to be told "we can't take anything but paper or fax." I filled out a file release form as best I could. But I didn't have the phone number or address memorized. Not even before that place became synonymous with medical neglect and trauma for me. So now they're going to go through the ancient months-long ritual of requesting the self-fucking-same documents from LISH, either by mail or fax, because they "can't" access a flash drive or a pdf or use email. Welcome to 2021. We're back to "normal" and teleheath never existed and the internet is fake and technology is a myth and why do anything efficiently when you can waste time and do damage to people instead? My Aunt called to check in on me during her lunch break. (Thank you again) She offered to get the file printed and try to hand it in for me. I'm too tired to hope. I'm too exhausted to think they'll accept it without fuss. Anything and everything to make things harder.

Top priority order of business is the whole "diseased for life" thing. Hashimoto's thyroiditis. Hypothyroidism. Daily hormones for every day of the rest of forever, gatekept behind eternal doctor visits and prescriptions and pharmacies and copays and and and and did I mention this is forever? I've got a referral to have a thyroid sonogram done. Haven't ever had one of those before. Need to make that appointment. I was able to have my blood drawn for the thyroid testing without needing an additional appointment, which was a nice change of pace. Normally you're supposed to fast for that, but I wasn't expecting that could be done during the visit. Three years of having to make additional trips to the lab for blood work. I ate immediately before getting there, so hopefully nothing had a chance to metabolize and skew the results. Even though it was great not to have to juggle yet another appointment for health shit, it was stressful. The nurse took three tries before she had all the supplies she needed in the room. I already have anxiety spikes (which also raise my blood pressure and heart rate) for all doctor visits now. (White Coat Syndrome, I learned, it's called) I didn't need to have a rubber cable tied around my arm, popped off, tied again, popped off, and tied a third and final time to make it worse. A pro to that con: she was incredibly accurate and gentle. I normally have sub-dermal bleeding and some bruising after having blood drawn, and keep the bandage on for a day or two. The bandage didn't last even an hour after I got home - but there wasn't a single spot of trapped blood, and I almost couldn't even tell where she stuck me.

I have another new diagnosis to add to my growing collection. Hypertension. High blood pressure. I used to have slightly low blood pressure. It stunned the first doctor I ever saw (you know, because I'm fat, so that sort of thing is supposed to be ~impossible~) and it frustrated my last doctor at first, too. But now, with years of building stress and anxiety? It's almost like living with your most basic human needs barely provided (food, shelter, healthcare - let's not bring up social needs LMAO those don't count anyway, right?), and at constant risk of being taken away, for months (years, in some cases) on end, is some form of stress. It's almost like being constantly dismissed and told "you're just not trying hard enough" (WHILE TRYING YOUR BEST JUST TO SURVIVE EACH DAY) is some form of stress!It's almost like perpetual, ongoing, worsening stress has a negative impact on your heart! It's almost like there are decades of data that spell this out, plain as day!It's almost like I noticed my elevated heart rate back in NOVEMBER and mentioned it out of concern to my last doctor - who dismissed it outright because my reading in-office wasn't *that* bad, and also shouldn't I be on 5487 psych meds instead? If I was sedated out of my mind, I wouldn't be physically capable of feeling stress in my body despite the presence of real-world stress factors. That's healthy, right? Don't bother to solve the stressors, just neuter the body's response to them. Super healthy response. (Not) My GYN took note of my concern in December, when my vitals DID show as high in-office. Not that my GYN had the jurisdiction to do anything about it. I'm being put on another medication to try to mitigate this, and potentially also address some anxiety. I haven't picked it up yet. I don't know the name. I don't know if I'll be able to afford it. "Your copay is only a dollar!" Yes well, when you don't have a dollar, you can't afford a dollar, can you?

I was given a list of psychiatrists. To "Call!!"Precisely none of them are a reasonable distance away. Nearly half aren't even in my insurance network. Some explicitly exclude Medicaid. Others are exclusively for children. I was suggested a medication for depression and anxiety. I can't remember which one. Either Abilify or Lexapro? I declined it for now, either way. I wanted to be able to research it. Lexapro is just another SSRI and I already know those don't work for me. Adding a chemical bouncer to my brain to make sure the happy chemicals stay out to play doesn't help when there are no happy chemicals in the first place. A quick search for Abilify doesn't address anxiety at all so it was probably Lexapro. In which case, I am not interested in repeating a different-flavor-Prozac experience. It was not good. I didn't get any notes with that medication, regardless. I got a sticky note with "Valerian Root Extract (tea or tincture)" and "Magnesium Glycinate 2 capsules" scribbled on it, instead. Out-of-pocket home rem-maybes. I can't afford to experiment with snake oils, so mostly I'll probably just spend a bunch of time looking for data and research and studies for those substances, and that's it. If I get around to psychiatric care, I will have to start from scratch in my insurance's shoddy search tool, again. And, frankly, it's not a priority. My mental health struggles are the result of a lot of physical factors and external/social factors, and no amount of artificial chemicals bullying my brain is going to solve any of it. When your car starts leaking oil, you don't just commit to buying more oil forever and dribbling it all over, wherever you go. You fix the fucking leak. If your house has a gas leak, you don't invest in gas masks. You fix the fucking leak. If you end up with a burst pipe, you don't commit to wasting water and money and damaging your environment. You fix. The fucking. Leak. But in these comparisons, I'm getting prescribed oil and gas masks and infinite water damage/waste/bills as long-term care.

I mentioned my fatigue. It was the final straw that made me give up with the last doctor. It just keeps getting worse. It's been getting worse for over 3 years. And I'm so, so fucking tired of it getting pinned fully on the fact that I'm not on psych meds. I WAS on psych meds during part of those 3 years with my last doctor. And it didn't fucking make any difference! A daily chemical lobotomy does not address or restore my lack of physical energy. My decades-old medication-resistant insomnia has never vanished with psych meds before, and it's not likely to do it now. Especially not with yet another of the same family of chemicals that I already know don't work. I want my concern to be taken seriously. I don't want it just brushed into the mental health corner, again. Being too tired to even do the things you used to enjoy - no one fucking wants this! I don't want this! I miss being able to go for walks. I miss going to the gym. I miss seeing how much I could do, and feeling good, and feeling strong. And I can't do any of that now. Not without risking harming myself in the process.

No one wants this. I keep talking, but it feels like no one listens. At the earliest opportunity, we're back to repeating the same tired old shit that doesn't work. I try to come prepared, and the stress and time and system make sure I fail to stand up for myself anyway. I didn't get to document my disordered eating history. The relapse this year. Restricting, sometimes to the point of not eating at all. I declined to be weighed, because I want my care to be based on relevant data, vitals, blood results - not the shape and size of my body. But I was too tired to realize I needed to dodge a verbal ask for the same information. Which, it turns out, is nearly as bad a trigger as having the scale spit it out for me. Being your own advocate for equal care, when you're already tapped out? I'm not winning that challenge.

I'm frustrated. I'm not giving up, but I am frustrated and beyond tired. I don't really expect anyone to read this mess. But it's here.

#personal

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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What’s wrong? (Tj Hammond) (Pt.1)

Characters: Bi!TJ Hammond x Asian!Female!Reader

Summary: You're an overseas worker and is in a relationship with TJ, but people can't seem to accept the differences between you both even by financially and background wise.

Warning: Kisses. Public making out. Mention of threesome but no lemon. Lmao. HOT, SEXY GIF'S which can make your phone fly. No angst yet. Annoying racist journalist. Mention of doing the birds and the bees but it wasn't written. Heehee!

Words: 4000+ (IT'S LONG AF. 😂 There’s a part 2 which will be posted soon if ya want?)

A/N: I always tend to write long ass oneshots for TJ Hammond. Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Because maybe I'm the only one enjoying this? Lmao. GO BE CRAZY WITH YOUR FEEDBACKS, TATER TOTS! IT’S TIME FOR SOME ASIAN FEMALE READERS!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS.

"They're not gonna accept me, Teej." Your heart sank from the moment those words came out of your lips, it was like a curse that made your heart feel heavier with every beat. Those were just the mere, honest truth that was inevitable to come out.

You didn't want to beat behind the bush. From the moment TJ asked you to be his partner for the engagement party that was soon to happen for Douglas and Annie, the anxiety crept up your heart, jumping towards your head that made you speak the honest truth.

You knew deep down that your ethnicity and your background was making it difficult for you, for the both of you and for everyone.

TJ immediately sensed the disheartened change in your voice as he was mindlessly trying to help chop the vegetables needed, standing in front of the kitchen island. On the other hand, you were preparing the beef for the Stir fried noodles you opted to make, in request to the whiny Hammond boy living in yours and his apartment.

You felt gentle arms snake around your waist and instantly you knew whose arms were that from. Tj leaned down, his head beside yours as he adjusted to your five foot one height. You felt his lip on your cheek, peppering soft kisses till he reached your ear. "Am I hearing you right? Was that a whine I heard? As far as I know, I'm the whiny boyfriend here," Tj whispered and chuckled, feeling his hot breath fanning against your ear made you quietly gush in his arms.

"Thomas! Stop, You know I got the tickles there!"

Tj felt the need to be playful, in account to your saddened state. He continued blowing at your ear, "Oh, so now I'm only Thomas to you?" Chuckles and giggles rang around your apartment. Joyful laughters that was perfect to record and watch at any time of the day. Tj haven't been that happy since his recent breakup. From a political fool who he thought had loved him, but end up abusing and using the love he has been giving in the end.

Despite of his crestfallen, past relationship, you suddenly came along. He was utterly depressed and went back to being a druggie. After months have passed of being clean, the addiction came along after the heartbreak. Yet, it was stopped once again from the moment you came along. Basically, you were the rainbow after his rain and he ought to see the light from you forever glowing.

"Hey, hey," Tj pulled you away from your wandering, negative thoughts. Never forgetting to give your head a kiss, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body, "You gotta stop being a pessimist," He cocked his head, an eyebrow rising as he collected his thoughts, "Just..relax, everything's going to be fine I swear,"

You turned the gas range off, sighing and whipping around once you did, meeting a very soft, sweet looking Hammond boy whose eyes were the prettiest out of all the blues out there. Your lip was now in between your teeth, biting the flesh from overthinking what was bound to happen soon. "You always say that, and I'd rather expect the worst, Teej because you're in a relationship with me."

"What's wrong being in a relationship with you? I don't find anything wrong about it," He sassily shrugged, caressing your hip with his thumbs in utmost tenderness, "Anne's Asian, from a different ethnicity but they don't get to say their complaints or problems about it, Y/N."

You bit your lip harder, eyebrows furrowing from thinking too deep, "Anne's from a wealthy family, Tj. And I'm...I'm..from trash,"

"Which I was lucky to find because I have rummaged a diamond in the dumps," He chuckled, his laugh sounding angelic to you. You fought off a smile, the anxiety was still swallowing you whole, making everything more complicated for you. "It's not funny, you're just making my anxiety worse,"

Tj had to put more effort in distracting you, and so he tried harder. "Come on, Baby. Lighten up, nothing's gonna happen, it's going to be a boring day for us because the party was probably a way to bring those stormtroopers all together," He licked his lips, looking at you straight in the eyes with such shine that could make your heart go all putty. "Just be my plus one, be the good girl you are while we suffer this together, Deal?"

"I dunno, Teej. What do I get in return upon agreeing to this so called...deal of yours?" You purred, tracing the outline of his pectorials bulging out of his tight black shirt. A lopsided smile on your lips.

"Hmm," Tj playfully hummed, his head falling till he reached your ear, never forgetting to give it a tender bite, "Maybe some steamy shower with me, I suppose?" The naughty Hammond boy suggested with a tiny chuckle, his voice dropping an octave lower, even with a suggestive tone that reached down inside your pantaloons, making you squirm in his grasp. "That is..if you're up to it?"

"But--how about the food--" You stammered, finding it hard to say no.

"We could always start with the dessert first, Love." and you certainly didn't object after that.

✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*✧˖*

Tons of people with class that were worth a million dollars came lounging in. Small talks, and fake hi's were their main objective. Wealthy, power hunger crocodiles seem to sound appropriate for their understandable behaviors. Other people appeared to enjoy communicating with anyone whom they can see as wealthy and famous, making them look like a total gold digger or a social climber who likes to be friends with people whom are high-class.

Everything that was happening around you was making you shake your head in animosity. Another set of anxiety creeping you in. How did you even end up in Tj's home when everybody had given you the stink eye, jealous, thirsty women scanning your appearance and history from head to foot if that was even possible.

They were probably wondering how Tj was in a relationship with a substandard woman like you who lived in the eastern part of the world. Well, Sexuality-wise..They were certainly stunned to see the former first son gay icon renegade turned miraculously bisexual, acting all touchy-feely and having thoughts inside their judgemental minds as to why he kept staring at you, looking all lovestruck and whipped.

"Y/N!!! Sweetheart!" You jumped from the huge, beige couch as you lounged beside your boyfriend. A half empty Martini in hand. You could see Margareth, Tj's grandmother marching your way. Her hips swaying with her heels. Her smile never fading once she saw how you still kept your relationship with her complicated grand son, Thomas.

"Tj's keeping you all to himself! This kid can be selfish when he wants to," Margareth complained, her voice shaky and senile but a little bit too hyper for her age. She never forgot to playfully smack her grand son's head, "Aw! Nana!" Tj complained with a sweet smile drawn on his face. A smile that Margareth remembered when he was still a child back in the white house.

Finally, she thought. It was time she got her grand son back.

"Hey, Nana!" You chimed, a huge grin plastered on your face. Truthfully delighted to see somebody whom gave your heart that warm, familiar feeling. Margareth grabbed you in a hug once you stood up to hug her. Yet, you were too slow to be first. "Y/N," She murmured as she cut the hug. Staring right back at you with a sweet smile while she reached for your face. "I'm really happy you keep my grand son in check and completely elated like who he was back then," Nana muttered, taking glances back at Tj who was busy chatting with one of Elaine's friend.

"Please, don't leave him like how that asshole did, Y/N. I don't know what he'll do next when you do, sweetheart."

"I don't plan to, Nana." You gave a crooked smile, adding a giggle on the end. Your words repeating inside your mind like a mantra. Did you really not thought about that? Margareth smiled, lightly tapping your right cheek with a laugh. "Good," She grabbed another Margarita from one of the waiters who were strolling around, promptly sipping on it. "You're perfect for this family,"

You fit in the family. But, that was in Nana's humble perspective. What about Dougie? Elaine? Especially Bud's point of view? Do they accept you though?

The party went on. It wasn't late yet, though as the time went on, more familiar people came in and began to join in the party. As an awkward human being, you stood on the middle of the floor. All alone sipping on your second Martini. Tj asked you to give him a minute because he had to talk to someone and probably get something in God knows where. You immediately gave your approval, giving him a sweet, innocent, tiny kiss on the lips before practically shoving him away before it took much more than you intended to.

Loud chatters can be heard, controversial topics that reached your ear made you want to raise a brow because of their judgemental thoughts that should be kept locked inside their poisonous minds. 'You sure they ain't putting up an act to cover Tj's real sexuality?' 'I bet he's using her,' 'Or probably it's the other way around, girl.'

'She seems like a lonely bitch,'

You crossed your arms against your chest, the anger bubbling up till it reached your head. Giving you a minor, temporary headache. In your peripheral vision, you could see Tj from the bar, talking to Nana and her circle of friends, with a precious smile on his gorgeous face. It was all glitters and rainbows in his part.

On the other hand, yours were full of shit. You cussed inside the back of your mind. The thick-faced women giggled and they were quite close to you. They probably intended to let you hear their conversation, to stir you up and mess with your temper. Especially that journalists and reporters were around, waiting for something to happen so they could add it in their drafts.

You ignored them the best you can. Nonetheless, there was always one person who'll irk you and even try to stir up the kindness in you that could change into rage. You sipped on your cocktail drink while staring at the piano in curiosity. Does Tj know how to play? You mindlessly thought inside your mind. Oh, you were about to know and ask him about it. There was a lingering warm presence behind you, and you instantly smiled from ear to ear. Speak of the devil..

However, to your surprise a woman with blue eyes stood tall in front of you. Appearing to have this sense of pride that she was one successful woman. You could tell from head to toe and it made you feel so tiny and unworthy that you were welcomed to join in the party.

"Will you be so kind to answer these questions that I have for you? Ms..??" The lady humbly asked, an innocent smile that hid behind a wicked scheme she had in mind. You couldn't even believe her. How can she ask for an interview from a person whom she doesn't know his/her name?

What a fool indeed.

"Y/N." You kept a short answer, a tight smile on show as you sighed out loud which made the reporter raise a brow from your dissatisfaction. How dare you act annoyed when you should feel delighted to be interviewed even though you were one substandard woman whom Thomas Hammond obviously made his worst mistake. The woman thought through her fake smile planted on her thick, injected lips.

"So, let's start off with something simpler, Y/N." She paused, acting all modest with the fakest smile you have ever seen. "Tj's??"

If she wanted to appear stupid, then it was best to say the stupidest answers as well. You breathed in deep breaths. Take it with your big girl panties. You can do this. You can. "Supportive wife?" You spoke as a matter of fact. Snorting a little when you saw her jaw tighten.

The brunette woman couldn't help but snicker, sneaking a tiny roll of her eyes. "I don't see a ring," She snapped, laughing to herself and eyeing you from head to toe. "Or a collar?" She smirked when you kept your hands on your sides, fists completely tight, trying hard not to make a scene. No. Never stoop down to her level, Y/N.

"Hmm," She fixed the lapels of her black blazer, "Obviously, you're the girlfriend. I'm not an idiot, Ms. Y/N."

Your nerves was seriously ticking like a time bomb that was ready to explode. "Really? You seem to be a much bigger idiot than me when you asked for my name, but the truth is..I know you knew who I was," You breathed out harshly, not wanting to start and send off rude remarks that could have endless rebuttals. "If I'm an idiot then why do I own a big advertising company..Unlike you," Miss reporter held her head high with her tall height, eyeing you from head to toe again like it was her nasty habit. "I don't work at any Ching-chong restaurants that spits rice, noodles or kimchi's,"

Well, that made you face palm.

"Do you have any more racist comments that could honestly move me? Because that comment sucks so bad," You held a finger under your eye, trying to wipe away imaginary tears. "Cry me a river, woman."

Tj laughed a boisterous one from what grandma Mercedith just said. She was one of Nana's bestest friend and a sweetheart indeed. Margareth noticed that Y/N wasn't with her grandson, and so she questioned.

"Tj, where's Y/N?"

The latter smiled, those smiles that held teeth and was too picturesque not to ogle at. Nana couldn't help but lift her lips too. "Oh, over there." Tj gestured behind him, towards where the party was, never looking back. Margareth glanced where he was pointing to and saw that Y/N is being interrogated by the infamous reporter slash journalist slash owner of an almost bankrupt advertising company who had no good thing to do but make false hypothesis about every issue especially when it was about the Hammond family.

"Tj," Nana started, sounding disturbed. "If I were you, I won't go leaving Y/N in a place full of sharks wanting to munch on a bait," She pointed towards where Y/N and Rosalie Sparks where. They seem to be exchanging heated conversations because she could see how Y/N was keeping herself together. "The Sasquash is on the move, honey."

"What?" Tj turned their backs away from them. A stern frown appeared to be on show for the folks to see. Finally acknowledging what his Nana has been saying and there they were. His girlfriend and an annoying woman who was planning to offend and get something out of his girlfriend. What was new?

"How's it feel to be unaccepted in the Hammond family? Especially that we know Bud doesn't take a liking on you because of how incompetent you are and how pitiable your family is," Rosalie Spark's chatted like what she was saying are compliments that was meant to fill the heart. Though, it was filling it with dread and anger. "Rich people deserve to only be with rich people too," She clucked on her wine glass with her fancy gold ring, grinning in the process. "While the peasants deserve to stay in the dumps,"

You zipped your mouth. Never stoop down. Never. Silence is the best way to talk back because you knew you were educated, matured and old enough to know how immature she was acting.

"I'm honestly disgusted by Tj Hammond's tastes are in women," She continued, more like talking to herself because you weren't speaking. "Or he's probably just confused for the second time and is actually really..reallyyy into men," The bitch exaggerated.

"Because if I'm in a relationship with you or--" She held her mouth, supressing a giggle that made you want to throw a glass at her. "--to be unluckily sleeping with you, I'll just be gay for all my life, Y/N."

You could feel your eyes turning hotter as each second pass by. God, you were such a pathetic baby. Why had you even agreed to go the party? Obviously because Tj begged you to come with him.

Not a second has passed by when you felt a warm presence snake beside you, and it took you long enough to realize that it was finally your Tj by the looks of his black dress shirt and all black attire. An arm moved around you, clutching onto your waist and Tj felt you were shaking. Probably from anger because that's just who you are.

You'd rather stay quiet despite of how people attack you, you'd rather be kind to rude people than to offend them back and that's how Tj knew you were one of a kind. A special one.

Before you knew it, your heart skipped a beat from the moment he held your jaw with his hand. Ushering your face to look at him, and with one dip of his head he had you enthralled in his spell that could calm you down in the sweetest way. Tj kissed you, right in front of that annoying journalist to probably irritate the heck out of her. He locked your lips with his, teasingly lunging the tip of his tongue inside your parted lips as he closed his eyes. Acknowledging the effect you could only give to him.

You couldn't help but envelope your arms around his figure as you kiss him deep, biting on his lower lip that made you both smirk from how she was certainly already uncomfortable. Physical contact makes people feel awkward. Tj preed his eyes open, seeing the woman with a pathetic aggravated face that made him chuckle as you both kiss.

Oh, she wasn't going anywhere is she?

Tj gave her a grin, never forgetting to give your lip a tender bite that made your insides go mushy and another sweet kiss that made your heart twerk. He was yours and yours alone. Only yours.

"Tiger twat," Tj answered so smoothly with that hot smolder as he looked deep into your eyes. Completely enticed by your spirit with an innocent smile written on his face that wasn't too innocent in your line of vision. You could see the grin and irk threatening to be shown on his beautiful features. Here, you thought he was calling you a tiger twat when it was actually sent to the reporter slash journalist who looked guilty because she seemed to be entirely shook.

"Isn't that your nickname in DC?" He finally gave attention to the tall, angry Sasquash who happened to rudely interview you.

"News spread so fast, Rosalie."

Your loving boyfriend grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her pride and dignity shatter like fragile chinawares. "What's it like to have teeth down there?"

"Your girlfriend's a bitch," Her ego was wavering yet that didn't stop her from trying to have the last laugh. Rosalie hardly bit the insides of her cheeks, remembering the awful night when the famous Tj Hammond who was out and wasted in his club and miraculously happened to reject her amazing, stunning self.

Oh, did she had a petty little crush on him so that was why she was acting so hostile towards you.

"No," Tj shook his head, a wicked grin threatening to come out and a lot of nasty sentences that could get her to crumble. "You're the bitchest out of all the bitch, Rosalie." He chuckled, his arm retreating from your waist as you saw him took a step forward till he reached her ear, bending down to whisper whatever he needed to.

"Don't come attacking my woman when you're still salty about that night," Tj harshly whispered on her ear, his voice turning an octave lower but definitely more harsh, breath hot and fanning, making her toes curl with want and hunger. "I remembered it so well," He chuckled, a sinister one. "I remembered how you were trying to get in my pants, yet my gay self didn't happen to find you attractive nor worth to fuck for a threesome,"

"Besides, I wouldn't want my dick to get chewed by that dry, loose, wrinkly, smelly twat, Sparks."

And just like that, she huffed and was in the verge of crying her frustrations out once she stomped her foot as she retreated. Making Tj form a wide smile that could make your insides turn a twist. What did he say that made the woman act like a bratty crybaby?

"Thomas," You started, seeing Tj walk back to you, enveloping his arms around your waist, leaning down to give you another peck on the lips but you were quick to maneuver your head, making him chase your lips with his. "Thomas," You repeated more sternly but quietly this time. He looked like he was a little smashed. Was he? you hoped he hadn't sniffed anything that could dissapoint you. "Nobody has the right to talk to you like that," He shockingly spat out in aggravation, looking deep in thought as he gorgeously stared into your eyes.

"What did you say to her?"

He shook his head, licking his lips as he whispered. "Nothing. It's not important, Sugar." His eyes was now trained on your lips, looking like he wanted to devour it all night. You couldn't help but smile. "Are you drunk?"

Your Tj drank in all of your beautiful features. Seeming to be mesmerized by your soul. "No, I'm not. I promise," He took a breather, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "I just love you too much. I can't stand them treating you that way,"

"Now, kiss me." He hastily puckered, dipping his head down for the third time and you were quick to adorably cover his mouth like the conservative person you are. "Tj, we're in the middle of--"

Tj didn't hide the roll of his eyes, showing you how much of a kill joy you were. "Do you think I give a damn?" He spoke against your palms, sounding muffled. "Y/NNNNNN,"

You internally rolled your eyes. He was such a baby. Your big baby. "Fine,"

He kissed your palms, planting a loud kissy sound that made people glance your way, his eyes turning adorable crescent moons once you dropped your palms off his lips. "I love youuuu," Tj puckered for the fourth time before grabbing your face in his hands. Kissing the daylights out of you in the middle of an engagement party. Apparently, it was Dougie and Anne's party yet it seemed like you were both having the engagement.

SCREAM OUT FEEDBACKS IF YA WANT A PART 2 OF THIS ONE SHOT BECAUSE THIS HASSSS A SECOND PART TO IT!!!!

XOXO, TATA

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