#i did make a direct reply to the most recent person who fucking @'d me in the post replies but i deleted it cause i didn't want to draw

[daxite]

oh my fucking god can people actually just shut up about that captcha post i seriously don't give a shit dude

#dax rambles #every single one of them has either been passive-aggressive as fuck or just flat-out aggressive over it as well #christ this site is seriously still filled with cunts #swear to god this is the last post i'll make about it if anyone else comes whining in my asks i'm just gonna delete them i cannot be fucked #i did make a direct reply to the most recent person who fucking @'d me in the post replies but i deleted it cause i didn't want to draw #more attention to it and for OP's sake anyway LOL #also apparently i couldn't @ the guy who reply pinged me in the first place which was weird dunno if they blocked me or something lmao #anyway now that it's been a while gonna add that i'm like 80% certain that the anon was the same person who first @'d me on the post itself #which is really funny if it was cause i actually reached out to them in DMs politely saying that i'd rather discuss that in asks or #in private because i wasn't really expecting any randos to debate me over some throwaway tags for my blog lmfao #but they ignored me and considering the link the anon sent was literally the exact same singular source + similar typing style #i'm kind of inclined to believe it was them which is pretty shitty and incredibly spineless if so lol #again yeah i could be jumping to conclusions i'm just venting at this point because i wasn't expecting people to throw such a fit #anyway done now i won't be coming back to this again lol

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

journey, m | ot7

full title: journey to the dick

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

summary: A Cinderella story but it's a dick pic. Yup, that's right. You find a dick pic on your phone and make it your mission to find the owner of said dick. Time to fuck the seven hottest guys you know! Onwards!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption / partying; horny crack, everyone radiates chaotic energy and wants to fuck; reader is comparing their dicks to above-mentioned dick pic so there's a lot of talk about dick, did I mention there's a lot of dick? dick; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, handjob, thigh fucking, dance studio sex, overstimulation, fingering, dry humping, 69, face-sitting, photography during sex, m-masturbation, being cummed on (neck / chest [a cum necklace LMAO] + hand), film studio sex, wall-fucking, being overheard / walked in on during sex (and not giving a shit, oops), implied car sex, implied threesome); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene

appearances based on the 'Butter' jacket photoshoots yes, the opening line is #50 of my prompt list LMAO title comes from Journey to the West, except it's dick because that's way more important. also, yeah, this is basically a harem hentai, but it's you and BTS, woohoo! :D

--

"Whose dick pic is this and why it is so inspirational?"

Park Jimin craned his head over to look at your phone, black hair brushing against your forehead. "Damn! That is an incredible dick."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kim Taehyung muttered, yanking your phone out of your hand and peering at the screen. His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up into his dark brown hair. "Oh, ho! What a high-quality specimen of a dick."

"Why is it on my phone though?" you frowned, taking your phone back from Taehyung. You were sitting next to Jimin on their sofa, contemplating the great mysteries of the world. The black phone case had a cute mouse holding a large sewing needle and sitting next to a spool of sky-blue thread. "I didn't take this one, sadly."

"Maybe you were real drunk," Jimin offered.

"I haven't been real drunk since I projectile vomited in your guys' parking lot."

"That was last week," Taehyung reminded you, smiling amusedly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Look, it was a bad breakup."

"You went on, like, two dates," Jimin laughed, smacking you in the arm.

"It had potential!"

"Yeah, a potential dumpster fire," Taehyung added, rolling his eyes as he sat down on the other side of you. "I know you go for the quiet, nerdy ones, but you're just–"

"Brash? Forward? Ready to sit on dick at any second?"

Jimin was being very helpful.

Taehyung shoved Jimin's grinning face away. "It's a conflict of personality and yours is quite intense, so maybe you should try and be more open-minded about other options."

You frowned, not enjoying this pep talk that you probably needed. In fact, you avoided said pep talk at all costs. You reached back and yanked on Taehyung's ponytail. He prodded you in the left breast in response, glaring. You smacked his hand. He smacked your hand back.

Hey, when you don't have a good reply, resort to violence, right?

You looked back down at your phone. Swollen, red-purple, a good thickness. Nice length too, so hard it was sticking up without the assistance of a hand. You could spy the white pre-cum beading at the engorged tip. It was a strangely clear and well-composed photo. Black boxer briefs. Blue jeans, white shirt.

Fuck.

Could literally be any guy in the history of existence.

You turned the photo to Jimin. "Someone must have taken it last night when I couldn't find my phone for those two hours."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah, seems like it."

"You remember anyone in this outfit?"

Jimin snorted, wrinkling his cute nose. "Everyone was in jeans and a white t-shirt. 'Cause there was that wet t-shirt contest later that night, remember?"

You scratched your head. Ah, yes. Taehyung won. Man looked fucking amazing thanks to working out his arms and chest the past month. Was it solely for the purpose of a silly party gimmick? Maybe. You weren’t complaining though. You did what any good friend would do.

"Oh, right. Who won?"

Taehyung grabbed your shoulders and violently shook you. "I did! Obviously – ah, fuck you!" His tone quickly changed when he realized you were laughing like a maniac, doubling over in a pile of giggles with Jimin. "You're the worst," Taehyung pouted, holding his arms protectively.

"I'm just kidding, don't be mad," you chuckled, reaching over to hug him. He accepted it, but not without continuing to pout. You nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin. "I bought you your favorite breakfast when you were hung over this morning, come on now."

His dark brown eyes shifted back and forth before letting out a long, deep sigh and hugging you back. Damn. He had a nice hug now thanks to these arms and his broad chest. He smelled like warm chamomile.

"I worked hard for these," he mumbled.

You patted him on the back before releasing him and holding up your phone. Back to the first order of business.

"Is this your dick?"

Taehyung scrunched up his face. "No? But I don't look at my dick at that angle either."

You puffed your cheeks and turned to Jimin.

"Is this your dick?"

Jimin plucked your phone from your hand. He tilted his head to one side. Then the other.

"Lemme check."

Then he stood up and started walking to the direction of the bathroom. Still holding your device.

"Uh..."

You trailed off.

Taehyung blinked.

The bathroom door closed.

Pants unzipped.

"PARK JIMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

-

"You have to be kidding me, Jimin."

"Be reasonable. I can't get hard from this dick pic. Don't you want to know the owner of said dick?"

You pursed your lips and squinted at your phone, standing in Park Jimin's and Kim Taehyung's shared bathroom, because they were roommates and your friends. The mysterious discovery of said dick pic from last night's party sparked this Journey to the Dick, because it was a very impressive, intriguing, and, most importantly, inspirational specimen of the male genitalia. Clearly you had to investigate.

For science.

Which was why you were standing in the bathroom with Jimin's sweatpants off and begrudgingly getting to your knees. Begrudgingly, because...

"I thought we were supposed to be ordering pizza and watching Running Man."

"We are," Jimin answered cheerfully. "After you suck my dick."

You glanced at the photo once more.

It remained, indeed, very rousing of certain interests.

You gripped the waistband of Jimin's black boxer briefs.

Hmm...

Hold on.

You stood up suddenly and took your phone from him, sudden determination overtaking you.

"I have to do this correctly."

Jimin blinked rapidly, jumping with a yelp as you flung open the bathroom door to reveal Taehyung throwing himself into the wall, coughing awkwardly and hiding his face with his hands as you marched out purposefully. Jimin was still pants-less.

"In the proper order!"

Jimin and Taehyung shared a confused look.

"The hell does she mean, proper order?'

-

kim namjoon.

“Namjoon, may I look at your dick?”

Kim Namjoon looked up from his book and blinked at you over his round glasses.

“Pardon?” he replied in English.

“Your dick,” you responded in kind, in English and with succinct pronunciation. “Your penis. Your willy. Your ding-dong. Your–”

Namjoon removed a hand from his book and held it up. “My what?” he interrupted you, laughing.

Oh good, back to Korean so you didn’t have to flex all the different ways you knew how to say cock in English. “Take off your pants.”

He blinked rapidly, innocently sitting there in his flowy white button-up and brown pants. He even had suspenders. Fancy man. He had dyed his hair recently, a steel midnight blue. That’s how Namjoon was, attractive and book-smart. Absolutely won the lottery when it came to genes and brains. You couldn’t see the title of the book he was reading, but it was probably a self-help or philosophy book. He was into those nowadays, exploring the human mind, while you were more into exploring the physical aspects of humanity.

Fucking.

Luckily, fucking didn’t usually require reading.

(Usually, heh.)

“I have no objections to your proposition. I’m just confused on why so suddenly.”

You dropped your canvas tote bag on the ground. Your red, short summer dress covered in yellow lemons flared out as you shifted your weight to one hip. Your phone was in one of your hands and you waved it around like a baton as you talked.

“Aren’t I usually sudden when I want to fuck?”

Namjoon chuckled, rich and deep, shutting his book and putting it aside. Probably memorized his page number. Big sexy brain and all that jazz. A fantastic characteristic of his.

He also had a big sexy dick you were asking to see right now.

“You are, but sometimes you offer to buy me a meal or a snack first.”

“I mean, sure, if you want–”

He lifted a hand and cocked a finger towards himself, smiling. When he smiled, his dimples appeared. That was your favorite feature on Namjoon. You bounced over excitedly and sat on the couch, skirt flipping up and exposing your thighs, still holding your phone.

“I’m on a mission.”

He quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses detective-style. “What kind of mission?”

You pointed to your phone. “Do you remember that party we went to, the one with the wet t-shirt contest?” You lifted your arm and flexed your rather defined bicep that made Namjoon raise his eyebrows and mouth a wow under his breath. Consistent handys really did the trick when it came to bicep muscle definition. “You remember, right? You showed off your guns.”

He burst out laughing, waving a hand. “They are not guns.”

“Sure, they are. I could do a lot of social justice with your biceps, Namjoon.”

He shook his head, grinning, dimples on full display. “And what’s with the dress? You don’t usually wear such a cute style.”

You ticked your phone to the apartment front door. “I’m meeting Seokjin later, but he said he’s going to play another round of bowling because Jungkook kicked his ass again. But anyway, back to what I was saying…”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember Jimin mentioning something to me now.”

You brightened, unlocking your phone and holding up the screen. “Right! I’m looking for the owner of this dick.”

His eyes widened and Namjoon leaned forward, readjusting his glasses again. “Wow. That’s quite a clear picture.” Then he coughed and averted his eyes.

You nodded quickly. “Well? Did you take this picture?”

He frowned and sat back against the sofa, sucking in a breath and ticking his head. “Mmm, maybe? I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what I did…”

“Hah… Does this look like your dick, then?”

“How would I know?” he chuckled. “I don’t see my dick from that angle and I don’t have sober photoshoots with my dick.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck then. Drop the pants.”

The thing about Namjoon was that he was a very reasonable man. You had a problem and proposed a solution and he, an avid learner who liked searching for answers to the great mysteries of this world, had the means to help you out on your quest, so he did. In addition, he thought you were hot, you thought he was hot, and you’d already fucked a couple times before Journey to the Dick, so the mutual agreement was already there.

Splendid!

The other thing about Namjoon was that he really liked to make you work for it.

Slightly less splendid.

“Are you choking?”

You squinted at him and flipped him the bird. He was well-versed with popular Western hand gestures.

Namjoon nodded sagely. “That’s good.”

And he put his hand back onto the back of your head and shoved your mouth down onto his cock once more.

You had half a second to breathe again before air was forcefully taken from you, Namjoon now holding you there, nose-first into his crotch, sighing contentedly as he expanded in your mouth. You planted your hands onto his strong thighs and pushed, but his hand didn’t budge. The safe signal was three taps and you weren’t tapping out yet. You glared and Namjoon closed his eyes, smirking slowly.

He left his round glasses on.

‘Course he did.

Damn you, Namjoon!

You reached up and pawed at the buttons of his white shirt, making Namjoon open his eyes to see what you were doing as you unbuttoned them rather deftly for someone who had his dick filling up their throat. He looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow. You cheekily cocked one back, poking his pecs with your pinky.

He grinned. “Hm? What’s that?”

You clenched your throat around the head of his cock and he gasped, losing grip for a split second.

In that split second, you threw his shirt open, glorious his tan skin and large muscular pecs now in view, and slapped your hands down onto his thighs, instantly starting a fast, rough pace, curving your neck with every swallow, sandwiching his cock between tongue and top of your mouth, pulsing your wet muscles all over his length, staring at that well-built chest, watching the muscles ripple with his sudden, abrupt inhale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Sometimes you let Namjoon have the reigns, but this time you were on a mission, although it was a little distracting now because presently you had an unobstructed view of Kim Namjoon with his shirt open, head thrown back, midnight blue hair fanning over the sofa, his full lips open and panting, tendons in his neck tensing, broad shoulders flexed, leading down his defined chest and abs, core tight from your intense pace, thighs hard under your hands, cock swollen and thick, pulsating in your mouth. His large hands planted on top of yours, squeezing them with his.

The three taps applied to him too.

Instead, Namjoon moaned your name and gripped your hands.

“T-The picture… f-fuuuuuuuck…”

Shit, that’s right.

You reluctantly slowed, tongue swiping all over the underside of his dick, tracing the veins, moaning hotly around his cock. He lowered his chin, panting hard, dark brown eyes half-open and framed by his lovely silver glasses. It was him who reached for your phone and unlocked it. He remembered your pattern lock and you had only told him once. All your consistent fucks knew how to unlock your phone.

That’s how you had so many pictures of, ahem, good times.

He placed the phone on his hip and his head fell back against the sofa, inhaling deeply as you continued lapping at the base of the head, slowly sucking on it at the same time to keep him hard.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s nice…”

You mashed the tip of your tongue against the slit and coated it with pre-cum.

“Ah, come on, look already and compare,” Namjoon chuckled in his deep voice, raising a hand to pet your head. “Then you can finish me.”

You popped your mouth off reluctantly. “Hmm.” You placed a few fingers on his cock and looked at it, positioning it to the correct angle that matched the photo. “Huh, it’s pretty close. But you have this noticeable vein here, and I think the head of your cock is slightly different…” You squinted and brought your face rather close to his stiff length. “The skin tone seems right, but it’s not exact, and I think you’re bigger…”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his dick and smacked your cheek with the head.

“Oi!”

You puffed your cheeks, strings of saliva and pre-cum covering your face.

He grinned, dimples on full display. “Oops.”

You jabbed your finger at your phone. “I’m doing an investigation here!”

He shrugged cheekily. “You said it wasn’t exact. Get up.”

You put your phone on top of his book on the side table and glared at him. “Well, yeah, but no need to bop me,” you grumbled, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, standing up, and removing your panties as Namjoon reached over to his pants and pulled out a condom from the pocket.

You did say you were coming. Namjoon liked to be prepared for you.

“You said you liked it,” he mused as you straddled his lap.

“I do when I’m notin the middle of an important mission,” you huffed, picking up the hem of your dress and revealing your wet pussy, chin cocked in defiance.

“You don’t have to sit on my dick then,” he said, pausing with the condom right over his cock.

You frowned. “Hurry up.”

He cocked an eyebrow, dark brown eyes trapping you in his allure. “Doesn’t seem like you want it.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Growled.

Then you smacked his hands away and rolled down the condom yourself before sliding onto him with one swift motion, clenching your jaw at the sensation of being quickly and solidly filled up, not giving him or you time to adjust. Namjoon tensed his neck, grinning, large hands coming up to firmly grip your hips. Your own came up to grab his biceps and squeeze them, mustering up your most indignant scowl. He chuckled, smirking as you pulsed your walls around him.

“Hold your dress so I can fuck you.”

“Maybe I want to do the moving.”

He clicked his tongue and rammed his hips up into you, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being driven into your tightness. Your nails dug into his arms, breaths shallowing into rapid gasps as he continued, firmly and roughly fucking you from below, hard thighs flexing and smacking into your inner thighs and ass.

“Hold your dress,” he repeated, voice low and commanding.

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered, reaching down with one hand to yank up your dress, pulling it up high so both you and Namjoon could watch as he very deliberately and very forcefully thrust upwards into your tight hole, smirking wider as he witnessed your expression and the strain of keeping the pleasure off your face.

“Don’t have to give orders if…” He jerked up particularly hard, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to gasp breathlessly. “You…” Smack! You bit you lip, moan trapped in your chest. “Just…” Smack!

“F-Fuck…”

“Listen.”

And then Namjoon seized your hips and fucked you hard and fast with you barely holding on his shoulder with one hand and the other clutching your dress, moaning his name shamelessly to his own face. Namjoon wasn’t a gloater. His face was serious and concentrated, brows furrowed and intent on giving maximum pleasure, maintaining clear control as you rapidly lost it, allowing and trusting him to lead you into carnal desires.

You leaned forward, hot exhale on his neck, changing the angle and letting him hit you deeper, tightening around him. You heard his breath hitch, hissing out your name. Your whispered against his jaw, close to his ear.

“You like it better when I don’t listen, Namjoon.”

So close, so close, so close.

He snickered, dark, devious, sensual.

“I dolove punishing you with my cock.”

You slid your hand into his midnight blue hair and shuddered, pleasure blooming from your core in heated throbs, savoring the intensity of the orgasm he gave you as Namjoon groaned in your ear, slamming you down onto his hard, twitching cock and moaning, spilling his own into the condom, thoroughly enjoying the vicious massage of your spasming pussy. You pressed your lips to his temple, flinching with the shivers that came after, riding out the peak by rocking your hips lightly, enjoying the fullness he gave you.

“Doesn’t seem like a punishment. I’m having a lot of fun,” you taunted, panting and mirthful.

He gave your ass a playful smack and you squeezed his length from top to bottom.

“We have time for round two,” he murmured, nibbling on your ear.

Kim Namjoon was a very reasonable man.

-

kim seokjin.

"Gah, fuck!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, let's."

Kim Seokjin nearly tripped and fell against the doorframe, gawking at you. His expressive brown eyes went wide, mouth open enough for a nice ice lolly to be placed between those plump lips.

"Why are you in my bed? Where are your clothes? Why are you holding Pink Bean like that?!"

You sighed exaggeratedly. Here we go. "I had a nice dress but Namjoon took it and said I can't have it back until after." You squeezed Seokjin's large Pink Bean plush that he usually kept on his bed, a fluffy representation of a boss from his favorite PC game, MapleStory. It had a bubblegum pink head, light purple horns, and a cute :3 face. You squashed it with your breasts and looked up at him, on your knees with your feet tucked under your ass, missing all your articles of clothing thanks to Kim Namjoon.

Such cute clothes only for him? I don’t think so.

Seokjin turned bright red, sputtering.

"D-D-Don't do that to Pink Bean!"

"Why not? You've fucked me from behind and I used Pink Bean as my chest support."

He strode across the room with two steps, his long legs making it easy, looking handsome and summery in his pastel yellow shirt and shorts two-piece set, flapping his hands helplessly.

"That was a special case!"

You started bouncing on Pink Bean, you and your tits. Seokjin's brown eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he actually tripped at the end of his bed, falling face-first with a high-pitched yelp.

"Seokjin, I need to see your dick."

He yanked his head up, chestnut brown hair flying everywhere, shooting you a confused glare.

"Yah! You can't just show up naked and start demanding dick while abusing Pink Bean!"

You reached up and scooped your breasts forward, squashing them between the purple horns, nipples poking out above Pink Bean's head. Seokjin looked like he was about to pass out. Probably from loss of blood to his head.

You balanced your phone in your cleavage, inspirational dick pic between your tits.

"Is this your dick, Seokjinnie?" you asked sweetly.

He started, squinting at the screen between your tits. "The heck? What is that?"

"A dick. Is it yours?"

Seokjin made a disgusted face.

"Are they really that ugly? Mine sure as hell isn't."

"Oh, so it's not? You know for sure?"

Seokjin scoffed. "Come on, there's no way that could be mine, look–"

And he sat up and yanked his shorts and underwear off, slapping them down on the floor and spreading his legs, presenting his very hard and quite pretty dick and balls. He huffed triumphantly, planting his hands in his hips.

"How could that thing compare to–gah!"

You crawled over Pink Bean, shoving the plush against your stomach and placing yourself between Seokjin's long legs, oblivious to his shriek of surprise, holding up his shirt as you compared his cock to the one on your phone.

"What the–where did you g-get that picture?!"

Your hot breath wafted over his twitching length as you held it delicately with your fingertips, ass up in the air, tilting his dick to adjust the angle so he mirrored the photo. "Remember that party with the wet t-shirt contest?” you explained nonchalantly. “The one where I said you'd totally win because of your broad shoulders, but Taehyung got more votes because he had been working out and looking all buff recently?"

Seokjin was gasping as you held up your phone. Hmm, not the same thickness. Plus, he seemed harder, sticking out straighter than this photo dick. But there was a small mole in his dick that seemed to match the picture. The length is pretty spot-on too. You scooted closer, cradling his cock with your palm and coaxing it with your fingertips, ass bouncing on Pink Bean's head.

"Oh, fuck..."

"Anyway, someone snapped this photo and I've been trying to figure out who, but everyone was drunk and, if I recall correctly, you were on a table dancing with a pool noodle and belting Kim Yonja's 'Amor Fati', so I don't think you remember much from that night."

Seokjin's voice was pitched, strained from holding back.

"I remember those... oh, fuck... those shorts you were wearing... ah, with your ass hanging out on the bottom... fuck, wanted to bend you over... but yeah, after that..."

Then you yelped when you felt his hands on your head dragging you forward and pressing your open lips to his cock.

"Ah, yeees..."

"Seokjin, wait–mphf!"

He shoved the head of his cock into your lips and looked down. You narrowed your eyes as he began to gently hump your face, filling your mouth with the hardness. You sucked in your cheeks a little, molding your mouth to him, still giving him your best annoyed face.

"Is it my dick?" he gasped, pushing deeper.

You made a confused noise and Seokjin frowned at you.

"Yes or no?"

Seriously? You held up your hand and hovered it in the air, wiggling your fingers up and down, the universal sign of–

"What do you mean, maybe?! Oh, it's because a phone camera isn't good enough to catch the majesty of my cock, is that it?"

You could had been annoyed, but then you thought about it. He brought up a good point. You hadn't considered that. Still, the shape wasn't exact though. A phone camera couldn't alter dick angle, right?

No time to think about it because Seokjin rammed his entire length into your mouth and down your throat in your moment of contemplation.

"Mmmphf!"

"Just, ah, don't move, let me fuck your face real quick–"

You didn't really expect anything less, so you pushed him down, sliding his shirt up his torso, changing the angle so you weren't straining your neck. Seokjin fell onto his elbows, hands letting go but hips still moving, groaning as you enclosed your mouth around him and rubbed your tongue all over.

"Ah, your ass is so sexy, damn, bounce it for me..."

He seemed to forget that in order to do that, you had to hump Pink Bean like a dog in heat but, hey, when the man who called himself World Wide Handsome (drunk and sober, that was the kind of man Kim Seokjin was) asks you to twerk for him, you do as you are told and give Pink Bean the best hump that plush is ever going to have.

"Fuuuuuuuck, yes, your ass is so perky and juicy, fuck, like a sweet peach..."

You tried not to choke with laughter in his dick, but the action made your throat muscles squeeze and spasm around the head, immediately making it jerk and swell at the added simulation, causing Seokjin to gasp your name and fiercely clutch his sheets.

"Fuck, yes...!"

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow, seeing his brown hair messy and fallen over his forehead, eyelids fluttering, panting as you took over the pace, firmly enveloping him all the way to the base, sandwiching him between your tongue and roof of your mouth, dragging the head over the slick wetness, pulsing expertly around his hardness. His dainty pink tongue flitted over his lips and made them glisten, full, plump, sexy as hell.

"I'm so glad Namjoon took your clothes," he wheezed.

This guy really said whatever thought that popped into his handsome head.

You smirked around his cock and wiggled your eyebrows.

Then you grabbed his hips and really gave it to him, fast and tight, angling your head so he slid into your throat deeply and easily, sending Seokjin into a sputter of curses, prayers, and blessings to who-knew-what, gripping fistfuls of his sheets and throwing his head back, beautiful neck on display and broad shoulders flexed, moaning loudly.

You almost stopped, awed by his perfectly sensual posture.

Then Seokjin thrust his crotch into your lips and gasped your name, shooting down your throat in swift, tense jolts, forcing you to stop staring at him and hurriedly gulp it all down, squeezing your eyes shut so you could concentrate, sucking in a short breath, and making him yelp, flinching to cram more of the head into your constricting throat.

You prodded his stomach sharply and drew an ‘X’, telling him to stop so you could swallow.

“B-But…”

You gave him a bunch of other hand gestures and none of them were nice. It contrasted the way you were lapping at his cock, coaxing him back to full hardness with soft tongue and delicate pushes against the roof of your mouth. He lifted one of his hands and started messing with yours, the one on his stomach making obscene hand signals. You felt him try and grab your fingers, poke at your palm, and, finally, grab your hand and tug it up, shoving your fingers into his mouth.

You popped your mouth off his cock in surprise. “Hey!”

Seokjin looked at you with giant brown eyes like a dog caught with a treat in his mouth. “Mmphf?”

You made a confused face at him.

His tongue started sliding between them, licking your joints and pads of your fingers, wiggling all around, covering you with his saliva and sending shivers over your skin at the strange sensation. You could feel the power in that squirming muscle, his brown eyes watching your reaction, your own eyes fixated on the way it looked, three of your fingers surrounded and crammed into those lush, soft, pillow-like lips, squirming, sensual tongue slipping between them, dripping saliva down your palm and back of your hand.

“H-Hey…”

It was bizarre, feeling an odd juxtaposition of the submissive nature of the act, and yet he was deliberate and forceful about it, staring pointedly as the tip of his tongue snaked out from the side of his lips, licking the side of your pinky.

“S… Seokjin…?”

He reached up and pulled your hand out of his mouth, the pads of your fingers dragging on his lower lip, wet streaks of saliva painted down his chin.

The ghost of a smirk on his open mouth, eyebrow ticking arrogantly.

You blinked at him, unaware that you were clutching Pink Bean with your other hand so hard that your knuckles were white.

Then Seokjin grinned and wrapped your wet hand around his dick and started jacking himself off with it.

“Hey! I want that in me!”

“What? Gah!”

Somehow, you convinced him to fuck you – read: threw Seokjin down on his own bed, put a condom on him, rolled him back on top of you and guided his cock to your pussy before grabbing his ass and yanking down, making you both gasp as he entered you with one smooth stroke, your back on top of Pink Bean.

Pink Bean was really seeing a lot of your naked body today, just like Kim Seokjin.

“F-Fuck– yah!”

That was his noise of protest as you yanked his yellow shirt over his head, throwing it as far as you could, out his still open bedroom door.

“Sorry, needed to get rid of useless things.”

“I like that shirt!”

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders and rolled your hips up into his crotch, wrapping your thighs around his waist and squeezing. He sputtered at the intense feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, arms shaking to hold himself up, brown hair messy and wild over his forehead, brown eyes wide in indignation.

“Sorry, my bad, I’ll pick it up after I get another out of this magnificent dick,” you quipped.

Seokjin turned red, unaccustomed to someone other than himself complimenting him.

“Why are you hanging onto me like a monkey – oh my God…!”

You used his mattress and Pink Bean to bounce up and down on his dick from below, fingers tangled in his hair, wetly smacking your hips into his crotch, panting his name into his ear, your cock feels so fucking good, love the way you fill me, fuck me up, Seokjin, giving him the praise that he wanted and that breathless moan he liked, the one where you added a bit of underlying mischievous depth, pulling back one of your hands and tracing his plush lips, his mouth opening and pink tongue lolling out, puling you into that wetness, locking his gaze with yours.

Soft and tight around two of your fingers as you slapped your hips into his, losing a bit of your power now that a hand was occupied, intense sparks shooting from your fingertips to your core, his tongue sliding sensually between them, your juices leaking out, getting wetter and wetter, head emptying and replaced with sinful pleasure as you stared into those dark brown orbs with blown-out pupils, sparkling eyes smiling at you.

Seokjin took over and started fucking you into his mattress (and Pink Bean).

Both of you completely forgot about the dick pic.

-

min yoongi.

"Ah, fuck, I forgot, I need to see your dick, f-fuck!"

"It's," Smack! "A," Smack! "Little," Smack! "Busy at the moment."

"Yoongi!"

The bed shifted and hit the wall.

"Oh no," came the most unbothered oh no behind you.

"Your damn neighbors are going to complain again," you hissed, planting your hands on the mattress and lifting your upper body up a little to scowl at him. "They're so annoying."

"Yeah, that's why I like fucking you," Min Yoongi snickered, looking back with his curly black mullet in complete disarray, smirking lips dark and swollen from making out. He raised an eyebrow at your displeased expression, dark brown eyes flashing. "Something wrong? Not rough enough for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I need to see your dick when it's fully hard."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure. After this one."

"Yoongi–"

He cut you off. "Hand," he ordered.

You extended your left hand out back to him and he grabbed your forearm, long fingers gripping tightly, before proceeding his railing of your pussy from behind, your ass smacking into his crotch repeatedly.

"Yoongi – ah, oof!"

You slipped and fell face first into his pillows, gasping at the altered depth of each thrust, hard and deliberate, filling you up as you clenched around him, following his rhythm by pushing back with your hips and moaning as Yoongi slowly built up the pace, bottoming out each time.

"Why do you need to see my dick?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't pounding you with it right this very second.

"Because, oh fuck, someone left a, fuck, Yoongi, yes, dick pic on my phone, aaah, right there, fuck, you're so fucking good, that night of the party, the one with the wet t-shirt c-contest, fuck, Yoongi, I love your dick so much, fuck!"

"Why would I do that?" he grunted, spanking your ass with his free hand and making you claw at his sheets, pain seeping into the pleasure and amplifying it, skin prickling hot, causing the excessive dripping between your joined legs. The headboard was now repeatedly smacking the wall.

"I dunno, you were drunk too, do you remember, mmm, yes, harder, yeah, like that, telling Taehyung you loved him and that he was your favorite little alien child?"

Behind you, you heard Yoongi choke slightly in embarrassment.

"No, I do not..."

"See, maybe you jacked off and snapped a memoir on my phone."

Yoongi let go of your arm and firmly gripped your ass with two hands.

"Memoirs are written."

"Maybe if they wrote their name, I wouldn't be on this journey – ah, Yoongi!"

You grabbed fistful of sheets and snapped yourself back up, your hair messy and cascading down your shoulders, meeting every vicious slap of Yoongi's hips to yours, his balls hitting your soaked clit and sending stings of satisfaction from your core to your limbs, so good, moaning his name, his growl of yours punctuated by his nails digging into your ass, give it to me, come on, and you fucked him back, pressing your palms into his sheets and feeling the shuddering ecstasy again and again, deep pulses tightening around his hardness, making him groan with want.

"One more, one more, I'm so fucking close, fuck..."

"You've been close, you're holding back, you're a dick, ow!"

Yoongi smacked your ass particularly hard and you clenched your core so tight that he gasped and probably delayed his orgasm even further.

"You're the one asking to see it," he panted, adjusting the angle to shove you further into his bed even though it wasn't possible, and continued his relentless assault in your pussy.

"If anyone has a nice dick, it's you, you bas... fuuuuuuuck, Yoongi, yes, I'm gonna c-cum, fuck!"

The pleasure shot through you like lightning, waves of tortuous triumph as you clutched his pillow and screamed his name into it, your juices leaking out from around his pumping cock and splattering onto his crotch and inner thighs, drenching his balls, saturating his skin with your sweet scent, Yoongi moaning your name and squeezing your ass as he fully sheathed himself in your shaking walls and exploded into the condom, his whole length twitching and shivering inside your spasming pussy, your ass prickling on pain, both of you gasping for air.

Someone on the other side of the wall was banging it and told you two to shut the fuck up, or at least you assumed that's what that muffled yelling was.

You and Yoongi ignored it.

"Are you... hah... okay?" Yoongi panted, rubbing your ass and kneading it.

"Of course, I am, what do you take me for, an amateur?" you chuckled, lifting your head, your breathing erratic and uneven. "Now let me see your dick, Yoongi."

The other side of the wall kept swearing. Very colorful, very loud, very upsetti in the spaghetti.

Poor thing must not be getting laid regularly.

"Fuck, fine, you know I like staying in there at least for a little while..." he grumbled, holding the condom down as you untangled yourself from his body, sighing exaggeratedly as you turned around and yanked it off. You tossed it into the trashcan that was already beside the bed.

Yoongi had the foresight to be prepared for a night with you.

"I don't have to leave soon. We have plenty of time."

The shouting through the wall seemed to have given up, kicking it once and swearing very heatedly before stomping off.

"You better not. I'm not finished with you."

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, opening your photo gallery, pushing Yoongi down so you could wrap your fingers around his slick, semi-hard cock. It throbbed contentedly in your hand as you began to move it up and down in smooth, tight strokes, flexing your fingers to add variation in the stimulation.

"Mmm, fuck, yeah, faster..."

You pulled the photo up and put your phone on the bed beside his hip and calmly continued your movements, looking down at him, him and fair-skinned cheeks with a slight fluffiness to them, him and his lightly upturned upper lip that gave him a cat-like appearance, him and his lowered lashes over black-brown orbs that held quiet, sensual intelligence. His hair was messy from fucking you so hard, but he was effortlessly sexy regardless, leaning back on his elbows, torso lifted to watch your hand. Yoongi noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow, wispy black strands grazing his dark brow.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Just thinking you’re really hot, Yoongi.”

He cringed slightly, ears turning pink and shifted his eyes away, closing them. Your own roamed down, down his defined shoulders and toned arms and chest, sucking in a breath at the sight, that slim waist and pretty hips, his cock filling up your hand, getting harder and harder, the head getting darker from sensitivity, the slickness of the lube and his own cum making it easier for you and better for him. Your other hand traced his side, running your nails over it and you heard his low moan, raising your head and your eyes found his. He was observing you again, glancing from the photo to you, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, ticking his head to the screen.

“That it?”

You ran your nails over his skin, just the way he liked it, light, pressing in a little when it came to the upper side of his hip, seeing his pupils expand and his breathing shallow, pink tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly.

You increased the pace, pumping him from base to head, entranced by Yoongi’s expression, desire and cockiness despite becoming unraveled in your hands, his lower body trembling under you, your thighs pressed to his tense ones, tempting you to sit on and rub yourself all over them.

“Pretty dick.”

Slap, slap, slap. Hand on wet cock, sending shivers through you and through him.

“That’s why it could be yours.”

You saw his cheeks flush light pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he made piercing eye contact.

“Stop.”

You gasped sharply and ceased all movement, feeling his rigid stiffness pulse against your palm.

“Look,” Yoongi commanded in that low, raspy voice of his.

You bit your lip and removed your hand, strings of fluids snapping between your fingers and his hot, taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was sticking straight up, dark and imposing, twitching slightly. Long pale fingers picked up your phone and held it next to his erection.

“Well?” he chuckled.

You chewed on your lip, squinting at the screen. Reached over and ran your wet fingers over his twitching length, hearing Yoongi hiss and gasp at your touch as you angled his dick to match up with the photo. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult – the position seemed to match up perfectly. He was a little taller and thicker though. The shape of the head was similar, but also a bit off. The skin tone wasn’t quite correct either, the red-purple with subtly differing undertones. Still, lighting might affect that kind of detail. It wasn’t like you knew where this picture was taken.

“Hm… It’s really close, but not an exact match.”

“Well, damn.”

Yoongi tossed your phone aside carelessly, hand reaching out and you bent down, already knowing what he wanted, lips to lips, sliding against his body. You loved the way he kissed. Intense but soft, hand on your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek, nail grazing your earlobe, whispering into your lips, put me between your thighs, and you shifting up, closing your thighs around his wet cock, his lustful sigh and smirk on your lips, slowly thrusting in between your legs.

“Tighter.”

You hooked your ankles, one over the another and squeezed.

“Mmm, fuck yes, you’re so good…”

His words reminded you of the first time, crammed into the backseat of a small car, snuck out of a party to have Min Yoongi pull you into his grasp, tongue and lips all over you, your arms over his shoulders, wondering what you were doing because this kind of guy wasn’t your type, quiet, yes, a music nerd, yes, however he knew what he was doing, light bites on you skin making you gasp and slide down his jean-covered thigh, delicious friction to your soaked panties, tipping your head back to give that decadent mouth more access to your throat.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. A certain someone was probably wondering where you were.

“Yoongi, how… fuck, yes, how are you so good… you’re so good…”

His deep voice over your vocal cords, vibrating them with his seductive tone.

“DND your phone,” he purred, drawing a line down your throat with his tongue, coating you with his saliva, his musky, woody cologne transferring to your shivering skin.

“What…?” you panted, unable to think straight.

He plucked it out of your back pocket, tapping it against your arm.

“Put it on do not disturb and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be coming back to me all the time.”

You fumbled with your phone, strong hands scooping out your breasts from your top, those lips sinking into your cleavage and tongue ghosting over your nipples, moaning as you dropped it, ignoring Park Jimin’s text, lost in those skillful hands and that expert mouth that eventually kissed down to your pussy and drove you crazy, but not before setting your skin on fire and making you beg for it.

“Yoongi…”

His lips on yours, his eyes and your eyes both half-open, marveling at the way his lashes adorned those black brown orbs and the way he looked at you, drunk on lust and your body.

“You want me?”

Hands on your hips, grinding you down on his thigh, teasing you. He wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type… so why, why did that sly, knowing gaze do things to you? Why did it make your heartbeat stutter and your juices seep into the denim of his jeans, so turned on that you didn’t want anything else right now but Min Yoongi?

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Y… Yeah…”

That smirk.

“I know you do.”

You did end up coming back all the time.

He was very good and it wasn’t just his mouth.

Yoongi backed up and smirked, open-mouthed, mischievous, so fucking hot that you felt your pussy throb at the mere sight, his warm, pulsing length still jammed between your soft, closed thighs.

“You wanna ride my dick?”

You grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You completely forgot about the photo and spent the rest of the night on Yoongi’s cock and ignoring the yelling from his neighbors.

-

jung hoseok.

“Hoseokie…”

Teeth on your ear, a dexterous, teasing tongue flicking your earrings, your name coming out of that heart-shaped smile in a low, sultry whisper that contrasted it.

“You can’t come here looking like this and not expect me to want to ruin you,” Jung Hoseok purred into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips curved into a smile.

You were on your knees, spread out a little, short black minidress hiked up your thighs, facing the mirrors of the dance studio. Hoseok knelt behind you, hands travelling all over your body. Deft fingers, neatly manicured nails, his sharp jaw grazing your shoulder, pulling down the thin straps. Your large hoodie was tossed to the side, scattered onto the hardwood floor in haste. The frosted door of Smile Hoya’s rented dance studio space was locked, hip-hop music blaring loudly, and in the center was you and Hoseok.

You knew he could hear your shuddering exhale well, already attuned to the sounds of your pleasure.

He smirked and kissed the top of your ear, yanking down the top of your dress.

It wasn’t like this the first time.

“Ah, well, I was hoping… wondering, ah… I don’t know how to say…?”

You were in his bedroom at the time, confused. “Yoongi said you wanted to talk to me about something? What is it, Hoseok?”

He had been very nervous, somewhat shaky, staring into your eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand, tilting your head. He took a moment to speak, hiding his brown eyes under his blond hair.

“Uh, well, I was talking to hyung and I mentioned I… I feel like I have to put up a front sometimes. Because I’m so happy and stuff. Women expect me to be like that… in bed… And he suggested that maybe you could help me… chill out, but, uh, that’s really rude to say, ah, I shouldn’t have–”

He tried to yank his hand out of yours in panic but you held on, tugged forward by his movement. Hoseok squeaked, ears turning red, freezing in place.

“Hey.”

You held his hand and patted it with your free one, smiling gently.

“I absolutely can help you chill out when it comes to sex. What do you want to know? What do you want to do? I’ll teach you.”

You noticed his expression change from panic to worry, chewing on his lip.

“N… No, you misunderstand… It’s not having sex, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly silent. You frowned slightly, nudging him. Hoseok cleared his throat and looked you dead in the eye.

“I’m not nice.”

Now he squeezed your hand tightly, breathing in your scent.

“Or rather, I don’t want to be nice when I fuck. Sometimes I want to let go and just…” He frowned, not seeming to know the word.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want to think about an image I have to uphold.”

You grinned. “Yoongi did direct you to the right woman.”

His blond hair was even lighter now, the tips dyed with navy, a soft, sexy contrast to his rich tan skin. This was now many, many fucks later, hooking up at parties, at random times at his apartment, and now at the space he rented to practice dance on his own. Hoseok liked to freestyle and feel the music. When he fucked, he liked to feel the moment.

His hands gripped your breasts and squeezed, sandwiching your nipples between his index and middle finger, tugging hard.

You gasped in his hands, just what he wanted, open-mouthed smirk and all.

“Hoseok… I have to… ah, ask you something…”

He shoved his hips into your back and you gasped at the thinness of his shorts, rubbing his hardening cock against the top of your ass. A brown orb watched you through the mirror and he was smiling that brilliant, heart-shaped smile, contrasting his forceful touch.

“What do you want to ask?” he chirped cheerfully, pinching your nipples and twisting them.

You moaned, savoring the swift, firm pain followed by the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of your nipples, grinding your ass onto his stiff length. Your phone was in your right hand. You bit your lip, seeing him watch you carefully in the mirror. You raised the phone and unlocked it.

“Is this your dick?”

You noticed Hoseok pause and squint. You turned your phone and held at up so he could get a good look. His hands were still on your tits, although he had paused the moment to view the image, blinking rapidly at it.

“When was this taken?” He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The party with the wet t-shirt contest? The–”

“One where Yoongi grabbed Taehyung and told him he was his favorite alien child?”

“Oh? You do remember?”

Hoseok winced, as if the events of the night haunted him. “I remember… not much after that…”

“Oh…” You faltered. “So you wouldn’t remember if you took this picture on my phone, huh?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then… can I see it?”

He grinned. “You have to earn it.”

Earning it could mean anything.

Today, earning it meant cumming at least three times with Hoseok’s fingers before he even let you take off his shorts.

“H-Hoseok…!”

He always smelled so good, so fucking good, orange and musk complemented with the barely-there vanilla sweetness, a scent that always seemed to linger on your skin afterward. His lips were on your neck, leaving small bites, chuckling darkly. One hand on your nipple, the other between your legs, your dress bunched at the waist and your panties at your knees, not letting you take any of it off, forcing you to watch yourself as he wrecked you, teasing your oversensitive clit with his fingertips, slick and slippery, thighs shaking from the second orgasm and coaxing you to the third, sharp throbs of lust causing your eyes to roll back, head falling against his shoulder.

“Hoseok, p-please…”

He had no trouble holding onto you, flexible and strong, and you were grinding your hips down, lost in the feeling, leaking everywhere because he hadn’t actually put his fingers inside you yet, teasing you and teasing you and teasing you, driving you crazy, please put your fingers inside me, please Hoseok, your name murmured gently in your ear, no, not until the third time, and then I’m going to put my cock in you once you’ve shown me how good of a girl you are, and you were going to lose your mind, shivering in continued ecstasy, squirming in his hands, your own reaching back and fisting his hair and white shirt, moans masked by the loud music, so close, so close, your perfume mixing with his, sex and cologne, shivers and heat, teeth on your ear and circles rubbed onto your aching nerves.

Shallow gasps.

Peaking pleasure.

Seeing nothing but black, eyelids fluttering, wanton moans torn from your throat.

The song ended.

Hoseok removed his hand from your nipple and covered your mouth, muffling your scream as you came, taking your air and your sanity, pleasure rocketing up your core, crying out with need for something, anything, inside you, pushing your hips back into his crotch, feeling his cock swell at your bouncing ass, desperate for him.

The music began again.

Now you were on your hands and knees, suddenly released, gasping for breath, legs shaking from the aftershocks.

“Look.”

Turning around, your shaking hands pulling down his shorts hurriedly, still wearing your black dress and panties around your knees, hardly registering the inconvenience, not caring, completely focused on the semi-hard length in front of your face. No time. Hoseok gave you no time, grabbing your face and dragging your open mouth to him, sliding into your lips, his oversized shirt touching your nose, you whimpering at the hotness and tautness of his velvet skin. The fullness invaded your throat, taking your breath away. He buried himself all the way in before yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with his vest that was shed earlier, far too hot now, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t choke.”

Hand in your hair, pushing you down, not letting you move as he rolled his hips into your face, the head rubbing against the rood of your mouth and your tongue pushing it up to make it tighter for him, taking him deeper, hazy and intoxicated on orange, musk and vanilla. His other hand held your phone up, unlocking it with ease.

Smirk on those lips, heart-shaped and teasing. “So? Is it mine?”

You whined, not wanting him out of your mouth.

“Your choice,” Hoseok chuckled, tone light and unassuming, the edge of danger only visible in those sparkling brown eyes. “Find out or I’ll cum in your mouth and not in that pretty pussy of yours I’m looking at right now.”

Right, because you were bent over, ass facing the mirror, wetness dripping down your inner thighs.

Fuck.

You backed up, growling, glaring at the picture you knew all too well now.

“Well?”

Fine, fine, fine, you were on this fucking Journey to the Dick, and it was starting to feel more like an annoying side mission than the actual main storyline, but, whatever, you reached up and angled Hoseok’s cock slightly, sucking in a breath with him as you looked from phone screen to the delicious real-life specimen. Hm, okay. Similar in length and color. Not in angle though. Shit. And not in width either, barely a hair slimmer and the vein placement was more prominent on Hoseok’s length than this dick.

“Fuck, it’s really fucking close but I don’t think it’s yours.”

“Shit,” Hoseok sighed, turning your phone off and tossing it onto his discarded shirt. “Oh well.”

You narrowed your eyes, pouting. “What kind of react–gah!”

Hoseok pushed you down onto the ground, pushing his shorts down to his knees and pulling out a condom from the pocket, cocking a brow. You sputtered, trying to untangle yourself from the labyrinth of your own clothes, but only managed to kick off your panties before he got the condom rolled down and pushed your legs up, lifting your ass completely off the floor.

“Can’t have this pretty ass on this dirty floor,” he snickered, lifting himself higher, bending you in half, almost on your upper back, nearly uncomfortable, but Hoseok was stronger than he looked, and when he gave you what you needed, you instantly forgot about the discomfort.

“Oooh, fuck, Hoseok!”

He plunged into you, into hot wet tightness, stretching you out easily from the previous wetness, clit throbbing as he smacked his hips down, his balls slapping against your ass, drawing out another moan as his fingers brushed your clit, making you spasm and clench around his cock as he teased the overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, yes, so tight, so wet, so desperate for a cock to fill this hole, aren’t you?” he purred, still so sweet but with such dirty words, so handsome with his blond hair and navy tips, heart-shaped smirk and glittering eyes, and the way he said your name, dainty and serene, slowly thrusting into you, but so hard, he was so hard from being inside you, completely consumed by the physicality of the act and no longer the same man who had been worrying about how you would perceive him.

That seemed ages ago now.

Your hands reached up between your legs, running your fingers through his hair, completely forgetting about the photo of the mysterious dick and focused on the one thrusting between your legs, smiling up at him, those brown eyes and lovely jaw.

“You’re so good, Hoseok, so fucking good to me, fuck, harder, yes, ah…”

Both of you forgot about the music, fucking through the pause between them, hoping that everyone else was too busy with their own choreography to think about the hot gasps and moans exchanged between you and him in the middle of the room, the act reflected in the wall of mirrors, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls, your name and his name in breathless whispers, tight and full and hot and wet and soaring on sky-high pleasure, climbing altitude and running out of oxygen.

“Fuck, gonna cum, fuck–”

“Ah, Hoseok, yes…”

Tip, free-fall, you clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and his hand over yours, screaming into each other’s palms at the intensity and the force of orgasm, smacking your hips together and holding them there, feeling his cock twitch inside you and your shivering walls clamp around him in rough, intense pulses.

It took a moment to disembark from the euphoric high.

“Hah… we should… probably not fuck here…” he gasped, falling a little, cradling your ass so it didn’t directly touch the floor.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, so that’s your fault. You need to be the voice of reason.”

He laughed, rich and infectious, and you grinned, holding his head against your breasts and hugging him tightly.

-

park jimin.

“I hate you.”

“Come on, Jimin.”

"I was supposed to be first!"

"Oh my God, are we going on about this again?!"

"You were supposed to suck MY dick first!"

"Stop being a fucking brat, Park Jimin!"

"No!"

You tackled him and you both fell to the floor, rolling into a mess of giant t-shirts, fierce kisses and your hands in his now red hair, fiery and hot-headed like he was being right now.

"You little–"

"Don't you dare call me little!"

"I was gonna call you a little shithead but if you wanna be a big shithead, that's fine with me!"

He pinned you down and you grabbed his waist with your legs and rammed your crotch into his black shorts, making him gasp in horny pain and crumple into his laundry that you were supposed to help him fold, but instead you were wrestling and he was complaining about not getting his dick sucked.

It was your turn to pin him down with your arms and your thighs, Jimin seeing stars as he struggled to breathe from your lower belly smacking his erection the wrong way.

"Why, ack, why did you run off saying there's a proper order?" he choked out, choking harder as your panty-covered mound sat down on his length and started rubbing up and down, smirking down at him, his red hair flaring out on his cream rug.

"'Cause there is," you replied, calm and cool.

"Order of what? Order of how you fucked us?"

"Nah, I fucked Yoongi first, remember? At that party, ages ago..." you hummed, extending the expanse of your movement, sliding up and down his thighs, his plush lips open and moaning softly, his grip on your large t-shirt tightening. It was actually his, because neither you nor Jimin knew the meaning of keeping your clothes on.

"Yeah, in my car!"

"Eh, you were drunk and playing pool with Taehyung, which, by the way, he mad cheated and you didn't even notice."

"Fuck!"

You weren't sure if that exclamation was related to your teasing or Taehyung cheating, but Jimin removed one of his hands from your shirt and flipped off the wall, in the direction of Taehyung's room.

Ah, so not you.

"Is it age order? But Namjoon isn't the oldest..." Jimin refuted himself, frowning.

"He’s first because he's kind of like the leader of you guys, isn't he? You all end up listening to his reasoning anyway."

Jimin squinted, pouting. "That's just because his tall and smart and has a fatty IQ."

You grinned. "148."

Jimin looked very annoyed that you remembered the exact number.

“I never thought about it, but other than that, it is age order, huh?” you mused, bouncing on his dick.

He shuddered with satisfaction, rolling his hips into you. “Then why would you…?”

You shrugged. “Your names sound good together like that. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook…”

Jimin added your name last with an amused smirk. You bit your lower lip, cocking an eyebrow and sporting a devious smile, leaning down. Lips to lips, a soft sigh, remembering that night, stumbling out of Jimin’s car and tangled in Yoongi’s touch, still kissing Yoongi with your ass on the hood of the car. Jimin had been annoyed at you then too, how could you fuck him first and not me, Yoongi laughing in that raspy, sexy way of his, because I asked, dumbass, Jimin grabbing your face and kissing you right in front of Yoongi, the older man clicking his tongue and squeezing your ass tighter, unimpressed.

In some ways, that night started off the chain reaction of hey, why not me?

Okay, maybe you did have some frustrations about your dating life and ended up tumbling into their beds for, ahem, emotional support, but in your defense, they were all great when it came to emotional support.

“Sit on my face.”

“That’s not the angle of the dick pic though.”

“Then just take the pic from that position. That’s how it was taken, right?”

Sometimes, Park Jimin was a damn genius.

He was great at eating pussy too.

“Ah, fuuuck, Jimin…”

A little messy at first, humming approvingly at your taste, thrusting his tongue into you and moaning as your muscles closed in on it, your slick nectar painting those beautiful, soft lips, him pressing them to your heat, lewd kisses, tongue swiping up and down.

“Gotta clean you up so you can dirty me up,” he breathed, tracing sensual patterns in between your thighs with his tongue, small nips to make you whine, his hands on your ass, moaning into your pussy as your kiss came into contact with his rigid cock, dripping saliva and licking it back up, gyrating your tongue at the tip and licking off the pre-cum, savoring the taste, strong and almost sweet.

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was frustrated with you.

“Fuck, give it to me.”

His hands on your ass, pushing you down, setting your pussy flush onto his lips, blocking off his airway and moaning hotly, desperate, needy, wanting your noises as you swallowed him, his length swelling in your mouth at the wet encasement, swirling your tongue all around.

You’re so mean. I can’t believe you wouldn’t ask me first, get on your knees, come on, aren’t you sorry?

You weren’t, not even in the slightest bit sorry for fucking Yoongi in his car, but you had enjoyed his little pout and twinge of jealousy, kisses up his muscular thighs, the same thighs you were clutching right now, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear, remembering his hand on the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, the same cock you buried all the way into the back of your throat, blocking your own ability to breathe, suffocating on it as Jimin groaned, coming back up for air, rushing exhale washing over your skin before returning to his work on your clit, rapid, intense licks that shimmered pleasure through your veins.

Jimin made you choke on his dick after the Yoongi incident, but you were the one in control of it now, rutting the head against your throat muscles, feeling it get harder and harder. He always felt so good in your mouth, recalling him saying once, I just really like getting my dick sucked, shut up and stop shaming me, tongue and lips and saliva, remembering how much he liked it when you held the base and focused on the tip, his muffled whines getting more intense and vibrating your core, making sure to pop your lips over the bottom of the head every time you came up and then pressing them tightly as you went back down, doing it all at that fast, suffocating pace that made him stop licking you to throw his head back and moan, loud lust radiating off the walls, not caring about disturbing anyone, too absorbed into your pace to be considerate.

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck, you’re so good…”

Jimin was part of the reason you were good.

He really liked getting his dick sucked. Your mouth was one of his favorites and usually readily available.

Win-win.

“Faster, fuck, oh, shit, I’m gonna cum, mmmphf!”

He grabbed your ass and smothering himself with your pussy, body trembling under you as his cock jerked and shot into your throat, your lips closing in, sucking hard to drink his cum, his moans filling your wet hole and tongue all over your clit, furiously licking as you rubbed the twitching head into the roof of your mouth, his hips squirming at the overstimulation, but his violent grip and nails digging into your ass was telling you to do it, telling you he loved it, telling you he needed it, begging you to do what you did best, gulping around the head and then jamming it into your throat, cutting off your air.

He sucked on your clit, hard, whining so loud that you could feel it in his chest and racing heartbeat pressed against your lower belly, almost lifting your lower half with his upper body alone, showing off his strength from dancing. You angled your head, taking as much as you could, nose in his balls, whimpering around his cock and the snap of orgasm making your entire body flinch, leaking all over his face and into his mouth, his nose buried into your pussy, tongue soothing your throbbing clit, wave after intense wave, barely breathing, lightheaded with pleasure, clutching his thighs tightly, naked bodies suddenly dirty, surrounded by clean laundry.

Jimin yanked his head out from between your legs, panting in satisfaction, diving back in to shove his tongue on your quivering hole and scoop out your orgasm, sucking it out to drink it, murmuring your name into your slick juices.

“You taste so fucking good, fuck…”

You came up for air, gasping, tongue lolling out, holding his cock and rubbing the slit against your wet muscle. His stiff length twitched, still hard because of your mouth.

“Take the picture, mmm, yes, did you forget?” Jimin gasped into your pussy.

You fumbled with your phone beside his leg, still reeling from orgasm and Jimin’s continued ministrations, putting it in selfie mode and seeing the lower half of your face, chin shiny with saliva, his cum dripping off your lower lip, his cock in front of your face and naked chest, your breasts pressed into his abs.

You thought about licking off the visible cum, but then you decided against it, snapping the photo with your tongue hovering close to his rock-hard erection.

You knew the composition of the inspirational dick pic now, so you brought it up in a photo editing app, putting the two side by side while wrapping your lips around the head of Jimin’s cock, sucking it leisurely like a lollipop. He didn’t ask you to get off.

Instead, he planted your pussy into his face and suffocated himself with it again.

You studied the two photos. Hm. Firstly, yours was much sexier. No offense to white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boxer briefs guy, but your glistening cum-covered lips and squashed tits in the background of the cock made the photo eons better than his. Jimin would definitely be asking for yours later. Anyway, back to the picture. Hmm. Jimin’s dick was slightly shorter and straighter, with a warmer skin tone to his purple-red tip, although the head shape was spot on. Was that possible to have a different length but almost identical head shapes? Did dicks work that way? Did Jimin have an equally sexy twin brother or doppelganger somewhere?

Hm, a threesome with basically two Jimins would be hot as hell.

He patted your leg and you climbed off him, sighing as you rolled over and pursed your lips, concluding that his wasn’t the mystery dick. Once again, close, but no dick. Wait. That wasn’t the saying. Eh, whatever.

“Fuck, send me that photo later, I’m gonna jack off to it.”

You laughed, feeling him crawl beside you and roll you onto your stomach, pinning you down with his naked body. “You wanna jack it to your own dick?”

He was rubbing said dick into the crevice of your ass cheeks now, using your saliva was lube. “Fuck yeah I wanna jack it to my own dick with your lips covered with my cum and your titties on my stomach, sounds fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re such a pervert, Jimin.”

“And you aren’t?”

The front door slammed shut. There was a loud yell of your name in deep baritone.

“Aw, hell no, I’m getting it in this pussy first, I got time before he comes to collect,” Jimin growled, reaching into his discarded shorts and ripping open a condom, scrambling off you and rolling it down his still-hard length, grabbing one of your legs.

You shifted to your side, glaring at him. “What am I, taxes?”

The deep voice called your name again, asking where you were.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer though, because Jimin thrust into you and you ended up moaning Kim Taeyang’s name to inform him of your whereabouts, causing Jimin to bend over and fuck you hard and rough.

“I can’t believe you would moan his name like that with my dick inside you,” Jimin growled, looking far too cute to actually be pissed at you. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for him.”

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was firmly fucking you into his floor and making you yelp as Taehyung burst the door open, sighing at the scene.

“Who would have fucking guessed what you two are doing…”

-

kim taehyung.

"You're so fucking stubborn."

"Wow, that's really rude, I don't make comments about your–"

"Shut up, I'm deleting his number."

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, sitting with one leg bent on Kim Taehyung's bed. He was currently in possession of your phone, clicking his tongue and pressing buttons on the screen.

"When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone," he scolded.

You cowered slightly, eyes shifting. "I was only asking if he was doing anything this weekend... I didn't have any ulterior motives..."

Taehyung squinted. You deliberately avoided his gaze. He sighed, crossing his arms. You were still wearing Jimin's shirt with nothing underneath so, uh, maybe he had good reason to be suspicious.

"You have a virgin kink."

You choked on nothing. "What, no, I don't–"

Taehyung reached over to his desk and put on the thin, gold-framed glasses he kept there. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. You abruptly stopped talking and gawked at him, breathless at the way his dark brown orbs were bordered by gold and his long, black-brown hair, the rest tied back in a small ponytail.

"And a glasses kink."

He took them off and you sucked in a tight breath, grimacing.

"That's why you keep going after these kinds of guys," Taehyung tutted, neatly folding the specs and placing them back on his desk. "And why you bonked Namjoon-hyung so fast, only to realize that he is not, in fact, a virgin."

"W-Well, he's still good..."

"Same reason why you got so excited when–"

"Look," you cut in, chopping the air with your hand, not letting Taehyung finish. His eyebrow seemed permanently raised. "I'm off my bullshit for now, no? I've got a mission–" You pointed to your phone and he held it out of your reach. You scowled and bounced back down into the bed. His eyes weren't following your face, but you ignored it. "–and I'll stop okay?"

Taehyung cocked his other eyebrow.

"Serious. You just deleted all the numbers except you and your friends, right?"

He turned the screen, thumb hovering over a certain number. Him and his friends were listed from one to seven, in order.

His thumb was over number seven.

"Don't," you whined. "Please, Tae."

His brows lowered, serious expression on his handsome face.

Then he smirked, dumping your phone on the bed.

"Silly girl," he drawled, crawling onto the bed, advancing towards you, sultry gaze and enchanting eyes making you forget about your device. "Why would I do that? He likes you so much."

You growled slightly, letting him push you down but not relenting. "That's really fucked up."

"That I wanna hear you say please?"

His hand lifted and cupped your chin, mischievous smile, unable to contain his pride for his little trick, sliding his leg between your thighs, tilting his head.

"Not just any please," he murmured, deep voice silky smooth, dark curled stands brushing against your cheeks he leaned in, hot exhale on your lips. "Your needy please when I threaten to take your precious Jungkookie from you."

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his knee, tilting his head, highly amused at your narrowed eyes.

"You don't like it?" He was leaning down, feathery kisses on your lips and cheeks. "I know you like it when I tease you." His honey voice was dripping into the fire, turning into fuel that fed the sparks of arousal, your hands coming up to clutch his black shirt, pulling down the center zipper, his deep chuckle in your skin, hand from your chin sliding up to your hair, the other tapping down your front, grazing the thin t-shirt material.

"Don't..." you gasped, his deft touch toying with the hem. “Don't use the others against me. That's not fair...”

“Mmm, yeah?”

Drawing circles on your inner thigh with his nail, nicking the skin.

"You only want to think about me?"

Your phone hummed with a notification. Taehyung chuckled, fingers creeping closer and closer.

"Aw, I wonder who that is? But that's too bad, because you're all mine right now."

You gasped, clutching his open shirt as his fingers slid in, two because you were already wet, shallow breathing and lidded eyes telling him enough, taking your lips with his, pace slow and steady and maddening, spreading your legs with his knees, forcing you to tip your hips up to him in an embarrassing position.

Then again, embarrassment during sex wasn't part of your vocabulary.

You pushed his black shirt down one shoulder and reached in, your fingers snaking to the hem of the white undershirt and stroking his skin, his satisfied exhale hot against your neck, you remembering the way the water drenched the fabric and stuck it to his golden tan skin, playfully flexing his defined chest and biceps, adorable and arousing because Kim Taehyung was both. He separated his digits inside your pussy to create a loud, sharp, wet squelch. You heard him grin, smug at the dirty sound, then begin plunging his fingers in and out, in and out of the tightness, trying to be as noisy as possible. You clenched your core to make him work for it, force him to be rougher with you, his fingers curling in your hair, yanking firmly, lips on your ear.

"See, how can those boys you pick keep up with you, hm? They won't know what to do with your pretty, sexy self," he purred, faster, harder, pushing you to the edge with your heated moan and your hands all over his chest, lifting your hips to meet his touch. "You need us to take care of you, don't you?"

Fuck, the way Taehyung said your name.

Like it was a decadent sweet he was craving, a taste compared to no other.

Your head fell back into the pillows, breathing in his warm scent in shallow puffs, his name pouring out of your lips, yearning and desire.

"Mmmm, Taehyung...."

Melting you into it, sweet bliss and sharp jerks of your hips into his hand, gasping at the flood of euphoria, trying to squeeze your thighs around his hand and stopped by his open legs. Your throbbing pussy gripped his fingers and made him hiss, his devious smirk growing as you lowered your chin again to look into those dark eyes, shivering under his intense gaze.

“Let’s play a little game.”

His tongue slid out, lickings your lips lightly.

“It’s called, how many fingers can I stuff in you before you’re begging for my dick?”

“What kind of – oh, f-fuck!”

One more.

Aching tightness, clenching your jaw, trembling at the ease of it, Taehyung cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah, three’s too easy, huh? You already warmed up.”

One more.

“Fuck, Tae, fuck!”

His dark eyes glittering, pleased at your reaction.

“That’s better. That’s what I wanna hear.”

Whines in your throat as he picked up the pace, fast and hard, clutching his shirt and his side, your nails digging in, stretched out and stuffed with four, your eyes rolling back and one leg sliding up to hook around his waist, meeting each thrust, so deep, so full, so wet, loud and obvious and uncaring of who was listening – probably Jimin with a huge smirk on his face – panting Taehyung’s name over and over, feeling the strength in his hold and his grip in your hair, pulling lightly, shooting pricks of pain down your head to meet the oppressive pleasure brimming in your core, closer, closer.

“What do you want?” Taehyung growled, that deep voice dangerously low.

“Y-Your c-cock, p-please…” you managed to gasp out, chasing it, chasing the fullness and the depth.

“Can you take it? Can you take it like the good girl you are?”

“A-Ah, yes, please Tae, want it,” you moaned, your fingernails digging into his back, scratching down as your orgasm shattered through you, making your whole body shake and shiver from the intensity, him pulling out. Your moan turned into a hoarse whimper, squirming as he rubbed your clit with his slick fingers, spanking it and teasing it, rocketing you into peaks and valleys of cut-off ecstasy that drove you insane, clawing at his clothes, desperate for his body on yours.

“What’s your magic word?”

“Please.”

He grinned at you despaired tone.

“That’s it.”

It took no time at all, your shirt flung aside, Taehyung losing his clothes that were already half-off, hot body to hot body, heated kisses and rummaging in his nightstand drawer, groaning into his mouth as his cock slapped your thigh, hard and thick and ready, dripping pre-cum on you before he yanked you up on top of him, ripping open the condom.

“Work for it.”

Lacing your fingers in his, sliding down onto that impressive girth and gasping as it twitched inside you, rolling your hips down onto it, better than his fingers, bouncing on it with your tits following your rhythm, squeezing his hands. Taehyung liked this kind of intimacy, the kind where he was grinning like the devil under you but still holding your hands as you railed yourself with his dick, rough and hard with your own smug smile, a little erratic but somehow good that way.

He made you work for it and you were good at working for it.

You found a good rhythm and – ba dum tss – rode it, leaning forward to deepen the angle and make it last longer, pulsing around his length with your tight walls, control and power and endorphins, each smack adding to the lewd melody that mixed with heavy moans and shuddering gasps, bringing Taehyung on your rollercoaster, his hips rising, your name rumbling in his chest, blood thudding in your ears at the baritone depth.

“Yes, such a good girl, gonna make me cum, don’t you want me to cum for you?” he panted, fishing for the magic word, bouncing one of his dark brows, his long hair flared out on his pillows, high cheekbones and strong features no longer hidden by wayward strands.

Your tongue between your teeth, grinning wide.

“Yes, please.”

The right inflection of winded want, maybe a little mischievous, but Taehyung liked that, for there was no fun in someone who was too easy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He squeezed your hands and thrust his hips up fiercely, shock bolting from your core to your spine to your head, your head snapping back, gasp torn from your throat, flooding his crotch with your juices, overstimulated clit rubbing on the base of his cock and Taehyung was gone too, husky groan falling from his lips, slamming his hips up and locking his legs, shooting jerks of cum into the condom, aftershocks causing you to lose hold on your knees, moan pitching higher as you slipped down on his throbbing length, trapped on it because Taehyung wasn’t going to lower you until he was done, the head pulsing inside you, squeezed out by your shivering walls.

“T… Tae… the picture…”

“Ah… yeah… hold on… lay down for me…”

He wasn’t going to let you leave without his mark anyway.

“Serious?”

“Deadly.”

You laid back against the pillows, spent, holding your phone, Taehyung straddling your chest and stroking his slick cock, plops of cum and lube falling onto your chest, messy dark hair curling around his handsome face. You could see the purple-red head peek out from between his fingers, hear the steady slapping as he pumped it back to full hardness.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Your chest was rattling but you raised your phone, bringing up the picture as Taehyung gripped the base of his cock, lifting it up slightly to put it in position. You squinted at the screen, looking from the photo dick to the real one. Of course. He was definitely bigger, a little thicker, but strangely, the color was almost the same. Was that lightning or similar skin tone? Or perhaps men with really nice dicks just happened to have Taehyung’s tan complexion?

You wouldn’t question it if it was true.

“You’re bigger,” you sighed, tossing your phone aside.

Taehyung smirked proudly. “What a surprise.”

“We all knew that, even before I saw it.”

He chuckled, going back to fisting his cock. “That’s because Jimin has a big mouth and likes to spread rumors.”

“You like that he spends rumors.”

Taehyung shrugged, but his sly expression wouldn’t be hidden even as he shook his head to cover part of his face with his long brown hair, curtaining half of it with darkness, teasing and effortlessly sexy.

“Ready?”

“Mhm, do it.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, smiling wide, watching his breathing shallow and his eyes close, losing himself in it, faster and tighter, the wetness audible, strong thighs shuddering at your sides. Then he sucked in a breath, hissing your name and tipping forward, painting viscous white strings onto your collarbones and tits, pushing his shuddering cock up and down to spread it out, your clavicle now sticky and covered in his strong scent.

Taehyung ticked his head, lips in a devil’s smile, chest heaving with exertion.

“Your cum necklace is extra pretty today. Take a selfie for me so I can jack off to your cute face later.”

-

jeon jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook shrieked your name like you were Michael Myers and he was Jamie Lee Curtis, flinging himself onto his computer monitor and mashing the power button to turn it off, his long purple hair flying everywhere, brown orbs like saucers, entire body shaking so bad that even his eyebrow piercing was vibrating.

He froze like that.

You blinked at him from the doorframe of his rented studio room, one hand on the knob and the other holding up your phone like a kitchen knife.

His leather bomber jacket was hung over the back of his rolling chair. The chair was currently slowly sliding across the floor, away from him and his panic. Jungkook was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and loose black jeans.

For a guy scared shitless, his pants were pitching a very impressive tent.

Had he been watching porn?

“Er… I knocked…?” you said slowly, pointing to the door. “Do you not hear me?”

“Um, uh, n-no,” Jungkook sputtered, looking you up and down. “No, I d-didn’t.”

“I said I was coming by today. Via text?”

“Was that today?” he echoed hollowly like a ghost in a shell, the end of his question pitching to a higher octave. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Sorry. I think I f… forgot…” He was not looking at your face, instead staring at your thighs and your shorts, tight and tiny, shredded black denim paired with a loose, long-sleeved black top that read in bold, white, graphic, letters...

REALITY SUCKS.

You pointed to the turned-off monitor.

"Were you watching porn?" you asked cheerfully.

Jungkook's ears turned red.

"Yes," he blurted.

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

You nodded, closing the door. You tilted your head and locked it, just in case, before waltzing into Jungkook's film studio space, bouncing on the heels of your large black sneakers. "If you're gonna watch porn, you should lock the door. What were you watching? Is it lesbian porn again? Can I–?"

You reached over to turn the screen back on and Jungkook's tattooed hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you away from it and to him. You blinked rapidly, confused at his tight grip.

"N-No, you can't see. You can't," he sputtered, pinning you against his hard body.

You frowned, annoyed. "Why not? I like porn." You squirmed against him, but he sandwiched you between his forearms, forcing you to look up and face him, thinning your mouth into a line. He gulped, eyes shifting, holding your body against his. His lower lip trembled, mole underneath bouncing with his uncertainty.

"I... It wasn't porn..."

You stopped struggling, confused. "Huh?"

Those dark chocolate eyes found yours, looking guilty.

"I was looking at your pictures."

You blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You know... the ones I take of you sometimes... You said it was okay..."

Ah, yes. Jungkook liked to take pictures of you. He had mumbled that it was because he needed practice and, later in bed, he admitted it was because he considered you his muse, an inspiration of sorts, so would it be okay if, maybe, you just turned a little and laid in his covers just like... like that, yeah, could he take maybe one photo?

"Sure, knock yourself out, dude."

A bit later, far too late, you had realized that had been maybe too chill of a response, but Jungkook seemed to prefer that and he acted less awkward about it every other time he asked to take a picture. They weren't usually dirty pictures. Although you were naked in some of them, they weren't quite inappropriate, every single one framed with delicate, well-thought-out composition. You always sighed and told him he made you look better than you actually were.

Jungkook always insisted you were consistently beautiful.

You pointed between your bodies.

"Were you gonna get off to them or something?" you cheerily inquired, bumping against his pitched denim tent.

"N-No!"

His ears turned scarlet and he jerked sideways, but you held onto him, hands firmly on his hips, not letting him twist away. He quickly covered his ears and pouted at you.

"I was... I just missed you."

You smiled, squeezing his ass. "I missed you too, Jungkook."

Your tone was soft, gentle. He stilled and lowered his hands, lips parting at your words, slightly surprised, incredibly adorable.

His dick twitched in his pants and jabbed your crotch.

A pause.

Jungkook's eyes shifted to the side, mumbling under his breath. "And, yeah, okay, I got horny, but that's only because it's you..."

"That's great, since I definitely wanted to look at your dick as soon as possible!"

His eyes went wide.

You smiled widely.

Then he said something unexpected.

"Ow."

You looked down and backed up as Jungkook frowned and reached down to shift his rock-hard length in his pants, sighing in relief.

"Zipper was killing me..." he grumbled, running a hand through his purple hair.

"We should just take it off then."

"Pardon, we should wha–ah!"

You grabbed fistfuls of his black top and yanked it up and over his head, causing Jungkook to sputter in confusion, throwing his hands up as you unsheathed his muscular torso, leaning in, breathing on his skin, leaving him to untangle himself as your lips closed onto his dark nipple, tongue teasing the small nub.

"Ah, fuck!"

You lifted your lips, tongue still extended, looking up to see him flinging the shirt aside, his long purple hair messy and wild, tattooed arm and un-inked arm lifting, pushing his hair away from his face, his chest rising to your wet muscle, gasping. You had a clear view of that cute little mole under his lower lip, trembling with pleasure before Jungkook looked down at you, hazy chocolate orbs fanned by black lashes, breathing hard.

You ticked an eyebrow, licking slow circles, lips closing in again, sucking daintily.

He bit his lip and let it slowly tease out while you simultaneously teased him, your name leaving his lips in a low moan. You danced your fingertips up his thigh, nail tracing the seams of his jeans, kissing across his chest, his eyes following you, hips rocking into your touch, following your pace, letting you command it. His head tipped back as you kissed down his abs, whimpering with want, curling his fingers into fists.

Jungkook always made you feel like you were touching him for the first time.

"You're not a virgin?"

"No?" Jungkook had repeated after the first time you had fucked him, sounding confused. "I'm just like this? Is that bad?"

"W... well... no, and now that I think about it, you were suspiciously good..."

"You didn't like it?"

You had turned to look at him and, fuck, the way he looked at you, so cute and innocent, uh oh, and then the slightest hint of an open-mouthed smirk dancing on those shapely pink lips, reminding you of someone else.

"Namjoon-hyung said that's what you were into. Is he wrong?"

Voice so deep and so smooth, gliding over you like butter.

You almost hastily defended yourself but one look into those roguish, yet genuine, chocolate eyes and you couldn't lie.

"But... you should enjoy yourself too..."

Jungkook had grinned, endearing and heart-thuddingly handsome. "I do. I told you, this is how I am. You're just my type."

"And what's that?'"

He had pinned you back onto the bed, leaning in.

"Hot and horny."

Turns out.

Seemed to be a running theme with all eight of you.

Right now, his pants were falling and you were sliding up as your hand was sliding down, shushing him quietly, your other hand dancing up his neck and pulling his head down.

"Someone's gonna hear you," you whispered to his open lips, tone and touch implying you didn't give a shit who was listening, wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock the second he pushed his black boxer briefs down, his shivering moan tickling your cheek. His right hand came up to cradle your head and lean it against his, begging whines for you to move, pairing it with an irresistible, husky hiss of your name.

"Please..."

He liked it tight and he liked it rough, liked the way you could lock your fingers and keep that nearly suffocating pace, closing his eyes with a flutter and moaning into your skin, curtaining you with purple, his grip in your hair tightening as you built that speed, filling the rented studio with his silvery, erotic cries.

"Someone out there is going to think you're watching porn," you teased, nudging him with your nose, looping a finger back to smear the pre-cum over the swollen head. He bucked his hips into your hold, lips pressed to your cheek, intoxicated groan warming your skin.

"Kiss me and breathe into my mouth..."

You couldn't say no, not with his voice so soft and pleading like that, not with that edge of nervousness. Fuck, the way Jungkook succumbed to your kiss, uncontrollable tremors taking over his shoulders, hot taut skin twitching in your palm indicating he was close, and you almost broke away to say that he shouldn't cum like this, it'll be messy and get on the floor, but he grabbed your face and didn't let you go, whimpering in his throat, wordlessly telling you to do it, exhale into his throat and he groaned in his chest, long, drawn-out, consumed by lust, and maybe it was bad, but you loved it, loved the way he wanted it so bad, wanted you to push the air out of his lungs and suffocate his pulsating cock with your grip, pre-cum leaking between your fingers, finally pulling back and gasping, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

"G-Gonna cum, f-fuck!"

You had to think fast, looking down for a moment and feeling his cock jerk in your hand, swiftly switching to cupping the dark red head, thick white cum suddenly spurting your palm, Jungkook burying his face into your hair to muffle his wail, your scalp hot with his released exhale and your hand covered in his heated release.

You breathed in, smirking at the scent of dirty gratification.

"Jungkook..."

He whined softly, hips quivering as you covered his jerking length with your cum-covered hand, spreading it all over and getting him hard again.

"There's this picture..."

"Mmm, yeah, the h-hyungs told me... don't stop..."

You swung your hips from side to side, free hand running down his chest, your eyes roaming his toned body, his tattooed arm still hovering over your head, long fingers tangled in your hair still, squatting down and opening your mouth, tongue dancing out and licking your hand and the side of his purple-red length, wet sloppy kisses, slurping up his cum and moaning on the throbbing head, making sure that he could feel the sinful heat.

"Give me... oooh, fuck, give me your phone..."

Your hand left his abs reluctantly, tugging your phone out of your ass pocket and holding it up for him as your mouth closed around his cock, swallowing it all, eyes closing, cramming all of him until the head hit your inner throat and your lips pressed against his crotch, knees on the tile floor, thighs spread, hands poised in the air, unable to breathe.

Click.

You cracked open one eye to see Jungkook holding your phone above your head, teasing smirk on his shapely lips, mole winking at you.

“For me?” he asked, not quite innocent.

It was the first time Jungkook had taken an actual dirty picture.

You shrugged as if to say, sure, pulling back as he turned the phone around, the dick in question on the screen. You eased off his length, licking it clean, bringing up your wet hand covered in his cum, popping your lips off the engorged tip and sliding your fingers in your wet lips, tongue wriggling between your fingers, inspecting the two dicks. Jungkook was still hard – so hard that his cock was sticking straight out, almost mimicking the photo. You had to crouch a little more, tilting your head and placing your fingertips on his balls, raising his dick a little on the back of your hand, smearing saliva and pre-cum on your skin.

Yon continued to lick, grazing the underside of his length with your tongue and then pulling back, eyes going from the photo to the real thing.

Jungkook moaned above you, clutching your phone tightly, knuckles white under black tattoos.

Hm.

You tilted your head.

One way.

Then the other.

Hmmm?

Hmmmmmmm.

“W… What?” Jungkook stuttered above you.

You pursed your lips at the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over it and sucking off the pre-cum. He gasped, hips shaking, threatening to shove it into your lips.

“It doesn’t look like your dick at all.”

“What?” He sounded startled.

You pointed with your dry hand. “The shape is a little off, you’re longer and slightly bigger, and the color is different.” You sighed, whooshing hot air over his soaked, taut skin, Jungkook whimpering. You squinted slightly.

“Still…”

You tapped your lips with his cock, thinking.

“I think he wears the same underwear brand as you.”

“He does?” Jungkook squeaked, spinning the phone around and blinking at it.

You shrugged. “And for some reason, the position of his hips reminds me of you. I don’t know why…”

He chewed his lower lip, staring at the phone.

“Oh well.”

You stood up abruptly at your words and plucked the phone out of his hand, putting it on his desk.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you. Let’s fuck.”

Jungkook yelped as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began stripping off your clothes.

That was his reaction that one time you lost strip poker to Kim Seokjin and him at that one party, not that your cared because you didn’t bother learning the rules. You had other priorities and they involved getting mostly naked and then pinning Seokjin down to make out with him as Jungkook gawked at the other side of the table, half-clothed, clutching his cards.

“I can… go…?” he had sputtered.

You surfaced from Seokjin’s plush lips, his hands around your bare waist, the taller man gasping for air, reeling from your kiss.

“I still have one more piece of clothing to go, Jungkook.”

Side of your lower lip between your teeth, cocking an eyebrow, swaying your panty-covered ass at those huge brown eyes.

“You can help, you know.”

Fun night.

His eyes were huge now too, your back against the wall and him rolling the condom down, lifting your leg and sliding into you, gasping at your tightness, leaning down to kiss you again, greedy and ravenous, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you on tiptoe. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into that soft skin and strong muscle.

“F-Fuck me, Jungkook, mmm, fuck, yes…”

You didn’t really get to talk during that strip poker night because your mouth was full of Seokjin’s dick as Jungkook’s pounded you from behind, but it would be a crime to complain about such things.

You met your hips to his to deepen his thrust, enjoying his strength, powerful and steady, fucking you against the wall, wet slaps and soft moans filling the room between harsh kisses, lips swelling from the fervor, your ass even rhythmically smacking into the wall, but neither of you cared, your leg around his slim waist and his right arm wrapped around it, his fingers digging into your thigh, black tattoos and tan skin gleaming from sweat, his other hand clutching a fistful of your ass and ramming your drenched pussy down on his stiff cock, grinning at your soft cry of his name, staring into his eyes and not looking away, spellbound by chocolate orbs framed by wispy strands of purple.

“You always feel so fucking good…”

You pulsed around him, feeding the fire, wanton exhales mixing, dick pic forgotten.

-

“Hah…”

You rolled over, sighing loudly.

“Haaaaaaah…”

“You still fixated on that dick?” a deep, unimpressed voice said next to you.

You frowned and planted your phone with the inspirational dick on your face, praying for it to come to life and choke you.

“I never found out who it was…” you mumbled.

“Well, it is Saturday night. We can go crash a party and maybe you can find that dick!” exclaimed a joyful voice, poking your side. Your phone slid off your face and clattered to the floor. A cheerful hand covered in colorful clay rings waved at you and your gaze shifted to Jung Hoseok and his blond and pink hair. He was too cute and you were unable to help yourself as you looked at him, matching his heart-shaped smile.

“Nah,” you tutted. “If it’s not one of you guys… the dick isn’t worth it.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, long and with longing.

“If it makes you feel better, we don’t know who it is either.”

You laughed hearing Kim Namjoon’s deep, serious voice. “How would you guys find out?”

“I know a lot of things,” Park Jimin’s angelic, light voice chirped.

“Too many things,” Kim Taehyung’s baritone voice remarked coolly.

“Are you gonna eat that slice of pizza, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hyung, I am, no, stop–”

“Give Seokjinnie-hyung a bite!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Then you’re dead to me, boy! Respect your elders!”

You heard some slapping and flailing about, but didn’t open your eyes.

“He’s probably not a virgin anyway. Virgins don’t snap pics like that on strangers’ phones.”

You cracked an eye open and narrowed it at the form laying on the ground beside you. Min Yoongi was messing with his phone. His head was on a huge pillow that he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to notice your glare and turned his head to raise a lazy eyebrow at you, cat-like eyes shrouded by black hair.

“Isn’t that what you’re into?” he taunted.

Your eye twitched.

You growled, sitting up. “I’m not into virgins, damnnit! I just like listening to people who are knowledgeable about their interests, like how Namjoon goes on about human philosophy, and how Seokjin never shuts up about MapleStory, and like how you talk about music theory. Just because I don’t understand right away doesn’t mean I don’t try,” you snapped, prodding Yoongi’s firm pecs through his t-shirt. He didn’t move, completely unbothered as you continued your tirade. “I don’t know anything about TikTok, but I like listening to Hoseok talk about the latest dance and fashion trends. Jimin’s the only reason I don’t make an ass of myself at parties because he knows everything about everyone so I don’t accidentally sit in a taken person’s lap and cause trouble. Taehyung’s always following that animal rescue Instagram and giving me cool facts about all these different creatures. Jungkook can go on for hours about cameras. I still don’t think I even know how to work the aperture function on DSLRs, but as long as he will continue to explain, I’ll listen.”

You sucked in a deep breath and seethed.

“So what’s the difference?”

“What?” you scowled.

Yoongi shrugged casually.

“Why do you keep chasing dorks with glasses struggling to get stupid graduate degrees when the people you spend the most time with are here with you right now, ready to fuck you at any time?”

“That’s–”

Your words died in your throat, Yoongi’s words finally sinking in.

Silence.

“Hyung, I’m struggling to get a grad degree…” Namjoon cut in, but the black-haired man on the floor lifted a finger and sliced the air, quieting him instantly. Yoongi was watching you carefully, head tilting at your frozen state. Your brain seemed to have ceased function. His lips curved into a slow, open-mouthed smirk.

Yoongi dropped the bomb on you.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit suspicious that the dick had elements from all of ours, but never quite matched up?”

W… What?

Your head whipped to your fallen phone and you scrambled with it, bringing up the dick pic again. The photo showed up at the party with the wet t-shirt contest. Your phone has disappeared for two hours during said party. Everyone was drunk. No. Everyone had gotten drunk after your phone had mysteriously been found and returned to you. You spent the night in various laps doing various naughty things, not bothering to check your phone after retrieving it, leaving it as a later you problem. You filed through your memories, recalling their faces as you showed each and every one of them the photo.

Hold on.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, almost as if…”

They weren’t as weirded out as one might be, seeing some random dick on your phone.

As if…

“As if one of us is good at photo manipulation, perhaps,” Yoongi purred.

As if they had expected to see such a photo.

Click.

You whipped your head to the left and a whirlwind of dark purple hair went flying under the coffee table, hiding behind broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and full lips forming an ‘o’. At the same time, the realization hit you like a falling piano from the sky.

“Did you all…” you choked, mechanically jerking from face to face, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and lastly, back at Seokjin because Jungkook was cowering behind him, large brown doe eyes behind a massive shoulder. “D-Did you all…?”

No way.

“Did you all take a dick pic and Photoshop them together into one superdick photo and PLANT IT ON MY PHONE?!”

One look at those seven faces and…

YUP.

Taehyung laughed, loud and rich, nudging Namjoon with his elbow. “Told you she wouldn’t check the details of the photo and realize it was from an outside source.”

You started and swiped around. The file name was close enough to your camera photos’ file names, but upon closer inspection…

“Oh my God…”

“She’s very easily distracted by dick,” Hoseok chuckled, infectious grin on his face.

“I am not!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jimin, do not whip out your dick.”

You heard your name being called softly and looked up, clutching your phone, still stunned and flabbergasted that you had been lusting after a fake dick that was a fuckin’ Megazord of the seven dicks currently surrounding you and those seven were the very dicks that tricked you!

On purpose!

For what?

FOR FUN!

(GG, no re)

They got you good.

Your irritation immediately dissipated when your eyes found those anxious chocolate ones, long purple strands curling around his cheek, curious open mouth with the small mole underneath barely visible.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked quietly, pink lips curving into an irresistible pout.

Oh.

Shit.

Before you could quickly say, no, of course not, Jungkook, it was funny, I’m not mad at all, you felt a dark presence by your shoulder, raspy chuckle by your ear, sending shivers down your spine, whispering your name, devious and smokey.

“Whose idea do you think it was?” Yoongi murmured.

You stared into chocolate eyes.

Innocent.

Or…?

Jungkook’s pout disappeared.

His dark eyebrow cocked, mischievous smirk gracing those irresistible lips. No, not just him. Lowered lids and midnight blue hair, smug expression with a dimple. Kim Namjoon. Lifted chin, looking down at you with a sheepish yet wicked smile on full lips. Kim Seokjin. The black head of hair leaning his chin on your shoulder, laugh like a seductive purr. Min Yoongi. Tilted head balanced on long fingers decorated with colorful rings and bracelets, sly heart-shaped smile. Jung Hoseok. Shit-eating grin fanned by red hair, bouncing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Park Jimin. Long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, spare strands framing a moody, handsome face with a glint of playful cunning. Kim Taehyung.

And then, Jeon Jungkook.

“The hyungs thought it was a great idea,” he drawled, silvery and sweet, looking extremely pleased with himself, running his tattooed hand through his purple hair, unquestionably guilty, but despairingly angelic in appearance.

These fucking…. Seven Kings of Duality!

You were positively fuming.

Silence.

An owl hooted outside the window.

“YOU PUNKS!”

You threw yourself over the coffee table and horny chaos ensued.

-

2021.09.01 - JK birthday drabble 2021.10.02 - Namjoon birthday drabble

--

masterpost

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x you #jungkook smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #jimin x reader #park jimin smut #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut

[enhyupn]

the perfect date! chapter two

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, a lot of jealousy

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i can’t tell if i love this or not BUT i say that abt all my works sooooo 🙏 enjoy

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena

there you stood. your mouth barely open as you stared blankly at your best friend (there were question marks floating around that word currently), you weren’t able to process anything up until that moment so jake’s few words made your brain explode in utter distress. you put your finger up in the air, trying to figure out this whole situation in under a second so you could catch up with what was going on. no words coming out of your mouth as you tried to communicate with yourself but the outcome of it just left you as confused as you were in the beginning.

“y/n?” jake waved his hands in front of your face to try and get your attention. he sighed before running his hair through his hair, seemingly frustrated by this whole incident. “i swear i was gonna try and tell you this at a later stage in a more romantic way but i couldn’t let him try anything” he paused, licking his lips, “he definitely would of if you told him you liked him in middle school too—”.

“okay can we just let this all sink into my head before we start talking about what the fuck you just told me” you shut him up from carrying on with his little rant. your hands find it’s way to your head, not so lightly hitting it in irritation. your thoughts were already clouded by jay’s return meaning jake’s makeshift confession didn’t help clear up anything at all. especially with all his unneeded rambling; you weren’t be able to understand anything coming out of his mouth.

“what are you—” jake’s eyes widen in concern as he tried to stop you, a glare from you being the thing that stopped him from doing so. you pause what you were doing to blankly stare at jake with furrowed eyebrows, scaring him a little in the process.

“so you’re telling me that” you muttered just clearly and loudly enough that he could understand you. “park sunghoon was staring at me?”.

“yes, but that’s not as much of a big deal compared to what’s happening—”

“we have a new transfer student”

“correct”

“and that transfer student is my first love, jay park?”

“you hit the nail on the head”

“and he told me he liked me? like romantically?”

“i’m sure that’s what he was implying”

“and now you?” you stared at him with narrow eyes. you felt a mix of guilt and confusion due to the fact you should of realised his feelings for you throughout your friendship. the only thing confusing you was why you? what did you bring to the table besides playful bullying and the occasional hyping up for jake sim to have a crush on you? “when did you— why do you— never mind i can’t think right now”.

“you can answer me when you have time to figure this out y/n” he shrugged a little too calmly for you to feel reassured. “i’ve liked you for a while i guess, i even told some people on valentine’s day i couldn’t accept their gift because i had a crush on you”.

“you what?” the memory of the most recent february fourteenth played in your head, the dots connecting when you realised that’s the reason why jake’s number of confession significantly dropped.

“it doesn’t matter okay?” jake didn’t want you to question him about his embarrassing crush on you any further. “i just wanted to make sure you knew so jay park over there can realise you aren’t the same person from middle school”.

“how could he— what does you confessing to me have anything to do with jay?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, your voice raising slightly. jake just laughed in response, biting his lip in what it seemed like victory as he turned around in the direction on your classroom. the brown haired boy seemed like he was proud of himself for accomplishing basically nothing, confusing you even more with a random confession seemed to be the only thing he actually did.

“nothing really, just to put him in his place” jake told you as you two made your way through the hallways. you rolled your eyes as you quickened your pace up to walk beside him.

“you’re acting really possessive right now, put him in his place? you’re so weird” you murmured, irritated at how jake was acting. “plus it’s not like jay likes the high school me, you heard the boy. he liked me, even made sure to make the -d sound pop”.

“i don’t think so...” jake replied as his head replayed the memory of jay entering the classroom again. he scoffed at the image of him, not entirely loving the fact he was right in reach of you. “honestly i think he still—”.

“y/n are you okay?” sunghoon interrupted jake, you two were almost one step into the classroom when he had appeared out of nowhere. it seemed like he was waiting for your arrival but you shook it off as some sort of coincidence.

your eyes widen in surprise at his concerned expression, this being the first time you’ve seen the boy look so warm when compared his cold front he normally puts on. “i told everyone to not speak about what happened, i thought that you would feel a little uncomfortable about it” he added.

“oh great” jake said to himself quietly, “another one”. you rolled your eyes at your best friend’s pettiness, elbowing him in hopes he’d finally shut up.

“no sunghoon” you smile widely at him, a warm feeling spreading around his stomach. “i’m fine! thank you though, that was really nice of you”.

“don’t mention it, it must be troubling to be surrounded by all these boys but i can see why” he smiled shyly. everyone but you could see the pink tint taking over his face as he turned around to get back to his desk. it was a blessing you were as oblivious as you were, completely not catching his last few words.

jake raised his eyebrows in suspicion before catching a glimpse of jay who was watching the whole conversation go down with a smirk. rolling his eyes he looks back at you, a small smile spread across your lips from the small interaction with sunghoon.

“sorry about jake too!” you rose your voice a little louder so sunghoon could catch it, he nodded with a small chuckle before sitting in his seat.

jake sent a glare towards sunghoon, visibly annoyed that he was taking your attention off of him. the boy then replied with another glare back, somehow looking more intimidating than jake was.

“some lunch” you whispered to yourself as you looked back on the last thirty minutes. there was only two minutes left of your break and all you had accomplished was three bites from your sandwich and a miniature war between three of your classmates. normal things i suppose.

it wasn’t like jake had anything against the class president, it was just... obvious what sunghoon was trying to do.

what was he trying to do exactly? get closer to you in hopes that you’d fall in love with him.

honestly anyone could put the pieces together, sunghoon passionately telling the class while you were away to not bother you and the pink in his ears when you spoke to him was only the tip of the iceberg. jake was jealous of sunghoon, not that he’d ever admit it, and in the heat of moment he’d let that jealousy take control.

jay was a different story to jake however, he definitely had something against him, he could admit that easily. unlike his jealousy towards sunghoon, this form of jealousy was much more obvious. when your teacher had come in and assigned jay a seat, it was right beside the two of you. jake made it his entire job to make sure jay couldn’t get a word to you, it wasn’t so subtle due to the fact you could see it from the way jake interrupted jay’s questions.

“y/n where is—”

“if you look at page four of your school journal, it tells you where all the factuality rooms are” jake smiled sweetly, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips.

“thanks jake” jay replied, his words not really sounding sincere as he stared blankly at him. jake chuckled to himself before sitting back in his seat smugly, finding some entertainment in this situation.

you couldn’t help but let a sigh out, frustrated at not only jake (who honestly was being a little annoying) but yourself for letting this whole thing happen. i mean it’s not your fault exactly that jake likes you, the fact that jay had a crush on you wasn’t in your control but the fact they had some rivalry going on made you feel guilty since you were the pathway between the two of them.

“can you stop jake, what is with you?” you whisper to the boy. currently sunghoon was giving a speech to the class, something about festivals and booths but you honestly weren’t in the mood to listen to his rambling. “at least play nice, jay’s still new to this whole korean high school thing”. jake rolls his eyes before turning to you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in slight irritation due to the fact you were on your first love’s side instead of his.

“y’know, i don’t owe him anything y/n” jake reminds you as you roll your eyes, placing your chin into the palm of your hand not wanting to continue this conversation further.

“the least you can do is be nice” you muttered, jake not hearing due to the fact he was now paying attention to sunghoon. you had never seen jake like this, the usual yellow bubbly aura surrounding him was now replaced by a repulsive green that was unrecognisable.

“and so, that’s why i think we should sell food at our booth” your ears had finally tuned into sunghoon’s speech, who looked like he was currently desperate for some interaction from your classmates. “any ideas?”.

the classroom was completely silent, nobody wanting to speak up in hopes that sunghoon would just figure out the solution himself. you frowned to yourself, feeling pity for him as trying to engage with your class wasn’t the easiest thing to do. you scanned the classroom, making sure your next few words weren’t going to interrupt anyone.

“we could sell candied apples?” sunghoon’s expression turned into a positive one as his eyes sparkled in gratitude. you stand up from your seat so the boy could get a better view of you. “they’re cheap and pretty much in our budget? plus you don’t really need that many people to do anything”.

“that’s a great idea” sunghoon’s praise only caused your smile to grow wider, an action that didn’t sit quite well with the two boys next to you. “and it fits our limited amount of workers too! only... two people signed up to help out this year, which funnily enough is just you and i”. he glanced around the classroom to only find people awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

you had felt a little happy that sunghoon had said that, being one of the two people he had mentioned just added to your already positive mood.

as for jake, who raised his eyebrow in displeasure, you could tell that he was feeling the exact opposite. as if he wasn’t already annoyed with the fact jay was in the room, now he has to deal with the fact you and sunghoon are going to intimately work together on some stupid booth. he took a quick peek at jay, wondering what his expression was at this news.

sure enough the boy was almost as displeased about this whole situation as jake, his cool yet calm composure being the thing that masked his emotions. the only thing that was giving it away was the way he bit his lip in aggravation, making it clear that sunghoon’s words were putting him in a bad mood only an hour in of attending this school.

“y/n meet me after school so we can discuss this” sunghoon grinned, you nod happily as you sat downback into your seat gleefully. you didn’t know why you were so happy, maybe it was the fact this was one of the first times where sunghoon is actually warmly speaking to you? or maybe because he was indirectly praising you? you went with the latter to answer your question.

“sunghoon— it’s sunghoon right?” your eyes widen in surprise when you realise it was jay speaking up. and from the looks of it, sunghoon was not that pleased with the way jay had tried to catch his attention.

“yes jay?” sunghoon tried his best to hide his growing irritation with a smile. jay sat up straight in his seat, clearing his voice before not so subtly sending jake a mischievous smirk. anyone looking at jay could tell that he was about to plan something, a plan that was going to one up jake in terms of getting closer to you.

“maybe i should help out at the booth, since i am new and it’d be good to be involved i guess” bingo. jay gave him his most convincing smile.

“you guess?” jake repeated to himself as he crossed his arms, a scoff escaping his mouth. a smirk found itself on jay’s face when he heard jake’s mumbling, quite proud of himself that he got the boy pissed off from simply nothing.

“that’ll be... good” there was no sincerity in sunghoon’s voice, a slight scowl present across his lips as he wrote down jay’s name on the sign up sheet. “then see us after—”.

“sunghoon” now it was jake’s turn to speak up. you groaned in embarrassment when you realised all eyes were on you, well mainly the two boys beside you but you could also feel the stares too. you glanced over at your best friend, unsure what to feel at his sudden interest in this conversation.

“yes, jake?” at this point it was obvious to your class that there was something going on between the four of you. from the way you had tried to hide from the stares by slouching slightly in your seat in embarrassment to the three boys not to subtly glaring at each other, there was no way you could deny the tension.

it was kind of like you were playing piggy in the middle. you were the pig but every time you tried to interrupt this slightly (hugely) embarrassing quarrel between your classmates, you were ignored. your eyes scanned between the three boys, unsure what was really going on but from the looks of it, they definitely did not like each other. from sunghoon’s passive aggressive tone, jake’s unusual possessiveness to jay’s hostility towards jake, you really didn’t understand where any of this stemmed from.

and yes, it was very cliché of you to be completely and utterly oblivious to their attractions to you but if we think hard, isn’t it justifiable? i mean three heartthrobs (not just one!) suddenly start indirectly arguing with each other over you in under a day and it would be a little unbelievable due to the fact it sounds more like a shoujo manga or k-drama plot than anything.

“i’d like to sign up too”

considering jake was your class’ unofficial yet official golden boy, it was a surprise to know that he didn’t really involve himself in class activities. it was mainly you, who’s aim was to buff up any application you were going to fill out in the future, who was involved in almost everything. well, besides school council, you didn’t think you were ready to have that amount of authority.

“that’s a first” sunghoon joked, one that wasn’t received well by jake.

“ha ha ha” jake laughed dryly but loudly enough that the whole class could hear. you almost elbowed the boy for the second time that day in more embarrassment but you stopped yourself in fear you were going to cause a scene.

“anyone else want to sign up?” sunghoon asked the class, slightly pleading that nobody else would answer him. the class shuffled uncomfortably in silence, a clear sign that nobody else was going to speak up anymore. “i love the enthusiasm” a sarcastic sigh left sunghoon’s mouth, “so i’ll see you y/n after school... and the two of you i suppose”.

“asshole” jay spoke under his breath as he sat back in his seat. the quiet reply was only heard by him and your seat mate since you were in the process of trying to figure out how to make everyone understand you weren’t involved in this silent argument.

while jake, for the first time, finally found something he agreed with that came out of jay’s mouth.

#enhypennetwork #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

[caterpellas]

munich nights • harry styles

summary: touring inseparably as best friends and musicians, yours and harry’s relationship takes a cruel turn in munich.

warnings: smut (oral m recieving) 

genre: bestfriend!harry, friends to lovers(?), angst, smut

pt 1/? (two is here)         word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing in like a year so some feedback would be amazing, pls be kind and show some love to my crumby attempt lol

chapter playlist :D

harry.

he was sort of your anchor. unspoken, of course, that he had taken such a high profile role in your life. he didn’t need to know, to know. you were certain it worked in reverse, that you grounded him just like he did for you.

you’re not sure of the timestamp on the beginning of your friendship, sometime 3 years ago after mindlessly chatting in a shoreditch bar, at the sort of venue you were both cackling over after a couple of overpriced gin and tonics.

“i’m not sure why i came here, it really isn’t my scene,” you said after calming your laughter down.

“me neither. i’m not all that into £18 cocktails made with organic fruit juice,” he jested back, although you felt a hint of sadness in the next, “it makes me miss home.”

after that you clicked instantly.

you both bonded over being musicians; your styles contrasted entirely though. his band, who you met a few occasions later, were the antithesis to yours. mitch and sarah looked and sounded like they were fresh from a 70’s pop rock band, whilst your bassist and drummer, both twins, had buzzed heads and black dr martens on 24/7. the differences between you and him didn’t matter in the slightest. which is why, after 18 months of building the strongest friendship you’d had in your life, he asked you and your band to come on tour with him.

touring with your best friend and now biggest fan was the single greatest experience of your life. you would admit to the apprehension you first felt about opening for harry as your music wasn’t exactly in keeping with his genre- you were a little grungier then his soft style. i suppose the opposites between you is what enhanced everything about your relationship, musically and personally. in articles harry was always praised for his effeminate fashion choices, and since gaining some recognition as his opener, the articles were now mentioning how you dressed too, hyping up your more boyish, ‘can’t be bothered’ clothing taste you’d developed over your years in the band. your shoes were always chunky and platform, your top or bottoms usually oversized and always with the same thick chain around your neck. to some, your style seemed intimidating but it couldn’t be further from the truth. harry knew that best of all.

3 months into the tour now, you had made it to munich for the 1st night of your european portion of the tour. you and harry were sat next to one another on the plane, sharing an earpod each, playing music from your playlist titled “h”. you hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight, after reading a particularly disturbing article about harry’s recent paparazzi shots. “harry styles’ player ways making a comeback?” it read, and pictured him with a couple models you’d met in new york together after going out for the night. you couldn’t place why but the article made you feel sick. you put it down to seeing such a close friend’s name slandered in the press, and you hoped he hadn’t read it yet. harry was often disheartened after reading the gossip people like to spread about him, occasionally involving you as well.

“you seem very deep in thought.” harry’s morning voice could be heard over the sound of steely dan in your ears. turning to him, one of his eye’s peering at you, you reply, “not really- just thinking about the set list.”

“you need to switch off your work brain sometimes,” he grins up at you, “have a little more fun! munich will be great, lots of beer to try.”

“of course that’s what you look forward to most. you know munich is filled with some beautiful architecture and history right?”

“that’s great and all, but you know what else they have?” harry questions you and you shake your head.

“oktoberfest.”

-

you arrived at your airbnb not long after- harry’s band and yours all preferred staying in a large house or apartment then some posh hotel that didn’t feel quite as welcoming. harry’s manager picked the place out, opting for a villa that sleeps 10 people, filled to the brim with oak panelling and a big fire place in the centre of the room. there was a hot tub outside that would probably never be used in your short stay there. the kitchen had a large island in the middle and a big aga keeping the place warm in the late september weather. his manager really outdid herself this time.

“this is place is so beautiful,” you still weren’t over all of the beautiful places this tour had taken you, the short time you’d been travelling had been a sensory overload.

“you’ll really like munich, y/n,” harry said yawning, grabbing both your shoulders from behind. his touch took your mind back to the article.

“harry,” you started, reluctantly turning to face him, “i know it’s none of my business who you, you know- fuck, but i was just wondering what happened with those models after i left?” harry’s calm expression never faltered as he answered, “me and camila kissed in the taxi but then i went back to the hotel. why?” you didn’t have the strength to answer honestly, and tell him it was because the thought of him having a threesome with two supermodels made you physically wretch, but you felt an obligation to give him a somewhat truthful answer.

“i saw an article about it, the paps caught a glimpse of it,” you white-lied. if you were going to be honest with yourself, the reason him with people like camila and gina bothered you so much is because of the way you compared yourself to them. you were overall confident, you were proud of your style and “gives no fucks” attitude you’d built up over the years, but these were literal models. women who were paid, like paid a lot, because they were beautiful. harry’s dating history has had a lot of women you could never measure up to be as good as and that was a real confidence breaker.

“well anyway, are you ready for tonight’s show? we were thinking it would be cool if you guys came on with us and...”

-

harry, as per usual, performed with all of his heart and soul and yet again amazed you. he had been doing this for three months, playing at least three shows a week and his energy levels were still unmatchable. you were back in your dressing room, taking off your stage clothes and putting on an almost identical outfit, wiping the sweat off your brow and upper lip. the monitor in your room played harry’s set, and you had to find any way you could to distract yourself from his performance before you ended up fantasising about the way his sweaty curls cling to his neck and how you wished he was sweating like that just for you, for an entirely different reason.

“thank you so much munich!” you hear harry’s accent through the small tv, and look up to see him panting and grinning, before running off stage. you had no idea why, but tonight there was a small amount of nervousness about you. since reading the article, you’ve had to address the gnawing idea that you could possibly have feelings for harry that were more than just your deep set friendship. would you act differently about the man you loved more than anyone in this world? you didn’t want things to change- they were perfect with him. he’d jest with you when you became too much of a perfectionist about your latest song, telling you to stop thinking so hard or you’ll have an aneurysm. if people commented on his style or yours, he’d laugh it off and tell everyone he’s “the woman in the relationship” sarcastically, and you’d be in awe at how he essentially said a huge “fuck you” to gender norms. he made you comfortable being you and you coveted his ability to be so happy being him. the thought of this bond being broken frightened you to your core. the knock at your door was a good signal for your thoughts to end.

“you coming y/n?” the group of you were all headed to a german beer bar, since harry was so eager to try the world famous pilsner. finding a large lounge space with sofas inside the bar, you all sat and ordered a round, celebrating a good night’s work.

“to the first night in europe,” you toasted, “cheers!” all your glasses clinked together and the nervous feeling started to fade finally. sat next to harry, you discussed the tour so far, he told a story about being in one direction and it reminded you of a hilarious story from when you were 15, when you used to listen to emo music and swore how much you hated one direction, and they all laughed at the irony. if you had told your 15 year old self this was where you’d be at 21, you’d have snorted and laughed till you cried. but life works out in strange ways and you wouldn’t change it for a second. a few drinks in and any of those nervous feelings about what harry was to you had evaporated like alcohol till you eventually had to remind yourself that whilst your hand was on harry’s knee, it meant nothing. and the way he leans forward to you as he laughed at your not-so-funny joke. but those reminders were getting weaker the more his touch started to linger after he went to go and grab his pint the same time you did.

“we really must stop meeting like this,” he jokes as your hand rubs against his for the 50th time that might and you laugh at him because your afraid if you don’t play it off as a joke you’ll lean over and kiss him. you find yourself in need of a distraction from his low buttoned shirt and endless black ink drawn across his chest that you can see in high definition when your this close to him.

“i’m going to get another round,” you exclaim dramatically, telling yourself more than the rest of the group. making your way over to the bar, you can feel harry’s vision bearing into your back as you lean against the counter to get service.

“another round of pilsners on the table’s tab please,” you ask as soberly as you can. you’re not off your face yet, but the alcohol is definitely present, surrounding the corners of your vision.

“i’d rather by you a drink.” a slightly german accent crowds your ears and you look over to see a man, not all that different to some of the guys in harry’s band, smirking at you.

nervous, you reply, “no you don’t need to do that we have a tab here.”

“i insist.” afraid to be impolite you quietly thank him, and turn back to the bar. you can’t even think of chatting to guy at a bar whilst the man you love is sat so close by. even though it’s not returned, the pain of giving him up to flirt with a stranger is too much to bare.

“so what brings you to a local’s bar like this one?”

“me and my friends are working here for the night.”

“just here for the night? such a shame,” his smile, although attempting to seem unthreatening, is making you uncomfortable. the bartender seems to be taking forever with your order.

“i’m staying in a hotel a few minutes away, come and join me and their bar for a real drink?” your heart was pounding. you rarely got hit on so you were a little out of practice on how to deal with persistent assholes like these ones.

“i can show you how the germans like to do it.” that was it- he’d gone too far and you were so embarrassed by this point you were too humiliated to even reply to him. your neck was getting hotter and you could feel your cheeks reddening.

“you okay?” harry’s voice took you out of your panic-stricken state, “you were taking a while.”

turning to harry and preparing to tell him how this man won’t get the message, the german creep pipes up, “she’s fine mate. we were just discussing a date.”

“listen mate, i suggest you back off. alright?” harry grabbed your hand, tightly, and guided you out of the bar.

“harry where are we going?” you could barely comprehend what had happened in the last five minutes to even realise he was hailing a taxi.

“back to the house. i’ll text the others.”

“harry i’m fine honestly it’s no-“

“who said i was fine? i wanted to leave and i thought maybe you did too.” he was angry, which wasn’t something you saw in harry often. he was a happy guy, and optimistic about most things in life.

“is this because of that guy?”

“of course it is y/n.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise he’d be an assho-“

“why’re you apologising?”

this shut you up. you didn’t know why. this wasn’t the first time a guy had been slightly predatory towards you and you doubted it would be the last. after the first couple times your in situations like this you tend to see yourself as the problem and not the guys doing it.

“i don’t know, harry.” you climbed into the cab together and harry gave them the address, seeming somewhat cooled off from earlier. your head was buzzing from the alcohol and the fact that harry had essentially rescued you from what could have been a scary situation.

“harry?”

“yeah, y/n?”

“why did you kiss camila?” alcohol had made you more outspoken and you asked the question that had been driving your nervous energy all night.

“why are you asking?”

a little more honestly then last time, you answered, “i’m just curious.” harry shifted in his chair, slightly unnerved by the question. his whole demeanour had shifted entirely from earlier. he was close and warm with you, the friend you’d become addicted to being with. now he was closed off and moody- a rare sight for anyone who knew him well. you could have picked a better time to ask the question, of course, but you had to know. you had other questions too, like why he was so angry right now, and why did he care that i was chatting with a guy at the bar, even if he was a creep.

“because she wanted to kiss me and i wanted to kiss her. the same reason most humans kiss,” there was a slight element of humour back in his voice now.

“and that was it?”

“yep.”

“hmm.” you tried to ponder this, but your attention span was limited when you were this inebriated. your thought process had quickly moved from harry’s sex life to harry in general and his outfit of the evening- a personal favourite. he’d worn white cream trousers with a vest top and an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, along with the necklace you’d given him last christmas. you could see his two swallows peaking from the straps of his wife beater and your mind wandered to the thought of having your mouth against them. against all his tattoos, individually placing a kiss on each and everyone that you had grown to fall in love with.

you remembered the memory of harry coming with you to get your largest tattoo,  a greek statue on your upper arm.

“harry you know this isn’t the first one i’ve gotten?” you laugh at how hard he was clutching your hand in the chair next to your seat.

“i know but i’m so excited for you. i want you to know i’ll be sat here the whole time to hold your hand,” he squeezes your hand to emphasise his point.

“harry i’m getting another tattoo not going into life-altering surgery.”

but inside, you were squealing at his words.

“y/n?”

harry’s less chipper current voice took you out of your memory and back to the cab in munich.

“you’ve been staring at my chest for a couple minutes,” his brows were furrowed as he studied your face.

“i want to lick it.” if someone had asked you why you answered with that, you genuinely couldn’t give them a good answer. alcohol didn’t do much to you, except allow you to have fun, and lose any sense of a filter. now was a perfect example of the effects. harry’s eyes widened at your candour- and so did yours. his calm expression only faltered for a few seconds though, before it returned to his neutral, warm face.

“what else?”

“i-uh- what?”

“what else were you thinking about?” your heart was beating so loudly you were sure harry could feel it across in his seat. why was harry asking this? you didn’t want him to know about your thoughts- they were far too embarrassing and far too private.

“i was thinking about all your tattoos,” you confessed.

“i was thinking about yours too.” you thought about all of your tattoos and remembered the dog rose you had on the back of your thigh, as well as the koi carp on your hip bone.

“which ones?”

“the flowers and the fish.” you gulped, knowing he was thinking of your most risqué tattoos.

harry, unusually, was completely serious as he said, “i thought about licking yours too.” you didn’t know where you stood with harry now. you were sat in a taxi, having the conversation with him that you thought would never happen. he wants you the same way you want him. he may not want you the same way a nagging voice told you. he could just be looking for an easy fuck, and you thought to yourself that even if that was all he wanted, you’d still give yourself to him.

“harry-“

“maybe we shouldn’t talk anymore, yeah?” you felt like you could cry- how could he not want to talk, and you were on tour together? this was the most gut wrenching feeling to have him tell you not to talk anymore. harry studied your face as you lip began to quiver, “jesus y/n i meant about the current conversation. of course i want to keep talking to you, i love you- you know, like a friend.”

“like a friend?” you couldn’t ever begin to describe how your heart felt like it fell to the pit of your stomach whilst the acid slowly burnt it away. friends is it. harry isn’t yours to have and he never will be, he just had to remind you in words of this.

“well we’re both a little drunk and clearly turned on- maybe just this once it could be more than friends? just for tonight, i mean?” harry’s clear green eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, and he seemed, i’m not sure, hopeful? as if on cue, the taxi took you back to your villa which was warmly lit from inside and you felt a nervous excitement crawl up your arms and legs at what could possibly come next. harry gave the driver the cash and you dashed quickly to the door of the house, the cool september air cutting through you both dressed inappropriately for the time of year. it dawned on you that your outfit- a big vintage men’s shirt with your oldest and favourite pair of dr martens with sheer tights- wasn’t the wisest choice. harry fumbled with unlocking the door and opened it to find the fire lit and the lights dimmed. it was more romantic than either of you would ever mention out loud but it felt like the house was routing for you. you weren’t sure where harry wanted this to go next, the air beginning to stiffen and feel awkward.

turning to face him, you started, “harry i-“ his lips met yours in an instance and any of the awkwardness left in the room had been dissolved by harry’s soft kiss. he tasted good, despite the beer you’d both been drinking and had you not been intoxicated by the pilsner and harry’s gentle touch, you’d probably care about things like breath. harry grabbed you by the shoulders, much like he did earlier that same day, and guided you into the room further, finding the large sofa and pushing you onto it. falling back, you glanced up at his towering figure. harry was already tall, but his powerful presence added a less literal height to him, and his shadow looked over you. you couldn’t help but stare at him as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, exposing some of your favourite tattoos of his. you got to your knees so that you were closer to his body and you finally relaxed in his presence, touching all the places you’d dreamed about. your hands raked up his torso to his chest and his head leant down to kiss you again. his lips were perfect and seemed made to be against yours so tightly, and made for the crook of your neck as well as they kissed and sucked there too. the fire in the corner of your eyes illuminated the small amount of gold in harry’s hair and he looked as angelic as he always did in your dreams.

“am i better than him?” harry murmured against your neck. the question caught you off guard. he’d only known one other person you’d had a sexual relationship with since you two became friends and that was a sound tech from one of his old touring groups that you had a small fling with. him and harry never got along and harry even accused him of purposely messing his sound up during a performance once. harry has walked in on you giving him head in your dressing room once and it was incredibly awkward but you both moved past it.

“who are you talking about?”

“you know, that arsehole sound tech from the american tour. do i kiss you better than him?” you could hear the layers to his voice- he was asking with a confidence that you felt straight in your core, but there was another layer to it- insecurity.

“god yes,” you gushed, he had to at least know how he physically made you feel even if you can’t admit your feelings, “you kiss far better then he ever could.”

an idea came into your head at this, “in fact, i bet you’ll feel better in my mouth then he did.” harry jaw slacks slightly and you give him a shy smile. talking like this wasn’t something you ever tried when you were having sex, but harry made you want to be honest. it was the closest you could get to confessing your love to him, and you’d take what you could get from harry right now. stunned into silence, you continue to undress harry, removing his vest to expose his lean stomach and small trail of hair from his belly button, that you kissed all the way down. he let out a sharp breath as soon as you got to the top of his pubic bone, and you finally noticed just how hard harry already was. with a little fascination, you dared to take it to the next level and cupped his length through his trousers, causing harry to groan at the contact. he felt big in your small hand, you couldn’t wait to reveal him, impatiently struggling with his zipper.

“woah, y/n, slow down,” harry puts a finger under your chin and you look up under your lash at him, knelt below him. his smile is a classic harry smile and for a brief second this feels like more than a casual fuck.

“you’re still wearing too much clothing.” harry bends slightly to get to the bottom of your shirt and speedily pulls it over your head, revealing your black cotton bralet and tights. harry’s mouth watered at the sight of you in nothing but your underwear and boots, your long hair falling in messy waves around your minimally tattooed arms. your sure your black eyeliner is smudged and your gloss practically jin existent but harry’s eyes make you feel like he wants nothing more then to fuck you.

“that’s much better,” he smiles again at you, and you take that as a good cue to continue on his member. eagerly, your hands go straight back to his flies, rapidly undoing them and letting his loose fit trousers fall from his hips, exposing his form fitted boxers and you get a much better idea of just how big harry’s cock really was. without realising you mumble, “i want you in my mouth so bad,” under your breath.

“fuck say that again.”

looking under your lashes again, you repeat, “i want your cock in my mouth so bad.” harry groans as his eyes roll back, his words almost being enough without your touch. but your hand still went back to his dick, pulling it out from the restraint of his boxers. it was thick and bigger then you had been with before. without missing a beat, your hand pumped him a few times, and his hips reacted instantly. as if beckoning for your lips to surround his cock, his hips thrust towards you again, and you obliged, licking and then parting your wetted lips for the head of his dick. the pre-cum touched your tongue and it urged you to take more of him further, swiping your tongue on the underside as you push more in. harry moans, gripping your scruffy hair in his large hand, and had to restrain from pushing your mouth around his whole length. as your mouth got acquainted with him, you started to move up and down the length, as harry’s moans got higher and louder.

“y/n your mouth is fucking magic.” the praise went straight to your clit and your underwear was dampening at the knowledge of the dirty things your mouth was doing.

“can you- fuck- can you grab my balls?” you responded immediately and cupped them lightly whilst continuing to bob your head on his cock.

“didn’t know you could you use your mouth for such dirty things, y/n. do i fill you better then he did?”his jealousy fuelled you to go even quicker, this time switching up to concentrating on his swollen head, your tongue lapping against it feverishly, whilst your hand pumped the rest of him. the combination of your hand and mouth was enough to drive harry insane.

“you do so good y/n, i’m gonna cum soon okay?” you release him from your mouth, and keep stroking him, eager for him to orgasm. you couldn’t describe the desperation you had to see the way he looked as he climaxed. if you were to die after this, you knew you would die happy, if only to have seen harry in that state of euphoria that only you could bring him to.

“fuck y/n i’m gonna cum,” harry pants, his thighs tensing and his eyes glazing over. you aim him over your chest and feel his load fall all over your breasts, soaking your bralet as he lets out a breathy moan. his breathes are loud and aside from the fire crackling are the only noise filling the space of the living room. you let his now soft cock go and fall back onto the sofa, too tired to think about all of what just happened, the only thought on your mind is of harry’s moans on repeat. your chest is sticky but you’re too exhausted to care. harry has slowly crept over to sit next to you on the sofa, and you’re unspokenly thankful he hasn’t distanced himself afterwards.

“i need to clean you up.” harry disappears as quickly as he arrived and comes back with a warm flannel. wiping your chest, you watch his face as his brows furrow delicately on his forehead and his mouth is slightly crooked in concentration. you loved every single portion of his face, and suddenly it meant something different. you had seen his face at it’s most real and vulnerable and you had that memory forever.

unfortunately moments like the one you and harry had finally shared don’t last forever, and once harry’s done wiping your  breasts off, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, grabs his clothes and leaves you on the sofa.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #friends to lovers #bestfriend!harry #fine line album #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles icons #harry styles one shot #writing #one direction smut

[caffeinated-cryptid]

ashes, ashes.

10.8k | AO3 link | tags/tws: intrulogical, serial killer/deity of death au, lots of death (murder, mentions of a previous suicide attempt, and brief descriptions of animal death), injury, violence, swearing, morally grey characters, crime.

““You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” Logan blurted out with a start, eyes wide and looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” Logan asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.””

(aka: remus chases death like it's his favourite pastime, since it means he gets to see logan again. understandably, logan has some objections to this.)

--------------

Case 1: the man in the alley.

The first time Remus and Logan met, it was more or less a complete accident.

As a part-time warehouse operative slash freelance artist, Remus had a lot of free time between jobs, and one of the things he enjoyed doing most while waiting for his next gig to come around was spray-painting obscene images into the side of alleys. 

His latest project was a 7-foot tall purple unicorn with generous proportions. Pretty tasteful by his standards, all things considered.

If nothing else, the piece of work would give passers-by a topic of conversation, and that was always something Remus aimed to inspire with his art. These topics, however, often happened to be the ‘why’ variety. Most commonly, the old classic (and his personal favourite): ‘why are you like this?’.

Regrettably, the evening passed pretty quickly with no curious pedestrians passing by his alley and starting up such a conversation. By the time Remus finished, it was past midnight and by now the only people around were the regular nightlife-- primarily the local college kids who had recently come home and were enjoying their break from classes, and adults like himself who were trying to chase away their loneliness with some other kind of high.

...Woo, and that’s enough depressing thoughts for tonight. Remus declared to himself. After all, he had a new piece to admire! Stepping back, he spent a moment taking in the completed artwork by the light of his phone’s torch before deciding it was as perfect as it could get. He’d come back later and get a picture during the daytime to show off to his friends, so for now he begun preparing to leave by packing his paint cans into his backpack.

It was when he had collected the last can of magenta from the ground that he felt something grab the back of his coat hood. Remus had no time to process the fact that someone had snuck into the alleyway before he was shoved against the same wall he'd painted his mural on, coming face-to-face with a hooded man waving a rather pathetic-looking pocket knife at him.

“Give me your money. Now.” The man demanded.

Remus blinked in delayed surprise. Usually he was the one being the creep in the alleyway. He had never expected to come across an actual creep. Heck, this situation felt like it was pulled straight out of an old PSA with how stereotypical it was.

“What?” He blurted out unthinkingly, because of that exact train of thought. 

“You heard me! I want you to get your wallet and hand over everything you’ve got.”

What an unfortunate victim this man has chosen.

“You think I have any money to my name? I’m practically the starving artist every parent warns their kid about becoming.” Remus said with a huff of amusement.

“Don’t try to bullshit me!” The hand clutching the front of his coat tugged him forward before violently slamming him back against the bricks. The back of Remus’ head ricochetted off them roughly with the sudden movement, and the small grin he had been wearing quickly faded with flash of pain and the realization he may actually be in trouble.

“I saw the paint you’ve got in your bag,” The man continued over his dawning concern. “Somebody who’s broke wouldn’t have all that.”

Remus’ thoughts halted for a second. His bag…! He knew the paint can he was holding onto for dear life wouldn’t do much in the way of self-defense given that it was practically empty, but a whole bag of them? Hitting this guy with that much weight would make him think twice about trying to stab him, at least.

“Okay, okay. You got me, I’m rich as hell. Just let me get it, alright? My wallet's in there.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, but stepped back slightly, continuing to hold the weapon in his direction. “I know how to throw knives. Try to run and you’ll have a hole in your back quicker than an onset stroke.”

Yikes, and Remus thought he was bad at metaphors. He didn’t even need Virgil here to tell him that that made no sense. Still, he grinned placatingly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye: I won’t run.”

Finally, bad-metaphor guy let down his guard and allowed Remus to side-step around him. He walked a few paces towards where he dropped his backpack in his initial shock, putting the magenta spray in before he picked it up by the straps. True to his word, he didn't run; instead he swung around on his heel, slamming the full force of his hardback sketchbooks and cans of spray paint into the face of the hooded man.

He instantly dropped his knife, falling backwards and clutching his nose as blood erupted from it. Under the low-lighting of the street lamp, Remus was transfixed for a second, feeling like he was in one of those gritty r-rated movies he watched with his babysitter as a kid. The moment was ruined when he realized that 1) the man was approaching again very quickly, and 2) he couldn’t get the momentum quick enough to swing his bag around and hit him a second time.

Before he knew it, Remus had accidentally let go of the makeshift weapon when he was tackled to the ground, wind completely knocked out of him as the two of them collided against cobblestone moistened with rain.

“You fucking bastard.” The guy hissed furiously. His voice was nasally now that his nose was crooked and broken-looking, and Remus almost wanted to poke fun of him for it until he felt two hands wrap around his throat and start to choke him. “‘Could’ve just made things easy, but now you’re gonna die with all the other trash.”

Why? Remus wanted to ask. Over the 7 dollars and 15 cents he had?

But as he tried to tear away the vice grip on his neck, he couldn’t find the voice to talk back, even though the seriousness of the situation was hitting him like a freight train. Maybe it was his own fault for escalating things instead of playing along. Go figure, he had overestimated his own abilities after years being the off-putting one; the person others thought they had to watch over their shoulder for. Either that, or maybe it was the fact that his wallet carried more sentimental value with it than monetary. It was small and made of orange ducktape, but it carried so many things that Remus wanted to protect; a photo of his family, one of Virgil's guitar picks, the ticket to the last Tenacious D he went to, and of course, the receipt for his first condom purchase.

His mind flashed to his friends and family, and he wondered how they’d feel about this; him dying because of some dumb robber in a dumb alleyway because he was painting his dumb artwork. That was hardly the kind of death one could look back on and regard with pride (Hell if it wasn't funny to imagine how everyone will react to the news, though). But as he focused on the face above him, he realized with some panic that the grip wasn’t loosening, even as he could feel his lungs burn and a near-soothing feeling telling him to just let go.

As a final act of desperation to save himself from becoming a wholly embarrassing funeral eulogy instead of having a rockstar’s death in his 40s like he always imagined for himself, he patted the ground frantically, looking for a loose rock or something to stop this with. That’s when he felt it; the slightly warm plastic handle of the knife the guy had been holding. Remus’ heart pounded as he realized what he needed to do, and he barely even considered the repercussions of the action before he was plunging the knife into the side of the guy’s neck.

Finally, the grip around his throat loosened as the guy gasped, his expression flickering back and forth between anger and shock. Remus ripped the knife away, inhaling air greedily when the sudden action caused the man to loosen his grip and move off of him, trying to cover the stab wound with his hands and failing.

Remus quickly scrambled back and pulled himself up the wall, watching and waiting for the guy to fall still. He did, after what felt like a few minutes, and Remus didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He’d just killed a man. It was self-defence, but still… even the morbid thoughts he had over the years couldn't have prepared him for what it would have actually felt like to go through with any of it.

In that moment of pause, his injuries caught up with him as both his head and neck begun to ache. He was so disoriented that he barely even noticed the third person standing in the alley until they spoke up.

“Well. I didn’t see that coming.”

Remus snapped his head towards the source of the voice, and immediately regretted it when the hasty motion made him dizzy. The only reason he didn’t immediately jump into fight mode was because of the unusually casual way the voice had spoken. Beyond that, the figure he saw standing a short distance away didn’t really… look like a regular person. Beyond the odd formal clothing that had no discernable modern style to it and the shock of white hair that could only be achieved with hella bleach, his skin was a cool grey like a cadaver and he had a ghostly appearance to him; transparent and misty around the edges.

Definitely not the sort of thing Remus expected to see, but he was always one to accommodate the unexpected. 

“...You and me both. My only goal for today was to draw unicorn porn.” Remus replied lightly, once he decided it wouldn't hurt to entertain whatever was currently happening.

The figure turned, startling at the sight of Remus staring directly at him.

“You’re not supposed to be able to see me.” He blurted out with wide eyes, looking at Remus like he had just killed a guy in front of him. Oh wait-

“Mamma always told me I was special.” Remus replied with a woozy grin, leaving back against the cool bricks of the alleyway. Seeing things that weren’t there was a new level of fucked-up for his brain, but hopefully that was just a side effect of hitting his head and not something he’d have to take pills for later. Either way, at least this spectre was pretty to look at. Trauma had its benefits.

“You think a deity of death is pretty?” The man (deity???) asked wryly, cutting through the stream of subconscious babble he’d accidentally spilled into the frigid night air. “I’d be flattered, if that didn’t sound like such a red flag.”

"I can't believe my own brain is kinkshaming me." Remus whined, slipping down slightly as the worn-down soles of his boots lost their grip on the concrete for a second. 

Death frowned, until a metaphorical lightbulb lit over his head. "Ah- you think you're hallucinating. Well, that's not an unfair assumption. Keep believing it, by all means."

"That doesn't sound like something a hallucination would say." Remus pointed out.

"Well then, I'll gladly prove my non-existence by disappearing." Death said as he took a step towards the body.

"Wait!" Remus called before he could figure out why. The ghostly figure stopped, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Remus’ composure slipped as his eyes darted between the body and Death. "I...I need to know that this is real. That I'm not making this up. This feels like something I'd dream, but…" 

His hand clenched around the knife, feeling the squelch of blood and the tremor of his hand. Despite the mixed signals he was currently getting on the state of his sanity, it felt solid and real, and Remus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

"Fuck. Please tell me! Am I being as messed up as usual or did I really just kill someone?"

Death’s eyes softened. "You did. This is real." 

"Well shit. Okay…" Remus looked back at the body with a deep resignation. He wondered if he should do something about that. Probably not; that would look even more incriminating.

"...If it makes you feel better, he has hurt people in situations like this before, and completely unnecessarily; his only motive was to achieve a rush.” 

That did make Remus feel better, actually. 

"Good. I’m glad I killed a piece of shit and not someone down on their luck." Remus sighed, eyeing the spectral figure. "Speaking of, if this is real, then I guess that means you are too right?"

Any sympathy on Death's place quickly faded as he was caught out. "Erm-"

"It's cool." Remus leaned his head back again. "Talking to a cute ghost man? Sounds like a typical Thursday night for me."

Actually, this was the furthest thing from a typical Thursday night for Remus, but he didn’t want to admit that to the cute ghost man and risk looking uncool.

"You shouldn't get acquainted with it. Seeing me is hardly a good thing." Death replied, though his cheeks were distinctly a darker grey. 

"Aww- don't sell yourself short. I love your work!" Remus waved away vaguely. He always had a strange relationship with death in a way that others didn’t; always the first to laugh at a funeral or smile instead of grieve. That was probably why he felt so comfortable right now. “Besides, we’ll all be food for the dirt and worms eventually, anyway. Why get uncomfortable with it?"

Death met his eyes again, seeming slightly more firm. “Perish those thoughts, it's hardly your time yet."

Remus pouted. "It's still inevitable, though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I didn’t die today and got to meet you instead, but what’s so bad about something that’s going to happen either way?”

“I’m starting to think I was right by judging your attitude as a red flag.” Death muttered.

“But I'm right aren't I?” Remus prodded.

“Indeed.” Death begrudgingly conceded. “And do you know just how inevitable it is? Approximately 2 people die per second; 106 per minute. There have been 6435 events of armed conflict in the past year alone, and over 690 million people who are undernourished as we speak. Beyond that, there are even more people losing their lives to case-by-case natural events and incidents. So if you’d be so kind, do not be so eager to create more work for me.”

Remus absorbed that information, tilting his head. “Despite all that, you’re still here?”

“...I am.” Death agreed after a heavy pause, in the same manner most would admit their own defeat. “I’ll admit, I’m not used to… talking so much. It’s an unusual feeling, but it’s been pleasant, I suppose.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus laughed. “That’s gotta be saying something.”

Death rolled his eyes. “My name is Logan, not Death.” 

“Huh. I’m Remus.” Remus replied, a little baffled. He didn’t expect a deity to have such a normal name.

“Remus ‘Tsukio’ Kaneshiro, I already know of you. We’ve met before.”

Remus’ bafflement only grew. “We have? I think I’d remember meeting someone like you.”

“You wouldn't; you were unconscious. It was after you overdosed on cold medicine. Thankfully your parents got you to the hospital on time before I could do my job, but I remember it being a close call.” Logan looked at him knowingly.

“...Oh.” Remus laughed nervously. He definitely remembered that. Finding out you could overdose on a lot of common household items was pretty dangerous for him to learn as a teenager, and he’d never forget how furious his entire family was with him for being so reckless. He never knew how to tell them that it wasn’t quite the accident they assumed it to be (needless to say, his adolescent years were pretty shitty to him, being the outsider in this town in more ways than one). Thankfully, the taste of cold medicine had become too repulsive for him to try anything like that again.

“...I am glad you’re alright. It’s always unfortunate when a life ends too soon.”

“Well…thanks. This has been pretty trippy, so I’m glad I met you too, Logan.”

Logan hummed and looked towards the end on the alleyway. “By the way, you should think about leaving soon. There’s a group of people approaching us.”

Shit, Remus had almost forgotten that he had just committed a crime. Given how awful this scene looked, there was a big chance he’d get thrown into jail for this if he got caught. But at the same time, he was almost hesitant to leave behind the spectre that had enchanted his heart within a few minutes, even if his mind was still trying to catch up with the overload of information.

“Why would you help me?” He asked quickly and somewhat suspiciously.

Just as Logan finished his business with the body, he looked at him over his shoulder with an almost sly expression. “You seem interesting, Remus. I’d hate for you to lose your life over someone so unworthy of one.”

And with that, Logan disappeared like a cloud of fog. Remus stood there transfixed, until he remembered Logan’s warnings and snatched up his bag, shoving the knife into his pocket and dashing into the night.

--------------

Case 2: the man who couldn't leave well enough alone.

The next time Remus and Logan met, it was slightly less of an accident, but fuck if the guy didn’t deserve it.

When Remus got home after the night he first saw Logan, he was more grateful than ever that he lived in such a run-down part of town. There were barely any security cameras to look out for, let alone people who were willing to be out during the early hours of the morning. 

He was able to slip into his apartment complex unseen, avoiding his early-bird roommate long enough to wash away his crimes in the shower.

After that, he fell into his bed, completely unable to process everything that had just happened. So instead he fell asleep and left the deep thinking to his future self.

As expected, he needed plenty of time to collect his thoughts. First of all, he knew he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing because after weeks and months of taking it as easy as possible, he hadn’t seen anything else as strange as a personification of death named Logan. Logan...what kind of name even was that? It felt like the name of a teacher, not something that should be as grim and macabre as Remus himself. 

But that was the other thing; Remus couldn’t get the thought of Logan out of his head. He was like the angel who had come down to bless him in a moment of weakness, saving him from further misfortune. He knew he had little to no chance of seeing their deity again, but that didn’t stop him from plaguing his mind constantly. 

Remus figured the best chance he’d probably get at seeing Logan again was to become involved with death once more. His mind immediately jumped to animals, the easiest targets; he pictured slipping into a farm late at night and slitting the throat of one of the sheep, going to a pet store and buying a hamster for the night before ‘accidentally’ leaving it in a box to suffocate, picking up a stray from the street and snapping its neck quickly. But just as soon as those thoughts came to him, he waved them away with a grimace. He wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that, even for Logan.

People had always talked about him like he was a serial killer in training. They would keep a wary eye when he picked up sharp objects and ask his brother if Remus had ever hurt one of their pets as kids, as if because he had unconventional ideas, he was a complete sadist towards the innocent. (And yes, perhaps he did have thoughts of that nature too, but they’d always fill him with sickness because he fucking loved the pet dogs they had as kids, damn it). In any case, he knew that going through with those ideas would only be proving those people right, that he was a dangerous individual who’d murder an innocent creature just for someone his brain maybe made up.

...Perhaps he was losing his mind after all. What was he doing, plotting out the best way to see Death? If anyone else could hear his thoughts, they’d think him half-mad or suicidal. It seemed like the best thing so do was to try to push this out of his mind, so eventually, that's what he did. He wasn’t so good at that usually; his mouth ran a mile a minute and the people who knew him would often say that his brain-mouth filter was non-existent. But this felt like something he’d like to keep for himself, especially when news of the murder made it onto the local news, presumed to be the outcome of ‘gang activity’ simply because the victim was successful and had a loving family and what else could explain this?

He decided to not think about making plans anymore, and he only thought about Logan when his mind was otherwise unoccupied. It stayed that way until the very next week when he found out about the situation with his roommate’s ex.

Remus didn’t have many people in the world who were willing to put up with him, but the one’s that did, he cherished dearly. So when Nadia, the woman he’d describe as belonging among the Valkyries (if only she could get past her deal of not wanting to hurt a fly), came to him looking uncharacteristically shaken and upset, Remus felt something in him snap.

She told Remus about how her ex-boyfriend was following her to her workplace and making threats on her life. He’d even begun showing up outside their apartment late at night in an attempt at intimidation, and that detail alone pissed him off considering he’d been too in his head to even notice.

“All because I decided I deserved better.” Nadia told him tearily. She was so strong usually, both physically and emotionally, so seeing her so close to crying felt like a punch to the gut. “I just want for him to be gone… But James would probably kill me before I could even file a restraining order.”

“What if he was gone?” Remus blurted out. “Hypothetically.”

Nadia blinked at him, wiping a stray tear. “Honestly? I think the world would be a better place. But that’s never going to happen.”

Remus nodded. “Right. Of course. Do you still have his number, by any chance?”

--

Remus’ plan was simple: Nadia would call her ex and ask him to come over to ‘reconcile’, and when he did, Remus would confront him. Scare him enough to stay away for good. He was pretty great at being intimidating when he wanted to that the both of them assumed it would work out.

Well, James came as planned. Their apartment complex had one massive security flaw in that anyone could get in without keys or permission, so the only clue Remus got that James was coming was the sound of footsteps bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. Remus stood upright and waited, until he saw the top of James’ head slowly ascending up the stairs, pausing on the second-top step.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” James scoffed disbelievingly as Remus moved in front of him. “Did Nadia seriously send out the guard dog? What? Suddenly too afraid to talk for herself?”

Remus considered barking at him in response, but considering how James was way above the common creep in terms of persistence, he crossed his arms instead and glared steadily.

“Hell yeah she did. You should know why, given how much of a low-life asshole you’ve been acting all week. When are you going to give up the big guy act, huh? Curley called and he wants his complex back.”

James, in all of his 5-foot-no-thoughts glory, only squinted as the insult went over his head.

“...I knew I never fuckin’ liked you. Don’t get involved in our relationship, you little freak.” James tried to pass him, and Remus quickly blocked him, taking out the knife he’d stolen months ago.

“Take another step and this is going in your goddamn eye.” Remus raised his voice, confident that most of their neighbours were already out at work. “You’re not going near Nadia ever again, do you hear me?”

“Or what?! What’ll you do, Kaneshiro? Stab me? Put the toothpick away and step aside, for god’s sake. This is embarrassing, even for you.”

The two of them stood in a standstill, staring each other down as the echo from James’ exclamation faded out.

“...Fine.” Remus said finally. He slipped the knife back into his pocket, and James smirked smugly until Remus grabbed the front of his shirt instead. “It’ll be more fun to do this, anyway.”

With that he shoved James backwards, who quickly lost his footing and fell down the long and narrow flight of stairs. He tumbled for few moments, hitting each step, until he landed on the ground floor with a distant thump.

Remus stared after him, preparing for James to get up and start making a scene like he always did when he didn’t get his way. He didn’t.

Frowning, Remus descended the stairs, and as he drew closer to the slumped-over body, he noticed the puddle of blood around James’ head and the odd way he’d landed.

“Damn.” Remus commented under his breath. “Nadia’s going to kill me.”

He heard a sigh somewhere ahead of him, and fearing someone had walked in on his compromising position, Remus quickly glanced up, excuse at the ready.

“It was an accident-!” He exclaimed, before he realized it was Logan standing there, looking between James and Remus with a pinched expression.

“I know you pushed him, Remus. That’s not exactly what the law would define as an ‘accident’.”

For a second, Remus was starstruck (and opting to ignore the consequences of his actions). “You remember me.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon, though.”

That almost sounded like an accusation, so Remus held his hands up defensively. “Hey, in my defence he was just asking to die. The dude's a dick!”

Logan sighed. “Regardless, you shouldn't go around killing people. Sooner or later you’ll get caught.”

“Well, I’m 1 for 1 so far! But if you’d rather me not get in trouble… Have any tips on how to cover this?” Remus joked, winking.

Logan frowned at him before he truly considered it, looking around at the scene thoughtfully. “...Double check to make sure you left no evidence. Move quickly, before anybody stumbles across the scene. And if you have time, plant something which will make this look more like an accident-- for instance, a spill on the stairs.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “I wasn’t expecting actual tips. Holy shit- okay.”

He went over to check the body, feeling his cheeks heat up. He absolutely should not be getting flustered over advice on how to cover up a murder, yet here he was.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be encouraging this.” Remus said jokingly as he smoothed out the creases on the front of James’ shirt. “Didn’t you say something about having more work to do? Who knows, you might be giving me a new hobby.”

Remus laughed. Logan didn’t. When he glanced up, the deity was frowning.

“Perhaps not. Forget what I said; I shouldn’t be interfering in matters like this. I shouldn’t even be appearing to you now.”

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s the matter? I thought you liked talking.” Remus hastily stood upright, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I- regardless of my personal feelings, I have a job to do. I can’t allow myself to become so partial over one human.” Logan replied, rubbing at the crease between his eyebrows.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?!” Remus argued.

“You could cheat death, for starters.”

“You already know how I feel about that.” Remus whined. “I’ll off myself when the time comes, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Don’t-” Logan exclaimed, before he reigned himself back in. “Just. No. You’re supposed to go naturally. Neither you or I should interfere with that.” 

Remus frowned. He wasn’t so sure he liked the thought of such a boring death. If anything, he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. Otherwise, he’d be just another body no one would remember-- like loverboy over there.

“That means no more meetings like this.” Logan continued on.

“But what if I want to see you again?” Remus muttered. He looked across the room to Logan and found him wearing a similar downtrodden expression, until it grew serious.

“You’ll just have to deal with that, because we were never supposed to meet in the first place. I have a duty to fulfil and you have a life to live. Our paths are as parallel as can be.”

“This is bullshit, Logan.” Remus said, but he didn’t argue any further. Not when Logan walked around him to complete his business. Not when he prepared to leave, either.

“Don’t do this again.” Logan said finally, giving him a stern glare. “I mean it.”

--------------

Case 3: the woman in the streets.

The next time Remus and Logan met, Logan was starting to think Remus was making a habit of this after all.

In Remus’ defence, he totally wasn’t.

Logan’s parting words just wouldn’t leave his head. It was even worse than last time; the knowledge that he could kill anyone and get to see Logan again plagued him, and he found himself pulling away from his family and friends after the questioning from the police was over and done with.

They were all worried for him, but especially Nadia who knew exactly what he did and assumed it was because of the guilt that he was becoming uncharacteristically withdrawn. Although she was shocked at how things had escalated, she tried to apologize multiple times for letting Remus confront James, which he would always blow off. It wasn’t killing James that had gotten to him, not at all; in fact he was glad that prick was out of their hair. Rather, he grappled with the idea of never seeing Logan again, one of the few people who truly saw the worst sides of him and accepted them nonetheless.

He didn’t deal with it well. 

The night of their next meeting, Remus was out drinking alone. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he didn’t want to justify why he wanted to get absolutely wasted to his friends, so being sad and lonely for one night it was. 

He had stumbled out of the bar late at night, beginning his unsteady trek home since he had accidentally spent too much money and couldn’t afford an uber to drive him back. Stepping onto the street a couple blocks from his apartment, everything was quiet until the person ahead of him crossed the road, just as a car sped around the corner and knocked them over with an awful crunch.

Remus stood in shock. He looked after the swerving car to get the licence plate, but it was already too late and they had hit the gas upon noticing him. Swearing, he stumbled over to the person left in the road. 

“Shit- Are you alright? Of course not, you need an ambulance.” He was struggling to unlock his phone when he noticed how still the person-- a frail old woman-- was. It didn’t even look like she was taking breaths, though it was hard to tell through his swimming vision and the thick coat she was wearing.

With unsteady fingers, Remus pressed against the pulsepoint on her neck, and felt the moment her heartbeat stopped.

“Oh…”

And then he turned on his heel and threw up.

Death wasn’t supposed to bother him like this. He had always been proud of his ability to frighten others with his dismissive attitude towards life’s eventualities. But this was different. He had just watched the murder of a complete stranger right before his eyes, and there wasn't even anything he could do. What the fuck?

He didn’t even feel better when the person he’d been longing to see all night appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and ready to give a lecture.

“Again, Remus?! What did I tell you?! No more murder!” Logan threw his hands up at the sight of Remus next to the body, that was until he noticed the cause of death and Remus’ sickly appearance,

“I-I didn’t do anything this time, I swear. Logan I promised myself I wouldn’t.” He picked himself out of the gutter he had been puking into, trying to look at the deity, just so he could feel some sense of reassurance. “I thought I’d never see you again. ‘Thought I was okay with that, but I’m not. I missed you.”

Logan only stared at Remus when he began crying. He was a sappy emotional drunk when he got through the fun tipsy phase, sue him.

“...I apologize for yelling at you.” Logan said, awkwardly hovering his hand over Remus’ shoulder until it shuddered with a sob and accidentally brushed against him. Remus jolted at the cool touch, as did Logan, who quickly retreated his hand, eyes darting around worriedly.

“‘Always thought you’d be like mist.” Remus slurred, awestruck enough to forget his sadness. He reached forward to prod at Logan, who furrowed his eyebrows thoughtfully.

“I… Yes, that’s definitely strange.” Logan cleared his throat and straightened up. “In any case, you need to get off the street, report this incident, and go home. Being around so much death isn’t good for your mental health.”

“Maybe.” Remus sighed. “I quite like hanging around you, though.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re drunk. You’re going to feel a lot worse about seeing me in the morning, I promise.”

“I never feel bad about seeing you.” Remus said, picking up his phone from where he’d dropped it. “I only feel bad that it’ll be a long time before I get the chance to see you again.”

“...I don’t get it.” Logan replied softly after a heavy pause. “You shouldn’t want to see me at all. I’m a bad omen. You’d only ever get to meet me in times of tragedy.”

“‘Bad omen’... And I thought Emo was dramatic.” Remus chuckled weakly. “You’re not so bad, Lo. You guide people to the end. You care for them even when you have so many people to watch over. You’re opinionated and you’re easily curious when things don’t go to plan. You don’t mind when I’m weird and you’re fun to talk to. I like you.”

Logan blinked rapidly with surprise, clutching his chest. “I wish we could be having this conversation away from the recently deceased. But... I suppose I feel the same way. I still don’t know how or why you can see me, but our conversations haven’t been unpleasant.”

“Death likes my company.” Remus said, smiling softly to himself. “...You’re right though. I should probably phone this in. I just wish I could remember the licence plate… Something like XQ... ugh.”

“XQR 460.” Logan supplied helpfully. 

“That’s it!” Remus cheered, sloppily kissing Logan on the cheek. “Thanks babe!”

Logan floundered for a second as Remus begun calling an ambulance, struggling to regain composure. “I hope we don’t meet like this again soon. Three times over the span of a year is already too much.”

“I don’t know.” Remus looked at Logan slyly. “I’ve always had pretty bad luck.”

--------------

Case 4: the bad doctor.

The next time Remus and Logan meet, it’s completely coincidental and under less stressful circumstances for once.

Well, still stressful. Just for different reasons. 

Roman was in the hospital because of some dumb motorcycle crash he got into, which near-gave Remus a heart attack when he heard about because he may often ask for death these days, but not like this. Never like this.

Anyway, he was more or less alive in the end. Just a broken leg and a lot of scrapes and bruises since he always refused to wear the proper protective clothing when he went riding (due to it ‘not fitting his aesthetic', apparently. Remus assumed it was pussy talk for ‘I don’t look badass enough to pull off leather’).

Remus had stopped by to visit, bringing some of the fancy name-brand crackers Roman liked since he kept complaining about how stale and awful the hospital’s ones were, and to say hello to Virgil while xe was on shift. The three of them even managed to sit down while Virgil was on break and catch up, too. Roman and Virgil seemed glad Remus was doing a bit better after his downward spiral a couple of weeks ago, even if they didn’t mention it.

After a few hours spent catching up and teasing one another, he decided to leave Roman to get some rest. His plans for that evening were to take a load off and perhaps call for some takeout with Nadia. Honest to God, he didn’t plan on looking for any trouble.

But still, trouble found him when he noticed Logan walking the halls of the hospital, following a doctor to the elevator.

Remus double-taked. Though he shouldn’t really be surprised to see Logan here in a place with so much death, it was still odd witnessing the cloaked figure walk around normal people, none of them noticing his presence. 

Remus quickly jogged over. "Logan!" He hissed under his breath.

The deity startled (startled!) before turning to him, just like the doctor he was following. 

"Do you need something?" The doctor said, raising an eyebrow.

"Uhhhh, nope! Just… getting into the elevator." Remus replied, stepping in and standing next to Logan.

"Why must you have such awful timing?" Logan sighed stressfully as the elevator doors slid shut. Remus looked at him, unable to verbally reply with the doctor standing right next to them. Fortunately, his unspoken request to elaborate was picked up on.

"This doctor is going down go the morgue. I was here to see a patient that died under his care, and I noticed how death seemed to latch onto him. I got curious."

Sounds like a bad doctor, if even a deity of death was interested in him. Heh, that probably said a lot about Remus too. 

Logan elaborated for Remus’ misinterpreting amused expression. "Remus, he murders patients purposefully. You should not have gotten on this elevator."

...Oh. Remus looked past Logan to the doctor, who had noticed his glances.

"...Hm, aren't you supposed to be in your room? Broken leg, road burn, lacerations?" He questioned, eyes flicking down to where he assumed Remus must be injured.

"Nope! You’re thinking of my twin. I came to visit him today." Remus responded as chipper as he could manage, suddenly a lot more unnerved knowing that this apparently dangerous doctor knew about his brother.

"Ah! I see. I did wonder how you managed to grow a full moustache in a day." The man chuckled. "Twins… quite fascinating."

Uh oh spaghetti-os. "Yeah… people say we're like two unrelated people, we’re so different." Remus laughed dismissively. It didn't seem to bother the doctor. 

"Interesting… Say, a partner of mine is conducting a study on the differences in the individual psychologies of monozygotic twins. I'm sure it would please her to get more data, if you'd be interested in participating. There would be monetary compensation for your time, of course." 

"This is such an unethical form of recruitment. What kind of professional are you?" Logan argued in frustration. Remus almost burst into laughter on the spot from the bizarreness of the situation, but he somehow managed to turn it into an agreeable grin instead. 

"Sounds good, doc." Remus said. 

"What-?!" Logan exclaimed. Remus spared him a glance, hoping it would let him know he knew what he was doing. Logan didn't look placated in the slightest.

"Excellent! I'll pass the details onto your brother and we can arrange a meeting sometime this week.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped to let a few other people on. Remus took the opportunity to head out before they could reach the basement floor. 

“See you later!” He called to both the Doctor and Logan.

“REMUS!”

--------------

Case 4.5: the dead doctor.

The next time they meet, Remus fully expects it.

Roman asks him over text why he volunteered them for a study, and Remus makes some vague excuse like ‘sexy doctor’. Thankfully, he bought it.

Before the date sent to them by the doctor, Remus decided to do his own research first. To do so, he contacted Virgil and asked for details on the man. 

After copious amount of friendly jabs (like 'oooh Remus, I didn’t know tall, straight, and boring was your type'), Virgil told him his name and not much else, given that xe wasn't exactly close with the older staff member. That was fine; Remus used the information to find online profiles, where he found contact details and photos, where he found business accounts, where he found history.

After pulling a few more strings from people that owed him one, he managed to gain access to the vital records from the hospital. It didn’t take long to discover that Logan was right, there had been a spike in deaths since the doctor, a mister 'Stacey’, had begun working there. It was a mystery how no one had noticed the pattern honestly. Weren't doctors supposed to get their licences taken away after a certain number of incidents? As he begun looking through the files more closely however, he realized that the deaths were often chalked up to accidents; small things that could have been due to anything, from mistakes during operations, to the patients overdosing on their prescribed medication, to incidents days after they’ve been discharged.

As Remus closed his laptop, he begun feeling very glad he had impulsively accepted Stacey’s offer. 

--

The meeting ended up being scheduled for Friday evening, and by the time it rolled around, Remus was fully prepared and waiting outside of the agreed location. He dialled Roman’s number, looking out to the empty parking lot and familiarizing himself with the location.

After a few rings, Roman picked up, sounding slightly agitated. “Yes, Captain Dookey?”

Remus snickered at the old nickname-- it was practically a relic from when they played pirates as children. Perhaps Roman was feeling sentimental after his accident.

“Aye aye first mate. You should know that I’m not gonna make it to the study. I already called Dr. Stacy to let him know we’re cancelling for today, so you can stay home.”

“Really Remus? I just got ready.”

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be resting anyway. Unless you want to drop a visit by yourself that is, but Virgil told me he’s straight, soooo...”

He heard a retching sound on the other end of the line.

“No thanks.” A sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“Bye, ugly.”

“Later, Rat Bastard.”

“Rats are cute, that’s not an insult. Byeee~.” Remus quickly hung up, his grin quickly fading as he took in the apartment complex. 

It didn’t look like the sort of space that would house an office, but Stacey didn’t look like the type to break the Hippocratic oath either, so perhaps the world wasn’t as straight-forward as it seemed.

Slipping his phone away, Remus buzzed the number he’d been given, and it wasn’t long before the good doctor himself came down to answer the door personally.

“Remus.” Stacey almost looked surprised to see him. “Is your brother not coming?”

“Oh, no.” Remus waved a hand. “I just got off the phone with him and he told me he’s running late. He said to get started without him.”

He received a charming smile. “That works just fine. Come on in.”

Stacey led him up the stairs to his apartment, and the whole time Remus felt the weight of the kitchen knife in his pocket. When they got to the ‘office’ (which was really just a living room with minimal furnishing), he offered him a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Remus said, looking around. “...Seems pretty empty in here for an office.”

“Ah… Yes, unfortunately my colleague is having renovations done in her usual space, so we’ll have to collect our data here. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

A fair enough explanation on the surface, and one his brother would probably accept if he was here, but Remus wasn’t nearly as trusting as Roman was. Nor was he as ignorant to the true purpose of this meeting.

“I see… That makes sense. Or at least it would, if I didn’t already know all about your dirty little secrets.”

Stacey glanced up from where he’d been looking for a pen. “...Pardon?”

Remus smiled back; a grin with all teeth. “You have quite a few skeletons in your closet, doc. Even for a fine medical professional like yourself.”

The doctor very carefully didn’t react to that. "My apologies, do you have the right person? To the best of my knowledge we've only spoken once." 

"Yeah." Remus agreed. "And once is all it took. I found out about all those little accidents that follow you, doctor. Weird how many times your patients pass away from nicked veins and potassium chloride overdoses, hm?"

The only outward response Stacey gave was the clenching of his fists. Subtle, but Remus noticed it. "Be careful Mr. Kaneshiro, because that sounds an awfully lot like a baseless accusation. People sue for that, you know." 

"I don't doubt it. But you already know it's not so baseless, don't you? You know exactly what I’m talking about, which is why you invited us here to a shady apartment late at night, no colleague in sight."

"Remus what the hell do you think you're doing?!" A familiar voice chimed from behind him.

Remus startled out of his focus, whipping his head around. "Logan?" 

"Don't look at me, you ignoramus-! You met a serial killer alone after I told you to stay away?!"

"He knows my brother, I couldn't just-!"

Remus looked back at the doctor was closer now, looking down at him pitifully. "I see now. The talking to air, the erratic behaviour, the pushing your delusions onto others… you mustn't be well. It's alright, Mr. Kaneshiro, I could easily refer you to a mental health facility who will take care of you."

"Remus, you have to get out! Now!" 

"I know!" He wasn’t a complete idiot, damn it! But he needed to get Stacey to confess or-

"Ah, perfect! If you wait here, I’ll go and make a call." 

Remus stepped backwards, hand going to the knife in his pocket. He needed Stacey to confess, but if he didn��t-

Unfortunately, Stacey noticed his movement and quickly grabbed his left wrist, putting way too much pressure in his grip than was necessary. 

"Ah-ah. I told you to stay put, didn't I? Come now, don't be difficult. I'm only trying to get you the help you need."

If he didnt-

"Let go of him!" Logan demanded to the man who couldn't hear him. 

Stacey froze, feeling the cool touch of Death on his arm as Logan tried to pull him away, and at that moment Remus pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the chest; slipping the blade right between the ribs. 

Red pooled around the knife, staining his crisp white shirt vividly. Stacey stared at the knife, and dug his nails into Remus’ wrist. 

"Fucker." Remus yelped with pain, pulling the weapon back out. 

Finally, Stacey let go and stumbled back, hitting the wall and sliding down to the floor. His expression didn't recover from the shock from when Logan touched him; he didn't even try to apply pressure to the wound as he bled out. He just sat there until the light left his eyes, and the only sound left in the room was Remus’ laboured breathing.

"I… shouldn't have done that." Logan muttered, eyeing the limp body. 

"Done what? I'm the one that killed him. That was my backup plan all along." Remus replied numbly, looking at the scene he had caused. 

"I gave him the touch of Death, it's- it's an omen. I'm not supposed to use it ever."

"Gee, I'm flattered. I promise murder was always on my brain though." Remus said as he took the tape recorder out of his pocket. No need for this anymore. He wanted to get a clip of Stacey saying something incriminating so that he could defame him and ruin his reputation, but well, him not being able to benefit from a reputation at all was the next best thing.

Logan watched him, taking in the claw marks across his wrist. "...Right. He scratched you, so remember to clean under his nails." 

Despite everything, Remus smiled softly at the advice. "Aww, you really care about me, don't you?"

"I- no. Absolutely not. That’s absurd" Remus snickered as Logan flushed an adorable shade of paynes grey, which he hid by going to deal with the corrupt doctor’s soul. 

"...Why did you show up, by the way? There isn't anyone dead in this apartment is there?" Remus realized belatedly, looking around the empty space. 

"Ah… No. Admittedly, I've been keeping a closer eye on this town than I really should, and after what happened the other day, I figured I needed to be here when I noticed you two meeting… I probably shouldn’t have.” Logan conceded.

"Well, at least you can't say this wasn't a business visit." Remus giggled to himself, wiping the blood from his knife with a tissue. Maybe he was a little giddy from the endorphins of confronting a prolific serial killer, or perhaps it was the confirmation that Logan cared for him, but either way he felt really good right now, like he could take on the world.

Logan looked at him and sighed. "I should've known you'd be trouble. No more killing, Remus. This has to be the last time."

"Of course, pinky promise~."

"...I can see you crossing your fingers behind your back, you brat."

--------------

Case 5: the one who tried to get away.

The next time they met, Remus broke his pinky promise. No surprises there.

It was hardly even a promise to begin with, but for some reason Logan expected him to stick to it. Quite foolish, if you ask Remus, given that he now had a total of three murders under his belt, and stopping there almost felt like giving up. 

Of course, he had to lay low after Stacey however. The hospital was holding a memorial for his death and Remus later found out that it was ruled a break in. (Made sense, since Remus took a few of his fancy cleaning products on the way out, as a treat to himself.)

It was a shame Stacey was being remembered so honourably, but he couldn't really do anything about that. At least he wasn't out in the world hurting more people. 

But unfortunately for Remus, the ruling of Stacey’s murder didn’t stop the incident from trickling into his normal life, as Virgil and Roman seemed to grow suspicious of him. Virgil didn't bring up the topic to him directly, but xe begun acting sketchy when the two of them hung out (Though that could easily be wariness after having one of xyr co-workers be killed). Oppositely, Roman brought the topic up at the first chance possible.

"Dr. Stacey was murdered the night we were supposed to meet him." Roman commented the next day they were able to have lunch together, arms crossed confrontationally. "Funny that."

"Yeah. Sounds like we had some pretty good luck, if you ask me." Remus grinned.

"Wha- why are you smiling?! A man died!" His twin hissed at him. Under his breath, as to not alert the other tables.

Remus’ grin faded. "Listen Ro-bro, I didn't want to tell you this but our good doctor wasn't as kind as you think he is. I called you off that night to help you. Trust me. It’s better off that neither of us went through with that ‘study’."

Roman leaned back, looking unconvinced. "What were you doing instead, Remus?"

"...Huh?"

"You heard me. Where were you? What's your alibi?"

"You're not accusing your own flesh and blood of murder, are you?" Remus sipped his drink casually; ice coffee with as many pumps of peppermint syrup as the barista would allow. 

"Just answer the question." Siiigh, what a tightass. How did they come out the same womb? 

"I was meeting an old friend, for your information. Logan." Remus smiled to himself at the inside joke.

"Logan? You've never mentioned a Logan before." Roman raised his eyebrows.

Remus leaned back in his chair with a shrug, opting to look out the window instead. By doing so he missed the flash of complicated emotions that crossed his twin’s face at the dismissive gesture.

"I don't tell you everything about my life, brother dearest."

"Clearly…"

--

A week or two passed since his conversation with Roman, and during that time Remus didn't get to see Logan again once. That wasn't such a terrible thing, most people would assume, to not run into a deity of death, but Remus was so bored! He wanted to see his favourite death pal again, but no opportunities arose to do that, and nothing was striking his murder-fancy.

That was until the day he saw a familiar licence plate parked outside a shop.

Remus froze in his tracks, remembering the night he last saw that car.

A woman crossing the street, a body too still, a car speeding away with no remorse-

Remus had given the licence number to the police, but clearly they hadn't done anything about it. Or perhaps they'd tried and the asshole bought them off. 

He growled at the idea, startling a passer-by who was crossing around him.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long before he found out who his ire belonged to. A familiar face left the shops and begun walking towards the car; Anton, a guy who had been a year above him back in high school. Remus’ memory of the man was vague; primarily made up of snapshots of cruelty and entitlement towards those around him.

He looked exactly the same, with his annoyingly polished appearance and ugly overpriced clothes. So he was right about the police being paid off, then. Typical.

He'd just have to do something about this himself. 

--

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to convince you to stop this, is there?”

“I mean.” Remus begun, looking down at the body he had just finished suffocating and rubbing at his bruised arms. There was more of a struggle than tv had led him to believe. “I kinda had to do this one. What? Was I supposed to connect the dots on a murder and not stalk and kill the guy who got away unpunished?”

“Most people would say yes.” Logan groaned, in the sort of tone that said he already knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not like most people though, are we?” Remus grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

“You’re most certainly not. I’m barely a person.” Logan replied with finality.

--------------

Case 6: the one who pushed their luck.

And then shortly after; 

“Come on man, don’t do this.” The masked person pleaded, hanging onto the fire-escape for dear life. Literally.

Remus raised an eyebrow, making a show of contemplating the request. “Hmm, I don’t know. You did try to pull a gun on me.”

“It wasn’t loaded, jackass!” 

Remus tutted and held his foot over the person’s clammy hands. They shook violently at the unspoken threat. “And now you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood too? No consideration!”

His joking tone must have angered them, because they began struggling to hoist themself back up again, red in the face with strain. “I swear, when I get up  there-”

Promptly losing his interest in hearing the rest of that threat, Remus stood on their fingers, causing them to let go of the fire-escape and plummet to the street below with a strangled yell.

“Whoopsie daisy.”

He leaned over the banister, whistling innocently as a familiar presence appeared next to him. Logan joined him in peering down at the body, eyebrow raised.

“At least this one was merely an accident?” He guessed by the cause of death, a twinge of hope in his voice.

“Nah, they’ve tried breaking in at least 3 times this year. It was getting annoying.”

As Logan scolded him for his recklessness, Remus decided not to comment on it when their topic of conversation turned back towards the casual banter they usually shared. The two of them stood on the fire escape until the sun was on the edge of the horizon and Remus had to dash back to his apartment to avoid being seen by the early-commuters.

--------------

Case 8: the innocent.

And then: 

Remus curiously nudged the raccoon with the tip of his boot. He’d just stumbled upon it and it still looked fresh; given that he was standing by a busy road, it was no wonder what had happened.

He was making a mental note to come back and collect the bones at a later date, when Logan appeared in-front of him in a blink, looking completely unsurprised this time around.

Remus on the other hand startled before regaining his bearings and shooting the deity a smile. “Our paths are looking less parallel by the day huh, Psychopomp-ous?”

Logan raised his eyebrows appreciatively at the word play. “It appears so. It’s quite the pleasant surprise to find you not getting into trouble for once.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows back. “That said, I really didn’t expect to see you. I was wondering for a while if you dealt with this kind of thing too, y’know.”

Logan looked down, seeming to really notice the raccoon for the first time. He nodded after a beat. ”She had a life too. My brother brought her into the world, and so I must escort her out.” 

”Yeah? Anything of note happen?” Remus asked, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity. He’d file away the latter half of Logan’s statement for later prodding.

”...She had a family. They stayed together under the porch of an old couple.”

“Ah, to be a racoon living under a porch.” Remus lamented dreamily. “I’m glad she got to live such a rich and fulfilling life before becoming road kill. I’m truly jealous.”

“In the wild, your lifespan would most likely be around 2–3 years as a raccoon.” Logan pointed out, attempting to contradict his idealistic tone.

“Exactly. The life.”

That earned a pinched expression from Logan that made Remus titter.

“Just messing with you, prim reaper~. Now, do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for her to decompose? I have a new piece of decor to make.”

--------------

Case 11: the matchbox.

Remus watched from afar as the house on Psyche Avenue burned. It was bright and brilliant, so of course the firefighters were already on the scene, trying to calm the fire and save the occupant inside. 

They’d be much too late; the trafficker was already unconscious and likely burning to death, along with any evidence Remus might have left behind. It was the perfect crime.

Satisfied with today’s work, he took a drag of a cigarette, delighted when Logan appeared beside him instead of with the dirtbag who deserved to burn forever (and since it was a mystery whether he'd end up with such a fate, it only seemed fitting for Remus to play god and speed up the process.)

“Those kill, you know.” Logan said in greeting.

“That makes two of us.” Remus grinned sharply, even when Logan rolled his eyes and pinched out the end of his cigarette.

For the second time in a month, the two of them overlooked the sky together, illuminated by the amber blazes of the fire. It almost felt like a date.

--------------

Case 13: the one with bad luck.

He was back in the alley that had imprinted itself so clearly in his memory, knife buried in the chest of a would-be assailant. Remus was boredly watching the blood seep between the bricks when Logan finally appeared to deal with the body.

“You’re late!” Remus complained with a whine. “This guy’s practically cold already.”

“Apologies. There was a flash flood across the country, and it took more of my focus to handle than I would've liked."

Remus hummed. He thought he heard something about that on the news. Mother nature could be cruel indeed. Perhaps even worse than Remus himself. 

“Anyone nearby?” He checked.

“Not in a half-mile radius, no. However, the police may be on their way.” 

“Plenty of time, then.” Remus said as he pulled Logan down to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

It had been months since that first drunk sloppy kiss happened, and less time since it had become a regular greeting. Remus would never get tired of the feeling of cold skin against his lips. It was like kissing marble-- if marble had a sassy mouth and a sexy amount of knowledge.

Logan pulled back first, smudging away the trail of blood running from Remus' nostril. “Did you have any trouble?”

“Nah, you should see the other guy.”

That earned a laugh-- a quiet chime that made Remus’ heart flutter. “I see them. Good job, you’re getting rather skilled at that.”

“Why, thank you~.” Remus preened under the praise. “It only took a couple tries, but I think I finally got the technique down pat.”

“Hmm. Speaking of 'Pat', my brother doesn’t seem to like this much. He’s not unappreciative of your choices in target, although he appears to be rather disapproving on the amount of times I've been called to your side."

Logan didn't talk about his brother much: the deity of life. From what little Remus had learned from his prying and Logan’s own complaints, he seemed like a bit of a killjoy. He blew a raspberry in response.

"Tell Patton to stop making so many criminals and maybe I'll consider it." 

The corner of Logan's lips quirked up. "I don't think I will, as humorous as I'm sure that would be. It doesn't quite work like that."

Remus shrugged, watching as Logan looked off to the side.

"...It seems I’m needed elsewhere."

”You can’t stay? We barely got to talk.” Remus said with a pout.

“Unfortunately so.” Logan turned to the body; what he should have been there for. It wasn’t long before his focus was back on Remus, though. “That said... It’s a busy night. Perhaps we’ll meet again sooner than expected.”

Remus’ frown tipped back into a smile as he watched Logan vanish. He then turned on his heel and retrieved his knife before walking off into the night. If he was going to make good on Logan’s expectations, he better get to work.

--------------

Case 0: the one who death followed.

It soon became an established pattern; Remus would come across someone shady, and he’d put together a detailed- or straight-forward- plot on how to get rid of them. By now his city must have noticed the string of deaths, but with such a random means and very little evidence, Remus was free to continue as he pleased.

In a sense, he was untouchable with Logan by his side, pointing out anything he left behind and giving warning for any potential witnesses. Especially when he gave up on persuading Remus away from this path. It's not like the moral argument could be made anymore; the city had seen a drastic decrease in crime once Remus had taken out a lot of big players (even if there was an air of fear that lingered in the back of everyone's minds, wondering if they'd be next up on the chopping block).

All in all, it was enough to make Remus cocky; perhaps even enough so to lead to his downfall. But how was he ever going to give up now? All his life he’d been hoping for some sort of excitement to fulfil him, and he finally found it in a surprise meeting with a deity of death. Death had gone from a distant longing to something familiar and welcome; something he could use to right wrongs and feel a sense of purpose with.

And as long as he was able to exchange a life for one more meeting with his beloved partner in crime, he would do his best to stay ahead of the game. 

(No matter who was out there, trying to stop the two of them.)

-------------- 

Writing taglist: @just-perhaps @sashootkahoot @anxious-l0ser @illogical-immunity @overlad-of-the-snakes @varthandi @whisperinginthevoid @and-this-sword @creamiiteaa-xx

Deityfucker au taglist: @arodynamic-enby @its-the-usda-certified-trashman @overlad-of-the-snakes @aromanticwhore @haha-phrog @hetalianhufflepuff @emeryyleaf @winter-wandering @gaylotusthatexists @8bituin

#my writing #sanders sides #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #(others are mentioned) #deityfucker au #death tw #violence tw #crime tw #weapon tw #swearing tw #injury tw #(lots of warnings for this one. take care!)

[ars0nistalex]

Puzzles

a Meronia Oneshot

A/N: i got the idea for this story from @user-null!

Notice: this contains a few mentions of NSFW things but nothing graphic at all. also, caps lock warning; it does go into caps lock a few times but very occasionally

Outside, it rained.

Mello scoffed. He was standing by the window of his room, looking out at the grey world outside the orphanage. He really wanted to go outside today, unlike most days, but he knew Roger probably wouldn’t let him go out in that weather.

“Fuck you!” Mello yelled at the window, half-expecting a golden ray of sunshine to slice through the clouds and free the outside from the ties of the rain. But nothing happened, so he just scoffed again and stepped away from the window, giving up on whatever sorcery he was trying to pull. As he stepped towards the door of his room, he glanced into the mirror that was leaning up against the wall by the door. Just a few months ago, he would have been short enough to be able to look into the mirror and see his full body. But now, he stood several inches above it, only able to see his outfit when he looked into his reflection. He wasn’t wearing anything special today; just soft black pants and a grey sweater. He didn’t bother getting dressed into anything else; he knew he wouldn’t be able to go outside, anyway. He crouched and stared into the mirror at himself for another minute. He looked at the gold locks of his straight hair that reached to the point just above his shoulders; admired his lithe form and his 170-centimeter height; stared expressionlessly into his own sapphire eyes. To be honest, he thought he looked pretty damn good. But something was missing... his thoughts drifted to a certain 5’0” albino boy, the object of his affections, but he shook his head quickly, trying his best to just clear his head. He sighed, stood up, pulled his hood over his head and left the room.

As he left his room and stepped through the halls of Wammy’s House, his thoughts drifted away again as he walked the familiar path to Matt’s room. He thought of Near, the particular manner in which he carried out his daily activities, the snow-white color of his hair and the deep grey hue of his eyes, the specific way that he sat... almost everything about the boy was so angelic. Mello sighed deeply. He’d had feelings for Near for as long as he could remember, but had always tried so hard to suppress them and act like they didn’t exist. He had to compete against Near, anyway. The attraction would just get in the way if he wanted to get to the top. With that thought, Mello wondered what Near thought of him; he wondered if Near had the same feelings. The chances of that were low; they were always competing. And even with the small possibility that the younger one did like Mello back, this would just make the blond want to make it to the top even more. Not for hateful reasons, but he just really liked the thought of being above Near and dominating him...

The blond felt his whole face flush and shook his head quickly. He couldn’t think about that kind of stuff, not right now. He was about to go see Matt, and he knew that his friend wouldn’t like it if he walked in acting horny. Even though Matt would never shut up when it came to sexual jokes, the redhead never seemed comfortable with genuine sexual comments. It confused Mello, but he never commented on it. None of my business, he thought to himself as he reached Matt’s room, opening the door without even knocking.

“What?” Matt asked, not looking up from his gaming console. He was holding the device in both of his hands and laying in bed with all his blankets wrapped around his slim body.

“I’m bored!” Mello screeched, slamming the door behind him. He angrily stepped over to Matt’s bed, sitting down at the bottom and laying back. “Hang out with me.”

“I’m doing something.”

“I don’t care. I’m bored.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, then.”

“UGH!” Mello stood up and stomped towards the door. “I’ll just go hang out with someone else then!”

“K,” Matt said with a yawn. “I’ll tell you when I’m done with my games.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mello muttered as he slammed the door behind him.

Damn Matt! He thought to himself as he angrily stepped through the hallways again. I’ve never been more bored in my life! Why does he have to be binge gaming now?

The blond’s steps became heavier due to frustration. He had the urge to hit someone, which was the only way he was ever able to cope with his anger, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t good. And he didn’t want to get in trouble today. He was having a relatively decent day, despite the anger and boredom, and if he got in trouble, he would probably cry.

He really didn’t want to cry.

Mello suddenly realized that he had been subconsciously walking in the direction of Near’s room. He usually avoided the younger one’s room, but after thinking about it for some time, he realized that this presented a perfect opportunity to get a little bit closer to Near. He doubted that the boy was doing anything important. He was probably just playing with his toys or doing a puzzle or building some huge structure out of dominoes, as he was always doing. And anytime in the past that Near had ever asked Mello to play with him, the older of the two would shut him down and tell the “albino sheep” to go play by himself. Mello almost winced at the thought. For so long in the past, he had been so convinced that all he felt towards Near was hatred and jealousy. Only recently had he finally come to terms with himself and the feelings that he had ignored and denied for so many years. He wanted to at least try to make it up to Near, make up all of the awful words and things that he said and did in the past. He knew that it was basically impossible to make it all up, but maybe he could try to be a little nicer. That could help.

At this point, Mello was standing outside Near’s door. He exhaled deeply before lifting his hand and knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” Near’s soft voice emitted from inside the room.

“It’s me,” Mello replied. He knew that the other would be able to figure out who it was, just by the sound of his voice.

Near hummed softly. “Mello,” he greeted. “You can come in.”

“Near,” he reciprocated as he entered the room. His eyes landed on Near, who was sitting on the floor in his pajamas with a fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was sitting with one knee pulled to his chest and was quickly doing a puzzle that was on the floor in front of him. Mello couldn’t help but smile; the boy was so adorable.

“Did you need something, Mello?” Near asked quietly.

“No,” the blond in question said defensively, crossing his arms.

“Well clearly, if you wanted to enter my room, you must want something,” the younger of the two said, not lifting his eyes from the puzzle. He lifted his finger and began to repetitively curl a lock of hair around it. “So I’ll ask again: did you need something, Mello?”

Fuck! He got me! Mello thought to himself, gritting his teeth. He stepped over to Near and stood beside him. He didn’t exactly know how he was going to say this, but he had to say something. “D-do you wanna hang out?” He asked quickly, squeezing his eyes shut.

Near dropped the puzzle piece he was holding and glanced up at Mello, a surprised look on his face. He stared at him for a few seconds before looking back down at the puzzle. “Yes,” he replied. “That sounds good to me.”

Mello’s eyes opened widely, looking even more shocked than the other boy did. “O-okay, sweet,” he replied quickly, plopping down beside Near. He sat with his legs criss-crossed and one of his knees was brushing up against the younger one’s leg, but neither minded. “What’re you doing?” 

That was a stupid question, Mello thought as soon as the words left his mouth. It’s obvious that he’s just sitting here doing a puzzle. What the hell am I thinking?

“I’m doing a puzzle,” Near replied simply as he put the last piece in its place. “I’m bored.”

Mello nodded, looking to the side slightly. “Just do something more entertaining then, I don’t know,” he muttered.

“I’m not the most entertaining person, Mello,” Near replied.

“Right,” the older one said with a yawn. “What do you wanna do, then?” He pulled a half-eaten chocolate bar from his pocket and peeled the wrapper back, quickly taking a large bite.

Near was silent for a minute, still twirling a lock of his hair around his finger. He then reached over to a drawer in a dresser beside him and pulled out a small box with a label that read, ‘1000-piece puzzle’. “I haven’t done this one yet,” the small boy explained quickly as he opened the box. He turned it upside down and poured all of the pieces onto the floor. “Would you like to help, Mello?”

“Sure, why not,” Mello replied, scooting a little closer to Near and leaning over to reach the puzzle pieces.

For the next few minutes or so, the two sat in silence and worked on the puzzle together. It wasn’t awkward silence, though; it was a comfortable silence. They were both enjoying themselves, and Mello noticed that he felt more relaxed and content than he had in a while. Maybe he should hang out with Near more often.

The blond stopped working on the puzzle for a minute, taking a second to just stare at Near in amazement. He’s beautiful. No, perfect. An angel, really. Mello thought to himself. There’s stardust and butterflies in his big gray eyes, his voice is soft like dandelions and honey. Even if I compared him to the brightest star in the night sky or the most beautiful diamonds in the world or all the colors in auroras, no words would be able to capture his beauty. A lot of people say they’d die for the object of their affections, but I’d live for Near. I want to be beside him through all of his battles and I want to repair the parts of him that others—that I—have foolishly and carelessly broken.

“Do you need something, Mello? You’re staring at me,” Near murmured. He looked up at Mello with his big and curious eyes. Mello smiled softly and couldn’t help but wonder what those porcelain lips would feel like to touch or kiss, or how perfectly those small and fragile hands would fit inside his.

“Nah, nothin’.” Mello leaned back against the bed, meeting eyes with Near for a minute. “I was just looking at you. Like you said.”

“I see,” the boy said. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Pffft, no,” Mello said with a giggle. He reached his hand over and cupped Near’s cheek. The smaller one’s face flushed deeply and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Mello?” he asked. It was all he could bring himself to say.

“You’re kinda pretty, y’know,” Mello stated, still looking into Near’s eyes. “I think we’re both kinda pretty.”

“Yes, I agree, however...” Near lifted his hand up slowly and grabbed onto Mello’s, that was still cupping his cheek. “...I don’t understand.”

Mello’s grin widened as a bright ray of golden sunlight sliced through the grey expanse of clouds in the sky outside. The light illuminated the room beautifully, making Near’s eyes glitter as they stared intently into Mello’s. The older boy softly and slowly wrapped an arm wound Near’s waist, pulling the small one to sit between his legs. The younger boy’s head leaned against Mello’s chest and the blond held his arm tightly around Near.

“Maybe you will someday.”

#death note #anime #manga #meronia #mello x near #near x mello #dn #death note fanfic #death note fanfiction #mello death note #mello #near death note #near #mihael keehl #nate river #wammy’s house #wammy boys #matt #matt death note #mail jeevas #fanfiction #fanfic #anime fanfic #death note oneshot #death note one shot #oneshot #one shot #meronia fanfic #meronia fanfiction #meronia oneshot

[hobiwonder]

Adventures of a closeted exhibitionist | 01 (m)

Pairing: hoseok x reader, f2l (future)

Genre: do i ever write anything other than smut

Words: 3k

Warnings: exhibitionism lol, hoseok is a FREAK freak, oral (f receiving), dirty talk.

Summary: where hoseok explores with his bff. i hope u like it pls validate me. 

a/n: this is an idea I pitched to @parkmuse​ and she n i were going to collab but then she got a cat and DITCHED ME (jeepers is v cute ngl). so instead of a full length one shot, im gunna make this a series. like a small one lol. this is unedited beyond microsoft putting the annoying red lines to tell me im illiterate. 

~~

It was roughly 9pm. Despite it being a Friday night, there were a fair few people still drifting about in the 24 hour library. This time of the semester being closer to the exam time you guess this isn’t such an atypical incidence. What was rare though, was you being here. On a Friday night. Where you’re usually getting shit-faced with your friends at Park Jimin’s weekly parties. Not here with your best friend Hoseok – who frequented the place more than you, actually – about to have sex with him. Yup. You heard right.

“Can you walk faster y/n? We’ll lose our spot!” His hurried whisper didn’t do much to mask and the nervous tremble in his voice. It was obvious your best friend wasn’t very adventurous and thus here you were, helping him out.

Slightly regretting your decision. This place was more crowded than you thought. You run forward to catch up with Hoseok’s long legs that kept weaving through the massive bookshelves with ease. Whereas if you were here by yourself – you’d certainly be lost.

“We won’t with the speed you are walking. Slow down, Hoseok.” Grumbling under your breath as you see no sign of him stopping to let you remember the way you guys had come to this part of the quiet library, you just opt to following him around like a lost puppy. Usually it’s the other way around.

Especially when Hoseok had asked you one day to try public sex with him.

“Well well well, never knew my reclusive best friend was such an exhibitionist.” You’d been whistling and hooting while smirking his way, watching him shuffle on his feet awkwardly. He was never too confident in speaking about his sex life and watching him squirm was so much fun to the evil part of your brain. Not that he had much of a sex life to expose. Hosoek was a sweet boy who did relationships. Long term ones. And he hadn’t even been on a date recently.

“W-Well, I’m not. Not yet. I’ve never tried anything like that. And you obviously have.”

You’d just shrugged nonchalantly in response.

“So… I want to try something. With you.” Naturally, your response had been to blink repeatedly, making sure you heard him right.

“No fucking way, Josè.”

“Please, please, please?! I don’t trust anyone other than you to do this with and not be weird about it.”

“What about you get an actual girlfriend Hobi? Hm? Ever thought of that.” He’d rubbed his temple with a pout on his face when you’d mockingly knocked your fingers against it. How did he not see how attractive he was? He could get anyone. Literally anyone.

“I haven’t had luck in that department, you know that.” Him gritting his answer through his teeth is probably one of the most frustrated you’d seen him and it makes you snort.

“Then just find someone willing and fuck her at the party?” The crude words bring a blush to his pretty face. How does he even plan on having sex in public?

“You know I can’t do that.” Shaking his head, he turns back towards you, “Besides… I don’t want it to be just anywhere. I want to d-do this at the library.” Your eyes had bugged out of your head once again at that. How did you not know how kinky your best friend was?

“Oh my god.” You can’t help the giggles that fight their way through your throat, “I cannot believe it Hoseok! You’re such a closeted freak.” Now you were full on cackling.

“Stop. I just wanted to try something.” The pout was back on his face and the little glazed look he had in his eyes had diminished slightly.

“Yeah and public sex from the get go? What will you be ‘trying’ next? Pegging and Anal?”

His brows furrow adorably. “What’s pegging?”

“Oookay. Let’s just get back to the topic at hand.” You didn’t want to give him any more ideas. Yet.

Somehow in the next few hours, you’d agreed to sleep with your best friend. At a library at that.

And here you were, nestled in a corner at one of the desks that were set up between the isles for people who wanted to browse journals and other various literature. Where you both sat was relatively isolated. Only the people who occasionally walked past the isles would be able to see two people sitting at a table – the table shielding your lower halves of the body – and only if they looked. The table was set against one of the isles and that would probably be the only concerning area. That someone on the other side of that shelf would be able to decipher what was going on. Okay maybe this was making you rethink your decision. Just a little.

“So, what do you think?” Hoseok was panting slightly as he looked around you both repeatedly, making sure no one was lingering on the fact that two students had disappeared off to a section that they could do more than study in. But you couldn’t see anything of the sort. Just everyone minding their own business for now. Besides, how loud could you both be anyway? This shouldn’t take too long.

“Pretty good. You must come here a lot to know such a precise spot?” Brows wagging teasingly in his direction, making his cheeks flare up even more.

“I do. But to study usually so this feels a bit… exhilarating.” His face tells you how excited he is but he is definitely nervous as well if the sweating is anything to go by.

You bump your shoulder slightly with his to ease his worries. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Literally.” You can’t help the laugh that he then tries to muffle with his hand. “No really! I’m very good at quickies.”

Your wink makes him blush but he still seems apprehensive. “It’s not that… I’m. Well. I-I can kind of lose control sometimes.”

You continue to deadpan him. Hoseok and losing control? Were you hearing correctly? Your sweet, nerdy, studious, calm and collected, shy best friend losing control? It can’t be that bad, right?

“I’m serious y/n. B-But I’ll try to keep in check.”

“…Okay. Anyway. You ready?” There is a moment of silence and it is quiet. You can hear when Hoseok swallows, the way he drags his gaze all over your coat cladded form and then finally, looks into your eyes. You never noticed how attractive Hoseok was up-close and that was what was making you nervous.

“I-I think so? How are we going to do this? Shit I didn’t think about the logistics through before coming here.” Hoseok had started to nervous ramble so you decided to take matters into your hand by sitting directly on his lap, facing him.

“W-Wha…. Is this how we’re- Wouldn’t that look too suspicious.” You tried not to roll your eyes.

“We’re about to screw in a library surrounded by people. Anything we do will make us look like horny college kids. At least this way if someone catches us people will think we’re only making out or something.”

Hoseok’s pretty mouth falls open in an ‘o’ understanding your reasoning. The law library is more dimly lit compared to others so it was easier to fly under the radar. It was obvious that Hoseok had brought you here to take full advantage of that. If Hoseok tends to lose control as he's said, it shouldn't attract too much attention even if he's a tad too loud. Wait, is it even about his volume?

Leaning down you level your face to his baby browns while he leans back as if you're infectious and not about to have sex, "What do you mean about lose control by the way? You're not going to scream up a storm are you? I swear to god Hoseok if you get us arrested-"

"It's not me you should be worried about," the reply comes without any stutters unlike how he spoke before, making your breath hitch. He's calm and collected, gaze slithering down your body like you were an otherworldly marvel.

This was not how you'd seen your best friend act in all the years you'd known him. Never have you felt this attracted to your usually shy, meek friend who seemed to be the most quaint person in your group of friends. Perhaps that's why you'd never really sexualised him before. Though it did always baffle you how he managed to date the prettiest girls.

"Okay weirdo."

The tremble in your voice is barely masked but you try and regain some of your composure by aggressively adjusting and slipping down your panties to mid thigh. Effectively breaking Hoseok's bravado when he audibly gulps, looking around him. It doesn't take long for you to feel the effects of your activities as Hoseok already feels considerably solid underneath you. A flush of embarrassment evident in your cheeks when he rubs the damp material of your panties between his index finger and thumb.

"You're so wet, y/n." The skin of your naked thighs covered in goosebumps with each carrels of Hoseok's veiny hands. When did they get so callous? The feeling brought another embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs.

"S-Sorry." You shook your own head at your apology. Why did you say sorry? Guys love that, you knew.

Somehow, it felt different with Hoseok. You were being a lot more conscious about his likes and dislikes instead of your own. Which should've been a red flag. Yet, you continued with the dangerous game you were both playing. The perspiration on Hoseok's forehead gave away how affected he was as well despite the cool temperature inside the library.

"Are you kidding? I've... I've never been this turned on in my whole life."

You don't get a chance to respond, only garbled gasps when his cool fingers slip between your thighs, massaging the slick in the sensitive skin that connected your inner thighs to your pussy.

"H-Hoseok." His thumbs spread the wetness from your nether lips back to the sensitive patch of skin.

"Is this okay?" You're too caught up in the heat of the moment and the thousands of nerve endings that Hoseok's fingers were stimulating.

Your head was lolling around like you were drunk and that was enough indication for him to carry on. It was terrifying how little he had done and you were already lacking the ability to comprehend anything other than his touch. Your hands were dropping beneath you carelessly, trying to find the hard length that was persistently pressing in you. You were turned on beyond belief and you needed to feel Hoseok inside you. Now.

Hoseok had other plans.

"Slow down, y/n." His chuckle is breezy, albeit a little throatier than usual. But it doesn't stop your quest to get your hands inside his pants.

"Hoseok I need you to get inside me." Your plan to be stern backfires.

You had hoped that telling Hoseok you meant business would get him to submit to you like it usually does. However, the heady look in his eyes tells you otherwise. You're proven wrong when instead, Hoseok locks his eyes with yours, as if challenging the autonomy you had in this situation. You're unable to move, just feel as the plunge of his nimble fingers inside you has you gripping his shoulders for a lifeline. Your head was already mushy and all basic comprehension had gone out the door. The sounds accompanying each agonising push and pull extremely erotic, making the blush bloom deeper on your already heated skin.

The onslaught of sensations had made it easy to forget about the world around you. If someone was to catch you right now, you weren't sure if you would let Hoseok stop the delicious friction inside you. The way he looked at his fingers sliding their rhythm inside you, completely entranced by your body, made another gush of wetness flow down his thrusting digits. He had barely fingered you for five minutes and you were already like a full damn ready to burst. Hoseok finally looked up when the scissoring motion of his fingers made you gasp loud enough to startle him.

it was getting increasingly difficult to keep your volume down. Now you knew why Hoseok had redirected the question about being quiet, to you. His other hands wrapped around your hips, just above the dip in your spine to keep you from thrashing off his lap. You were at the point where your body was so close that every thrust of his wrist bordered on pushing you over the edge. Body moving towards the movement and away from it in the same second.

“I don’t think I want that just yet.” His lips shone from the constant contact with his tongue.

Maybe he was giving you a tongue show on purpose. To be even more cruel when you were already suffering (in the best way possible). Hoseok was always mischievous. Not as obvious as your other friends like Taehyung or Jungkook. And you were finding out just how devious he is. Dragging on the assault on your pussy. Stretching the thread until you’re clawing your hands down his back, whispering ‘please’ like a symphony.

“You like this?”

“Y-Yes Hoseok. Please just f-fuck me already.” Your threatening growl only makes him smirk and fasten the pace of the three fingers inside you.

“I really wanna watch you squirt y/n. With all these people just a few feet away. Can you do that for me?”

His whispers near your ear makes you flinch away with each word. Body so sensitive to any form of stimulation that you were scared you were going to cum just from listening to the low timbre of his voice. Hoseok’s eyes were glazed over, the hard insistent bulge was digging in your thighs with even more ferocity. Yet, he denied himself the pleasure you were so readily offering. Why was he torturing the both of you like this, ugh.

Suddenly, he pushes you back against the table behind you, making you grasp the wooden edges in order to brace yourself. However, the action left you exposed, skirt pushed up enough to reveal Hoseok’s hands rhythmically pushing forward and backwards. The open position of your thighs and the air now touching your heated skin making you feel everything just a bit more. His fingers were hitting the spongy spot on the top of your walls just right that you’re whimpering and clenching your hands around the wood, just not the type you wanted to be holding.

“F-Fuck Hoseok if w-we get caught p-people-”

“Will see your cunt swallowing my fingers? I know y/n.” His smile is devilish. He’s reveling in your fear of being found out and you know this is exactly what his fantasy is.

Your breathing is harsh and you’re bordering on being a little too loud. It becomes even more of a problem when you start feeling the zaps of pleasure in your core that are hurtling you towards completion. Hoseok’s angled fingers repeat the motions that elicited the response when he sees you thrashing.

“Right there huh? That feel good?”

You can’t speak. Biting so hard on your lip, trying to not scream blooding murder, that tears are pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision. The strength in your arms leaves as you collapse on the table, head pushing back and one hand going to hold the one almost fisting inside you. You’re so close you can almost taste it. Everything is too much and it’s an impossible feat to stay quiet and inconspicuous.

“God, you’re being so loud. If you’re any louder people will hear you cumming all the way from outside.” And yet he doesn’t sound concerned.

Hoseok’s eyes are feral, watching you hold on to his hand while his wrist is snapping powerfully towards that one spot that has you seeing spots. You’re moaning even louder now and he has to get up from his seat to put his other hand around your mouth to drown out your sounds that are going straight to his dick. God, you were so sexy he was going to cum in his pants from just watching the tears roll down the side of your face.

“Yeah? You’re gunna cum baby? Squirt all over my fingers?”

He wasn’t expecting a response from you with how fucked out you were but your eyes peering into his let him know that you heard him. And that you were going to cum. Hoseok slips his thumb up to your clit, rolling it in tandem with his deep thrusts and within seconds, you’re screaming out your orgasm. Your cunt grabbing his fingers like a vice but Hoseok is still dragging his digits along your walls to prolong the pleasure. His whole hand is thoroughly wet because you indeed, squirted like he asked.

It’s hard to comprehend if what you experienced was a fever dream or you actually blacked out for a few seconds because of how hard you came. You’re still breathing hard and you feel hoseok’s hand ease around your mouth. He’s pressing kisses along your decolletage, fingers till lazily moving inside you until you’re pushing them away.

“That was so hot. Thank you y/n, you’re the best.” You were getting whiplash from how he’d turned back into his sickly sweet self when he was just giving you the best orgasm of your life a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, w-well, I may not be able to walk out of here.” you can’t quite look him in the eyes yet. Not when he’d just fucked your brains out and real fucking was about to come.

“Don’t worry, I think you’ve had enough today so that’s for next time.” He smiles his 1000 watt smile at you before sucking the wetness off his fingers. Your face is so red you might pass out.

Next time?

#bts smut #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #btsghostiewritersnet #hobiwonder #pls tell me ur thots xx

[multifandomfanficreclist]

Witcher Fic Mass Post

I have delved deep into the Witcher fandom during these quarantimes. This is a selection of the fics I’ve enjoyed.

All are Geralt/Jaskier unless stated otherwise.

***

Louder and Louder - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295869

Geralt tries to puzzle out why Jaskier keeps following him into danger after danger... completely missing the obvious. There's too great a gulf between what his witcher senses pick up, and what his damaged heart is willing to accept.

//

 "The bard’s heart always beats faster whenever the witcher draws near. That isn't unusual. So do the hearts of most humans he encounters. Not only do they blanch and recoil at the sight of his white hair and amber eyes, but they begin to sweat, the stench of their fear a sour tang at the back of his throat.

 But the bard never seems to reek of fear."

***

The Courting Jewellery A/B/O - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689562

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that.

It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

***

You Follow? - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620703

I’m a Jaskier Rivia stan first and a person second @whitewolfpackleader: Did @bardofficial win a Grammy? No. But he DID put his husband in a leather tunic for the red carpet and in that sense, we’re all winners tonight

***

Front Row Praises - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326214

The girl rolls her eyes at him. “If you’re just going to stand here ogling the witcher, maybe go and do it out of the way.”

“Ogling.” Jaskier scoffs. “Who’s ogling?”

She looks unimpressed. “Have you told him you want him to fuck you?”

***

Even a Small Love - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473670

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

***

Redwood and Dandelion - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22681252

"The Witcher's bought a room for the night, and says he'll pay double for anyone who can bed him without stinking of fear the whole time."

"Oh, I've fucking got this," Jaskier promised.

Or, the one where Jaskier works in a brothel and falls head over heels for the stoic, not-actually-that-scary Witcher who comes in requesting his services.

Geralt doesn't know what he's getting himself into.

***

Petrichor - Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22866559/chapters/54652891

 “Geralt…? What, by Melitele’s tits, are you doing? The door, man, normal people use a d--... Geralt?” He noticed it now. The feverish sheen on the Witcher’s skin, the alert, skittish look in his eyes and the--. He cleared the distance between them in three strides. Geralt retreated until his back hit the wall with a dull thud, but Jaskier would not be deterred. He shoved his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck and breathed in deeply, his hands gripping the edges of the damp cloak draped over broad shoulders. “You’re…”

 “I need… need to ask you… for a…” He clenched his teeth, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Two gloved hands lifted to push Jaskier away from his chest; it felt like trying to move a mountain. Not because Jaskier pushed back, but because every fibre of his being wanted to pull the other way. Ask for a what though? ‘Favour’ didn’t quite fit the bill for what he was about to request, and so he stared at Jaskier with those intense golden eyes, while mentally scrambling for a coherent explanation amidst the brain fog.

The saga of Geralt and Jaskier getting together, falling in love with Eskel, and learning that it's all right to want (and let themselves have) things.

***

Where There’s a Witcher - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604140

Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

***

Tired Symphony Verse - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597723

Silence reigned between them. Outside there was the dull sound of training swords clashing and Jaskier turned his gaze towards the window, watching the sky outside.

“I’m-- sorry.” Geralt said. It sounded truly remorseful.

Jaskier took a deep breath and then tipped himself slightly to the side, pressing his shoulder against the witcher’s.

“I know.”

***

There Goes my Heart Beating - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22382665

“Sometimes,” Geralt says quietly, “I forget that you care.”

Jaskier looks up surprised and sees that Geralt is looking down at him with a small frown on his face. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighs, shaking his head fondly, “you foolish beef-brain. Of course I care.”

Or,

Five times Jaskier asks Geralt questions, and the one time Geralt asked Jaskier.

***

Shrug off the Shroud - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23027161

askier's student doesn’t see him when she skids into the tavern. Her friends are already present, drinking merrily, and she slaps their table so hard their tankards rattle.

“Have you heard?" She flashes a gossiper's secretive grin. "The White Wolf’s gone mad.”

After Geralt sends Jaskier away, Jaskier returns to Oxenfurt and builds a good (albeit unfulfilling) life there. He's fine—moving on, truly—until gut-wrenching rumors start to circulate that the White Wolf's lost his his mind. Jaskier's a bard. A truth-teller. He can't just let the rumors go unsubstantiated.

***

Sometimes a Hammer, Sometimes a Lockpick - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998961

Geralt's been in a dungeon for two weeks and is understandably frustrated. Jaskier, on the other hand, is what one might call... livid.

***

New Monster Stories - https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097970/chapters/55260658

 “So do you have a name?”

 “Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

 Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

 The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

***

When Midnights Break their Sleep - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647292

  The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

 shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

 "It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

***

An Exaltation of Wolves - https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687699

Jaskier accompanies Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter and finds the other Witchers just as prickly--and just as deserving of love--as the White Wolf.

***

Lilacs and Dandelions - Jaskier/Yennefer/Geralt - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929526/chapters/54808162

“The Witcher believes you’re under a spell,” Yennefer said, conversationally, drawing a sip from her tea.

“I most certainly am,” said Jaskier to her in a warm drawl that Geralt recognized as the tone of voice he slipped into when flirting and frankly, things needed to start making more sense and fast before he gave into his impulse to do something rash and wholly unhelpful. Namely, chuck himself out the cottage window and into the sea.

Or Geralt seeks out Yennefer only to find her, of all unbelievable and ridiculous things, shacking up with his bard.

***

Woodash and Iron and Leather - https://archiveofourown.org/works/22114921

Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear

#The Witcher #Witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geraskefer #RandomFandom #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficrec

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: The Dream Team

Aka: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 29: "A normal day"

Listen the original prompt, from @the-only-gamer-gost 's list, was evidently mc related but I just had to write this. Whops ahah

It's time for you to meet another part of this AU's cast! I do hope you'll enjoy reading this ahahah

George takes a deep breath.

He is in his study: the smell surrounding him is gentle, of old wood and older books, of the flowers he's growing on the windowsill, of the almost empty cup of tea his tutor insisted he drank before practicing - "you can't do magic on an empty stomach, I will not have you pass out like a fresh-faced student with no experience!"

It is quite easy to fall back into his own mind, he's done it so many times ever since he started training, but it is never quite easy to-

A light thump, the sound of a small metallic bead hitting his window, prompts him to open his eyes.

George purses his lips in barely concealed irritation and shakes his head. He has to focus. This is precisely why he wanted to skip breakfast, so that he could start before they arrived to bother him.

He's been meaning to try out a new theory - a new spell - for a while, and it requires him to be at maximum concentration because time is a fickle bitch that does not like being toyed with.

So George closes his eyes again and focuses on the pattern of his breathing. He feels for a moment in complete awareness of every inch of his body, and then he opens his eyes.

In front of him, millions of millions of shimmering particles float, gently, into the air in front of him, as if somebody had decided to hang an infinite amount of pieces of iridescent glass with invisible strings. George could live a thousand years and never get tired of seeing the figments of reality and specks of possibilities that exist in the time dimension.

Raising his hand to touch one of them feels like moving through thick molasses after a day of exercise - his muscles protest, scream at him, and it is such a strenuous act.

But he knows to persist - what's coming is going to be even harder - so after what seems like an eternity, but in reality is no time at all, the tips of his fingers brush against the burning cold of a figment of reality.

A fraction of a second later, George stumbles forward, head ringing as he's thrown out of his own personal pocket in time. In his ears, the sound of another of those damned pebbles against his bloody window.

George lets out a loud curse and stomps to the window, opening it with a gesture of his hand and then immediately raising his arcane shield as another pebble flies right at him - as it had been aimed at his poor window once more.

Filled with a righteous fury, George slams his hands on the windowsill - mindful of his poor and completely innocent Forget-Me-Nots - and leans forward to look down at the recently acquired banes of his existence.

"See, I told you it would work- George! George wanna come train with us?" Calls out the fighter, waving a hand frantically as he elbows his shorter monk friend.

"No! Leave me alone!" George yells back, and instantly closes the window and goes back to his position in the centre of the room.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and-

Another pebble. He is going to murder them.

"What do you want?! I told you I'm busy!"

The fighter spreads his arms open - almost hitting his friend in the face, if said friend hadn't ducked down instantly.

"Oh, come on George! It's gonna be fun!"

"I'm not interested! Now, leave before I start throwing spells your way!"

The monk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin up in defiance.

"As if you could catch me! I bet you can't, and you're scared, and that's why-" a pale green hand is suddenly covering the human's mouth, its owner looking awkwardly up at George with a tentative smile - as if that douche's attempt at riling him up could have worked.

On a completely unrelated note, George has had enough of that conversation.

"You bother me again today and you will regret it." And with that, he closes the window again.

Definitely not hearing the monk's confused "does that mean we can come back tomorrow?". He is just going to ignore it.

The moment he turns back around, he almost has a heart attack.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face, is his mentor.

"Bloody hell, I didn't hear you arriving." George mumbles, moving to grab him a chair as the older wizard chuckles.

"I figured, you were having quite a spat." Scott comments, sitting down on the armchair and nodding towards the window, looking more pleased than he should be.

George gives a scoff, letting himself slump into his chair.

"They are relentless. I don't know what to do anymore." He mopes, but as he should have expected Scott has no pity to share and immediately tackles a new, equally pressing problem.

"Have you found your teammates for the tournament yet?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. About two months ago, George had agreed, after ages of declining invitations and rejecting requests, to take part in the yearly tournament his mentor ideated - agreeing only on the terms that he would be able to choose his own teammates. Which is not that unusual, people can arrive with their friends and form a team. George's main problem? His sadly evident lack of friends - at least, friends that will take part in the tournament.

"Not yet. They're all so … various. And peculiar. I'm-" He halts, hands clasped together and squeezing one another, as if they were stress relievers. Noticing his discomfort, Scott seems to take immediately a step back from his usual flippant persona as his expression softens and his posture relaxes.

"You're free to speak your mind." He reminds him gently, so George takes a small breath and looks away, towards the door, ignoring the awkwardness of his admission.

"I'm worried my purely academic training will make me underperform."

"That is possible. It is also possible that you do well. Has the prospect of failure ever stopped you?" Scott challenges, one eyebrow raising in doubt because this is the thing: Scott chose him as his protégé, he knows what George is capable of. He knows him, how competitive he is, how his pride gets in the way despite how much his self esteem is rather low. But still.

"I never had to fail in front of a crowd."

"I understand. Still, I think it will do you good. You should find people to team with, not many get this opportunity."

"I know! It's just that nobody's stuck out! They all seem like incredibly talented people!" George protests, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back into the chair - sliding down a little, so that his chin presses up against his chest. So now he looks and feels like a child throwing a tantrum. Splendid.

"Well. I think there are at lest two you know by name." Scott notes, smiling with a conspiratory look, and George feels incredibly stupid that he let himself be played like this - did Scott manage to bring the discussion back to the two dumbasses that have been bothering him nonstop for the past couple of weeks?!

Dream and Sapnap- he has no care for them. None at all.

"Shut up." George replies weakly and Scott simply laughs - ever so rude, laughing at his self inflicted misery - before standing up. He circles the desk between them and puts a hand on his head, messing up his hair with a chuckle.

"I have to go, I have matters that await me. But it was nice to see you doing well. I'll wait for the names tonight." Scott's sing-song voice calls as he leaves with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

George lets out a long sigh and resigns himself to morning of meditating and practice.

It was nice to see his mentor again - he's been worried lately, as if on edge. George figures it's the tournament's fault, but one may never be sure.

A couple of days later, Dream wakes to the feeling of a pillow hitting him square in the face. Followed by a ripping noise. Followed by the feeling of stuffing falling on his face.

"Oops-" Sapnap says above him: when Dream opens his eyes, he's holding his pillow, now with a tear in it and stuffing slowly falling on the ground.

"SAP! What the fuck did I tell you about the tusks?!"

After their morning workout routine - which definitely does not entail Dream chasing Sapnap around their room as the shorter man jumps around on the furniture to escape, and absolutely doesn't end with them rolling on the floor as the half orc holds his teammate in a headlock - they have a quick breakfast and then hurry to the Academy.

Today's the day: they will be announcing the teams for this year's tournament, and they both can't wait who they will be fighting with.

The announcement is a strictly participant-only event, and from that point on they will have about a month to train with their new teammates inside the Academy's facilities.

The Academy is a huge building that looks and feels like those castles they talk about in fairytales: sky high towers of iridescent colours, with strands of various shades of purple and orange connecting invisible points in space - and perhaps time too. There are stairs and bridges connecting different sections, and Dream knows, from stories told by Master Calvin, that it is as tall in the sky as it is deep inside the bowels of the Earth. A magnificent display of arcane power and architectural prowess. As one would expect from the creators of this tournament, but still.

The crowd that gathers around the entrance is one of the most varied assortment of adventurers Dream has ever seen, and he knows Sapnap is thinking the same thing because the human's head keeps whipping from side to side as he stares at the people walking by.

Dream shoots, from time to time, a look around. He's not particularly looking for somebody - he is - and he's not going to let the knowledge of who is competing distract him from trying to do his best - debatable.

But still.

All the participants are directed toward the entry, where after a quick scan - to avoid strangers from entering - they manage to get inside the main hall.

Now, Dream and Sapnap have been told, by their respective masters, about the Academy, but nothing can ever quite prepare you for something this grandiose and extravagant as what they are seeing.

One would expect a centennial arcane academy, built by two archmages and hosting the best of the magical world in terms of teachers, students and knowledge, to be a stuffy, old fashioned institution.

One would be quickly proven wrong, as just the entrance hall happens to be a stunning portrait of multiple colours, bright and radiant, with moving paintings of famous arcane masters casting spells side by side with rather sweet drawings of past winners of the tournament hugging each other and holding out their prizes.

When Master Calvin had first suggested he move for a while to the Academy, in order to fully develop his arcane abilities, he had been skeptical: how could he, when Calvin's house had been his home for so long? But now, seeing all this, he thinks that maybe he could come to like this place.

At the end of the hall, on an apparently clear glass panel, are displayed the names of each team member.

With all the chatter and cheers and noises of people looking for each other - some are already leaving, having found what and who they were looking for - it's hard to catch the sound of Sapnap's sudden gasp.

It is less hard to notice him gripping his wrist and vigorously point at the glass as he lets out an excited laugh.

Dream follows where he's pointing, and-

"George is with us?!" He exclaims, mostly out of pure disbelief, eyes wide open as he looks back and forth between his friend and the list of names on the board.

"We're so going to win this!" Sapnap answers with an elated smile before bursts out laughing, jumping up and wrapping him in a full body hug - Dream catches him, letting out a small "omf" that is mainly due to the unexpectedness of it all.

"I can't believe it, we got so lucky!" The half-orc comments, his eyes skimming through the names listed on the board - some he recognises, more or less unfortunately, and some he doesn't.

"I know, right?! -" Sapnap comments, leaning back and letting go in order to nod with his head towards the floating glass.

"Now we just have to find out who Eret is, I guess."

#mcyt writingtober #sbi dnd au #dnd au #now sbi&co #dream team au #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #smajor1995

[anothertimdrakestan]

A Lovely Intervention  -  Damian Wayne x Jon Kent & Tim Drake x Conner Kent

Words: 2.3k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Can you make a fic out your short where Damian is taking after his brothers? Maybe like an intervention or something? I love your shorts I basically binged them😁😁”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I LOVE THIS! TimKon is my everything and we love Damian and Jon secretly taking after their brothers and it turning into a whole family moment. This req made me soft, thank you so so so much and I’m glad you like my shorts hehehe 💓 Hope you enjoy!

“We gotta talk get here asap.” Dick called his family, needing to investigate the current problem.

“I’m bringing Kon if you’re interrupting my day” Tim buzzed in, and Dick smiled, everything was going exactly to plan. “Yeah Red that’s fine, I want him here anyways” Dick replied, hearing the whoosh of Tim and Conner take off towards their rondevu point.

“Kay gang’s all here except the demon, you hiding him here somewhere?” Jason mocked, eliciting a harsh look from Dick.

“No, this meeting is actually about him, or about us. Have you guys noticed Damian and Jon trying to imitate us recently?” A lightbulb went off for Conner as he stole the floor, recollecting his most recent interaction with the boys.

“Oh my god yea, wait get this: I’m at the farm gettin’ work done so I could hang with Timmy - don’t blush babe everyone knew we were out together - yeah, then I see Damian tearing across the field with one of Ma’s horses. And I’m like ‘Hey Punk! She isn’t yours!’ and the kid gives me this shitty little smirk like he knows something, and he keeps going! Then he has the balls to flip me off! In my house?!?” Kon was waving his hands around trying to get the point across. “Is this gonna go anywhere airhead?” Jason interrupted, and Tim grabbed Conner’s hand, pulling him down back onto the ground after he began floating with anger.

“Shh babe lemme finish I was there too” Dick looked taken aback “TIM YOU SPENT THE NIGHT AT CONNORS? YOU TOLD BRUCE YOU WERE WITH THE TITANS” Tim quickly blushed and kept talking “Well yeah, but that’s not the point! I was watching Damian cuz he wanted to go over and ‘watch the stars’ which seems lame but the kid’s messed up enough maybe he needs some star gazing” Jason rolled his eyes, tapping his wrist to hurry his younger brother up. "Shit I took Kori star gazing a few weeks ago!" Dick mumbled before Tim got back to explaining.

“Sorry, sorry, so I wake up before Kon and go down and Jon is showing Damian pictures of all his pets then he ruffles Damian’s hair [ Dick audibly gasps ] yeah I fucking know, he let him touch him. Then it gets worse. Jon was wearing your jacket Kon. With the fucking spikes. The. Spikes. And Damian complimented him like I always do like he said ‘looking sharp Kent’ and that’s literally my line. So I have to do some recon but you’re right Dick, the kid’s a robot or something, not the demon” Kon nodded, finishing his story right after Tim “Oh my you’re right, Jon told me that he wanted to give Damian something to cement his feelings, like how I give you some of my clothes and souvenirs babe, except he gave the punk a whole ass horse!”

Dick realized it was getting worse that he thought. “This is good info guys, Tim I don’t think Damian is a robot but I think he’s taking after us, remember when I caught you trying on my Nightwing outfit? Jay you did it too, do I need to remind you about the Robin suit? And Kon you know what it’s like” The three boys shifted, uncomfortable with being called out by Dick.

“Alright so what do we do? Jump off a bridge and see if the demon follows? Kid doesn’t take after me so I don’t know why this is a problem?” Jason crossed his arms, still a little hurt by the robin reference. “Shut up Jay you’re with Tim running interference while Conner and I take the lead” Dick looked at the group explaining his plan. “Conner you’re talking to Jon about being himself, don’t roll your eyes they’re teens they need shaping in the right direction, it’s the least we can do. I mean look how well Jason turned out, you don’t want that happening to Jon!” Conner nodded, glancing at Jason who was openly scowling at the group. “Shut up Jay you’ve got the easy job unless you rather take mine and try to talk to Damian about his feelings. That’s where you guys come in, if Damian tries to make a break for it you’re security.” Tim and Jason high fived, excited at the possibility of having to cage a demon.

“So, plan A is the civil plan, plan B is caging the bird and then trying to be civil what happens if plan B fails?” Tim was well aware there were odds Damian wouldn’t want to hear it. Dick sighed, “well, plan C is disgusting Jon and Dami with Kon’s sappiness” and Kon cheered. “Plan C it is!” And it was time to set the plan (s) in motion.

“Dami look! I’m like a bat!” Damian tried to suppress a smile as Jon grinned, hanging upside down on the tree he’d climbed. “C’mon I can see that smile come hang with me!” Jon cooed and Damian easily scrambled up the tree, sitting on one of the limbs with his back against the trunk. “TT Kent I’m Robin not Batman, besides shouldn’t I be trying to impersonate your father?” he joked, tracing an S on his chest.

In a flash, Jon was pulled from the tree by his big brother. Damian jumped up, not sure what had taken Jon. “At ease soldier, it’s just Kon!” Tim walked up to the base of the tree, gesturing Damian down. Sliding down the tree Damian mumbled “your Kent stole my Kent” and Tim nudged him “so you’ve staked a claim huh?” and Damian blushed, looking down and walking towards the house. “Dames Dickwing needs you for something I think he’s waiting outside. “And you’re not coming? Gonna spend another night with Conner, who is your excuse this time?” Damian sneered as it was now Tim’s turn to flush with red. “Hey you wanted to go too! Don’t pretend like you didn’t hold Jon’s hand on the way over” Damian didn’t turn around, flipping Tim off as he raced toward’s Dick’s car.

“What’s with the super-snatching?” Jon huffed while Conner set him down on top of the family barn, the view of their home from on top of the barn was a favorite spot of theirs. “Well, uh, I’m never good at these but I’ve noticed you and Dames getting really close, and that’s really cool ya know”

Jon gagged and tried to begin climbing down from the roof, “oh god Kon no. I don’t want whatever talk you’re trying to give me. You really? Aren’t you already with a bat yourself?” Kon snorted “so you admit you wanna be with the bat?” and Jon huffed, sitting down again. “Maybe a little bit - what does it mean to you!” Jon refused to make eye contact with Conner. “Kid nothing’s wrong! But if you are I just wanted to give some advice, one SuperBat to another!” Jon shook his head at the cringeworthy ship name but eventually gave him attention back to Kon.

“What I’ve learned is that each of those boys is their own person, and so are we. And you know how hard that was for me to learn especially! So, I guess we’ve noticed you kinda trying to act like me and Tim but I just wanted to tell you that Damian isn’t Tim and you aren’t me, you gotta make your own path bro” Kon nudged Jon as he nodded, “yeah, I mean you’re right Damian is nothing like your coffee addict, he’s strong and passionate and really cares if you actually look deeper and - uh, yeah. I get what you’re saying.” Kon smiled, it wasn’t often they had a good “bro moment” but it went well. “Okay good talk bud, I’m gonna take ya back over now, but remember I’m here to give advice. You know Damian is emotionally constipated and so’s Timmy sometimes so I’m here when ya need me, okay bud?” Jon rolled his eyes “okay there we go, too sappy Kon, let’s go back... Oh no, are you guys trying the same thing with Dames?” Conner nodded, and Jon groaned knowing Dami was gonna be in a bad mood now if he hadn’t torn one of his brothers to shreds yet. “Let’s go back now”

“What do you need Grayson” Damian slumped in the passenger seat while Dick began driving. He noticed Dick locked the doors and noted all the ways he could escape if Dick wasn’t who he seemed to be. “Not much little-D just wanted to chat n grab some food, I’ve missed ya!” Damian narrowed his eyes, “I thought you liked Kent, you let Tim sleepover too and he had significantly more fun with the clone than Jon and I, who knows what they were doing while we traced star patterns” Dick cringed, noting that he’d have to talk to Tim later. “Well this is actually about Jon! You’ve gotten really close huh?” Damian shifted in his seat, getting a clear view of the car’s side mirror which showed none other than Red Robin trailing a couple hundred feet behind Dick’s car. “What is happening Grayson, we’ve done nothing wrong, not to mention nothing the clone and replacement haven’t done,” Damian couldn’t fathom why he was being tortured by his mom brother.

“That’s just the point baby bat, you and Jon haven’t done anything for yourselves. You invited Jon to star watch, Kori and I did that two weeks ago, Jon’s ruffling your hair the way Kon does Tim, and you’re saving news clippings from your adventures with Jon just as Tim does with Kon. It’s time to be your own guy Dames!” This was too much emotional intervention for Damian. Noticing Tim had fallen behind he pulled the lever on the car seat and use the momentum of it flying forward to push himself out the car’s side window. Never without his tool belt, he grabbed his grapple but cursed Smallville for having nothing good to swing towards. He heard cars honk and a child threw themself out of a window, rolled smoothly on the grass beside the road, and took off.

He was in the clear until he heard the rev of Red Hood’s motorcycle. Muttering under his breath he pulled out the comm he and Jon had exchanged just a few days before, he’d seen Jason do it with his teammates why shouldn’t he? As he signaled Jon he let his thoughts divulge for just a second at how similar he was to his brothers, and how Jon really liked to copy Kon as well. “Might have a point but this is good fun” he mumbled as he radioed Jon.

“They try the intervention?”

“I think I’m still being intervened for lack of a better word. Care to give me a lift these damn Smallville buildings aren’t big enough to swing from.” Damian heard Jon chuckle. “I would say ‘I’m on the way bird-brain’ but I think that’s Kon’s line and we aren’t supposed to do that anymore” Damian groaned at the realization they’d already gotten to Jon and knowing him he’d want to talk about it with Damian. There truly was no escape, but Jon was better than getting captured by Jason and Tim.

“C’mere you little shit!” Jason screeched as he saw Damian pick up the pace. Damian would usually know when he’d lost and go in for a fight but the kid kept running. “Something’s up, he’s not fighting” Jason lookup up to see Tim soaring down towards Damian. “Wings aren’t flapping Drake you’re not airborne much longer” Jason noted as Tim cascaded through the air. “Long enough idiot, pick up is on the way”

“of - fucking - course it is” Jason stopped in his tracks when he saw not only Jon but Conner flying in, Conner on Jon’s tail. “So is this just a fun exercise now? I think the kids got the message” Tim had connected Kon to the group. “Leave ‘em be let’s go for plan C” Dick told the group and the comms filled with Tim’s groans and Kon whooping. “Nah I’m out but I still wanna give ‘em a run for it. Dami is smart he’ll figure out what he and Jon are” Jason tried to sound caring and thoughtful, but really he wanted to chase Damian and not have to watch Conner makeout with his brother. “Alright we can talk later, go get them” Dick gave the go-ahead and the three took after their younger brothers who had quite the head start.

“Clone is on our tail, can’t you go faster?” Damian complained. “Good one Rob but if I’ve got this correctly I’m the one carrying you.” Damian rolled his eyes, using his wrist computer to find the quickest hiding spot. “Left here, hard turn” Damian instructed as Jon dove into a field of grains. “Not that hard idiot” Jon laughed and Damian couldn’t contain a giggle. “Well they won’t find us... what should we do?” Jon poked at Damian.

“Sometimes I wonder how I befriended you”

“So you admit we’re best friends!”

“Glad that’s what you got”

“Well now that we’re here wanna talk about our..... feelings?” Jon waggled an eyebrow at Damian.

“Forget it, Jason finding me is better than this” Damian began to get up when Jon grabbed his hand, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Stay with me Dames, just for a little” and though Damian wouldn’t admit it, he was glad Jon asked him to stay, because he was never good at the feelings thing but with Jon he kinda wanted to try. He wanted to find what the feeling of his heart pounding out his chest and his brain being fuzzy was, and just how he could feel it just a little more often.

#damian wayne #jon kent #damijon #jondami #tim drake #conner kent #kon el #kon el kent #timkon #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne x jon kent #tim drake x conner kent #gay dc #damian wayne fluff #dc fluff #damian x jon #wayne x kent #tim drake fluff #damian wayne imagine #tim drake imagine

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 15

Catch Up!

Sofia Welsh-De La Rosa and Timothée Chalamet will star in new Amazon series and, honestly, I won’t talk about anything else ever again

Amazon Prime has just announced the release of its new original series set in 1970’s New York. According to Hollywood Reporter, the new series will be lead by Sofia Welsh - De La Rosa, Timothée Chalamet, and Logan Lerman, and will be produced by Jordan Peele (Get Out and Us) and directed by Christina Hodson (Birds of Prey). The ambitious project is in talks with some other big names in Hollywood, such as Meryl Streep and even Robert de Niro, to join the series.

Honestly, I’m gagging. 

This might come as a surprise as both Sofia, who has been enjoying lots of Oscar’s buzz for the third year in a row, and Timothèe are on the prime of their movie careers, as two of the most prominent young actors in Hollywood, but according to many sources, Sofia has been looking for a way to work with Peele for a long time, while Timothèe is excited to add some action to his resume, after his role in Hostiles and The King. Also, rumor has it, Amazon is willing to pay a hefty (and I mean hefty) amount of money to sign the young stars. 

As for Logan Lerman, this is his the actor’s first TV role since 2005 and is set to be his comeback after his career faded a bit to the background. With the star-studded cast, Amazon is hoping this to be the platform’s next big hit. 

There is no doubt that Sofia, Timothèe, and Logan are three of THE most talented young actors today, with Sofia being the reigning queen of the pack. Recently, the actress has played a pirate, a thief, a devious courtesan and a feminist writer trying to bring down love, and she’s been rumored to have just signed a deal with Disney to play her very own princess, as well as an undisclosed character in MCU’s highly anticipated Black Widow. She truly has the range, Darling!

Sofia was seen having coffee with Timothèe early in the week, before the show’s announcement, which sparked rumors that the actress had ended things with Harry Styles after he had dinner with his ex in London. She was also seen leaving the James Corden Late Late Night’s studio with Logan...

@BobbyC I’m sorry but all of them are gay...

@Peanutbuttah Eh, she can’t act anyway

@Loveisloud @peanutbuttah She can act, she has been in commercial and art-house movies and has received rave reviews every time. You just don’t like her because she’s dating your fave. 

@Arewethereyet she’s an sl*t. So glad Harry’s done with her…

@Soph Are you drunk Buzzfeed? One does not leave Harry Styles for anyone!

****

Harry was cooking. 

The air smelled like garlic and butter and I breathed in deeply, just realizing how fucking hungry I was, as I followed him to the kitchen. It just occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything that day, other than a cup of coffee that Harry had made me in the morning. It was a little strong for my taste, I liked mine with sugar, even when my mom kept telling me I was being violently disrespectful to coffee. I didn’t care, not one bit. 

I never really ate on interviews or auditions days, it made my tummy feel funny and I was usually afraid that my clothes wouldn’t fit like they were supposed to after, so, no food for me, thank you. Usually, D would force-feed me as soon as we were done, practically shoving fruits, nuts, and salads down my throat (sometimes even a burger!), but today I was way too anxious and excited to even pay attention to her efforts. I was going on a date with Harry, I couldn’t care less about anything else!!!

And now, I was fucking hungry and it smelled even better in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” I smiled, looking at the pasta that was boiling on the stove and the bubbling alfredo sauce. Grilled prawns and a green salad were carefully plated in rustic blue and gold plates.

My eyes traveled to him, and I saw him hesitate for a second before he gifted me with a shy smile. He was so lovely, it was no surprise that my head became fuzzy every time I was around him. Even the most superficial thought struggled to grab a hold to my brain. I wondered if anyone could keep their wits around him, but somehow, I doubted it.

“It takes my mind off of things,” he finally said. “And I kinda wanted to impress you, I guess.” 

The admission made my heart soar in my chest and I beamed at him as he stood in front of me. I admired his beauty for a second, his skin was slightly tanned and it looked almost delicious against the white fabric of his shirt, and his smile was warm, making me feel giddy as he trapped me against the counter with his arms on each side of my body. 

I wanted to kiss him, so so badly, but instead, I let my fingers brush over his neck until they reached the tips of his hair. It tickled and he laughed softly with the most wonderful smile.

“Really?” I asked him softly, cause I didn’t want to break the intimate moment we were sharing. 

“Yeah. A bit silly, innit?”

“No, it’s not silly. But, if you wanted to impress me, then you should’ve made a chocolate lava cake,” I teased. “You would’ve gotten me, then.”

“Chocolate, uh?” The right corner of his lip shot upwards, and an adoring feeling hit me right in the chest like a tidal wave. 

“Yeap.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time,” Harry muttered, his words getting lost in the air as he leaned down to kiss me.

I realized that it was all I wanted: To kiss him slowly, maybe even for hours. But I knew I had to stop him. I was under his spell and there was nothing I could do about it, nothing I wanted to do, anyway. But even I could admit that this was just a dream, one that I wanted to remember every second of. So when he was gone, I would still have those memories. 

So before his lips could brush mine, before he could melt my brain with his kisses, I pressed my forehead to his and dropped my hands to his chest, right where his heart was beating rapidly. 

“Sorry,” I said shyly, casting my eyes down so I wouldn’t have to look at him, not a few more seconds, not until I had gathered the will to stand strong by my decision. 

“Is there something wrong?” His voice was full of sincere concern, a little bit rougher as well, which made his accent more noticeable. 

“No,” I shook my head, finally looking into his green eyes. “Everything’s perfect.”

“You just don’t want me to kiss you?”

“It’s just...I want to remember every bit of tonight,” I said, as I tried to ease the utter embarrassment that was crawling over my chest. Who said stuff like that? Writers in cheesy movies or bad teen shows. Fuck. 

“Except for my kisses?” He insisted, almost like a little boy fishing for reassurance. I brought my fingers to his cheek and grazed them it until he smiled at me. 

The answer was “fuck, no”. His kisses were a memory I wanted to carry with me forever. But I also wanted to have that night, so I could carry it with me, and compare it to every other date, every other person that would come my way. 

“I want to remember the little details,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “The dinner you made, which is really close to burning, the grandpa pants…”

“Hey! These look cool! And the sauce, I have it under control!”

“If you say so,” I sneered mischievously, twisting my lips into a mocking smile as he pretended to be offended. “And I want to remember everything you did to make me feel special”

Harry’s arms looped around my waist as he pulled me to his chest and I hugged him back and looked at him, battling the need to just lean in and kiss him. His lips were so pink. 

We both sucked at the whole “no kissing allowed” thing, and somehow that made me feel a lot better. For once, I wasn’t the needy, dreamy one. 

“What do you think?” I asked in a whisper, smiling against the brush of his lips as he bumped our noses together.

“I want to kiss you, Sof, all fucking night long,” he pouted. “Been thinking ‘bout it all day.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Just...lemme have this, yeah?”

“Why?”

“Cause…” I laughed embarrassedly. “I already have your kisses in a little folder in my brain. Now I wanna have this.”

“Is it just me in that folder?” Harry asked, suddenly interested in some other thing that frowning. Curiosity and amusement were burning in his stare and I rolled my eyes at him, almost scoffing at the fact that was the only thing that had managed to catch his attention. 

“Mostly you…” I conceded, even though the petty part of me was all for rolling out with a long list of names before I got to his name. “And Sebastian Stan…” I said, not being able to resist it. 

“Bucky Barnes?” His eyebrows twisted in confusion and he looked at me as I licked my lips, considering just how weird I wanted my answer to be.  

“And the cartoon, too...” I replied, a little bit too casually for it to go unnoticed, but Harry didn’t seem to notice, cause as he was nodding thoughtfully, his hands traveled to my neck again, making me look at him as he dipped his head down to reach the curve of my neck. 

“That’s a bit greedy, baby,” He whispered against my skin, pressing soft kisses down to my pulse point. I wasn’t sure if that was technically a kiss, and I didn’t care, it felt so good. “Someone else?” He was cheating, and we both knew it. I could feel his smile growing bigger, and I sighed as he grazed his teeth over the curve of my neck and let his tongue soothe my skin. “Babe?” He insisted, just to tease me. It was hard to think, and he knew it, but I wasn’t going to admit it just yet. 

“Uh.” I licked my lips and struggled for a second, as I struggled to remember what was it that I was going to say. “Chris Evans, “ I began. “and uh, Michael B. Jordan. Mmm… and Logan Lerman.”

“Isn’t that the guy you’re gonna work with?” He asked, stopping suddenly to look at me. I fluttered my eyes open and smiled when they could finally focus on him. 

“Yeah, him and Timothée Chalamet.”

“Mmmm...I don’t know if I want to share my folder with them,” Harry pouted, which made me laugh. I realized it was no laughing matter, but still, a warm, almost giddy, laughter kept bubbling out of my tummy. 

“Why? Does it make you jealous, H?” I teased.

“Should I be?”

“Mmmm...I don’t know. I honestly think I would let Logan fuck me...those eyes, man.”

“So funny, S…” Harry rolled his eyes. He was not as amused as I had expected him to be. 

“You shouldn’t be,” I said softly, looking him in the eyes, serious and sincere.  

“You sure?” He asked and I was sure he wasn’t talking about Logan Lerman anymore. 

“I’m sure, baby.” I wasn’t even lying. “So, who’s in yours?” I asked, cause maybe that’d take attention away from myself. I didn’t think things through though, cause he had a whole bunch of options for his answer. Who could it be? One of his supermodel exes? His singer ex? This wasn’t a fun game at all. 

“You.”

“Oh, so THAT’S how you answer that kind of question!!” I exclaimed, which made him laugh, and, as he did so, his dimples showed on his face, making him look a little boyish. He was fucking pretty, Jesus. 

“I’m not even trying to be a good boyfriend here,” Harry chuckled, and I relished on the way the word `boyfriend” sounded out of his lips. So pretty, so fucking pretty. “My folder is called “When Sof’s not around”, and I think we need to fill it up, so I don’t run out of thoughts.”

“Oh, we don’t want that,” I scrunched up my nose and shook my head at him as a smile played on my lips. I was so fucking happy and I couldn’t even figure out why. 

“No, we don’t.” The tip of his tongue lapped across his pink lips, and I followed it with my eyes, taking a second or two before I peered up to him again. “I was hoping we could kiss all night,” he said softly. “and maybe I could eat you out by the pool.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit…”

“You wouldn’t need one, baby,” Harry laughed, a mix of mischief and endearment lacing with it. I couldn’t stop staring at him, and my knees wobbled a bit as he leaned down, bumping our noses together one more time, as the soft brush of his lips against my skin made me shiver. 

“Don’t cheat,” I whispered and his soft laugh echoed down in every inch of my body. His lips grazed over my forehead, as he pressed a soft kiss to my skin. 

“Ok, baby. We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s silly, y’know?” He started, pushing me back so he could look at me with his bright green eyes. “We’re just starting, Sof.”

****

I wanted to kiss him. 

I looked at him, licking a spoonful of dessert with my head propped on my hand as I listened to him talk, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to lick the trace of chocolate out of his lips. 

“Is there something wrong, S?” I noticed there wasn’t much concern in his voice, not like there usually was when he asked me if I was ok. This time, there was a hint of mockery, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and that all I wanted to do was to sit on his lap and press soft kisses from his jaw to his lips. 

Fuck.

“No,” I smiled sweetly, cause I wasn’t one to go down without a fight, and I took his hand in mine and pressed it to my lips before I looked at him again. 

“Were you distracted?” His smile was turning more devilish as the seconds went by and I felt myself get warm as he leaned closer, his hands dropping to my thigh and pressing softly to it.

He wasn’t gonna win. I was not going to let him. 

“Nope,” I said, letting the ‘p’ pop between my lips. “Tell me about your album, I promise I’ll be a grown-up about it.” 

“Nice save…” Harry chuckled. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

“I have recently discovered that I’m a very jealous person. I don’t think I’ll like it, but I’ll be happy for you.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous.” A smile tugged on his lips and I felt warm, so warm inside, I couldn’t help but smile as well. “And I think you’re like it, especially since I made a few last-minute changes, against Jeff’s will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he kept saying I had the guts, the audacity to change the album when we’re about to drop the first single.”

“What changes?” I insisted, because Jeff’s feelings were the least of my concern at the moment. 

I wished I could have played it cool. Maybe that would’ve made me look more interesting, aloof, unapproachable, and all those things a girl should be in front of her crush. But my heart was racing and the world was turning chaotic as my head ticked, like a tiny little bomb. 

I needed to know. 

Tick, tick. 

“You’re already sure you’re not gonna like it,” Harry smirked, surely unaware of the mess inside my head. “You might as well wait for it.”

No!!! TIck tick. 

“Oh, please, please, pretty please?? What’s the advantage of this if I can’t get a tiny sneak peek?”

“Well, for instance, you get me to cook for you…”

“It was delicious, thank you.”

“And you get me to eat you out at night when you’re not being stubborn and imposing kiss-bans.”

“I like that very much, too,” I giggled, looking at his green eyes as he got just a bit closer, just an inch away from me. 

“So it’s not such a bad deal, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Good.” His bottom lip rolled into his lips and he bit it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds as his eyes kept burning little holes into my soul. That’s how it felt. “Let’s watch a movie, baby. Are there any bans on cuddling?”

“No, not yet.”

His fingers squeezed mine and he got up swiftly from the table, smiling brightly as we covered the few steps to a different room near the pool, where a giant screen awaited for us. There were a bunch of individuals blue chair, blue and velvety, and a larger one, that was meant to comfortably fit two. The room was dark, only lit by the lights coming from the screen, and I followed him blindly until we were sitting side by side. Slowly, we found each other, and as Harry sat against the armchair, I settled between his legs, cuddling up to his chest while his large hand rested on the curve of my waist. 

He smelled like a lazy Sunday morning when the rain is lightly tapping on your windows and all you can hear are the chirping birds when still early, so the world hasn’t woken up just yet and you get to focus on that feeling, on the promise of what’s coming. 

He also smelled like pasta and chocolate, and I didn’t mind that at all. 

He felt soft, comforting, and sweet, but above all, he felt safe. I was safe with him. 

And, I struggled for a bit, trying to understand what came next, what was the warmth and giddiness that settled in my tummy every time I looked at him. 

“You ok, baby?” Harry asked and I nodded absentmindedly, not ready to let my thoughts go just yet. What was it? “Wanna watch Set It Up?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. your choice.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t say that often.”

“Oh, shhh, Harry I always do whatever you want.”

“We definitely have different definitions of ‘Whatever Harry wants’” He mused and I propped myself up to look at him, almost suspiciously, almost angry.

“Do we? What do you want?” I asked. 

“To kiss you. And for you to stay the night.”

“I have a bed, y’know?” I quirked my eyebrow, looking at him as I had already won the argument. 

“Yeah, unfortunately…”

“And we promised we would behave tonight.”

“You can stay in a different room,” he offered. “Or I will.”

“What’s the point then?”

“You won’t have to miss me in the morning…” he shrugged. I laughed out loud, despite my best efforts to look offended. “And I won’t have to miss you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Love. 

He looked a lot like love. 

And love looked a lot like him. 

***

Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh were out grabbing Fro-yo and I’ll never be as cool as either of them

Yes, I know what you’re gonna say: Are they paying you to write this sh*t? And the answer is yes! someone’s paying me to write this sh*t! Alas, neither Harry nor Sofia is. I wish. 

The usually private couple, and bear in mind I am using the word couple loosely here as they haven’t confirmed to be dating, gave the world a glimpse of their relationship as they stepped out in Los Angeles to grab ice-creams and bubble teas, along with friends.

Ever since the rumors of their relationship spread around, the couple has been mostly keeping a low profile - which is not very surprising as Harry Styles is not very open about his personal life since he was a member of One Direction and a large part of his fans believed him to be romantically involved with one of his bandmates (that was a mouthful! And also very true, there has been a lot of conspiracy theories about it)

Sofia, who’s in the middle of an Oscar campaign (and has been showing us just how much designers adore her), sported a pair of leggings, a crop top, and a large blazer, a perfect outfit for the ever-changing LA weather, and looked happy and relaxed as she waited for Harry to get their orders. Both stars took photos with fans and left together in Styles’ classic car…

****

We were made out of good intentions. 

We slept together that night and every night after that for an entire week. We didn’t do much, we kissed and cuddled, and spent our mornings lazily together until one of us had to go out to the real world. We even went out and we kept stealing looks and smiles at each other, like two little kids that were too shy in front of their crushes. 

Photos were taken. Articles were published. Midge was elated. 

Harry’s new single was coming out that night, and there was going to be a party to celebrate it. If it was a hit, they were going to celebrate their success and all the hard work that went into it. It was a flop, and it was not going to flop, they were going to drink for better times ahead. 

“Fuck!!!” 

I stared at the ceiling, willing my body to move and failing miserably at it as every little muscle in my body contracted painfully. My arms hurt, and my legs felt like they were on fire. 

I just needed 5 more minutes before I got up and got ready to leave. 

It was day 4 of “my new life” as my trainer liked to call it, and after another lunch of grilled chicken and steamed broccoli, I was ready to quit. I had trained and dieted before for different roles, but this time, I had a feeling she wanted to suck the life out of me. It even made me reconsider if I needed to be in a Marvel Movie. Would Midge kill me if I quit?

“Sof…” The male voice scared me just a little, as I thought I was alone in my house. I turn around just slightly, as much as my tired poor body could handle and smiled as I saw Sam standing by my door. “Can I come in?”

He was holding a tray, with something that looked like a sandwich, coffee, and a glass of water, along with a white bottle of medicine. I nodded, grunting even at the soft movement, and he walked quickly to my bed, setting the tray down before me as he stood awkwardly. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I struggled to ask while I propped myself up and sat criss-cross on my bed. I sounded angry, and maybe I was, why would he bring me a sandwich? It was all I wanted to eat and all I couldn’t eat at the same time. 

“I’m off work today, and I wanted to check on you. Cat told me you’ve been feeling under the weather. I called your mom and she told me you should “just eat a sandwich and take an aspirin”, so here they are,” he said, offering me a childish smile as he pointed the tray with a little too much joy. 

“I can’t eat a sandwich,” I sulked. “And I need to get ready, I have to go to Harry’s.”

“You can eat a sandwich. And he can wait 5 minutes, you’re always there.”

I realized we hadn’t talked about the kiss, not really. I avoided being alone with him, and whenever the occasion presented itself, Sam would go out of the room, giving me space and maybe waiting for me to be the first one to reach out. I had never done that. Honestly, I didn’t think I would.

“You’re right, Sammy,” I said, picking the sandwich in my hands and noticing that he had already cut the crust off. “Thank you.”

It was weird between us, tense and quiet, and I didn’t like it. I bit into the bread looking at an empty spot on the wall as I waited for him to say something. Anything, I would take it. But Sam remained silent, pressing his palms on his thighs as he went to get up. 

“Sam,” I called for him and I smiled shyly when he finally turned around. He took his time, though, and for a moment there, I was scared he was going to leave. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what you want to hear when someone you like kisses you.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes,” I breathed and I realized I wasn't lying. I did want to kiss him, there was no use in denying that. 

I put the sandwich down on the plate and moved closer to Sam until I could see the golden freckles that were hidden in his light brown eyes.

“Do you remember that night when you came through my window and stayed the night with me?”

“Yeah, I heard your dad scream, and I wanted to be there in case…”

“I know, Sam. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since then,” I admitted and he kept staring at me as if he was considering what his next move would be. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me?

“You’re not being fair to me, Sof.”

“I know. You haven’t been fair to me either, but here we are.”

There was a moment of panic, cause for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. He leaned over me and I held my breath as I looked at him, not able to stop him just yet. But as his lips brushed over my forehead, I closed my eyes, smiling as he pulled away from me. 

“Eat the fucking sandwich, Sof,” he replied and it wasn’t enough. I took his hand before he could leave and I licked my lips, peering up to him with something more than just fear pressing up to my chest. 

“Are we good?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we’ll talk about it again when he gets back with his ex.”

That was a low blow, and we both knew it, but I just stayed quiet as he left the room, wondering if I deserved it. 

****

It took me a while to get ready, so I was late for Harry’s party. I went straight to the pool, where a large screen had been set up and the new video seemed to be on a loop. I couldn’t find Harry anywhere, but at the same, he was all I could see. I stared at the screen, looking at his golden skin as he was surrounded by the adoring crowd, at the way they kept touching and the expression on his face as he leaned into them. The song didn’t even matter, cause all I could focus on was his stupidly beautiful green eyes. 

I mean, I had watched his videos before. I had seen him fly through the sky and be surrounded by kids, but this was different. Those were entertaining and beautiful, and I felt the emotion in my tummy simply because it was him, and somehow, just seeing him made me happy. But in this one he meant to capture your attention and a little bit of your soul. He wanted to be desired and to be free along the way. And it was such a fucking sexy video.  

I lost count of how many times I allowed myself to watch the video, but it was probably too many times. After a while, I decided it was time to look for the real Harry, who was still nowhere to be seen, so I left the pool, smiling and greeting everyone as I passed by. 

I hoped he was alone, cause I wanted to fucking kiss him like no one else was looking. I wanted to tell him how lovely, talented, and amazing he was. I was going to kiss him a lot and praise him, it couldn’t get better than that. 

I looked for him in the living room, where a small crowd was throwing back cocktails and beers and went out to the front door, where people were lounging about, a bit drunkenly. But he wasn’t anywhere, and I was starting to feel uneasy. 

It took me more than a few minutes to make my way to his room because people kept getting in my way. I did my best to smile and engage in silly conversations about nothing, but my heart was growing heavy and my brain was too anxious to even remember if I had succeeded. 

I heard him talk even before I stood by his door. I couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to, but I noticed that his words were a little bit slurred, and his accent dripped thick in his low voice. The door was slightly ajar and I pushed it open and stood by the frame as I saw him talking on the phone. He had his back to me, so he didn’t notice that I had arrived, not that it mattered. 

“C, you’re drunk,” I heard him say and I wished he had just said a different name. “No...I know I told you it was just a PR relationship...Cause I need time to figure out...Really, C? Wanna know if I still love you? You’re not being fair...” The last part came out as a dry laugh, and I knew I had to leave, it was rude and inappropriate, but, most importantly, it was breaking my fucking heart. But my feet seemed like they were made out of cement, and my legs had chosen that moment to numb out of pain. So, I was still standing there when he turned around, and probably saw the tears that were threatening to spill down my eyes. 

I wanted to know the answer too. Could I know it? It’d save us a lot of pain. 

“Bye, C.”

He dropped his phone to the bed and I looked at him as he walked quickly to me. He looked flustered and worried, but it all seemed so distant, that it didn’t matter. 

“Baby,” Harry said, but that wasn’t my name. Did her call her baby too? He probably did, he was a ‘baby’ kind of guy. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I was looking for you cause I wanted to check if you wanted me to post something on Instagram,” I lied. “D already drafted a tweet, it’s really simple.”

“Sof, how much did you hear?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna get a couple of photos and uh, I’m gonna go home, I think I need a rest day.”

His hand went to grab mine, but before he could do it, I turned and walked away rushing down the stairs until I could get lost in the crowd. 

Fair? None of us was being fair. 

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry writing #hs #writing #I'm gonna post this cause I may never post it otherwise! #Please lemme know if you read it and if you liked it!

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 01

Summary :

Based on @fedoraspooky​‘s Puppet AU.

Lukas is a student in need of money. He manages to find a job in a famous television studio as a stagehand. However, his situation changes greatly when the directors give him one of the main roles of a new TV show for children. Lukas has to fit into this new and unknown world, meeting all the other actors, all while dealing with his student life. What could possibly go wrong?

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/57259018

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New fanfiction on A Hat In Time ! I hope you're all well and safe in this very hard period.

I had started this fanfiction for a while and I figured that posting it might help to make me write more. I work a lot with motivation/encouragement, so posting it might be one of the best ways to motivate myself.Anyway, I hope you'll like this story! :D

Don't hesitate to leave me a comment/like/reblog if you do, it'll help me a lot!

Happy reading !

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Chapter 1 - “What the absolute fuck?”

Lukas Pryce had seen many strange things in his short life, especially as a college student: people doing incredibly stupid stuff during parties (not that he went to a lot of them), students watching porn in the lecture halls, wandering drunk students in the middle of the night… But this right there? This was way weirder than anything he had ever seen before.

“What the absolute fuck?” thought he young student, as he tried to take in the sight in front of him.

He was standing up in an entrance hall of a famous movie studio, the Dead Bird Movie Studio. To be honest, Lukas never really understood where the name came from and never really thought much about it until more recent events. All he used to know was that they made a lot of stuff, from movies to TV shows, and even musicals! It was strange to think that a single studio could manage such different genres and still doing a good job with them. The student never thought he would ever step in a place like this, but his life had recently taken a route very different than what he expected.

Several persons were running in front of him, most of them carrying fire extinguishers. A fire had apparently started in the middle of a shooting and smoke could be seen through the doors leading to the filming stage. No one was noticing him, as they were all preoccupied with the current situation, and Lukas almost thought about leaving. But he couldn’t, as much as he wanted to.

Being a college student, especially a law student, was hard. In a system where students were in debt and had to pay a lot of things, Lukas couldn’t afford to lose one of the only job opportunities he could get in his two years spent at the university. While he did have nice parents who helped him to fund his studies, he didn’t like the idea of depending too much on them, especially on studies which were quite expensive.

So, yeah, he needed the money too much to consider leaving.

Lukas tried to get closer to the people, hoping to stop someone long enough to know if he should wait and come back later. Well, it did seem like the most reasonable solution, yes, but he had lost too many job positions because of his hesitation. Maybe he would look like a complete idiot, but if it meant he would get this job, then, he didn’t care!

-“Hum, excuse me?” he asked, as he managed to grab a someone’s arm, stopping them from doing whatever people did in case of fire emergencies. It was a blond man in his forties, and he was very much angry from the sudden interruption.

-“What are you doing? Let go of me, there’s a fire in there!”

Lukas tried to get more of him, but the man pulled his arm from the student’s hand, who didn’t really know what to do with himself. It was a bad time to go to this job interview, after all.

“Maybe I should just leave and go back later?” he thought quickly, turning away from the reception desk. He could call the studio later to reschedule the interview. Sure, Lukas never liked phone calls in the first place, but hey, what can you do against a fire emergency? It was better to leave this place, call back later and have another chance next week. Or at least, he hoped so.

However, before he could push the exit door, two voices interrupted him. While most of his surroundings were loud and full of agitation, these voices were even louder, cutting short all of Lukas’s inner monologue. The young student stopped in his tracks and threw a glance behind him, more than curious about what was happening on the other side of the room.

Two figures entered the room, apparently arguing with each other in the most intense way. One was a tall and sturdy black man, while the other was an older and smaller blond man. The former was wearing a set of very excentric clothing, while the latter was wearing a black costume, as well as a black cap on his head, which was hiding his eyes underneath. Both made big gestures with their arms, as they bickered. Something about them felt really familiar to Lukas who, for a brief moment, didn’t understand why. It was only when he heard their voices through the general brouhaha that he remembered: they were the famous directors of the Dead Bird Movie studio!

-“Was it really necessary to have that many sparks in the last scene?!” asked the sturdy man -DJ Grooves-, pointing the smoke coming into the room with both hands.

-“Of course it was!” replied the older one, much louder, stomping his foot on the ground. This was the Conductor. It wasn’t his real name but the old director never accepted to tell his real name to the media. He was mostly known as “The Conductor” and all of his movies were signed this way. Well, so were DJ Grooves’s, but the latter’s real name usually appeared somewhere in the credits.

They had recently started to work together on several projects and, while those became extremely famous blockbusters, it was said the two directors had problems working together in the past. It had seemed to improve through the years, but Lukas remembered reading an article somewhere, dealing with the direction problem on their latest movie at the time. While they were both very competent, they also had very different ideas and visions about movie-making, which made the filming quite difficult sometimes.

The argument kept going despite the agitation around them. In fact, most of the people in the room were avoiding them, by distancing themselves as much as possible from the duo, passing from one side to the room to the others by doing a detour in order not to be noticed.

-“It was? Darling, everything caught fire! I know you like action, but this was way too much!”

-“Pfff, as if you knew the basics of action movies! I know what action scenes need! Mind your own part of the movie, the music!” he said, putting a strong and ironical emphasis on the last word, as if he was mocking it. Which, in retrospect, was probably the case.

-“Excuse me? Conductor, darling, we talked about this: music is as important as action! A movie without any good music is worthless, just as it is without good and measured action!”

The bickering continued for a while and Lukas couldn’t help but stare at the two directors. They didn’t seem to hate each other as much as they did in the past, at least from what he had seen on TV, but it was quite impressive nonetheless. They both had strong personalities and those didn’t mix well together.

Lukas didn’t know what to do. He instinctively opened his shoulder back to take the job poster out of it. It was about a stagehand position, which didn’t need a lot of experience. It demanded to know how to fix set materials and to know how to sew -which he did-, nothing hard, really. What matters was the pay at the end of the month, pay he very much needed for his studies.

He hesitated a moment: should he step in? Most of the people here seemed to avoid them as much as possible, maybe there was a reason for that? However, if he didn’t do anything, he would get back home without any more job than before. What if someone showed up not long after he left and got the job? He didn’t want to take the risk.

Lukas needed that money.

The student took a deep breath and walked towards the two bickering directors, feeling his heart sink in his chest. Not only was he approaching celebrities, but he was also going to interrupt them to ask for a job! In a way, this was an extremely bold move, which contrasted tremendously from his usual behaviour. In any other situation, he would have chosen to leave, not to bother them, try later… But he wanted this job and he was ready to step out of his comfort zone to get it!

He finally arrived next to the two men, who absolutely didn’t notice him in the least, continuing their previous argument about the (un)necessity of using such or such pyrotechnic. Lukas felt eyes land on him: some workers seemed to notice his intent of interrupting the two directors and silently shook their head in his direction, telling him to give up, that he would end up regretting doing it eventually.

But the student didn’t listen. Instead, he cleared his throat, first once, then twice, this time a bit louder. The two directors immediately stopped talking and turned in his direction, surprised by the sudden interruption.

-“Hum… Excuse me, I- I saw that you were looking for a stagehand and I‌ came for the interview,” he started, unsure. Lukas wasn’t afraid to approach people, usually. But this wasn’t a usual situation: he was facing two famous movie directors! And interrupting them in an argument during a fire emergency!

… Suddenly, the whole thing didn’t seem like a good idea anymore.

The two men were now staring at him, probably not knowing how to answer. Lukas felt very nervous, being stared at that way. He felt like they were examining him from top to bottom, as if he was just an object.

All of a sudden, the Conductor let out a huge sigh and, still very much angry, quickly grabbed one of the fire extinguishers from someone’s hand. He then pushed it violently in the student’s arms:

-“You know what, fine, you’re hired!” said the old director curtly, before turning away to leave like a sulking child: “Go put out the fires with the others!”

Lukas remained unmoving, too shocked to react right away. Next to him, DJ Grooves let out a tired sigh, maybe because he was used to that kind of things. When the Conductor noticed Lukas’s non-reaction, he stomped his foot once again and pointed to the room from which came the smoke :

-“Now!”

Lukas jumped at the harsh order and turned to the stage room as fast as he could, extremely confused by what had just happened. Did he just… Get the job? That easily? There had to be a catch somewhere!

But here he was, passing through the door, only to find something on fire in the middle of the stage, surrounded by several people trying to put the fire out. Without thinking much, the student ran to meet them, almost falling down because of the weight of the fire extinguishers. No one seemed to notice him as they were all focused on the danger in front of them.

Lukas then joined their effort, disabling the safety lock on the device before spraying the fire.

Surely, this was just an exception… The working conditions weren’t going to be any weirder, were they? Lukas felt doubt growing in him, as the flames became weaker and weaker as seconds passed.

What did he get himself into?

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End of the first chapter ! I hope you enjoyed it ! :D

Chapter two is still a WIP at the moment, but that might change in the near future! My other fanfiction, Reliving An Old Nightmare, is my current priority, but I might continue this one if I'm in need of change! 

Thank you for reading !

Chapter 2 =>

#A Hat In Time #fanfiction #my art #The Part-Time Puppeteer #TPTP #snatcher #puppet au #conductor #dj grooves #ahit

[guildedlily6]

You Plus Me Equals Soulmates Part 5 (Peter Parker x Reader Soulmate!AU)

Summary: Y/N notices Peter acting weird and possibly keeping secrets.  Now, when the National Decathlon rolls around, Peter continues to disappear at odd times.  Will Peter’s sudden disappearances get Y/N and Peter’s best friend Ned into trouble?  Has Liz finally changed her attitude towards Y/N?

Author’s Note: Oops.  Sorry, this took longer to write than I had wanted.  I was experiencing some major writers block, so this was a little bit more difficult to write.  This part also doesn’t have too much Peter and Y/N in it, so I also apologize for that.  As always, you might be lost if you haven’t read the parts before this, so click on the links below.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Word Count: 2,357

Warnings: swearing

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I used to not believe in soulmates.  Even now, the concept of soulmates, destined to be together forever, seems slightly extreme.  But now that I’ve found mine, I guess I could understand where all of the hype comes from.

After the revealing of matching wrist tattoos between Peter and I, we’ve grown close.  I found myself opening up to him, which I subconsciously told myself I wouldn’t do again after being afraid of what Liz would do with my secrets.  He also told me his secrets.  Most of his secrets, anyway, except one.

What he’s keeping from me is still a complete mystery to me.  All I know is it’s big and it has something to do with why he left Liz’s party that one night and why he isn’t coming to Washington.

Well, he wasn’t until now.

“Mr.Harrington!  Mr.Harrington!  I’m coming and I want to join the team again,” says Peter, surprisingly not out of breath from running all the way down the sidewalk to meet up with the Decathlon team.

“Mr.Parker, I don’t think you sent me an email,” Mr.Harrington says, peering at Peter from over his glasses.

“Well, yeah… But I’m here now.”

What changed his mind?

“Hey!  He can’t join the team.  He said he quit and we’re literally about to leave, Mr.Harrington.”  Flash peeks his head outside of the bus window, bestowing his opinion on us all, as per usual.

“We haven’t left yet.  Mr.Parker… You’re always welcome to join us, but did you really have to run in on the last moment?”  Mr.Harrington glances down at his watch, checking the time.

“If he’s welcome that means he can come, right?”  I can’t help but cut in.  I have to admit I knew I was going to miss Peter if he didn’t come along to Washington. “I um… Yes, Mr.Parker can join us,” declares Mr.Harrington, grabbing Peter’s suitcase and loading it into the bus.

I beam at Peter and he grins back at me.

He climbs into the bus and takes a seat next to me.

“So what changed your mind?” I ask.

“Aunt May told me I should go and not miss the opportunity.’’

Is that the real reason?

“Oh,” I reply simply.  Peter takes my hand and interlocks our fingers.

It hasn’t exactly been established, but since Peter and I discovered we’re soulmates. Over the past few weeks, we’ve been ‘together’.  By that, I mean the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing, but those words seem too childish for big things like soulmates for life.

The rest of the bus ride is quiet except for the occasional banter between Flash and Mr.Harrington.  I put in earbuds and Peter leans his chocolate brown head on my shoulder, falling asleep.

Once we finally arrive at the hotel, Mr.Harrington realizes he only booked 5 rooms, which would force two of us to join separate two person rooms since he needed his own room.

I gladly volunteer Liz and I split up.  It would’ve been an unnecessary mess if we were forced to share a room together, like we had planned before everything happened.

“Alright so Liz Allen… You can share a room with-”

“Peter and Ned?  Y/N told me earlier she wants to share a room with girls,” Liz interrupts, smirking devilishly at me.

“I thought Y/N might want to share a room with Peter and Ned, considering…” Mr.Harrington looks at Peter and I’s connected hands.

“Isn’t that against school guidelines?  That wouldn’t be very professional for a school trip.” Liz maintains the annoyingly innocent look on her face while talking.

“I never asked to share a room with two girls.  Mr.Harrington, you know I wouldn’t do anything on a school trip when sharing a room with Peter and Ned-” I start.

“I think it would be best if you shared a room with Betty and MJ,” Mr.Harrington states.

This is not happening.  When will Liz stop trying to hijack anything?  I know Peter wouldn’t do anything with her, but what will Liz do?

I glare at Liz.  Beside me, Peter tenses up and looks at me.  I give him a look that says ‘we’ll be fine’.  He nods and lets go of my hand, grabbing his suitcase and walking to his room with Ned, Liz not far behind.

I turn around to face Betty and MJ, who’s got her arms crossed.  “Sorry you have to stay with us,” MJ says.

“I’m not angry that I’m staying with you guys, I’m pissed that Liz is staying with Peter and Ned,” I explain, irritated.  MJ and Betty are pretty chill for the most part and I don’t need them thinking I hate them or something.

Mr.Harrington hands us three room key cards.  I grab my suitcase and take the elevator with Betty and MJ to our room.

Liz obviously has some sort of plan to act out since she jumped so hastily on the opportunity to stay with Peter.  I thought we were done with this.  How could I have never realized my best friend was so cold and decisive?

I set my suitcase down against the wall.

“So whose bed is whose?”  I look between Betty and MJ, silently deciding I would rather sleep in the same bed as MJ.

“I require a good sleep and my body refuses to sleep well if there is someone else in the bed.  You and MJ can sleep in the same bed,” declares Betty.

“No thanks.  I’ll take the small couch,” MJ says, setting down her bag on the desk.

I shrug.  “Fine by me.”

I change in the bathroom and then climb into bed, falling into a restless sleep after thinking about what Liz and Peter are doing.

________Peter’s POV________ I’m wary about Liz sleeping in our room.  If worst comes to worst, I’ll just take the couch to sleep on.  No way I’m sleeping in the same bed as her.

“So Peter, who’s going to sleep in what bed?” Liz looks at me, winking suggestively.

“I’ll just take the couch.  You and Ned can have a bed each,” I say while grabbing my pajamas out of my suitcase and heading to the bathroom.

“Are you sure?  You and I could-” but Liz doesn’t get to finish her sentence before I’ve closed the bathroom door, blocking her out.

I get changed and then walk back out to the main area.  Liz is laying in her bed, reading a book.  Ned is already asleep.

I set up blankets on the couch and place down my pillow before Liz says something.

“So you and Y/N are together now, huh?  How did that happen?  What’d she say to make you get with her-”

“Y/N and I are soulmates, Liz.  There’s nothing you can do about that.  We’re quite happy, actually.”  I get under the blankets and face away from her.

“Oh.”

_________Liz’s POV________ They’re soulmates?  Honestly?

My insides feel empty and useless all of the sudden and I get a creeping, horrifying realization of what a complete fucking idiot I am.

I went through everything for this to happen?  I dumped a cup of party punch down the front of my best friend’s dress over this?  I ended our entire six years of friendship over this?  The entire time I didn’t have a clue that Peter and Y/N were soulmates.

To say I feel awful is an understatement.  I was such a bitch for nothing.  I really thought…

I really thought Peter was the one for me.

When I think about it in this moment, I guess the feeling wasn’t exactly as scientists describe soulmate connections.  It was more of an obsession rather than attraction to Peter.  I had liked him because he seemed so genuinely nice to me, opposed to how I felt everyone around me was acting like they enjoyed my company.

You have to find a way to make it up to Y/N, is the last thing I think before I fall asleep.

_________Y/N’s POV_________ The first couple days of the Washington trip were actually quite enjoyable.  Peter and I took a shit ton of pictures with Ned photo-bombing in each and every one, and we even got to see the White House, which wasn’t as exciting as I had imagined.  I’ve also noticed that Liz has been more quiet recently and not as obnoxious and pushy.

But today’s the day.  The National Decathlon.

Peter’s been disappearing at random times, which makes me anxious and further curious as to what his secret is.  Last night, everyone had snuck down to the pool and I saw Peter leaving his room, but fully dressed in a hoodie and carrying a backpack.  I had invited him to go down to the pool with me, but all he responded with was “I really wish I could, but I can’t,” before he left, walking the other direction.

It’s weird and really starting to actually hurt.  Why won’t he just tell me what his secret is?

“Everyone get on the bus.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… Nine?” Mr.Harrington looks around, confused.  “Where’s Peter Parker?”

I scan the room. 

Where the hell is Peter?

“Wow.  Turns out he was just in it for the cool trip.  What a shithead,” says Flash, who’s just in it for the cool trip.

“I’m sure he’s just taking a bit longer to get dressed…” I try to cover for Peter, but I don’t know why.  I don’t even have a clue as to where he could be right now.  I didn’t see him this morning…

I make eye contact with Liz.  She has a questionable glint in her eyes.  

Does she have something to do with this?

Liz makes her way over to me and whispers, “Do you know where he is?”

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”  I get the urge to be a brat.  It’s only fair, isn’t it?

Liz rolls her eyes.  “Seriously.  Peter’s, like, the best one on the team.”

Something tells me she’s not trying to trick me.  “No, I don’t know where Peter is.  I saw him leaving the hotel last night, but-”

“Miss Y/L/N, you saw Parker leaving last night?  Do you know what he was doing?  What were you doing last night?” probes Mr.Harrington, having apparently overheard us. 

“I don’t know what Peter was doing… I had gone down to get more towels… because I uh- I knocked over a glass of water during the night,” I lie to cover up for everyone else.  My teammates around me collectively let out a breath of relief.

“Alright, well… We’ll have to go on without Mr.Parker.”  Mr.Harrington continues herding us into the bus.

What?  After all of this and Peter isn’t going to compete at the National Decathlon?  What the fuck is he doing?

I grudgingly get on the bus and sit down next to Ned.

“Do you know where Peter went?”  I glance sideways at Ned, half-expecting him to burst out and tell me Peter’s secret.

“I uh...Nope.  I have no idea where Peter is.  Yep.  Asleep last night.  Wasn’t there this morning.  Totally have no idea.” Ned’s tone of voice and expression is suspicious, outright displaying the lie in his answer, but I don’t ask again.

The ride to the event center for the National Decathlon is short and we arrive within a few minutes.

The actual Decathlon goes by quickly.  The whole time, however, I’m distracted by worrying about the trouble Peter could be in right now.  Still, our team answers every question correctly and we actually win.

Everyone jumps up, Mr.Harrington is crying, MJ looks mildly pleased, and Flash looks surprised.

“There’s only one way to celebrate,” says Mr.Harrington through tears.  “We’re going to the Washington Monument.

Everyone cheers.  “Now THAT'S what I signed up for,” exclaims Flash.

I can’t help but feel even more uneasy.  

Will Peter miss out?  Why is no one else concerned about Peter?

I follow along with my team anyway.  

Everyone is going through the checking area.  I get a call from Peter.

Finally.  I immediately pick up.

“Is Ned with you, Y/N?  Tell Ned he needs to take the purple glowy thing out of his backpack!”  Peter’s voice sounds panicked from the other end of the phone.

While scanning our group for Ned, I answer back.  “Yeah, Ned’s with me.  Where are you Peter?  Where have you been?  What the hell is ‘the purple glowy thing’?”

“I’ll answer all of your questions later, trust me.  Did Ned take the thing out of his backpack?

I find Ned and hold the phone slightly away from my ear so I can talk to him.  “Ned, Peter says to take the ‘purple glowy thing’ out of your backpack, whatever that is.”  

Ned looks worried.  “Why?  Did he say?  Why didn’t he just call me?”

“Ned asks why you didn’t call him.  I think his backpack has already gone through the scanner so he can’t take anything out.”  The lady in the personal scanning area gives me a look that says ‘put your phone away now, stupid teenager’.

“I tried to call Ned but he wouldn’t pick up!  The scanner?  Where are you guys?”  Peter’s voice goes up a few pitches, meaning he’s extremely on edge.

“We’re about to get in the elevator for the Washington Monument.  You should be here.  Are you okay, Peter?”

“The Washington Monument?!  Shit.”  After Peter finishes his sentence, the guard lady comes up to me and tells me to put my phone away.

Peter never curses.

“Peter I have to go, I’m sorry.”

“Wait, no,Y/N, if anything happens, know I lo-”  His voice gets cut off when I hang up and shove my phone into my backpack.

We all cram into the elevator and the tour guide instantly starts reciting history. It’s nice for a while up until I notice a purple glow coming from Ned’s backpack. I nudge Ned and point to his backpack, sending him a look that says ‘What the fuck?’.

Then, an explosion goes off.

------------------------

Hey, so guess you’ll have to come back to see if you (Y/N) die or not.  Thanks for reading!

@disfunctionalcellmembrane @marvel4geeks @ilovesupersoldiers @sovereignparker @averyfosterthoughts

Part 6

#part 5 #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader imagine #you plus me equals soulmates #marvel imagines #marvel universe #liz finally got her act together #fluff #peter parker fluff #fan fiction #send requests for more #part 6 coming soon #writers block is a bitch

[lorei-writes]

Masamune x Polish!MC

Thanks a lot to @datenoriko​ for suggesting this and for @nad-zeta​ for writing hers (VERY INSPIRING, SERIOUSLY, GO CHECK THOSE OUT) headcanons :D Here’s my version. I wrote for Polish MC in particular, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful and there’s a lot of historical nuance that I could butcher otherwise.

[Note from future Lorei: This is honestly very stupid and I cannot believe I didn’t write it when I was 15, geez.]

Content Warnings: profanities, kidnapping, pain, injuries

Background information & notes:

Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth was partitioned by Habsburg Austria, Kingdom of Prussia and Russian Empire. As the result of annexations, the country disappeared from the world maps for 123 years. I will not go into detail about how the situation of Polish people was different in each of the parts, since that’s besides the point, but well - keep in mind that it did differ greatly. One can argue that the marks of it are still visible today, both in infrastructure, architecture and language. 

I was born in the South-Eastern region of Poland and as such, that’s where I’d like my MC to be brought up. 

MC is in no way representative of how each and every woman from Poland is. I tried to write her based on the women of my family, my friends, classmates, basically - the people I’ve seen and spent my time with. 

I will not include anything religion-related, although it is a thing that’s present in lives of everybody (even atheists) here (to be more precise, Catholicism). Why? Because it is a very controversial topic, one of huge complexity.

... There will be profanities, because I love my Polish swearwords - and CURSE YOU ENGLISH. WHEN I YELL THE CURSE I WANT TO SOUND LIKE A FREAKING FERAL ANIMAL

Broken English in italics = broken Japanese.

There will be a dictionary at the end, so don’t worry. 

Masamune

Upon meeting her, he did not understand anything she said - well, none of them did. However, she did rescue lord Nobunaga - a funnily dressed foreigner that seemingly didn’t speak Japanese couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Yet she still was thrown into the dungeon. In his mind, that was the perfect opportunity to investigate on his own. 

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Masamune sneaked into her cell. Soon, his blade was on her throat.  “ Who are...?” he started, but was instantly cut off by her yelling: “ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” He stood there, staring at her. Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. 

Was she suggesting that he was insane? Hah, that certainly was some lass. He laughed loudly and gestured for her to follow him.

Well, it certainly took some explaining, but in the end, she got a job as one of the maids. After all, you hardly need to understand language to sweep the floors and do the cleaning. 

However, she... Didn’t exactly fit in. Not just because of her weird mother tongue - she was taller than most women and not exactly petite. Appearance wise, she resembled the Portuguese missionaries, but that wasn’t exactly this either. 

Masamune came around to “bother” her at times. To his surprise, she started to picking up the basic words by herself. Sometimes, she’d point an object, say something (presumably the name of it in her language) and wait for him to do so as well.

 One day, she did just that while cleaning the floor of a veranda.  “ Chrząszcz.” It took a second to register. Was that really a word? “ Chrząszcz,” she repeated, staring at him. Right, he had to reply, otherwise she’d never stop. “ A beetle.” 

Later that day, he tried to pronounce the word. He couldn’t do it. Actually, he started thinking that she was making it all up. 

That, however, changed once he heard her sing. Unaware of his presence, she continued working, the song filling the air: “Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem Wielki żal ogarnął mnie Po policzkach łzy spłynęły Zrozumiałem wtedy, że Czarny chleb i czarna kawa Opętani samotnością Myślą swą szukają szczęścia Które zwie się wolnością”

To his delight, she started speaking broken Japanese within a couple of months of her stay at Azuchi. Finally, he could satiate his curiosity - or at least he planned to. 

She went out to do the shopping in the afternoon, but didn’t return after the dusk. Thinking something bad must have happened to her, Nobunaga issued a search. Masamune volunteered to lead it. 

She woke up with a start, her head throbbing. She looked around - where was she? It seemed to be a tiny hut of sorts. She got up, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside through the crack in the door. A man was guarding it. Did she hear a river? Whinny of horses? She had to escape - she search for cracks in the walls, until she found one. She recognized that armour. They were looking for her! She had to make some noise! 

She yanked at the door, but it didn’t want to give out. She banged at it with her fists, yelling: “ Tutaj! Ratunku!”

The kidnapper didn’t understand the weird language, so he didn’t react at first. However, once the heard the approaching horses, he decided he had to silence her. He got inside the hut and gripped her by the wrists, telling her to shut up.

To his surprise, she struggled against him, breaking free of his hold on her.

He pinned her arms to the wall of the hut, threatening to hurt her if she even squeaked.  “ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” she yelled, before headbutting him. 

Surprised, the man didn’t react instantly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she kicked him hard.

It didn’t exactly work, though. Infuriated, the man wanted to punch her - yet, he didn’t notice the rescue that had just arrived. Masamune stopped his fist in the air. 

Masamune didn’t see her in the couple of the following days, as they all worked to find out who was the person behind her kidnapping - and why was she even considered a target in the first place. 

When he finally met her, he was stunned. Her entire forearms were covered in bruises in the shade of deep purple, almost black. He lifted her hands up, saying: “ I’ll check you up for wounds. Wounds. Check. You.” To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled brightly. “ Boli, znaczy że żyje. Hurt mean alive.”

It dawned on him then - he never really saw her smile before. They were complete strangers, but he wanted to know more.

With the language barier in place, it wasn’t exactly an easy task. Granted, she could understand simple sentences - yet, it wasn’t enough. Masamune was up to the challenge and so, he asked her to teach him her language. 

Given the grammatical cases that influenced form of both nouns, adjectives and numerals, he soon started regretting his choice. The nouns had gender? Two future tenses? And what was up with all those ch-h, rz-ż, u-ó pairs that sounded exactly the same, but somehow weren’t interchangeable? Not to mention how some words seemed to consists exclusively of consonants. Rybołówstwo? -wstwo? 

“ Okay. Your turn.  Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć.” Masamune blinked fast.  “ It was the same word over and over again, right?” “ Nope. Maybe  w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie?”

It seemed she tried to torture him. Though, having her laugh, even if at him, made him feel warm. 

 One day, he was taking a stroll and heard her voice. This time, however, he understood the words she hummed to herself.  “ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, Dziwne ona ma maniery. Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “

“Where do you come from, if you sign about war like that?” he asked. “ Can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m mad.” “ Try it either way.” “ You see, future. But I can’t say wars aren’t a thing anymore. Sadly.”

After that, they spoke for a while. Apparently, her grandparents were both in partisan army. She grew up hearing their stories - or much rather, what little was said about the horrors of the war. What surprised him, though, was her request.

“ Will you teach me how to use a sword?” “ A sword? Why?” “ I can’t be helpless. I have to adapt.” “ That’s the spirit,” he laughed. 

She certainly was a curious creature, one with a will to survive. She was amusing... Although sometimes she did find a way to get on his nerves. 

“ I am NOT cute.” “ You are. You have lisp and can’t say “r” like little child that can’t speak good yet.”

Dictionary & Notes:

“ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” - “Are you all fucked in the damn head here?”, although not exactly. The Polish version doesn’t entail anything that could indicate any connection to psychological disorder or madness. Both “kurwa” and “pojebało”(pojebać) are swear words that would be translated to “fuck”. Recently those words lost a bit of their shocking effect, but if you ask me - you still don’t want your mother to hear you saying those. Under any circumstances. Direct translation would be “Are you all fucking fucked up here?”

“Chrząszcz” - a beetle. However, can we appreciate the nasal “ą” sound and the fact that it’s the only vowel in the entire word? Apparently, it’s hard to pronounce for foreigners :D 

“Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem /Wielki żal ogarnął mnie /Po policzkach łzy spłynęły /Zrozumiałem wtedy, że //Czarny chleb i czarna kawa /Opętani samotnością / Myślą swą szukają szczęścia /Które zwie się wolnością”  - lyrics from song, you can listen to it here. “ When I opened my eyes/ a grief overwhelmed me /Tears run down my cheeks/ Then I understood that // Black bread and black coffee / Possessed by loneliness / Keep searching with their thoughts for happiness/ name of which is freedom” (excuse the translation, I wrote it myself). I don’t listen much to Polish music, but this was somewhere around ever since I remember - I think many people would recognize it? Plus, the theme of freedom seems to be rather common one.

“ Tutaj! Ratunku!”  - “Here! Rescue me!”

“ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” - “ Fuck, kiss my nose.”; There’s another version of with, “pocałuj mnie w dupę” (kiss my ass). This one is more polite? Less crude? Either way, it means “I’m fed up with your bullshit.” Note: weźże is an verb derived from “weź” (to take) by adding a particle “że” at the end. Said particle indicated irritation and frustration. Construction weź + do something (weź idź na spacer - go on a walk!) is basically an order/ a request said with some level of irritation. 

“ Boli, znaczy że żyje. “ - “If it hurts, it’s alive.”/ “If you’re hurting, you’re alive.” ; that one isn’t exactly universal, but it was a huge one for me. I always heard it from my grandparents and aunts. 

Rybołówstwo - ... Fishing. When pronounced, it’s “rybołóstwo” - we still have a cluster of consonants here, but it’s easier to deal with. 

“ Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć. “ - “During the racing event the racing car got ahead of the racing car number six.”; tongue-twister If you were wondering,the adjectives are in bold. The crossed out word is the predicate of the sentence (the verb).

  w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie  - in Szczebrzeszyn a beetle can be heard from the reed; tongue-twister. 

“ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, /Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. /Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, /Dziwne ona ma maniery. /Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, /Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. /Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, /Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “ - song lyrics you can listen to here. Lao Che is a band that I think plenty of younger people interested in rock music will know. “One and two, one and two / The girls is named little war / Three and four, three and four / Strange are her manners / Five and six, five and six / She doesn’t want to eat ice-cream at all / Seven, eight, seven, eight/ She just keeps begging for bones.” ; All the songs from this particular album (Dzieciom - For Children; yes, it’s for adults that used to be children) are stylized to resemble a rhyme for children - at least in the lyrics and at first glance. 

A note: Japanese and Polish “r” are extremely different. Japanese “r” resembles Polish “l” sound a lot - and many children can’t pronounce “r” at first, exchanging it for the “l” sound. In other words, Masamune speaking Polish would have a really hard time due to his slight lisp... And he’d sound like a little child that tries, but fails. :) IT WOULD BE SO CUTE! 

When MC says her grandparents were in partisan army, she means they were part of AK - Armia Krajowa, during WWII. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I’ll let you decide for yourself. I don’t want to make this post any longer. 

“ Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. “ -  That’s basically how I’d show somebody another Polish saying “A puknij się w głowę” (Tap yourself on the head), which means “are you nuts”. 

O, yeah. I don’t know if you can find the translation of the entire lyrics online, but if you were curious... You know, hit me up. I can translate them.

... I got too excited.  Would you be mad if I wrote another one of those? I kinda want to... 

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my hc #im soo nervous all of the sudden #please dont hate those #and listen to those songs #they're good i swear

[idratherlivefreetofail]

Screenshots from 7 Years Of Jacksepticeye On Youtube! :’)

@therealjacksepticeye Seán I doubt you’ll see this post or if this caption ends up being super long that you’ll read it. But after watching this video I feel like just talking to you as genuinely and honesty as I can for a little bit. I just want to be myself in front of you as much as I can in this post. If you do take the time to read this I hope that I don’t come across badly to you at all. First off, god fucking damn it boy! What is with you almost making me cry these last 2 days????! You almost made me cry with the reply you left on the video post I wrote yesterday, then today in the Death Stranding video you made me almost cry because you said exactly what I needed to hear and now you’re making me super emotional over this video! What the hell Seán? What the hell? xD Okay in all seriousness though. You already know that I’m proud of you and happy for you for everything you’ve gained and how far you’ve come so I feel like I don’t need to say a whole lot more about that since I already said it in the post I wrote yesterday. But I hope that you know that you are deserving of all these good things in your life. That you are deserving of everything that you’ve gained even when you don’t feel good and it feels like another person did the amazing things that you’ve done. Remember that who you are is always enough. No matter how many times you make mistakes. No matter how many times you’ll fuck up in life. No matter what your brain makes you feel. You’re still are enough. Even the version of you 7 years ago who was sad, scared and lonely and just wanted to be heard was enough! You’ve made such a huge impact on millions of people all around the world who come from many different walks of life just by being a positive voice for them. Just by making them laugh and smile on a bad day. Just by saying something that they need to hear. Just by being you! I know that you probably already know all that but still. This is more just giving you a reassurance thing if you ever feel doubtful about yourself again. You mean a lot to so many people Seán. ...You mean so much to me. Seriously you do. In late March of 2020 it will be five years since I first discover you and your videos. Honestly Seán I don’t know who I’d be or where my life would be if I never discovered you. We’ve both changed so much since 2015. Back when I did first discover you though I was in one of the darkest places in my whole entire life. My anxiety and pessimistic thinking at the time was probably slowly killing me if I’m being honest. I wasn’t letting myself really enjoy anything because I was afraid of almost everything and I was mad at myself and because I was letting people’s negative opinions over things make me feel like a bad person for the things that I enjoyed too. I was always expecting the worst out of everything and everyone. I was forcing myself to not change at all. I fell into this deep depressing hole that I never thought I’d get myself out of. Then I started watching you and everything changed for the better. I was genuinely enjoying something without questioning why and just by your contagious positivity and really stupid jokes you broke this wall I was putting around myself. You inspired me and helped me find the strength I needed to finally change and to get myself out of this hole I put myself in. I realized that that I didn’t hate the world, people and most importantly myself. I learned important lessons that I needed to learn that have stuck with me even to this day and learned more about what I wanted from life and that was simply just to be happy with it. You helped me help myself Seán and I don’t think you’ll ever fully understand how much that means to me. Over these years you’ve made such huge impact on me and I see everything so much differently then I did back then because I’m a lot more optimistic. I feel like I’m a much better person because of everything I’ve learned and the influence you’ve had on me. This next thing I’m gonna say is probably gonna sound stupid and sappy as hell but I don’t care. In the back of my mind even on my worst days I thank God and the universe that I saw you in Mark’s FNAF 2 gmod video and for just being able to know of you. Let alone meeting you and having these small interactions on here or on other websites sometimes. I could never describe for the life of me how much everything you’ve given me or helped me learn has meant to me. :’) But don’t get wrong though I’m still not happy with my circumstances or where my life is. I still don’t know where I’m going or what I want to do with my life. That frustration and all that confusion has hit me extremely hard this year. I’ve realized how out of balance my life is and how tired I am of having to wait for things. I’m scared that I’m wasting my life away because I feel like I’m not making the most out of it... Plus this year I was dealing with bullshit with my health insurance that I ended up losing it for a few months. I couldn’t see my therapist and I had to go completely cold turkey off of my anxiety medicine. My anxiety has been awful this year and because it’s been so bad I slipped back into old bad habits from that dark time that I thought I’d let go of. I was feeling like a bad person for the things I enjoyed because of other people’s negative opinions over them and I was questioning why I was enjoying or was passionate about certain things. ...I’m scared to admit this to you and tell you this. But speaking as honestly as I can to you. One of the biggest things I was questioning was you. Not because of anything you really said or did it was just because during August and September especially something about you and your videos during that time felt off to me. Plus I just felt off about everything in my life and also because my anxiety can be a huge bitch to me on my worst days. But I was doubting this connection I’ve always felt towards you even before I ever saw you in a video. I was questioning why I was taking time out of my day to make posts about you and your videos because I felt like it was pathetic of me. Plus it didn’t help that I was sinking into this doubtful mentality when there was a ton of hate and gossip being said about you too. Not that I ever believed anything that was said it’s just that my anxiety was making me second guess my feelings and thoughts. Basically being like “Well you don’t really know him, how do you know he really is a good person?” But then you’d do something that proves me wrong or I just think more clearly later. Then all the drama that went down about the editor and honestly Sean that was the only situation in these last few months that made me really question you. Before I knew the full context of the situation I just assumed the worst which I shouldn’t have and honestly it was the first and one the only times you ever disappointed me and it made me loose a little bit of faith in you. Which I hate even saying because I don’t feel that way now and the last thing I want to do is make you anxious. But it’s the truth and I’d rather be honest about it with you. That’s why I’m happy that you talked about it and ever since you did I’ve gained all that faith back in you. The videos you’ve been uploading recently are the most fun I’ve had with your videos in months because it feels like you’re being more of yourself in your videos again. Not that I wasn’t enjoying anything before it’s just that everything I’ve went through with my anxiety this year was making me feel off about everything. But now I’m back on my insurance, I’m seeing my therapist again, I’m back on my medicine and have readjusted to being back on it too. I’m not questioning you anymore because a lot of things you’ve said and done recently have given me so much faith back in you and it’s really reassured me about my stupid doubts and how I feel. It’s all made me realize how happy I am to even just know of you and it’s reminded me of why I still respect and admire you and why you mean so much to me. I really do believe that you’re trying to take the community and the channel in a better direction for 2020 and I think that this video especially is proof of that. I feel disappointed in myself for letting my anxiety get the better of me and me just assuming the worst before I even knew the whole context. I guess the point I’m trying to make is that we’re both human and we both fuck up. What matters is how we handle those mistakes and to learn from them and be honest about them. No one is perfect by any means and I don’t ever expect you to be perfect. I expect you to be you. To try your best and to be the best person that you feel you can be. Which I think you’ve done a great job with. :) We’ve both have had ups and downs over the years Seán. We’ve both changed and grown as people. But no matter what happens in our lives or how things change or the mistakes we make along the way. I hope that we both can grow, change and learn and to take on this crazy adventure called life together in own ways. Let’s keep on living and changing Seán-Boy! :D   Congratulations on 7 years and for 23 million subscribers! ^_^

-Vannessa

#Jacksepticeye #therealjacksepticeye #JSE #SepticShots

[indigosandviolets]

Zim-Zam, Goddamn, We’re Easy Company

Pairing : Joseph Liebgott x OC x George Luz

Summary : Andrew Marin knew that Airborne school would be hell, and he knew that he wouldn’t fit in, but there just happens to be two men there to make it a little more tolerable.

Word Count : 1990

Special thanks to @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz for the script of Currahee! I wouldn’t have been able to get this part on if it wasn’t for that script.

Part One if We Happy Few

Camp Toccoa

The sweat dripped down into Andrew’s eyes as he stood under the sun, in line with the rest of the men of Easy Company. He stood at attention as Lieutenant Sobel found anything he could on the men to get their Weekend Passes revoked. A Weekend Pass could mean anything to an enlistee, and Sobel was intent on ripping it away to “teach them a thing or two”. Like it earned Sobel the respect of his men. Andrew wouldn’t be the first to tell you that this tactic didn’t work.

It came to be Andrew’s turn for berating, and he was not excited.

“Name.”

“Andrew Marin, sir.”

“Private Marin.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are your boots covered in mud?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“Are you not ordered to keep everything clean?”

Andrew’s boots weren’t the only thing keeping him from godliness, but he wasn’t going to be the one to tell Sobel that. “I was, sir.”

“So why aren’t they clean, Private?”

“No excuse, sir.”

“You disobeyed direct orders, Private. I’d ought to write you up. Weekend Pass revoked.”

Sobel moved onto the next soldier and Andrew let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Andrew wasn’t too upset about losing his Weekend Pass. He didn’t have anywhere he wanted to go. His friends had already had theirs revoked, and those who hadn’t would inevitably lose them before the hour was out.

Some of the infractions the men had on them were absolutely ridiculous. They were singled out for having something that wasn’t contraband or because they grabbed the wrong canteen or something that wasn’t up to Sobel’s personal standards. If Sobel didn’t like it, you clearly weren’t fit to be a soldier.

“Name.”

“Liebgott, Joseph D., sir.”

Sobel reaches for Liebgott’s bayonet and examines it. “Rusty bayonet, Liebgott. You wanna kill Germans?”

Sobel knew that answer. Everyone wanted to kill the Germans. “Yes, sir.”

Sobel hits Liebgott over the head with his bayonet. “Not with this.”

Instead of returning the bayonet to Liebgott, Sobel held it up over his head to show the company. “I wouldn’t take this rusty piece of shit to war, and I will not take you to war I your condition. Now thanks to these men and their infractions, every man in the company who had a weekend pass has lost it. Change into your PT gear, we’re running Currahee.”

Currahee. Fucking Curahee. If there was ever a way to make a Company hate their CO, it was Currahee. Run up the three miles, run back down in the allotted time. You go over, you do it again, and again, and again until Sobel decides you’ve either had enough or he’s too disappointed in you to go on.

Andrew had to run Currahee twice in one night. He had tripped on the way up and screwed up his time, so Sobel had him run double. Worst night of Airborne School so far. His chest hurt like hell for days after that night, but he never let it show. He couldn’t. Not now.

“Marin!” a voice shouted from behind Andrew. He turned to see George Luz, a good friend and one of the best parts of Easy Company.

“Hey, Luz,” Andrew says with a grin and he pulls his shirt over his chest.

“Still have to wear that posture stuff?”

“Yeah.” Posture stuff. What an excellent lie.

Luz looked down at Andrew’s boots. “Muddy boots make a muddy soldier, Marin!” He said in the most Sobel-like voice he could manage. Luz was always a fan of impressions. “Cleanliness is next to godliness.”

“Tell that to the dirt on your M-1.”

The walk to Currahee was a humiliating one. The men of the other companies would almost taunt Easy as they walked up to the mountain. Andrew happened to be by Liebgott on this occasion.

“Oh, Easy Company. ‘Ey while you’re runnin’, don’t worry, we’ll take your dames to the movies for ya.”

Dog Company. Classic.

“Yeah, good, they need some female company,” Liebgott says. Andrew laughs at it.

“Pretty sure there’s only two of us that have really got any women,” Andrew tells Liebgott.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t doubt it.”

Sobel was unrelenting on Currahee. When Muck tripped Sobel shouted for him to not be helped. Of course, Malarkey and Gordon helped anyway, because that’s what you do when you’re at the very least a decent human being.

Andrew suspects he got up the mountain in 20 minutes. His lungs burned and the sweat in his eyes stung to high heaven but he kept going. He had to.

~

The hour upon Currahee became days on that godforsaken mountain. Those days became weeks. Soon enough, Andrew found himself in the mess hall across from Luz with a plate of spaghetti in front of him. Well, what looked like spaghetti.

“What do ya think, Luz?” Andrew asks. “Fine Italian cooking if I’ve ever seen it.”

Luz put on a big grin. “Perfecto!” He says in a silly Italian accent. “

“Not too loud!” Andrew laughs at him. “You don’t want Guanere to kill you.”

Before Luz can reply, Sobel’s familiar whistle blows and the man himself marches up into the mess hall.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Andrew hears Liebgott mutter. It’s almost funny. Almost.

“All lectures are canceled! Easy Company is running up Currahee! Move! Move! Move!”

Andrew almost threw up. He really didn’t think he would make it to the top of that mountain without hunching over and vomiting himself inside out.

It was worse when Sobel started yelling, right in his face.

“Marin, your chest hurt? You look pale, Private! You’re gonna be sick! Sick men do not make Paratroopers! Get your ass off this mountain and go home!”

It was almost an incentive to get up the mountain. To do it out of spite. To show Sobel that Andrew really did have it, to show that unlike Sobel, he wasn’t scared. He had seen fear in Sobel’s eyes once, a fear that his men would be better than him, Andrew knew that. He just had to show that they all were.

Then, from beside him, Luz pipes up. “We pull upon the risers…”

Just like that, the men of Easy Company began their chant.

“We fall upon the grass,

We never land upon our feet, we always hit our ass,

Highty tighty, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?

Zim-Zam goddamn we’re the Airborne Infantry!

We pull upon the risers,

We fall upon the grass,

We never end upon our feet, we always hit our ass

Highty tighty, Christ Almighty, who the hell are we?

Zim-Zam goddamn we’re the Airborne Infantry!”

~

The showers that night were surprisingly empty for Andrew. He stripped down for the first time in what felt like forever. Without the “posture stuff”, as Luz had so affectionately called it, it was like Andrew could breathe again. His muscles ached as he slipped under the hot water, relaxing as he felt he could be totally alone.

The soap going over his body was a treat for Andrew, getting the caked dirt off his hands and the strange spaghetti sauce that someone had coughed up off of his back and the dried salt from his sweat off of his arms was a blessing.

Spaghetti. Andrew wondered if he could ever eat it again without wanting to vomit. He wondered if he could eat any food from the mess hall without thinking about that goddamned mess of spaghetti.

A few minutes under the spray of water was enough for Andrew to lose himself in the moment, to actually think about himself for once. He hadn’t written a letter to his parents except for the first week he was there, informing them of where he was and what he’d be doing. They weren’t too keen on the idea of him being in the military, jumping out of planes no less, but Andrew didn’t let that stop him. He’d gotten one letter from his brother, Albert, out in Chicago. It wasn’t all good news, as it was mainly about what was going on with him and his wife. The general outlook wasn’t great. His wife had cheated on him and he only found out when their daughter didn’t look like him at all. It was funny, but this was his Al, who was always insecure about everything, so it wasn’t supposed to be funny.

Al found out because him and his wife are very dark-haired. The baby was a ginger.

Andrew thought about how his plan didn’t really line up with his brother’s. Al was a real stand-up guy, who always knew what to say and what he wanted to do. Despite his insecurities, he fit in, he blended with the crowd. He moved out to Chicago, started a business, married a girl and got everything he wanted until very recently.

Andrew stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone seemed to know there was something off about him back home. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. He didn’t think he would make it that far. All he knew is that he didn’t want to be stuck with his parents forever. So, when the war started, he knew what he needed to do. It’s good pay, it’s respectable, he’s fighting for something he believes in. It’s good and he somehow manages to fit in with the guys, something he’s never been able to do.

Andrew gets out of the shower before anyone would’ve even realized he was there. He slipped his clothes back on, tied up his boots, but stopped in front of the mirror as he passed it. He almost couldn’t recognize himself. He’s not really sure if he wanted to.

His hair had become lighter from the sun and the freckles on his face began to become more prominent. He was still scrawny but he didn’t look like the wind could push him over anymore. His hands were now scuffed and his fingers became calloused, like the rest of the men’s. He hadn’t realized how hardened he had become. He supposed that all the men have become like this. Some of them were already hard, like Guanere and Martin. Others had hardened, like Winters. But there were some who Andrew couldn’t picture like that.

Like Luz. Luz wasn’t soft. Luz wasn’t hard. He was silly. He did impressions. He didn’t let Sobel get under his skin. He made fun of the Lieutenant. He was determined to get past Sobel and do what he wanted. He made jokes with Andrew.

Or Liebgott. Liebgott was more sarcastic but he had a perfect sense of humor. He was hard, but he had a real sense of humanity. He was always genuine, but always sassy. Liebgott, like Andrew, kind of stuck out. With his being Jewish and Andrew being Andrew, it made sense that two of them were good friends.

Luz and Liebgott. Liebgott and Luz. Andrew chuckled to himself. The two men he couldn’t really define in Easy Company and they both had ‘L’ names. Andrew stopped where he was. Luz and Liebgott. Thinking of the two made Andrew feel different. It wasn’t like that fun feeling around Muck and Penkala or that brotherly feeling around Bull and Martin. It was different. Safe. Comforting. It was nice.

Andrew knew it wouldn’t be good for him, but at least it was nice.

The barracks were quiet that night. All of the men were sore and didn’t want to deal with more than they had to. When Andrew had gotten back, Luz was fast asleep and most of the men were going in the same direction. Andrew found himself in his bed before long, a book in one hand and the other tucked up under his head. He wasn’t sure what time he fell asleep that night, but he knows that he didn’t get very far into chapter three.

~

tag list: @alienoresimagines

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#band of brothers #band of brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #joseph liebgott #george luz #herbert sobel #johnny martin #bull randleman #richard winters #lewis nixon #skip muck #alex penkala #dick winters #my writing #oc fic #trans male character