#the fox is fucking tumbling guys
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PERSONA AWAKENING!
— characters: akira kurusu
— pairs: akira kurusu x gender neutral reader.
— akechi doesn’t make a appearance here.
you were certain that your boyfriend and your friends were the infamous phantom thieves of heart. it was clear as day.
kamoshida’s accident was a clue that put you on edge, madarame just put you more on edge and the mafia that involved akira and your friends along with the president? those were such clues.
it didn’t go unnoticed from akira when he realized you were more quiet one day, you told him about your corrupted parents and wish the phantom thieves could help you.
it wasn’t a lie, your parents were corrupted and that day was the day your parents tried to cut your ties with your friends since they thought they were distracting you from your studies.
the timing was so right, he asked for their names, tomorrow your parents weren’t neglecting or pressuring you anymore.
it was a dead giveaway.
after that, you were sure they were the phantom thieves of heart, and the way it flew over peoples head was annoying you.
besides the timing of everything, the phantom thieves of heart was created based off of a rebellion in their heart that they locked away.
you were a hundred percent sure that the reason for these to “personas.” ( as you liked to call it ) to be created is by something that hurts them but they can’t do anything about it before something happens for them to unlock their rebellion.
you bit your nails, one thought swarming through your head; ‘how can you tell them that you know they were the phantom thieves?’ meet up with them? text them? call them?
no, those were stupid ideas, well, in your opinion.
akira watched you softly ramble underneath your breath with a soft smile, of course he couldn’t hear you but could muster a few words of ‘thieves.’ and ‘how.’
maybe catching them in the act could work? yeah, that sounded right. you didn’t care if you got in danger as long as you knew you were right, you didn’t like being wrong.
you sighed, the plan already set, you were scared, oh no doubt, you were gonna catch your boyfriend and your friends in the act, oh just imagine the scolding from akira.
you flopped down onto the cushioned seats with a tired sigh, akira wrapping a arm around you, “you good, treasure?” he asked making you nod with closed eyes.
“you guys are adorable.” ann cooed making you open one eye open, “i know right.” you and your cockiness always knew how to tease people.
ann rolled her eyes with a smile. the sudden chatter from the group decreased when you got up with your phone in your hand, eyes widened.
“i gotta go…” you excused yourself before hiding in the alleyway near léblanc, ‘ah shit, i can’t believe i’m doing this.’ you thought with panic fuelling your system.
you heard the door open with multiple shuffles, “okay, we don’t know what it’s gonna be like but we have to stay focused, got it?” you heard akira’s voice.
you smirked, ‘i was right.’
joker, skull, panther, fox, queen, oracle, noir and mona, the infamous phantom thieves that was shared among the internet, scattered around the news and the target for the governments.
“ready?” after that, a headache appeared and you felt like you were fucking flying as the scenery changed, you landed with a tumble and roll as you rubbed your legs.
‘those ballet classes actually came in handy.’ you thought before you took in the place you were in, it looked… aesthetically pleasing?
‘oh right! my plan!’ you stretched your limps before walking away from your hiding spots to see your friends, “oh, so i was right.” you announced making everybody whip their heads towards you.
“[name]!?” you heard makoto exclaim, it was obvious from their hair, “hi.” you waved with a small smile and a calm aura but you were fucking panic inside.
“we thought you left!” ann went into the conversation, “i mean, yeah, i kinda did but i came back.” you lied.
“how long have you had your suspicions?” yusuke asked while you shrugged, “kamoshida accident. it was really easy to piece not gonna lie.” you answered feeling smug.
your eyes landed on akira, your breath was knocked out of your lungs, my lord did your boyfriend look hot.
“it isn’t safe here.” he spoke while walking towards you, a hand grasping your shoulder, “i know it isn’t.” you retorted with an eye roll, “is this the cognitive world?” you raised any eyebrow at him, he’s eyes slightly widening.
“how do you know that?” you looked down at the voice to see a cat, “morgana?” you questioned while crouching to pat his head, “you look… kinda weird but cute at the same time.” an invisible arrow hit morgana.
“either way, what do you think my parents were studying?“ you sighed while standing back up, a hand on your waist, “you shouldn’t be here.” haru commented.
“i’m sorry but i just wanted to know if you guys were actually the phantom thieves of heart.”
“you could’ve told us!” ryuji said making you scoff, “i’m telling you know, aren’t i?” you snapped back with crossed up, “we have to take you back—“ “no.” you swatted akira’s hand away from you.
“i’m not leaving, i’m being stubborn and reckless i know but… just for a little, i wanna see everything. you have to explain everything to me.” you pleaded, jealousy tugging at your heart.
how can they be so carefree then you? how can they be so better then you? why can’t you be like them? they didn’t care about what people said about them so why should you?
you heard akira sigh, “fine but stay behind us.” you nodded while futaba and mona shared concerned looks.
you felt insecure and ashamed at yourself but why? it is because you put more pressure on them? because you were being stupid and refused to leave?
you clutched our into a fist until your knuckles turned white.
the place was decorated with a brownish white walls, designed with gold, white picture frames with pixelated photos nobody could figure out, red carpet, all of it looked like it was made out of a royal place.
but it sent out a not welcome aura.
it may be aesthetically pleasing but the pictures in the frames looked like it was following your every move, specifically your move.
the more you walked down the endless mansion the more it grew my unsettling and disturbing, ryuji groaned in not until frustration but from tiredness.
“how long have we been walking, man?” he whined with arms thrown up in the air, “yeah, it’s be like hours!” ann agreed while she held a hand on her head.
“this hallway is endless, and we haven’t even encountered a shadow.”
“yet.” a sadistic but a childish voice said from behind the wall they just rounded to continue the walk, “who’s there?” makoto questioned, everybody on guard, you being pushed behind akira.
it started off with a giggle before a full blown laugh came from the person, the scenery changing into a stage, the colours still there.
your eyes widened, it was the same stage you performed on when you were little, “the stage…” you muttered making mona look at you, “the stage what?” “it’s the same stage i was forced to perform on.”
and right on time, multiple shadows appeared from the seats and twisted their head towards the thieves, the red curtains pulling back revealing a bunch of shadow like figures with grins on their face.
soft music rolled in, the shadows rushing towards the thieves with the little amount of space they had, it was difficult to fight in this type of place, it really was.
the tight space was helping and after 50% of the shadows were gone, they disappeared whilst the show ended, “uh! you guys are so mean!” the same voice whined.
the scenery yet again changing into a grand entrance, two stairwells with white colouring and golden designs but the further it went up the darker it got.
and above those stairs, was you.
you were dressed in black and red, a red button up that puffed up at the collar and the sleeves it had a black bow tie with a red gem at the middle, a black vest that extended like a cape at the back, meeting at your knees, a red bow at the side, a gold chin hanging by too, black shorts with red outlining and black socks with boots.
“what the hell!?” you shouted in confusion seeing red eyes glare down at you, “you!” the glare hardened as the hand that was clutching onto the rails tightened.
“you pathetic excuse of me!“ the word’s didn’t effect you, how could it? it was right after all.
“[name] get behind me.” akira pushed you back as you had a staring contest with the other you, “boys! get them! leave the weak me alive.” you commanded as shadows emerged from the ground.
“whatever you do, don’t move from that spot.” akira demanded as you nodded but the way your body shaked, you knew at one point you had to move to do something.
you laughed at the sight, the sound of heavy breathing and fighting sounded like music to you but their eyes landed on the weak figure that had the head hung low.
“how can you call yourself strong when you can’t even defend yourself from your parents?” it taunted making you flinch at their words.
“i know how you feel, i know everything about you. you wish the people you envy died, you support others but yourself, you think you’re talentless, and you are.” it continued as you grasped your ears.
“and you wish you just disappeared from the world, erase yourself from people’s memories, you think that everything will be fine if you didn’t exist.”
“shut up! shut up!” memories rushed in as guilt hit your shoulder.
“you have a talent that i’m dying for!”
“so you’re saying that i have no talent?”
“shut up! don’t tell me how much something means to me and that i’ll regret it!”
“of course you get praised and appreciated, you have a talent that i’ll kill myself for.”
“leave me alone! stop telling me you know how i feel! you don’t know what it feels like to have something you’ve dreamed of being ripped from you!”
the thieves heard everything, the paintings were your work, the stage was what you got forced to do, the trophies became hollow to you and the shadows were your thoughts and people that told you to give up your dreams.
you watched from on-top with a smile, it watched you suffer who had a strained smile.
“this… this isn’t what i wanted to be! i’m sick and tired of people telling me on what i should do and who i should be! i’m tired of it!” you exclaimed.
akira tried to rush over to you but mona stopped him, “wait for it…” he trailed off before he heard you scream in pain, your hands clutching your head and your eyes yellow.
“well, well, took you long enough. i’ve wonder how long you could take their words without doing anything. you always follow peoples orders but after everything you do for them, they don’t repay you.” a sadistic and childish voice said.
your body feeling nothing but pain as the voice continued.
“will you continue following them and ignore the power you hold on them? will you continue to be the person everybody wanted you to be and never experience the true you? or will you accept this offering and turn the game around?”
“i… i want everything to end…” you heard it chuckle, “then our contract is sealed. i am thou, thou art i. let us turn the game around and finish it.” you dragged your finger across the mask that appeared on your face before you ripped it off, blood dripping.
“i hear you… phantasm!” your persona that resembled not only a thief but a magician, was infested with black and red as its signature, a scythe hanging on its back, their face covered with a mask even though nothing was there.
blue flames surround you as your persona and you stood strong with a new outfit.
the outfit was a black button up with a black tie that had a red gem in the middle, a black coat that slightly puffed up at the end of the sleeves and split into three parts at the end ( kinda like sumire’s coat )
black shorts that had a fencing sword at the side, silky red gloves that had a tie around the wrist part and red fishnets that was wrinkled at the end of the gloves, and finally black boots that had a ribbon on the right leg that was attached to boot.
akira wasn’t gonna lie but your outfit kinda matched his, hashtag couple goals.
“stay focus! we aren’t done yet!” futaba pointed out as akira watched you gracefully work with your persona and the sword you were equipped but not only that, you were equipped with firearms.
with your ballet classes and fencing classes, they honestly went well together, the way you slid across the floor to take down another shadow was memorizing.
“damnit! damnit! damnit! you want me to be the bad guy!? fine, i’ll be the bad guy!” you ripped off the eyepatch they had as the monster they turned into was a fucking disturbing thing i can’t even explain.
“[name]!” you whipped your head backwards as a you heard something zip near your ear as it revealed to be rope that attached itself to the wall. you jumped as akira pulled you up by the waist making you wrap your arms around his neck.
“what a charmer.” akira’s eyes made eye contact with yours as his lips twitched, “only for the best.” he teased, the two of you hopping onto the ground to regroup with the others.
“nice look, [name]!” ann commented making you chuckle, “thank you.” oh, did i mention that your mask is literally a reverted version of akira’s but with a rose at the side.
“we aren’t finished yet. stay sharp.” akira commanded while everybody’s guards were up, “i hate being the one losing! so i won’t lose this time!” you winced.
akira ripped of his mask, “arsene!”
you dropped to your knees with a sigh, “is this the after feeling?” you questioned while akira helped you up, “yeah.” he answered with a small grin, “oh jeez.”
“you did well, [name]!” morgana praised, “oh, right, you can talk.” you mumbled, feeling drained as you leaned onto akira for support.
“i’m taking [name] upstairs to rest, try not to make so much noise.”
#your heart has been stolen! : 💌#persona 5#persona 5 x reader#persona 5 x gender neutral reader#akira kurusu#ren amamiya#morgana#ryuji sakamoto#ann takamaki#yusuke kitawaga#makoto nijima#haru okumaru#akira kurusu x reader#akira kurusu x gender neutral reader#ren amamiya x reader#ren amamiya x gender neutral reader
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oooof i neeed long and angsty preferably newer ones like i need to entertain myself for a bit <3 it's okay either incomplete or complete works!
Well, friend, what kind of angst are you looking for? Heavy angst, mild angst, emotional/physical angst, angst with a happy ending? This fandom delights in angst! I think we’ve probably got a bit of everything here for you, even if it isn’t all brand new, including some excellent fics for other pairings than Andreil. Take your pick! - S
A small selection from previous posts:
Long angsty Andreil here
Long dark Andreil here
‘Oakland’ and ‘Lifeline’ here (since updated)
‘Birds of a Feather’ (recently updated), ‘Innominate’ (since updated) and ‘Die Free or Die a Failure’ (now complete) here
‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here
‘Stranger To Stay’ (since updated) here
‘Inked Truths’ series here
‘Joseph’ series here
‘not your homeland anymore’ here
‘North Star’ (now complete) here
‘L’Amour parle en fleurs’ here
‘Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner’ here
‘I Will Always Choose You’ (now complete) and ‘Comeback’ here
‘Not Damsels, Not Knights’ here
‘Make A Believer Out Of Me’ here
‘Pause and Restart My Heart’ series here
‘The Bones of You’ here
‘Back to the Start’ here
‘Sixteen hours’ (jerejean) here
‘Aurora’ (jerejean) here (part 1 of Rhapsody: Exile series - part 2 is also complete, part 3 in progress)
‘The Heart and the Knife’ (Matt/Aaron) here
Purely in order of (currently) longest to shortest:
Deals With Devils by ToadlilyAUs [Rated M, 142394 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
Neil is on the run with his mother for three years before his father catches up to them. And after finally being handed off to The Ravens his life is never the same.
After three more years of brutal training and abuse at the hands of Riko and Tetsuji, his life is changed yet again on the day Kevin Day runs away to the foxes, leaving him and Jean Moreau behind to suffer the consequences.
Six more heinous months after that, in the summer before his long promised debut, he's finally allowed to leave the nest...but he's still anything but free.
As the list of friends and allies grows, so too does his list of problems. How much of himself is he willing to give away to keep the people who matter to him safe? And how many lies and secrets can he stack on top of one another before his house of cards comes crumbling down?
tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: blood/gore
don't break the glass by cracklingamber [Rated E, 103707 words, complete, 2023]
Part 1 of the glass series
“Who even are you?” Neil blinked at him with those perfect, blue eyes.
Andrew became very aware of Neil’s weight at that moment and dropped him. Neil bounced back on the bed and yelped.
“I’m the guy who is going to go take a shower and you’re the guy who is going to wait patiently for Kevin to come tend to your needs,” Andrew said. He gestured down to Neil’s blanket covered body. “Whatever this is, is above my pay grade.”
[AFTG Crime AU that takes place in Baltimore where the Foxes and Raven's are opposing gangs. Neil escapes the Nest and falls for Andrew, but Riko will do anything to get him back. Kevin and Aaron tumble headlong into a secret relationship and Jeremy Knox fixes a very broken Jean Moreau.]
tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced drug use, tw: explicit sexual content
NB: fanart by by @/masslowart on instagram
Not Yours To Bleed by Coffeexandxangst [Rated E, 90858 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
The Pros were never in the cards. Not for an ex-medicated alleged psychotic with a dysfunctional family and an Exy career he’d rather not have. But even if it wasn't his first choice, no matter what happens, it can’t possibly be worse than that one fucked up sophomore year when he stood toe to toe with the Yakuza-and won.
At least, that’s what Andrew thinks until a familiar face shows up.
Another Raven!Neil AU. Or, the one where the boys don’t meet until the Pros.
tw: rape/noncon, tw: violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: eating disorders, tw: torture, tw: nightmares
I can feel you under my skin by ConventionalExy (Conventionals) [Rated E, 82619 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]
Part 5 of the Our body series, part 1 here; part 3 here
Neil's second year brings changes. Things slow down and continue softer than they have ever been in his life, Andrew's at his side and they are working on being able to not be together 24/7, he can play Exy to his heart's content, he has a home, a family, a soulmate.
He also has Jack and Sheena getting on his nerves, papers to write, Aaron's trial coming closer with each passing day, paranoid habits to break, ghosts to fight when he closes his eyes at night and real-people things to consider like bank accounts and taxes and so. much. more.
He also has Andrew, their roof, their bond, their kisses, their touches and the promise of a future that is theirs, to grow and play and live.
But things are never that easy for Neil Josten, are they?
tw: violence, tw: depression, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: suicide attempt, tw: kidnapping, tw: torture, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: nightmares
turn out the lights by cielalune [Rated M, 70349 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
Part 1 of the dark side of the moon series
"What do you think it means to be alive, Andrew?”
“What?”
"To be alive. Is it just to eat and breathe? Just survive? Because that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life, Andrew, and it doesn’t feel like enough. But I don’t know how to do more. We’re supposed to find meaning or something, right?”
See: stupid fucking questions. Like Andrew hadn’t been wondering the same thing his whole life. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”
A The Last of Us AU of AFTG. Set five years after the breakout of Cordyceps, Andrew is tasked with bringing an enigma of a man across the country, who also may just happen to be the cure for humankind.
tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: minor character death, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: body horror
The Sun Still Rises by mordax [Rated E, 66087 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
Somewhere on the road, Mary Hatford gets pregnant with her second child. When she passes, she leaves behind not only Neil, but his toddler brother. Survival is difficult without also raising a kid. Worn out and desperate, Neil still somehow ends up at Palmetto, only this time, he brings his four-year-old brother with him.
tw: violence, tw: anxiety, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced child abuse,
NB: find fanart for this fic by @elidanus on Twitter here
I No Longer Feel Things (I Know I Should) by Major_816 [Not Rated, 59095 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2023]
Part 2 of the Paralyzed series, part 1 here
Neil's back in Palmetto with the Foxes' triumph over the Raven's, time to see how much damage has been done.
~
“Yes.”
He didn’t remember the car ride back. Were they back? He was in a car. Yes.
He remembered bits. Things scattered, Remembered-
Eighty percent.
A bullet.
Blood splatter and Riko’s expression. Watched until eyes fogged over with death. Did he watch that long? Must have. His mother used to say-
He blinked.
~
The long-awaited Scared to Live sequel
tw: abuse, tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: anxiety attacks, tw: eating disorders
Longing Distance by F_C_B [Not Rated, 57545 words, complete, 2023]
Post-canon short thought experiment.
Andrew moves away to join his new team, Neil stays in Palmetto. How will being suddenly separated affect their relationship?
Andrew's POV.
Not Nora-note/canon accurate and might break your heart if you let it.
tw: depression, tw: major character injury
Broken Symmetries by puddlejumper99 [Rated M, 53648 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2023]
Reasons Neil had Died
He cried too much as a baby, and his father made him stop
He cried too much as a baby, and his mother tried to muffle the sound, and in her terror she silenced him for good
His father wanted to hurt someone, and Neil was nearby
The runners came for his mother, and they found him instead
His mother hid him in a shack and left him alone as the heat soared
They tried to run, and his father caught them
They tried to run, and the runners caught them
They ran, and they ran, and they ran, and they were still running and it didn’t matter, because his father would not stop, and he picked them off in one world after another until there was nowhere left to hide
Reasons Neil had Lived
He didn’t know, but there were eight
tw: violence, tw: torture, tw: temporary character death, tw: injuries
No More Fucks To Give by Wrotethis [Rated T, 53269 words, incomplete, last updated March 2023]
Neil rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. He’d get to play exy, eat regularly, and sleep somewhere with heating- presumably. Not a bad way to spend his last months. And hey, maybe his mother would come back from the dead and kill him herself if he went to Palmetto. Little victories.
What if Neil gave up completely on making it through the year when he went to palmetto? What if Neil just did not give a single fuck? Maybe things would turn out better.
tw: violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced eating disorders
If Only I Were Enough by Lostintheuniverseslies [Rated M, 33189 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
After Andrew moves to Colorado to start his professional Exy career, he intends on everything being okay between him and Neil. But when his self-destructive tendencies tell him that he doesn't need Neil Josten in his life, everything goes to shit.
Things between them seem unrepairable and he's not so sure he wants to even try. But when Neil gets into a dangerous car wreck, Andrew finds himself back at the junkie's side with a deadline to fix things or walk away forever.
tw: depression, tw: violence
Already Gone by Nina_reads1804 [Rated M, 31856 words, incomplete, last updated June 2023]
Neil was the pervasive lie Andrew had foolishly allowed himself to indulge and been unable to shake. A person who would stay? Fairytale. It wouldn’t last.
Forevers didn’t exist for him.
With graduation on the horizon, Andrew makes the hard decision to leave Neil before Neil can leave him. But after a year, Andrew starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. Maybe he can have it all.
tw: depression, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced self harm
Sometimes I Think the Way We Met Happened Too Fast by andrewiel [Rated E, 25094 words, incomplete, last updated April 2023]
Neil and Andrew break up, but can never stay far apart.
tw: explicit sexual content
#fic#Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard#universe: canon divergent#universe: post canon#au: no exy#au: soulmates#au: siblings#au: raven!neil#au: criminals#au: science fiction#au: The Last Of Us#au: The Space Between Worlds#theme: angst with a happy ending#theme: road trips#theme: break up & make up#tw: violence#tw: suicide#tw: rape/noncon#tw: abuse#tw: torture#tw: body horror#tw: kidnapping#tw: ptsd#tw: anxiety#tw: panic attacks#tw: dissociation#tw: self harm#tw: depression#tw: eating disorders
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Sorry english isnt my first language, anyways hope you enjoy:]
Arctic bunny/rabbit!141 with fox reader, with the boys wanting to 'fuck like rabbits' with reader of course and reader snarling, growling and hissing whenever they get too close.
God and soap and gaz especially being touchy, with them being the youngest, urghhh:(((
Gaz especially likes being near you, like touching, holding and grabbing at the readers arms and waist and getting really close when talking with reader, like almost just whispering all close to readers face.
And soap who, basically the moment he laid eyes on you, just completly fell for you. Like i stand by him being super whiny and its really bad when readers near. And even worse when gaz is there because reader has to focus on gaz and his wandering hands.
Oh And the poor captain and liutenant, i think that gaz and soaps rooms are right in between price and ghosts, so the poor older guys have to smell the two younger jerking off. And its really Bad after training weekends or long days in the sun when the reader has been sweating alot and everyone has been riled up but cant go to you because predators have different sleeping quarters then 'prey'.
And when the reader and 141 have to go on a mission somewhere cold and the boys showing off how little clothes/gear they need on because they can handle the cold weather.
And then while scouting the reader encounters an enemy and they get into close combat and tumble into a stream or lake and get all wet and reader comes back to the boys wet, bruised and freezing. And gaz running right up to reader before they faint from the cold and catching them.
And reader waking up stuffed into several sleeping bags both their own and the boys' (who have lighter sleeping bags because they can handle the cold) infront of fireplace in the little hut they were staying in for the mission.
And maybe before reader fainted they got to mention the enemy, so when price comes back a little later he is pissed that his favorite predator got hurt and had been gone to Check the area and 'blow off some steam' iykwim.
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I think that drunk anon had the most justified and cohesive takes of the night lmao.
I really dislike how so often fandom spaces fall into this trap of "if you post about liking this character without a thousand disclaimers about how you don't actually agree with their views/actions then you're a bad person and all of your opinions are invalid". Like I just wanna call Shiv babygirl and silly rabbit, it's not that serious (not to say that there shouldn't be critical discussions about this show! idk what I'm even trying to say anymore, sorry, I'm very sleepy and have lost the plot.)
Anyway can't wait for the funeral :) I hope Logan falls out of his coffin and it gets filmed and airs on CornCob TV's hit show Coffin Flop
LMAOOOO drunk anon supremacy literally
but yeah like it’s very frustrating sometimes that we can’t work from just like a baseline level of They Are All Bad People We Know This. but then there are people who are literally out here saying shiv is the last pillar of democracy and leftist beliefs in waystar…like….if she really was that, she wouldn’t be spending her life trying to run fox news LOL. there’s just so much to be said ab this show but we get mired in the same mind numbing discourse 24/7 like aren’t we past this? can’t we talk about the actually interesting parts of the show?
like idk for instance roman’s relationship w femininity and misogyny is absolutely FASCINATING and there’s soooo much to unpack there but the second you try to talk about it you get hate anons saying like Um Roman’s A Fascist Why Are You Calling Him A Girl . Also Shiv Is The Only One Who Is Affected By Misogyny like okay i get it you’ve never read a single piece of feminist critical theory but a) roman’s attraction to fascism is heavily rooted in his relationship to gender and specifically masculinity and it’s ridiculous to talk ab roman + fascism without mentioning it b) you can’t understand logan’s disgust of roman without understanding that roman demonstrates classically “feminine” characteristics (ie emotionality empathy neediness etc) c) literally everyone is affected by misogyny it’s the ground we walk on and the air we breathe it’s in our fucking DNA lolol she’s just the only one to experience sexism etc etc etc.
ANYWAYS sorry for the sidebar but i’m just using that as an example of how, like, surface level people’s understandings of succession often tend to be, and it’s so bizarre bc it ends up criticizing posts clearly made in jest (“give shiv a gun” does not mean the poster thinks she’s a good person LOL just fuck that guy for calling her hysterical) as well as posts attempting to do deeper analysis and actually say things about the show that aren’t, like, immediately obvious from succession’s very premise. like no shit these rich people are bad people yet they are still people. it’s season four. we have two episodes left. we’re still on this???
also if logan roy does not tumble out of his coffin down a large hill ending up covered in leaves like a cartoon character then what’s even the fucking point.
#<3<3<3#funeral ep gonna be soooo good. the preview is terrifying. i cannot wait#succession#succession spoilers#sorry for the rambling i am HIGHLY caffeinated and running on fumes#used up all my coherence for today on the papers i’m writing so congrats you get incomprehensible ramblings of a madwoman#not even gonna read over any of this shit. brain not functioning. post#asks#anon#long post#casey shut the fuck up about roman roy
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CRYING WOLF FOR ASK GAME!!!! GIMME ALL THE INFORMATION!!!!
Okay I'm just gonna spam you with asks here so feel free to ignore them if it's too much <3
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (don't think I've forgotten about the post you made mentioning an alternate ending! 👀👀👀) 10, 11, 13, 14 and 15
Hope this isn't too much! (like I said feel free to ignore these if that's the case!)
I remember you mentioned something about making a lore post about stuff that didn't get put in the fic and maybe you could combine them? If you still feel like making it that is <3 (seriously I still love that fic so much!!!!)
Alright buckle up boys this is gonna get LONG. @voidpants since you sent me an ask with a couple of these in, I'll combine them here <3
This probably goes without saying but there are extreme spoilers for crying wolf below the cut
1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
My recent obsession with vivisection, dissection and cannibalism <33 I know I'm very good at falling into stereotypes and I'm your local transmasc butch unhealthily obsessed with cannibalism <33333
The noirpunk server did, in all honesty. I don't know what I'd do without you guys.
2: What scene did you first put down?
The very first scene! I write generally chronologically, unless there's something I'm raring to get down!
3: What’s your favorite line of narration?
He pulls back, unable to staunch the hysterical giggles building in his chest, and they tumble free like the intestines of a mutilated fox at the side of a road -- all bloody ropes thick with mucus.
I just like this comparison lol. A close second would be the line about Peter's organs being better to eat than the pigeon.
4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?
“Oh, I know you’re on the square, doll. I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me.”
I really love this line because I love blatant foreshadowing. But also because in the previous line, Hobie really wasn't lying (as is shown later on).
5: What part was hardest to write?
The scene directly before the first cannibalism scene. I'm never too sure how to draw it out and build the tension in the proper way and I'm not entirely too sure I managed it.
6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?
It's absolutely dripping with paranoia, a lot of what is drawn from my own paranoia (where are my insane babes at ik we're around here somewhere). And also it's one of my most violent fics. Didn't tend to write it before now but I'm really enjoying messing around with it now!
7: Where did the title come from?
I was brainstorming with myself after I told the people in the discord that I would try to write something approximating what we'd cooked up together and it took a while (probably about half an hour) before I hit on the story of the boy who cried wolf.
In this context, the boy crying wolf is Peter, whose spider senses are so fucked up that he tends to ignore them when he implicitly trusts people -- which means that when that person isn't in their right state of mind, he dismisses any notion that there might be something wrong.
Simultaneously, the crying wolf is Hobie, who is by far the more dangerous one of them, having been possessed by an actual murderous cannibalistic alien, but who is in much more denial about it. (Literally in the scene where he kills and eats Peter, he refuses to accept what's happened, whereas Peter just told him that it was going to be okay. Both of them are Fucked Up okay.)
Anyway this was a long-winded way of saying that it came from a children's story lol
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
Yeah!!! In the early days of the noirpunk discord server, we were chucking around the vague idea of symbiote Hobie, throwing out a few vignette scenes and pieces of dialogue, and it was so compelling to me that I said I'd take a crack at it, so here we are! Thanks guys!
9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
AHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHA
Yes. I have an alternate ending kicking around in my head at the moment that I'll probably start with once I'm finished with whumptober and another couple of things I've promised people I'll do </3 the adhd is real you guys
10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?
UM?? BECAUSE NOIRPUNK????????
Because this idea was thought up in the noirpunk server with noirpunk in mind and it would have been a disservice to write this pairing as anything other than noirpunk. And also I wanted to give Peter more cannibalism trauma. And at the moment noirpunk is the only thing keeping me sane (which I mean in a very real and worrying way. We ball.)
11: What do you like best about this fic?
I got to write cannibalism under the guise of love :>
Also very proud that I came up with the acronym for the D.O.R.M.A.N.T symbiotes
12: What do you like least about this fic?
Um. Am I allowed to say my writing. If not, then I know there are plotholes and pieces of lore about the worlds and the symbiotes that don't make sense. Consider: I wanted to write cannibalism.
13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?
I listened to a lot of Tunng, Troy Kingi and Arab Strap!!
Mostly from Tunng I was listening to a lot of their album Dead Club and out of those were my favourites of Eating the Dead, Man and also Woman (the last two of which are spoken word poems but I choose to treat them as music because they are <333)
Troy Kingi specifically Sleep (Slumber), First Take Strut, and No Reason to 2nd Guess M.G.
Arab Strap specifically The Turning of our Bones, Here Comes Comus! and The Fable of the Urban Fox.
Sleep (Slumber) was looped specifically for scenes where I needed them to be soft with each other. The Turning of our Bones was looped specifically for the cannibalism. Please watch the music video (don't if you're sensitive to gore) because it's actually one of my favourite things in the world.
14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?
HUNGER AS A METAPHOR FOR DEVOTION. or there might just be a parasite eating your brain lol
Just kidding. Hm. Sometimes we go through something in our lives that's horrific. And we're trying to process it and not getting anywhere because it's so huge that our brains can't wrap themselves around it. Most of the time, we start to convince ourselves that it's us at the core of the problem. Sometimes we are. But to peel back the layers and get to the actual center, there are almost always outside forces that influence us into certain behaviours/choices that we regret later. And that's part of being human!
I'm not saying that you have a parasite in your brain that's making you eat your romantically inclined partner. I'm saying that the love shown in crying wolf is a relatively equal balance of give and take. They try to be as their worlds have shown them that love is, they're unlearning some of the more detrimental things, they're learning and growing together. They take steps back from each other when they need to and try to navigate their situations as well as they can. Idk.
Forgiveness is probably one of the main themes here. Please be gentle with yourself. It's so so important that you are.
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
That I really enjoy writing cannibalism. And that I need to watch a hell of a lot of 30s nyc films and 70s london films because I STILL don't have their turns of phrases down and it's annoying me.
And to take the leap (haha itsv references). This fic was very overwhelming for me at first because I don't tend to write very fast-paced or violent stuff. But I really enjoy reading it and so I really wanted to write it! Even if it isn't that great, I had a blast writing it!
Thank you for sending this ask in!! It's been really good to look past the writing into the inner mechanics of what makes it tick! (And I promise that I'll have that lore post up sometime!! I have not forsaken you!)
Edit: just realised you skipped 12 in your request but in my defence I'm not wearing my glasses and sort of assumed you asked about everything whoops
#sorry about the lack of life on my writing fronts at the moment#life's thrown me a good few curveballs recently#i am but a small lad <3#esophagus speaks#ask game#ask answered#fiepige#voidpants#crying wolf#hobie brown#peter benjamin parker#noirpunk#atsv#on writing#behind the scenes with esophagus
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aew dynamite 11/16/22 liveblog containment zone
startin' today's show like 45 mins late (again)
claudio & danielson vs jericho & sammy
is this a tornado tag
bcc elbow time
oh it was just them being wild, this is a regular tag match
claudio is so strong. big lift
i still need to buy the ppv… the idea of telling my friends to wait until its on the crimesites to see max become aew champ is pretty funny though
itd be funny but theyd rip me limb from limb
danielson lookin good and doing cool moves. im not a danielsonsuperfan (he doesnt do anything for me) but i can appreciate the man
im glad he doesnt spraytan
classic Baseball Bat Move
sammy yelling at danielson again: "I hate you! i hate you so much"
sorry last time was so fucking funny. "i hate you you stupid dragon" LMAO
i love it when they do a forward roll into a tag. sometimes it feels so extraneous
bullying danielson…
claudio out here Tossing Guys around
oooo bowens vs swerve is up next
lmao i thought danielson was going to slam sammy into the cameraman. but no it was the corner post
slam slammy
danielson yes kicks!
sammy biting all match
cool lionsault by jericho
crowd sounds weird. are they just quiet or are the mics off
not that i blame them for not being hype for the nth bcc vs jas match
mesmerized by claudio spinning jericho...
woo the bcc win
video promo of moxley vs mjf
very cool. i liked moxley's evil laugh
my friends are crooning about their favorite special guy mjf now
commercial…
darby short film
darby being a black and weird film weirdo is a cool thing. too bad about the everything else tho
backstage with lethal's crew and jeff jarrett is here too
theyre hooting and hollering
bowens vs strickland
we getting raps
im hip and with the times and i understood the references to current events
oh its music video time!
lmfao
stokely used up their dick word allowance for the rest of the year. itll be bleeps from now on
that certainly was a rap. im nodding and clapping, max caster
my friends pining for visual confirmation of maxwell and caster being the same room together
we starting the actual match off with looney tunes shouldertapping
man bowens is good
so is swerve. i love watching swerve wrestle
throwing bowens right into the front row!!
cool pose swerve. thanks
oof. bloody lip
pushups…
aew fight forever game winning "best sports/racing game" at gamescom and i got confused and wondered why they put a racing segment in this wrestle game
yeowch that arm kick
swerve won! but did he kill bowen's shoulder… is there Lasting Effects...
video promo of jade vs nyla
i love the conflict between these two. tbs champion vs "tbs champion" is such a good bit. i hope nyla wins she is SO good on the mic and also funny.
if nyla loses i will go insane. what else is there for jade to do!
samoa joe! promo in the ring
ring of honor time
oh yeah he needs to explain himself for turning on wardlow huh
i mean its pretty cut and dry. hes a serious tough guy and doesnt take any guff. why would he take guff from WARDLOW. hes SAMOA JOE
oh! its powerhouse hobbs
telling joe to get in line he's been kicking wardlow's ass this whole time!
oh now its wardlow's turn to come out
the classic sneak up from behind attack
lmao the locker room runs out to stop them! not even bothering with security when samoa joe, powerhouse hobbs, and wardlow is involved
wardlow slams all the security off him and the dark order are just like hmm actually go ahead we're not gonna stop you (this is good and i love the dark order)
whoa cool flip out of the ring by wardlow
commercial... 2!!
backstage promo by britt baker
oh she mad
doesnt baker have the uhhh owen hart championship thing? remember that? i forgot about it. it feels like its been a very long time since ive seen it
serious britt baker dmd promo itt. preddy good
top flight + ar fox vs death triangle
oh HELL Yes
im glad darius is back. im excited to see him wrestle!
death triangle has SUCH a cool and stylish intro
wow! arizona and san fran aew shows?
:)c wrestling
ar fox with the tumbling and rolls. hell yeah! hes smooth
his ringpost flip has such movement on it
pac just sits
and they fling him into the air for ar fox's attack! that was a cool bit!
death triangle triple team move on ar fox in retaliation
ah its pip time. everyone chill down
the commentators are goofing again
penta jumping off the corner to do his special move: Ultimate Taint Dropkick
the areola, or as taz likes to call it: the Dot on the Chest
whoa loud kickhit on ar fox from penta
the commentators are still being cheeky.
taz: if youre 23 years old-- nothing should be rusty! EVER!
top flight leapfrog moves :)c
whoa that dante-flip-over-darius-dive move was cool
i could barely perceive ar fox's insane top rope somersault
nooo theyre gonna make ar fox take the pin?? hes cool though! well… i guess someone has to
whoa rey fenix's insane tope
pac's special move: Big Spinny Flip. and a pin! they win!
whoa. whats pac on about. is he talking bout the bucks
oh! yep. its kenny and the bucks
i was JUST thinking about how theyve been holding the belts for kenny and the bucks, but doing a great job of it because their matches rule
oh!!!!!!!! theyre all having a match at full gear, not just a return! yay!!!!!!! the elite are back!!!
ethan page vs bandido
its ethan page! yay
im glad hes gettin a push. i think hes cute, charismatic, and good on the mic. its also funny that hes such a heel because hes so dang cute
bandido got a shiny aew logo on his tights
whoa. bandido also very strong. what a slow lift
even tony talking about bandido's big muscles. lmao
ethan page gettin the big boos
lmao the commentators having Height Talk
excalibur telling a despondent taz "if you stand on your wallet, you're taller than us both"
that was a cool bandido corner counter flip
hes got good moves
but loses in the end! ethan page time!
we want to see a stokely vs mjf promo so bad. theyre both good talkers
promo about the jurassic express cagematch
:0
backstage with saraya
saraya is tired chitchatting. she just wants to fight
commercial! 3
video promo of ortiz and kingston vs jun akiyama and konosuke takeshita!
im so excited for this match on friday :)c
toni storm vs anna jay
shame about the bunny gettin sick. i was really looking forward to that :(
oh anna is bein goofy. hee hee
someone in the crowd doing the longest yee haw ever
oh thats why the crowd sounds so weird. crowds are usually chanting, right? the absence of chanting is odd
wait there they are. toni! toni! toni! well, they tried.
ok even the commentary are bored by this match theyre out here talkin bout crowd signs during the pip
anna jay taps out to the texas cloverleaf!
what the. hayter is approaching!
toni bumps chests at her. cool
more match announcements
lee moriarty vs hook! athena vs madison rayne! lance archer vs ricky starks! the kingston/ortiz vs akiyama/takeshita match!
the full gear matches! aew champ, tag team champ, woman's champ, roh 4 way, tbs champ... darby n sting vs lethal and jarrett, britt baker vs saraya, samoa joe / wardlow / hobbs three way fight for that championship, trios match of death triangle vs the elite
in ring promo with jon moxley
huh! are they ending the show with a long promo, then? i dont think theres enough time for a match after
i wonder whats going to happen then... will there be shenanigans? conflict?? interruptions???
my friends just want to see their guy
who the hell is booing moxley in the crowd!!!!
moxley you really are the baddest bitch in all the lands. go moxley
"im messed up. im a sicko. i cant get enough of violence and fights. its not a good thing. im fucked up in the head"
loving the idea of moxley typing out "mjf" into google to do research
moxley got a point. mjf does not wrestle
CALL HIM OUT MOXLEY!!!!!! MJF IS A WRESTLER COSPLAYER
SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT MJF!!!
lot for him to live up to-- oh!! its stokely!!!
the firm is kicking moxley's ass
mjf is here :)c
oh my god he is so shaped. like dorito
mjf kills everyone in the firm. actually that seemed almost too easy huh
will? first name basis now huh? lol
"you can make me bleed buckets" oh? bloody mjf at the ppv? pwease? :)c
mjf is convincing me that he is sufficiently motivated for this belt
oh mjf is using that "convincing the world the devil doesnt exist" bit to cover for him not wrestling a lot
moxley takes the mic before mjf can finish his catchphrase
oh my god moxley pausing to ask if the ppv is on sunday or saturday LMAO moxley rules nobody would be able to get away with being so nonchalant
my friend pointed out at the end that mjf was wearing platforms... man's gotta be tall for the staredown
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♡ + any or all of the following... from x because it was getting too long
fenris:
Responsibility:
Fen was born with the world on his shoulders. Before he could even grasp his favorite rattle, he was handed more responsibility than anyone should ever have to hold. In Dvalinn's defense, he tried to protect his son from some of it. Where Fenris' mother was harsh, his father was gentle. Where his grandfather demanded more of him, his father gave him grace. He did this in hopes that if he could show his son gentleness and understanding, one day, when the world gave him more than he could chew and no one was there to help him, Fen could provide himself with those things and cope with the crushing responsibility placed on him.
Dvalinn never asked Fenris to look out for his sister. That was a responsibility he took up on his own. If anything, Fenris, in all his four-year-old wisdom, would almost get onto his father for letting her be too independent. When their father would sit back and allow her to work through a problem or pick herself up after tumbling out of a tree or falling off a horse, Fen would always butt in to say "help her daddy!" or "we ain't sposed to go up there" or "Mummi says we's too little!" He followed his sister around everywhere, sometimes to keep her out of trouble, and sometimes because he wanted to be roped into it.
I think if anything Dvalinn would have told Fen it wasn't his job to take care of his sister, but he couldn't bring himself to. He knew what it was likely going to be like for them after he was gone, and didn't think he had much of a right to tell them anything.
His father's death placed the first crown upon his head. He was a boy king, tasked with the wellbeing of an entire population of witches, and accountable for their success and their failures. In most verses he wasn't even ten when this was put upon him. What could he do? He was a child, isolated, abused, and frightened. His mother, though he often disagreed with her, had all the answers, and she wanted the control. He let her use him.
But inside of him something ugly was brewing---a consequence for being asked too much of at too young an age---a gnawing anxiety was becoming a desperate need for control. A fear of loss, as he had lost his father, was mutating in a vicious need to keep from losing anyone or anything ever again. His mother, oblivious, taught him to be ruthless thinking it would serve her purpose, and for a while it did, but eventually she forced him to make an impossible choice.
She tried to kill his sister. Misguided, difficult, stubborn, but his sister, and the person he loved most in the world. He watched as she refused food and water. He watched her lay in a bed without speaking or bathing, slowly rotting from the inside out, and he had to protect her. It was his job. His responsibility in life---to take care of his people. His pack.
He had his mother executed, and in doing so, he took control of the Fox Clan as well as the Wolves. Now even more people depended on him. He couldn't let them down. He couldn't let anyone down.
It didn't matter the cost. It was always his burden to pay it.
Socializing:
Fenris is very good as socializing on the face of things. He's a charming guy, if a little quiet, but he's certainly not shy. He's been painstakingly taught the art of small talk and pleasantries. But beyond that he has very little in the way of social skills. He doesn't make friends easily, and he doesn't really want to. He loves the people he loves incredibly deeply, and he knows how much it hurts to lose them. He's lost both mother and father, no matter how fucked their relationship or how young he was when they died, it left a deep scar on his psyche. He doesn't really want to care about anyone other than his family. So he keeps people at a distance.
This is a tangent and you didn't ask it, but I'm gonna say it anyway because it sort of goes with socializing.
Fenris cannot stand bullying. He's not a good guy. He's a massive prick who is not opposed to using fear to get what he wants... where he believes it matters. But childish teasing? Looking down on someone for their clothes or talking shit about their personal appearance? He fucking hates that shit. In our Harry Potter verse, he spends a lot of time avoiding the other Slytherins because he thinks they're immature. They're beneath him. They've not got proper manners. They don't know how to act.
And Fen will step in sometimes if he thinks people are going too far. Normally he steps in with his sister. That's probably where people see it first. Fenris is violent. He goes from the quiet, soft spoken guy in the back of the class content to observe, to a vicious fighter. And he's good at fighting. He's been taking sparring lessons since his father died. He's good at fighting with magic, and he's good at using his fists. After the first couple of instances where someone makes the very foolish mistake of fucking with his sister, he has a reputation among the students as someone to avoid, so when he steps between other students, they tend to lower their hackles, shut their mouths, and go about their way.
He "studies from home" several times during fifth year because I think if he didn't, he might actually have tried to attack Umbridge for what she did to those kids. They allow it because they think it has something to do with his position and responsibilities as the leader of two clans.
Visual:
Fen has splendid eyesight. Unlike Beck, he can do just random spells from books he reads because he can read, but he also does specialize in magic. He focuses on three things: protection spells, healing spells, and enhancement spells. That combination of things makes him deadly as an opponent. The enhancement spells work by making him stronger, faster, and more impervious to physical damage. By the time he's a teenager, his wolf form is as big as an SUV and it takes a pretty serious gun to wound him. These only get stronger as he gets older and more skilled and uses more blood sacrifice to fuel them. But they can effect other parts of him too. His sense of smell, his hearing, and his eyes.
In his wolf form it is much more automatic, because he does it more, but he can do this in his human form as well. He can see farther than a human, he can choose to see a broader spectrum of color, and with enough focus he can see spirits and magic itself move through the air.
Ancestors:
I don't know if he has any feelings on his ancestors that are his own. He has feelings about his mother and father because he knew them personally, and he doesn't feel like his grandparents count as "ancestors" because they're still alive.
In general, witches are taught to think very highly of their ancestors, especially their female ancestors. They descended from women who became witches through very painful and drawn out sacrifice that ended up saving their home. They call these first witches The Great Grandmothers of the Forest and if anyone wants to read more about them or The Cold Sowing that information can be found here. He is a direct descendant of two of those first witches, and that ancestral line is why he has his position---why his family leads their respective clans.
He respects them, but he doesn't really think about them or any of his ancestors. He's too concerned with the present to pay attention to those who are dead and gone.
But sort of a fun fact: He has the ancestral wand that has been passed down for thousands of years from those first witches. It is a tradition for a mother's wand to go to their firstborn son, and a father's to their daughter. So technically, both Beck and Fen have very old, very powerful wands that have been connected to their bloodline for thousands of years.
Delight:
Can he even feel delight at this point? Lol. But he is a pretty hard person to even crack a smile out of, better yet to delight. The closest he probably comes to this kind of a feeling is when he and Beck just get a second to actually spend time together that isn't weighed down by so much other bullshit. They do, quite genuinely get along like two peas in a pod, and they do love each other. There's just so much shit in the way of it. But on the odd chance they get a rare day when Fen doesn't have ten million extremely stressful things to get done and Beck isn't trying to get away for whatever reason, and they sit and talk to each other, it feels like they're kids again. They laugh and needle each other and tell inside jokes and gossip. Fen also has a deep love for the outdoors and cool leaves and random rocks and if he can just breathe for a second than he can almost feel like a person again---like a real brother again---and he can be happy. Maybe even delighted.
#I hate that so much of Fen is wrapped up in Beck#but like it really just is that way#he's very isolated#hcs;; fenris
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The Soldier and the Fox chapter 3: what happened?
The first thing I felt was pain. It radiated out from the back of my head and my left arm.
...ow....what happened?...
"You got hit in the head with a rubber bullet." The voice next to me startled me to full contentiousness.
I groaned and tried to sit up on, what I can now see, is a bed. I whimpered in pain from the pounding in my scull.
"Hey, take it easy." A hand grasped my uninjured arm and helped steady me. "You're lucky that the bullet bounced off a wall before it hit you."
"I don't feel very lucky right now." I responded, wincing from the light streaming from the lamp on a night stand by the bed. "Where am I?"
"My house, that hit knocked you out and I couldn't take you to the hospital." The hand on my arm started to move to my head. I jerked my head away not wanting him to make my head hurt worse.
"It's okay, I'm not gonna' hurt you man." The hand started to pull away.
"Sorry! I just-" I reached for his hand and looked up.
Wow. No wonder he wears a mask. He's gorgeous. I thought, taking in his sun kissed skin and the brown dreads tipped in blonde that tumbled over his broad shoulders. I admired how chiseled his jaw is, and howwarm his brown eyes looked. So dreamy....
"Just?"
"Huh?"
"Just what?" he moved his hand. Making me realize that I still hand his hand in my grasp while I was ogling him.
"Sorry!" I dropped his hand. "I- uh. I just, didn't want- ah, I mean-"
"Hey, calm down." He put his hands up in a placating manner. As if I was a frightened animal. "I shouldn't have touched you without asking."
"it's okay, just- ah, just give me a second. Okay?"
"Yeah"
He has such a nice voice.
I closed my eyes and took a breath. I could remember most of what happened. The protest, police, and when people were shot at. I recalled the moments before I was knocked out. I remember feeling strong arms holding me after everything had faded to black.
He must have carried me. Fuck. He cared me while running from cops and dogging bullets. God-damn he's hot.
I took another deep breath. Now is not the time to be drooling over him. He's sitting right there! while you're probably in his bed...
"Thank you. For making sure I got somewhere safe." I said, trying to distract myself from my thoughts. "I'm Fox"
"Fox" His voice was filled with much skepticism.
"My name really is Fox!" I turn to face him, pleading with him to believe me. "My parents acutely named me Fox! They're major hippys!"
"Okay, okay" his hands came up again. He chuckled to himself and said more to himself than to me "Man you sure do get worked up a lot for such a little guy."
"I'm not little." I say potting and crossing my arms gingerly. "You're just freakishly big."
"Is that so?" His voice dropped to a low rumble as he shifted closer to me.
"Yeah." I replied, my throat suddenly feeling very dry. I licked my lips and watched his eyes flicker towards them.
I felt heat creeping up my face.
"What's your name" I say, the words coming out in more of a whisper in the heavy atmosphere.
"What makes you think I'll tell you?" Came the Rumbling reply.
"Please?" The word escaping me in a quiet whimper.
His eyes flicker to my mouth again and I see his adam''s apple bob as he gulps. He looks at me like he's going to pounce. As I feel heat start building in my belly and spread lower I look back up at his eyes.
"Please? Tell me?" I ask, and bite the inside of my lip.
"Marc. My name is Marc."
"Marc." I test the name. "kiss me please, Marc?"
"Fuck." his hand cup my face as his lips crash into mine.
I moaned into his mouth as he moved to straddle me on the bed. His lips tasted like mint and coffee. The hands that have done so much violence treat me like glass. like I'm a fragile little thing.
I feel his tongue lick at my lips and I eagerly open my mouth to him. Wanting more of his intoxicating taste. Moaning I reach out my hands, wanting so desperately to touch. felling his muscled sides causing me to whine with need.
Marc brakes the kiss and move a had away from my face to kiss and suck down my neck.
"ah- yeah... mm-" I moan uncontrollably as he kisses down my neck and slides his hand down my back. Pulling me further into him. as he shifts his other hand back towards my neck he brushes the bandage.
"ow!" I yelp and jerk away from his hand.
"Fuck, are you okay?"
"Yeah." I manage to pant out. "You just- what, are you-?"
Marc moves off me cutting my attempt to reassure him.
"You're hurt. I shouldn't be taking advantage of you."
"You're not-"
"I'm going to get you some water and some food stay here." Marc says, cutting off my attempts assure him that he is definitely not taking advantage of me.
"But-"
"Stay."
And with that Marc closed the door behind him.
Well that was interesting.
I looked around the room I was in. Taking in the bed I was on with its dark gray sheets and comforter. I looked to my right and saw a light gray night stand with a black lamp on it. Next to that was a chair.
Marc must have been sitting in that while I was out. Making sure I didn't die from a possible concussion. I blushed at the thought, knowing that I seep talk.
I scanned the rest of the room seeing a window behind the chair and a bookcase filled with books in the corner just after the window. At the foot of the bed was a TV mounted onto the wall with a light gray dresser underneath. The two gray doors to my left stood out against the cream colored wall. The one further from the bed being the one Marc had gone through.
That door must be the bathroom. I thought, as I gingerly pulled the covers back. My first attempt to stand made the room spin. The second attempt being moderately more successful, as I made it off the bed.
It's only three steps. You can do this fox! I think as I slowly made my way toward the door.
I reached the door without falling. inside was indeed a bathroom. I used the toilet, washed my hand and splashed water on my face. I tried lifting my shirt to see if my bruised arm was any better for my unfortunate run in with a teargas canister. The pain being too much with trying to avoid irritating my arm as well as my head that I just gave up and went back into the bedroom to wait for Marc.
I didn't have to wait long before Marc came back with a sandwich on a clear plate and a glass of water.
"Here." He said walking around the bed to place the food in the nightstand. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. A little sore and icky from the protest but fine." I throw him a smile as I pick up the sandwich and take a bite.
"Good. That's good." He said, shuffling awkwardly. Not looking me in the face. "The police placed a curfew so you won't be able to leave tonight. you can have the bed I'll take the couch." he made a gesture towards the door. "So if you don't need anything-"
I cut him off remembering my injuries. "Wait! I need your help with something."
Marc straightened and finally looked at me. Face painted with concern at my pleading tone.
"I need to check and clean my arm but I can't take off my shirt by myself." I say motioning to my left arm and head.
Marc hesitates and I can see a slight color to his cheeks.
"Fox, i-"
"Please? I already tried and it hurt too much. Please?"
"Okay." Marc said, motioning towards the bathroom.
I walked slightly unsteadily into the bathroom and turned to Marc.
Standing in the small space with him reminded me that he is the tallest man I have ever seen.
I want to kiss him again. I think to my self
Marc leaned down to pull at the hem of my shirt. As he gently strips me of it I feel myself flush with want. After it's off I look up at Marc, bare chested and seeing him tower over me with a hungry look on his face, I decide I'm going to do everything I can to ensure this man knows just how much I appreciate him.
"Could you help me with my elbow and knee pads?" I ask looking up at Marc through my lashes and biting my lip.
"Yeah... Okay.." he breathes.
Marc unstraps my elbow pads and looks me in the eyes.
"Are you sure you want me to do this?" he says in a strained voice.
"yes, please. I trust you."
Marc groans softly and lowers into a crouch to undo my pants. He slowly pulls them down revealing my black boxer briefs my half hard cock straining the fabric.
"Fuck." he looks up at me unsure if he was the cause of my predicament.
I blushed unable to look him in the eyes (Even though I want him to fuck me more than anything.)
"Before, you said that you shouldn't take advantage of me?" I lick my lips and look down at Marc. "What if I want you to take advantage of me?"
Marc surges up grabbing me and placing me on the counter. Slotting himself between my legs and pressing hid arousal into mine. making me whimper.
"Are you sure? Because if you change your mind I might go insane." Marc practically begs me. Making me want him more.
"I'm sure. Please! I want you to fuck me."
Marc swore and kissed me with enthusiasm. Consuming me as he rolled his hips into mine.
I move my hands from in between us to Marc's back. Feeling the muscles ripple under my hands. Marc starts to roll his hips into mine and I throw my head back, overwhelmed with pleasure.
"Fuck, the things I want to do to you." Marc growled into my neck.
"Ah! Tell me?" I ask as I move my hands lower, and grab at his ass. Feeling the muscles ripple as he continues to roll his hips into mine.
"I want to fuck you. Ah, fill you up so good baby and pound you 'till you stop thinking."
"Ah, yes! what's stopping you? give it to me, Please!"
Strong hand grab me under my thighs and lift me. I kick off my pants as Marc effortlessly carries me to the bed. He laid me on the bed and quickly stripped himself of his shirt and pants. Drawing a whimper from me as I see he wasn't wearing underwear.
Marc pressed me down on the bed. Stopping as I winced. He opened his mouth, probably to tell me we should stop.
Thinking quick. I turn onto my stomach and lift my ass up.
"Fuck, baby." Marc growled at me as he draped himself over my back. his cock pressed against my ass. "you're so perfect."
"Please, Marc! I need you!" I beg, my mind clouded over with lust.
"Shh, I'm gonna take good care of you, baby boy." Marc whispers in my ear as I hear a rustling sound followed by the sound of a cap popping.
When Marc pulls off my underwear I spread my legs and arch my back.
I hear him take a sharp breath.
"You're gonna be the death of me Fox."
"Stop teasing me, please! I need- i-"
"Shh, I got you. I got you, baby." Marc whispers. Kissing my neck as he presses a finger into me. Moans and whimpers rolling nonstop from between my lips as I press back on into him.
"More." I beg, becoming less and less coherent the more turned on I become.
The cycle of begging and cursing going on until Marc had three fingers burred inside me. I protest as he pulls his fingers out.
Marc just chucked at me. "So needy, aren't you, Fox. Do you think you're ready to take me?"
"Yes... Marc, Please!" I beg half out of my mind with want.
Without warning Marc thrusts fully inside me. Tearing a scream of pleasure out of me that was so loud I almost missed the sexiest moan coming from Marc as he bottomed out inside me.
"Fuck, baby. Feels so good." Marc breaths into my shoulder and he grinds his hips in to mine.
"So full." I whimper. "Move, ah!" My pleading was cut short as Marc braces his left hand on the mattress grabbing my hip with the other.
I felt as though my mind had shattered as soon as Marc started to fuck me. He slammed punishingly into me while pulling me back to him. As Marc got rougher with me I moaned louder until I was practically screaming out his name.
"That's it, baby. come for me." Marc growled in my ear. "Cum for me Fox."
My orgasm cascaded through me in crashing waves leaving me wrung out and satisfied. In the midst of my orgasm I heard and felt Marc cum buried deep inside me.
I shifted and felt a new pain in my right shoulder.
"Fuck, I'm sorry. I bit you." Marc apologized kissing at the bite.
"It's okay. I don't mind when it's you." I mumble into a pillow. physically and emotionally exhausted.
" 'cmon, lets get you cleaned up." Marc said as he pulled out gently.
He then picked me up bridal style and proceeded to carry me to the bathroom.
We showered together, Marc doing most of the washing on both of us. He towelled us off and carried me back into the bed room, placing me onto the bed and turning.
"Don't leave, please?" I whispered with tears in my eyes, suddenly filled with sadness.
"I won't baby. I was just grabbing you some clothes." Marc says a hand brushing my cheek at the tears that haven't fallen yet.
"I don't need any. just you."
"Fox, baby. you have no idea what you do to me." Marc breathed out as he kissed my temple. "Get some sleep, there's another protest tomorrow and I want you to come with me."
I fell asleep cradled in strong arms, knowing that no mater what happens tomorrow, I have someone that isn't afraid to stand up for what he believes in and is strong enough to protect others.
-Fox
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andreil and goodbye kisses (pt. 8) ft. wymack (+ a bonus)
part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 || i'm actually feeling kinda sad that this is the last part but also my brain can't come up with more ideas lmao
wymack stands by the fact that he doesn't get paid enough to deal with andrew and neil's shit (both as separate idiots and together)
but he does care for all his foxes, despite all the... difficulties that surround them
and honestly? one of the biggest struggles he faces is how absolutely thick-headed and oblivious the foxes can be regarding andrew and neil's relationship
truly, the heart-eyes neil constantly gave andrew were so obvious, he's not sure how everyone missed them before
but because he's so observant, he doesn't fail to notice how the older foxes keep giving strange looks to neil whenever he leaves andrew's side now
wymack doesn't get in the way of his foxes' personal lives. but if they start causing disturbances on the court, it's his job as coach to get to the bottom of these issues
(okay, maybe he and dan catch up on the so-called "drama" in the team every few weeks but it's for completely exy-related business. ahem. of course)
one day, wymack corners neil and lets him know that he and dan were to meet in his office after practice to talk through some logistics for the winter banquet
neil agrees, and practice goes smoothly (or, as smoothly as it can go with the foxes)
but after practice is... interesting
wymack swears he had no ulterior motives planned with the meeting; it really was supposed to be a genuine discussion
but the outcome of it was certainly unexpected
he and dan both know to wait for neil, that he doesn't like changing in front of anyone
so they wait. and wait. and wait.
it gets to the point where it's nearly 45 minutes after practice and surely neil should be done at this point, no?
wymack gets up, fully prepared to break down the door to make sure neil is okay when suddenly it slams open
neil tumbles out hand-in-hand with andrew, with matching flushed faces and ruffled hair
wymack sighs
dan outright snorts, and neil's head jerks up and his eyes widen when he notices dan and wymack
but before he can say anything, dan stands up and grins at andrew
"fucking neil again, huh?"
neil chokes on a cough and wymack turns to dan with a groan when he notices the mischievous glint in her eye, almost like that was an... inside joke?
with minyard?
wymack is very confused
andrew just scowls at dan. "i will knife you and make it look like an accident"
neil is still recovering from his coughing bout, so wymack turns back to the stabby midget ready to reprimand him
"i'm not scared of you anymore, remember andrew?" dan's eyes are still bright as she tries not to laugh
"shut up, both of you" wymack interrupts their weird jokes conversation whatever gruffly. "neil, do you remember why we're here?"
"huh? OH. oh shit. drew, i'm supposed to be talking with them about some winter banquet stuff"
andrew considers this. "how long?" wymack tells him about an hour, and andrew nods and turns to neil. "i'll stay"
neil just rolls his eyes. "you have a paper due tomorrow that you haven't even started yet. go do that, i'll be fine"
wymack sighs. he's been doing a lot of that lately. "minyard, go finish your homework or i swear to god, i'll make you run three marathons next week"
andrew glares but mutters out a "fine." he goes to leave but neil tugs him back by the wrist
neil then proceeds to kiss andrew on the nose and gives him the most bashful smile wymack has ever seen on the kid's face
neil's happy. it's a christmas miracle! and it's not even christmas yet!
and that kiss... really, it was the last thing he expected out of neil and andrew but he's happy at how comfortable they've grown around each other
and okay, it was a little adorable
(not that he'd ever say that to their faces, of course)
andrew ends up stumbling out of the court with the reddest face wymack's seen as neil turns back to him and dan
"right" he says sheepishly. "banquet?"
BONUS:
abby doesn't believe it when david tells her about the nose kiss
she knows that neil has a heart of gold, she knows that andrew has so much capacity to feel
but a nose kiss? she doesn't think andrew would agree to that
so when her older foxes come over one night after a tiring, but successful, game, she decides she needs to see this for herself
after a hearty dinner, all the kids are sitting in the living room, with andrew and neil talking quietly in the back corner of the room.
perfect.
"neil!" abby calls, and everyone in the room quiets to look at her. "sweetheart, could you help me bring out the dessert?"
nicky immediately jumps up from beside her, saying how he could help if she needed it
"no no, it's alright, i was hoping to talk to neil, if that's okay? it might take a little while"
neil looks extremely worried at this and abby almost feels guilty.
almost
he glances at andrew and then he leans down so quickly that abby nearly misses it
neil kisses andrew on the nose.
abby barely notices andrew's bright blush, nor does she register neil moving towards her
she just feels so proud of her foxes for coming so far in a world that keeps trying to beat them down
it's a sentimental moment, which is completely ruined by kevin's woop and nicky's yell of glee
"YES BITCH THEY DID IT THEY DID THE KISS GIVE ME YOUR MONEY ALLISON"
"fuck you hemmick. fuck you"
neil looks at them wildly. "you guys were betting on us? i didn't think you would..."
matt sighs and slings an arm around his friend. "oh neil, do you still really think that low of us? we bet on everything"
JSKHKKSJ OK IT'S FINALLY DONE i already miss this series but it has been a fun time :) my asks are always open if y'all have anything specific you want me to write !
#wymack is my dad#abby is my mom#neil is my son#there we go#andreil#andrew minyard#neil josten#aftg#all for the game#aftg headcanon#aftg hc#tfc#the foxhole court#david wymack#abby winfield#dan wilds#matt boyd#allison reynolds#kevin day#nicky hemmick#palmetto state foxes#palmetto state university#andreil headcanon#andreil hc#tkm#the king's men#andreil bullet fic
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Help From A Little Friend
Hey guys guess what? It's @bittydragon birthday :D
Happy birthday my love! I really hope you enjoy the presents I got you and this story brings joy to your day! I love you so much and look forward to our future!
Also yes this is a new AU called the Golem's Guardian
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Skeppy was a diamond golem that lived deep within the caves of a old abandoned castle that was grown over with palnts, he has lived in this castle for most of his life exploring the abandoned building and spending time with the other golems that lived in the castle
Live was peaceful
Until a group of treasure hunters invaded the castle-
Skeppy had been lucky and was able to hide from the treasure hunters but the rest of the gem golems weren't that lucky, they had all panicked turning back into their gem forms to hide and thrown into bags holding other gems and golden items
Once the treasure Hunters had left the castle everything was quiet...Skeppy checked every nook and cranny but found no one else, he realized pretty quickly he was alone
None of the gem golems really knew what happened to them if a human got them but Skeppy couldn't just let a bunch of humans kidnap his people! So Skeppy gathered up some extra materialp and ventured out of the only place he'd known for most of his life
To be completely honest Skeppy was a bit nervous but he needed to make sure the others got home safe! His fear could fuck right off!
Skeppy needed to do this...he was one of the biggest gem golems in the entire Castle, if anyone had a better chance of surviving out there it would be him
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OK SO SKEPPY WAS VERY WRONG!
Skeppy had only been out of side of the castle for half an hour and it already been chased by wolves, accused of stealing honey from bees, almost turned into a chew toy by a fox, and fallen into a ditch with a weird demonic looking bunny!
He was starting to realize why no one in the castle ever left-
Skeppy yelped as the weird black and rad bunny started kicking their legs and he realized they were stuck in a log, he hesitantly moved a bit closer to them "H-Hey there fluff ball"
The bunny continue kicking their legs trying to climb out of the log they were trapped in, Skeppy looked around for anything that could help the bunny but didn't see anything that would actually be of help
"Fuck how am I going to get you out of there-" "Language!" Skeppy looked around extremely confused as he heard an unfamiliar voice but didn't see anyone but himself and the weird demonic bunny
Skeppy Shrugged it off and walked over to the log grabbing a piece of bark and trying to rip it off "All right- don't kick me in the face while I'm trying to free you okay?" He started pulling on one of the edges of the log trying to get it open
The two we're at this for about an hour until the bunny was finally able to get free and tumbled backwards into the dirt, Skeppy ran over to the bunny double-checking to make sure they were okay "Damn you we're really stuck in there- how you get yourself stuck fluffy guy?"
The demon bunny some to their foot on the ground hopping over to Skeppy and nudging him in the chest with their nose, Skeppy was pretty sure the bunny was trying to give him a hug so he just hugged their face
Then out of nowhere the bunny grab Skeppy by the back of his hoodie and jumped out of the ditch gently placing him down on the ground, Skeppy just sat down on the ground in the dirt a bit confused on what just happened but quickly stood up to follow behind the demonic bunny as they walked off
"H-Hey! Don't just leave me alone!" Skeppy yelled as the bunny continue slowly hopping away from him, he grumbled but kept up with the bunny
Skeppy didn't see any problem with staying with a weird demonic looking bunny considering they seem to be quite nice!
~~~~~~~~~~~
It had hit night time once Skeppy and the bunny found an old falling over tree log to hide inside for the night, Skeppy didn't actually know what lurks around at night and made it so dangerous perform all the horrible sound he could hear he didn't really want to know
Skeppy snuggled up close to the bunny trying to stay warm and fight off the chil air, gem golems usually slept in big piles to help keep each other warm during the night but it was just Skeppy and this bunny...
"Um hey-"
The bunny suddenly curled itself around Skeppy as a few branches outside of the log broke and soft footsteps got closer and closer to where the two were, Skeppy closed his eyes getting ready for the worst as the bark above them was pulled away by a giant hand
Skeppy panicked and quickly turned into his gem form curling up into a ball and making his exterior bit bulkier than normal, he really hope the weird demonic bunny thing would be okay-
"Hey Bad, that's a cool rock but why are you still shape-shift into a bunny?" A deep and scruffy voice asked from above and Skeppy heard of the unfamiliar voice from earlier again
"Oh this isn't a rock it's a weird gem person! And I don't really have the energy to turn back to normal" the unfamiliar but much more gentle and cheery voice responded
Skeppy uncurl himself a little to poke his head out and see what the two were doing- and then he was suddenly picked up along with the bunny by the pink-haired human
"Ah ok, I was worried those Hunters might have gotten you" The pink-haired human? Piglin? Cradle the two in his arms as he started walking back somewhere
The bun- Bad simply chuckled "Aww were you worried about me Techno? That's so sweet!"
Techno huffed as he walked over to a small campfire pleasing Skeppy and Bad down on a log "No, I just didn't feel like fighting a bunch of hunters to save you"
Skeppy just watched as the two talked with each other sitting on the log just really confuse but slowly coming out of his diamond forum, he but suddenly handed a small bowl of roughly around his size filled with potato soup
"Techno...did you buy a bunch of potatoes when I was missing?" Bad asked munching on a few greens from a bowl full of lettuce, he seem to be getting slowly bigger...
Techno just sat there not responding and started awkwardly drinking his bowl of soup very slowly
"Techno! We don't have the money to do something like that!" Bad continue growing in slowly changing shape- Skeppy quickly covered his mouth as Bad started looking much more like a demon
Techno didn't seem bothered by this and just continue drinking his soup very slowly
Skeppy gasped as the Bad slowly turned into a 9 ft tall demon and slowly started scooting away getting ready to make a run for it, he remembered some of the older gem golems telling stories of demons and dragons taking them away and making them part of their hordes
Which Skeppy was pretty sure it was bad since you just had to sit in a box or a pile of coins which was very uncomfortable
But before Skeppy could do anything a thin leather appendage wrapped around his torso and let's get him up into the air moving him closer to Bad, he quickly realized the demon had used their tail to pick him up
"I was home sick..." Techno finally finished his bowl of potato soup and got another and started drinking it as slowly as he did the first one
Bad rolled his eyes settings Skeppy down in one of his hands "I know you miss home but that's no excuse to waste all our money on potatoes!"
Skeppy very much wanted to try escaping but the demons hand was warm and the fact that he was gently rubbing his back with a thumb wasn't helping with his sleepy brain slowly leaning into the touch and closing his eyes, he suddenly felt himself pressed up against the giant demons chest as they continued rubbing his back
Techno jokingly growled at Bad as he notice the weird gem person falling asleep "Change of topic who's that?" He pointed at the little guy as they fully close their eyes and passed out
"Oh- I don't have his name but he helped me get out of a log when I got stuck in it!" Bad carefully set the little gem golem down in his bag "His a gem golem, there extremely rare and almost thought to be extinct!"
Techno frowned "Oh...are they extinct?" He asked in a worried tone looking over at the tiny blue gem
"Nope! They're just extremely good at hiding from humans considering they can look just like gems but if you inspect them they come off as fakes!" Bad explain pulling an old creature book out of his bag "And they usually live in caves that are occupied by Giants!"
Techno was a bit confused but shrugged his shoulders "Ok well good to hear he's not all alone...but if gem golems usually hide from everyone what's this one doing up here on the surface?"
Bad scratched his chin as he read through his book "I don't know...we can ask him in the morning" the demon put his book away and curled around his bag with the gem golem protectively
"Ok" Techno pulled his acts out and let the fire start to die down a little as he kept watch for any thieves or hungry animals, he felt something land on his shoulder and saw one of his father's crows with a new letter, he smiled happy he would have something to read for the night
Hopefully everyone can properly introduce themselves in the morning
#mcyt g/t#mcyt giant/tiny#mcyt gt#tiny!skeppy#giant!badboyhalo#tiny!badboyhalo#sizeshifter!badboyhalo#the golems guardian#giant!techno
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okay dee here is my question for the corrie guard. whose love language is physical touch bc I WISH TO HUG
OKAY NOEL i love this so so much and got over-involved in my thoughts, so i’m going to talk about ALL THE CORRIES’ LOVE LANGUAGES starting with physical touch 🥰 i gotta shout out @jangofettswife for coming up with a lot of these ocs and generously allowing me to contribute to their details. we ironed out theirs and the commander personalities together, so again, a lot of credit goes to her 💞
additionally, these are not singular love language, just the ones i thought of immediately for them! i think they’re all a mix depending on the situation 💞 but some of these boys totally stick out as physical touch guys, etc etc
corrie guard and their love languages:
physical touch
thorn. he’s not the best at expressing his emotions verbally, but you know when he wraps you in a long hug, chin tucked into your shoulder, or holds your hand so tightly you can see the strain in the muscles of his arm, he needs you. alternatively, when you’re crying or shaking from panic, he gives the best fucking hugs.
stitch (oc). stitch is a medic and the best friend of patch - though they’re not batch mates, they bonded on the transport to coruscant and even gave each other their names. he suffers from severe anxiety, and so the best way to help calm him is a good, firm, long-lasting hug. he also suffers from sleep-wrestling, which developed before the anxiety and is very strange. no one really knows what it’s about, but a hug also helps put a stop to that - patch and grenade are kind of experts in this. i also pin stitch as having a hot, nautolan doctor gf named neema, who’s 6’3” and always ready to hold him. but she’ll always take volunteers to help give him love, after all, she and stitch noticed you across the bar and really love your vibe-
jek. he’s a man who likes the little things, like cozy nights in, warm mugs of caf, and the ones he loves safe in his arms, or pinky-to-pinky as you discuss difficult topics. jek is a lover forced to be a fighter, and he would much rather hold you through a stormy night than be patrolling during it. he’s one of those guys that never wants to let go of your hand, fingers entwined, stretching over barriers that come between you so that your fingers brush just so he can still touch you. it’s grounding for him.
cannon (oc). a loose cannon so to speak, cannon is rough and tumble and ready to go. he and hook have an affectionate mentor-mentee relationship. cannon’s just barely out of shiny status, and often thinks he needs to be brave and strong constantly. but hook knows sometimes his little brother just needs a bracing hand on his shoulder, or a keldabe kiss that says “i’m proud of you, vod”. if you’re with cannon, and you start playing with his hair, or squeeze his hand when he can’t seem to slow down, well, he’s not going to want to leave your side.
acts of service
fox. man, he’s the king of taking care of others’ needs, but he’ll lose his mind if you take care of his. doing basic tasks to help him through his day, like organizing files or updating his calendar, means the fucking world to him. it just takes the intense stress he has and lessens it, and that’s the greatest thing a person can do for him. thorn and stone in particular are experts at helping fox feel taken care of, though he’s loathe to admit it.
lot (oc). oh my beloved lot. he’s just a giver, man, and he’s gonna help you in any way he can. he feels most fulfilled when he’s helping others - he’s been all but forbidden from patrols bc he ends up helping out at the local community garden for four hours, just having the time of his life. for this reason, if you do something special for him, like helping to paint his armor or teaching him something important to you, he just melts for you. he can’t help it.
blast (oc). blast often gets assigned to dangerous missions because 1. he volunteers and 2. he’s really, really good at them. he’s ready with a cocky smile and a quick quip before he’s heading into the fray, locked and loaded and giving out orders as well as any commander. bc he takes on too much, acts of service mean a lot to him - so when thorn or ace take over a task that needs doing that blast hasn’t gotten to, well, let’s just say he’s really thankful. if you make his day a little easier by helping him plan it out or cleaning up his space after a busy mission, he’s sure to make it up to you tenfold. trust me, he’ll be very thankful.
fang (oc). oh, fang, our little shit, our beloved edge lord arf trooper. fang is someone who loves to project an image of badassery, of tough guy, no-nonsense - oh my god, hound, you have to kill that spider, please, please hound kill the spider please please please-. yeah, fang’s a bit of a wimp, but grows more courageous over time. still, he tends to avoid the more frightening aspects of his job, and when his brothers or hound cover for him it really means so much. when you kill the spider, however? expect him to go on a long rant about how brave and strong and deadly his partner is, right before showering you in kisses.
words of affirmation
thire. our beloved lieutenant-turned-commander is a huge fan of words of affirmation. he kinda lives on praise, and enjoys giving it - i hc that he really looks up to fox, so the occasional “you did good” from fox has thire all but teary-eyed. he regularly compliments jek and rys on areas they excel at, or have improved at, bc he thinks it’s really important that they know he’s paying attention and cares enough to give that feedback. thire will very seriously and carefully tell you all the things he loves about you, and his dream is to have you do the same for him, although he’s a little embarrassed to admit that. i have a crap ton of nsfw hcs on this very subject…another time, perhaps.
blaze (oc). blaze my beloved! twin brother of grenade and riot trooper, blaze is pretty similar to his ornery chief medic brother. he’s a gruff man of few words that he uses sparingly, but he’ll speak freely to the ones he loves. he and grenade will take time out of their busy schedules to com and catch up, always telling each other how proud they are of the other, in their own way. there’s a bit of fear of losing each other there, so they’re committed to reminding each other that they care. blaze’s boyfriend, arlo, loves to heap him with generous praise - and you can join in on the fun, too, if you want to watch blaze get all flustered and cute in a way he’d rather die than have his men see.
grenade (oc). we’ve already talked about his and blaze’s exchanges, but grenade also finds it important to dole out gentle if firm words of affirmation to his right-hand men, stitch and patch, as well as his patients. grenade believes firmly in tough love, but not cruel tough love - just honesty and criticism where necessary, and lots of praise where it’s deserved. troopers who make it through tough injuries are regarded as heroes by grenade, who sees a lot and knows how hard recovery can be. he tells them as much proudly. if you’re with grenade, and you tell him he’s a hero to you? well, expect him to deflect and point out all the amazing things about you - but it means a lot to him, really.
ace (oc). oh ace. a beloved oc guard who just. falls in love with everyone he’s ever met. he’s a hopeless romantic who can’t commit, but the sure fire way to get his attention is honeyed compliments - boy will swoon. he works under thorn, so he’s used to huge and warm handshakes, meaning flirty touches don’t work quite as well. but you look him in the eye and tell him you find him fascinating? yeah you’re going home together. ace is something of a poet, regaling his brothers with grand tales of their own bravery, exaggerating for effect, and to make them laugh. he’ll regale you with such tales, and then make you squirm with the sincere way he compliments your looks, your voice, your dreamy personality. watch out for this one; he’s a heartbreaker. but he doesn’t mean to be! honest!
quality time
hound. *quality time with him and grizzer. truly, hound just likes being around his loved ones. time is limited, especially in his life, and he wants to use that time up with the people he cares about. i see him as very much the mom friend, checking in on both the commanders and the guards, shinies especially, friendly, loving massifs in tow. he likes getting to watch his brothers relax as they play with or pet the dogs, knowing he made a difference. sitting in silence together, just reading or eating, is truly the most wonderful thing to him. runor is a great partner in the way they provide this regularly, both at work and outside of it. if you want to be with hound, he’ll fall for you the moment you suggest going to the park to watch the sunset. now that is his idea of a perfect date.
rys. my man loves experiences, and he wants to share them with you! he wants to explore every inch of coruscant, and every planet in the galaxy once he’s finished that, and he wants you at his side, marveling at every new thing to try. jek will often patiently go along with his brother, trying new things to indulge him and volunteering for interesting tasks together. it’s times like these rys gets really comfortable, and will likely teach you about himself by doing things that matter to him together. he’s a cutie, who just wants to experience all life has to offer with those he cares about.
patch (oc). similar to hound, patch enjoys sitting in silence, but for different reasons. patch’s problem is his mouth: he can never convince it to shut up, even when he wants to. oftentimes he doesn’t want to, but sometimes he wishes he wouldn’t be so stubborn. getting to just sit by stitch or grenade or even his beloved scrap metal protocol droid helps calm and ground him, and the fact that they all have the patience to let him calm himself into silence and just sit means a lot. if you have the patience for that, hand in hand as you listen to music, well, he’s gonna make the effort to be less stubborn for you, that’s for sure.
receiving gifts
stone. he wants a sugar mama/daddy, it’s absolutely the truth idc idc. stone my beloved LOVES indulging in fancy gifts, and so decadence like chocolates and jewelry is fun and means a lot to him. but small gifts, like extra food from the mess or a fresh coat of paint for his armor, absolutely warm his heart, and when his men present them to him randomly, he does get a little emo let’s be real. eventually, after the war, hound and runor give stone a massif puppy and he does in fact cry. a lot. any gifts you give him he’ll react sincerely and strongly to, and he’s a bit of a hoarder of things he’s received from other people…within reason. he loves you but he’s not keeping that ticket stub, sorry. best possible gifts include favorite snacks, good socks, and weed and a nice bowl to smoke it in
hook (oc). HOOK!!!!! god i love this captain so much. he works under stone, and learned the taste of luxury from his commander. also, he works a lot with civilians and gets a decent amount of baked goods so he sort of just…starts to love gift getting and gift giving lajskdkf. stone and hook get along famously bc of their shared sense of humor and appreciation of gifts, and try to get nice things for each other on occasion, like the aforementioned meals and paint. his boyfriend is a MASTER baker, and that is half the reason hook falls for him. he learns how to bake just to return the favor, and yes it’s very cute. if you present this man a cookie, he’s going to flirt intensely with you, and if you keep giving him sweets, you’re going to have a new boyfriend pretty soon. hook is easily swayed by good food, okay?
nomad (oc). the cynical, sarcastic arf trooper, constantly ready to end his annoying brother fang’s life. he’s hard to pick out gifts for, but if you put your heart into it, and seek out something you really feel is meaningful, he’ll be secretly very moved. he pretends otherwise but then he’ll present you with something equally meaningful, and you know you got him right in the heart. whenever he and fang have a bad fight, fang knows it’s okay again when nomad presents a thoughtful peace offering. hound, who loves his boys but wants to throttle them, tries to be attentive to both their love languages - but killing spiders is admittedly easier than finding gifts to nomad’s tastes.
dogma. my beloved honorary corrie is a sentimental man, i think. unlike stone and hook, he’s very much a “it’s the thought that counts” guy - meaning he does keep the receipt with the flower you doodled on it and gave to him. he finds gifts with thought to be wonderfully generous and loves that you think of him when he’s not around, so the scarf in corrie guard red that reminded you of him or the datapad screen protector you had an extra of to give him really do make him happy. he has a whole extra shelf made of scrap metal in his locker just for gifts you gave him. and when his brothers give him gifts? forget about it. that’s all he talks about for days. tangible shows of love mean a lot to sweet dogma.
ask me about the corries! oc or otherwise
#SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG LAJSKDJF#you said corries and love languages and i blacked out until this was done#commander thorn#clone trooper jek#commander fox#commander thire#sergeant hound#clone trooper rys#commander stone#clone trooper dogma#clone ocs#dee writes#malewife-hansolo#ask dee
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Monstrous Secrets Chapter 8
Eris Vanserra x reader
Word Count: 1720
Summary: You and a couple of the guys have a heart-to-heart
You were home, or rather, you were in the physical place where you lived. It was difficult to call Velaris ‘home’ when your home was really a person, your mate. It was even harder to call this place home since Azriel started looking at you like he wanted to spit on you at any given moment. You’d expected to be treated that way once everything came to light, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t loathe it with every fiber of your being.
It was in a fit of this general discontent that you found yourself sitting on the ground of the balcony outside the House of Wind’s library. A bottle of wine, half empty already based on the weight of it, dangled from your fingertips as you stared blankly into the fire and longed for the male that could make such flames dance like sprites. Eris’s notes from your time apart rested on the ground before you, some resting against or on your leg because you’d simply dropped them after reading.
“Cass told me I’d find you here,�� Rhys said as his feet entered your field of view. “Though I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating how much you’d been drinking.”
Your eyes darted over to the other two, empty bottles you’d abandoned back when you’d been sitting in a chair. “Yes, well, you know how my tolerance is.”
“Considering how many men you’ve drunk under the table? Yes, I’m fully aware.” Now, he brought himself low enough that he could meet your eye on your own level. The most powerful High Lord, kneeling beside his low fae cousin on the ground.
You snorted at the sheer ridiculousness. “Whatcha doing here, Rhys? I figured you’d be off with Feyre.”
“She had things to discuss with Amren or else she’d be here talking to you with me.”
You took another drink. “Well in that case, lay it on me.” Your arms spread wide dramatically, one hand holding the bottle, the other a letter; your wings flared slightly behind you in an effort to keep you balanced. “Ask me anything you want! I assume it’s about that gorgeous mate of mine.”
He rolled his eyes and took the bottle from you. “I won’t insult you bya skiing what Azriel wants me to.” Rhysand took a long drink.
“Oooooh, let me guess!” You did your best to make your face as stoic as the shadowsinger’s. “Have I been selling secrets to the Autumn Court?”
“Close,” he snickered. “Has she been giving away secrets to the Autumn Court?”
You scoffed. “As if I’d give them away for free!”
“Sweetheart, you’d never spill them either way.” His eyes were somber, caring. “You would never betray us like that, so I have no need to ask.”
“Then what do you need to ask?”
“First, I want to ask about your bargain.”
“You makin’ sure I didn’t give away anything important?”
“I want to know that it was your choice to make whatever deal it was.”
Your brain stalled out in light of his genuine concern after so many days of people being wary of you, and your buzz fizzled a little because of it. “It was a deal of protection,” you explained seriously. “He’ll watch my back as long as I watch his sort of thing.” You stole back the bottle to take another drink. “And what a fucking job I did.”
“You couldn’t have done anything against her,” he assured you, “and if you had tried, more likely than not, you’d both be dead right now.”
“Whatever, Rhys,” you scoffed. “What else?”
“You are not less than him because you’re Illyrian.” You’d known the topic was coming, but you didn’t expect him to be quite so blunt. “And if he treats you like you are, I’ll kill him myself.”
“Then you can stop worrying, because he doesn’t. Hasn’t even said anything to imply it--get that look off your face right now. Anything he said to you was an act because we were backed into a nightmare of a corner, and you know it. Anyway, he hasn't made any jabs implying it--accidentally or otherwise--since we first got together.”
“Put a stop to that, did you?” He was smirking as he swiped the bottle back to drink once again.
“Of course.” You hesitated. “But he and I are both aware of what others will think; just look at your parents. That’s why, or at least part of why, we kept quiet about the whole thing.”
Rhysand was nodding as if pleased.
“That all you’ve got, cousin?”
A little snort escaped his nose. “As far as being concerned goes, we’ll say yes for now.”
“And as far as everything else?”
“Since you’ve so cruelly left your poor cousin in the dark about your relationship for--how long was it again?”
“‘Bout five hundred years--”
“Five hundred years! Because you've left me in the dark for so long, I want to know everything about the two of you.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.” He waved a hand a little. “That you’re willing to share, of course.”
“Rhys . . . I don’t . . .” You weren’t used to this. You’d never had to share anything about your relationship before. You weren’t good at talking about yourself. “I don’t know where to start.”
A low hum rumbled through the air along with the telling thuds of someone else’s boots.
“Why don’t you start with that letter you’re holding?” Cassian abruptly dropped down next to you, so close he was lightly pressed against your side. It was such a casual closeness that the pair of you had had for centuries, and you didn't realize how much you loved it until it was missing. Its presence now brought tears to your eyes, but none fell.
Blinking them back, you stammered, “Um. It’s how we talked . . . when we couldn’t see each other.” A self-deprecating chuckle ripped its way up from your throat. “Apparently he’d been sending them since just after Amarantha, and I never knew since I don’t live down there anymore. I’m only just now getting around to reading them.” Carelessly, you handed it over to Cassian. “You can read it if you want; I was going through them all, but I can’t exactly see straight enough to read anymore.”
He eyed you warily before opening it gently. Clearing his throat before he read,
“I hope you are doing well, and I hope moreso that you have not finally come to your senses and decided to leave me. I’ve been trying to keep my emotions from bothering you in case you have, but Father has proven to be harsher than ever before in light of everything that has happened over the last half-century. It’s all I can do to keep him from deciding to hunt down Lucien.
Cauldron, I don’t even know if you’re receiving these messages or if you even care and yet here I am droning on about my own problems. I’ll leave this here, then.
I miss you, and I love you always,
Eris”
Both men were silent for a breath.
“Who would have thought that Eris Vanserra of all people would be so rambling in a letter?” Cassian eventually teased--only slightly awkwardly--to break the quiet.
“He stopped trying to be eloquent in our notes about five years in.” Your buzz was definitely on the way out now, and you found yourself listlessly leaning against Cassian. Neither male commented about the more romantic sentiments in the letter. You wondered why that was. For your privacy or their own comfort so they didn’t have to think about the fact that Eris did in fact have feelings.
“What’s the first thing you think of when you think about him?” Rhysand prompted quietly, obviously wanting to know more about the relationship despite the awkward aura that’d descended upon the little group.
It may have been because you were actively looking at a fire, but you didn’t really have to think about the words that came tumbling out of your mouth. “Did you know that he can make shapes out of flames? He used to make little dogs and foxes to play with Lucien when Beron would upset him.”
“I thought he hated that kid,” Cassian mused.
“He had to keep his distance to keep Beron’s attention away from him; he swore to his mother that he’d protect him.”
“What else comes to mind?”
You swallowed thickly. “He interrogated me about how to care for my wings when I showed up injured once.”
Rhys’s violet eyes flashed. “Injured?”
“Took a bad crash through some trees on the way to see him; I think I was dodging some scouts. Either way, he hounded me about it until I taught him all I could.”
“Seriously?” Cassian again.
“Yeah.” You could feel the dopey smile spread across your face, but you didn’t want to stop it. “Cleaning, first-aid, the whole deal. And the best part? He never has cold hands.”
“Unlike you, huh?” Rhys teased. “Nothing but cold hands.”
“Truer words never spoken,” and unexpected but familiar voice said from behind you.
As soon as you laid eyes on him, you were stumbling to your feet.
There was a warmth in his eyes that had nothing to do with flames when he caught you and pulled you close.
Immediately, you buried your face in his neck. “How?” you whispered into the pale skin there.
Eris’s hand moved to rest atop your wing where it was tucked against your back, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “That would be a question for your High Lady.”
You glanced over your shoulder and saw that, sure enough, Feyre was now holding hands with the now-standing Rhys. “I thought you were with Amren?”
“I lied,” Rhys shrugged. “Eris was down there plotting with Keir, so I asked her to go grab him for you since you’ve been feeling down.”
When tears started welling up in your eyes, you blamed the alcohol. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, little cousin. Now, I think it’s time for us to turn in.” His eyes shifted to look at your mate; surprisingly his gaze wasn’t near as icy as you would have expected. “Take care of her.”
“Until my dying breath.”
“Never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with you people,” Cassian scoffed, “is there?”
You smirked on behalf of your husband. “Never.”
#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra imagine#eris imagine#eris x reader#acotar imagine#a court of thorns and roses imagine#reader insert
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Sparks~ Denki X reader
Words: 3984
Warning: Smut, oral sex (fem receiving), dry [wet] humping, ack idk, it’s not too dirty... think, everyone involved in sexual acts are aged up to 18.
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"Y/N…"
Thump. Thump. Could she get close enough to count all of his freckles?
"Y/N."
Wow, he really had the cutest laugh. Thump. Thump.
"Y/N, I swear to god."
Thump. Thump. Did he know how attractive he was? Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Y/N! Stop hitting me with your fucking tail!" Jirou snapped, grabbing the fluffy appendage beating wildly against her leg.
"Ow, ow, ow." Y/N yelped trying to pull her tail away.
"Jirou, let go of her tail. You know it's sensitive." Uraraka scolded, not looking up from her homework.
"Yeah, well so is my thigh! And miss foxy is bruising it with her heart thumper!" Jirou huffed.
Y/N whined and tugged her tail again. "I'm sorry, please let go."
Jirou gave her tail a warning squeeze before releasing it. "Hit me with it again and I will yank it."
"Be nice." Uraraka hummed. "She can't help it."
Mina laughed. "Yeah, she sees Wattage boy and gets so excited her tail almost flies off."
Y/N whined and tucked her tail around herself. "That's not true."
"Yes, it is." The girls replied.
"Mean…" She huffed.
"We wouldn't tease you so much if you weren't so head over heels for him." Toru giggled.
"I'm not head over heels for him… I just… like him… a bit." Y/N shrugged, willing herself not to look over when Denki laughed.
"Sure, you're not." Mina laughed and Y/N blushed.
Momo gently patted her head, while standing to grab something. "It's okay, Y/N."
"Yeah, we understand; you're in love with him!" Toru corrected.
"No, I'm not." Y/N huffed.
"Guys, leave her alone." Uraraka warned.
"No, watch!" Jirou snickered. "Hey, boys!"
"Stop it." Uraraka finally looked up, glaring at the punk teen.
"Wanna join our study group, we're gonna work on the history homework next!" Jirou offered, a teasing smile hiding on her lips.
"Oh, I totally forgot about that!" Kirishima said. "Thanks, J!"
"I was trying to forget about it…" Denki groaned. "I suck at history."
"That's fine, Y/N's great at history!" Mina piped.
"Guys, stop it." Uraraka snapped quietly, so as to not alert the approaching boys.
"Yeah, she's got a B in the class, right, Y/N?" Toru added.
Y/N tried to calm her erratic heartbeat as Denki came closer. "Um, I, an A… I have an A…"
"Perfect. Here, Sparky, take my seat." Jirou offered, standing up.
Uraraka watched as Denki happily took the seat next to the jittery girl, seemingly unaware of her nerves. Sero, Kirishima, Ojiro and Midoriya filled in where they could. They all actually started to work on the history work, but the girls could only really focus on Y/N and Denki. Mina even situated herself sideways on the couch to push the two together.
Uraraka grew irritated watching Mina literally shove them together. Y/N genuinely tried to help Denki through the work, but the closer she was pushed, she was nearly in his lap. He didn't seem to mind as he shifted letting her move closer.
His arm ended up draped over the back of the couch behind her and her tail began thumping again. Of course, the girls noticed. They locked eyes with each other, not heeding the glare Uraraka gave them.
"What's got you so excited, Y/N?" Mina laughed, pulling all the attention to their area. "Your tail is gonna smash through the couch with how hard you're swinging it."
The object in question stiffened straight and the girl it was attached to turned redder than a tomato and that was the last straw for Uraraka. "Alright, guys. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I forgot Y/N and I had things planned today."
Y/N looked up at her best friend with thankful orbs. Uraraka started walking away, gently beckoning Y/N with her hand. She hopped off the couch and hurried to follow, waving a shy farewell to everyone.
Once in Uraraka's room Y/N crawled into her friend's bed and whined pitifully. Uraraka sighed, and went to her closet. She started tugging out blankets and tossed them to the bed.
Knowing Y/N for three plus years, she knew how to make the girl feel better. Y/N's quirk manifested as a Kitsune, fox spirit, several tails, godlike powers. The whole nine yards.
With anxiety.
"Y/N, babe… don't burrow into my actual bed, please." Uraraka pleaded gently. "You know they were only teasing, sweetheart."
Y/N huffed and peaked out of her newly made fluffy cave. "You're the one that got angry."
Uraraka sighed deeply. "Yeah, you're right. But I couldn't just leave you there… you were going to implode."
"I kinda wish you did." Y/N mumbled. "It was the closest I'd been to him, probably ever."
"They were forcing you into his arms, babes." Uraraka gently rubbed her head.
Y/N sat up and pouted. "I liked it."
"Then talk to the boy!" Uraraka laughed. "You absolutely are head over heels for him and we all know it!"
"Yeah, except the boy in question.” Y/N panicked.
Uraraka rolled her eyes. "Just talk to him if you want to be with him. Like flirt with him, that's kinda how relationships become a thing."
Y/N whined again and curled into the blankets. "Fine. I'll try. But, I get cuddles, right now."
As promised. Y/N did try to talk to Denki. Now, trying and succeeding are two very different things.
Of course, she spoke to him, asking for pencils in class, communicating during group work, the occasional comment in a conversation at lunch. But talking as in flirting and trying to relay the fact that she had a crush on him- yeah, no. Didn't happen. At all. All she managed to do was stress herself out.
Which brought her to her current situation.
"Get back here you muti-tailed little fuck!" Bakugo screamed chasing the tiny fox around the dorm.
Y/N let out a screaming bark and dodged the angry pink haired teen. She slid across the floor, just narrowly escaping Bakugo's blast. She leaped over the couch and into Uraraka's lap for protection.
"I'm going to strangle you, you tiny little shit!" Bakugo growled, glaring at the four legged Y/N.
"Let's not threaten people's lives he...re…" Uraraka trailed off looking up. "Oh my god."
"Woah, dude. When did you decide to dye your hair?" Kirishima asked.
"I didn't, the fox bitch put dye in my shampoo!" He snarled. Y/N snickered, her laugh pissing him off more. "Yeah, you won’t be laughing when I blow off your extra tails!"
"I don't know, I think she did you a favor. Pastel pink, it really makes your eyes pop." Sero chuckled, before dodging the couch pillow aimed for his face.
"Oh, come on. Don't be too upset, you know her pranks are never hurtful. It's probably temporary anyway." Momo giggled.
Y/N laughed again but Bakugo narrowed his eyes at her, effectively shutting her up. She looked over at the few classmates sitting around her, silently begging for help. Each one adverted their eyes, playfully.
"Oh, no, Y/N, you got yourself into this mess.” Uraraka flicked her ear.
Y/N begged and whined as Bakugo glared harder at her. She wiggled herself closer to Uraraka’s chest while steadily eyeing her exit. The exit that was blocked by the new pink haired teen as he already calculated her plan.
Idiot. They were in the hero course.
Y/N turned and looked at another way out, she’d have to haul ass, but she could probably make it. She slowly crept up onto the backrest of Urarka’s chair, keeping eye contact with Bakugo, cautiously. Three solid seconds passed before she bolted.
Bakugo cursed and followed after her. She scurried across the room quickly, yelping when his explosion singed her tails. Her escape, the open door, was feet away, but Bakugo was closer.
Suddenly she turned to her left just before she reached the door. She tumbled across the floor as Bakugo tried to alter his course but instead slipped and tumbled out the door. Y/N scrambled up to run in the opposite direction towards the dorm rooms.
She only had a slight advantage; she already heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs after her. She hurriedly ducked into one of the rooms left open, thankfully, and pushed her body against it to close it. She held her breath as he passed by the room.
After a few moments of hearing his shouts and explosions fade, she let her lungs function again and collapsed dramatically on the floor. Y/N looked around, wondering whose room she found refuge in. It was bright, a bit all over the place. Maybe a boy’s room, from the look of the shorts she found. She pawed at the article of clothing straightening it out. She looked at them, closely, slowly she leaned down to sniff them.
Suddenly, she yipped in fear and jumped away from them as the door swung open, landing on the bed. Y/N blinked at the startled electric centered boy, her tiny fox form looking completely out of place. Of course, in the midst of running from Bakugo, she found her way into Denki's room.
“Not that I’m complaining, but, uh…” Denki finally asked. "Y/N… Why are you in my room?"
She sat quiet, she was unable to respond without shifting back, but, that thought was put on the back burner as she noticed he was shirtless, droplets of water sliding down his chest. Out of pure and uttermost adoration, and slight arousal, her tails started to thump aggressively against his pillow.
Suddenly, Bakugo’s shout was heard throughout the hall and Y/N’s tails fluffed up in fear. “I’m going to assume that’s why you’re hiding in my bed, pup?”
Y/N whined and jerked her head in agreement. He laughed and closed his door completely, just in time for Bakugo to walk past. Y/N wiggled herself lower into his bed as he migrated over to his dresser.
“You gonna change back, cutie?” Denki asked pulling out a shirt, he chuckled when she shook her head. “As much as I enjoy having the foxiest little babe in the world, in my bed. I’d rather be able to talk to her.”
Still she kept her fox form and restrained herself form bounding around the room at his flirt. She knew he was a natural flirt with everyone, but it still made her heart hit harder in her chest when his words were directed at her.
“Okay, how about this. You can stay if you shift back?” He bargained, sitting on the bed.
That wasn’t fair… she wasn’t ready to leave yet… Y/N narrowed her eyes at him and shifted back into her human form. “Hi.”
“There you are beautiful.” He smiled, leaning down to brush her hair out of her eyes. “I would’ve let you stay anyway, just so you know.”
“So, you just wanted to see my titties.” She teased without a second thought.
Denki smirked, glancing down at her sports bra. “Not the intention, but I’m not complaining.”
His proximity rendered her stupid, but excited. He leaned closer to her and she tried to lean back but she hit the wall. His hand still sat warmly on her face, doing nothing to calm her pounding heart, she wondered if he could hear it.
“Your tail is thumping hard, babe.” Y/N almost felt her tail pick up speed at the pet name.
“It, it happens when I’m excited…” She whispered.
“Good to know.” He nodded, slowly inching closer. “What’s got you so excited?”
She glanced down to his lips and bit her own, losing herself in the fantasy of just closing the distance between them. Soft, warm pressed against her own. Yes, please. Her short daydream was interrupted when his thumb brushed over her lips, gently freeing her bottom one free of her teeth.
“Don’t bite that lip, I want that job.” He ordered softly, making her whimper. Y/N flushed, thinking over his words, she could tell he was waiting for her response, but she couldn’t seem to spit out the words of agreement for the life of her. For some reason it seemed too easy, so instead-
“Then do it.”
She gasped as he surged forwards, crushing his lips into hers. She moaned into his mouth, her hands gripping his shoulders for support. Out of all eighteen years of her life, she’d never had her breath stolen like he had done. True to his word, Denki caught her lip with his teeth and tugged it gently, relishing in the whimpered moan she rewarded him with.
Y/N’s hand found new purchase in his hair, gripping tightly and the growl he let out sent pulses straight down to her core. She pulled again and fell dizzy when he grinded into her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. He left her lips in favour of kissing down her neck, gently nipping along the way. She tugged his hair and jerked against his hands, trying to reconnect their lips, but a sharp bite under her ear halted her attempts.
“Don’t do that, or I will fuck you before I get the chance to take you on a date.” He warned, soothing the purpling mark he left behind.
She whined and tried lifting her hips again, despite his hands holding them down. “A- a date is meant for get to know the person you’re seeing. We’ve known each other for years, Denki…”
“I want you to be my girlfriend, not just a fuck.” He muttered trailing his lips across her clavicle.
“Yes.” She breathed, slowly losing her mind. “Yes, like three years ago.”
Denki chuckled. “If I had known that I would have asked three years ago.”
Annoyed with the lack of attention on her lips she yanked his hair again, this time successfully pulling his head up. “I wasn’t hiding it; you just might actually be an idiot.”
His hand suddenly circled her throat, squeezing the sides warningly. “Don’t be a brat, now.”
Y/N moaned in submission, but still, she tried to keep the boldness she had before. “N-not my fault you weren’t paying attention…”
He smirked, hearing her voice waver. “You’re so cute when you act tough, honey.”
“Fuck, just kiss me, please.”
Denki complied to her request and kissed her again, his hand slowly sliding up her sides to brush the sides of her chest, only fully grasping her mounds when she arched herself forwards presenting them to him. His tongue drifted across her lips, politely asking for an entrance, which she happily granted him. The sweet taste of him flooded her senses, nearly drowning her and making her head spin.
She teased his tongue with her own, playfully, with no actual intent on trying to win the battle. He groaned, squeezing her breasts hard, before flicking over the harden peaks trying to pierce through her bra. Once again his lips retreated and migrated down her chest, nipping and biting marks all the way down.
“Can I take this off?” He asked, fingering the fabric separating him from her softness.
“Please.” She panted, tugging at it herself.
As soon as her breasts were free from their confinements, he let his teeth sink into her supple flesh, making her arch into his mouth. “You’re so soft, baby.” He breathed against her.
The compliment made her blush. “Th-thank you…”
“Do you trust me?” He asked, confusing her.
“What?” She gasped.
“Do you trust me?” He repeated, sticking his tongue out for her. Sparks flittered over the wet muscle.
Y/N nodded softly tugging his head to her chest. “Yeah, yeah. Yes.”
Her gasp would’ve made him pull his lips off her nipple to ensure she was alright, but only if it wasn’t followed by a sweet moan. Really it just encouraged him to tease them further. But, when he bit down, the pleasurable pain sensation shot straight down to the apex of her thighs combining with another pressure there. It was then that realized the fingers that snuck under her shorts, pressing deft circles into her clit.
A soft whine left her lips, her hips jumping against his hand, and just about lost cried when a single digit slipping into her briefly before retreating to toy with her clit. “Denki, I swear if you don’t do something more I’ll- oh my, fuck!”
Two fingers plunged into her heat, curling against the soft spot hidden inside her. “What was that, princess?”
“Ah, Denki, please.” She whimpered when he removed his fingers again.
“Shh, I got you.” He assured, tugging her shorts down, revealing an adorable pair of underwear covered in sunset clouds- a small bow at the top. “Cute panties.”
Y/N blushed and moved to cover them. “I… I wasn’t really expecting this so, um.”
Denki rolled his eyes and pushed her hands out of the way. “I’m pretty sure I just said I think they’re cute.”
“Cute isn’t sexy.” She argued as he made his way down her body. He bit down on her hip, pulling a hiss of pleasure from her mouth.
“I think you look sexy in anything.” He admitted. “Sweatpants and a tee shirt, your hero costume, the school uniform. Anything.”
“I’m pretty sure that last one is a kink.” She giggled.
“Mmm, probably, but,” Suddenly his mouth enveloped her clit through her panties and her hands flew to his hair, a cry escaping her. “I’m not wrong.”
He tugged her underwear off, spreading her thighs a bit more. He wasted no time re-attaching himself to her bundle of nerves. Groaning at her taste, he spread her lips and licked into her with so much earnest, you’d think he was starving.
Moans and whimpers fell from her lips, eagerly encouraging him further. He tightened his grip on her thighs, pulling her closer to his face. “God, you taste so good.” A moan echoed into the room when she tried to thank him, courtesy of the long fingers drilling into her. Her finger tugged at his hair, although she wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or tug him closer, the pleasure spike nearly being too much for her.
Denki pulled away from her core, panting. “Come on, baby, I can feel you clenching on my fingers. You’re so close.”
“Shit, D-Denki!” Tears welled in her eyes, her hips thrashing against the hold he had on her hip. “I, I- Oh my god!”
He nibbled soft love bite into her neck, picking up his pace, before whispering in her ear. “Cum for me, Y/N.”
One final press on her sweet spot pushed her over and her body bowed so tightly, Denki was almost afraid she'd snap in half. He was quick to cover her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. His fingers slowed, easing her down from her high, only fully pulling out when her hips started shifting away from his ministrations.
Y/N allowed him to maneuver her body on top of his, cuddling her to his chest. He gently rubbed her back, while she caught her breath. “You okay, cutie.”
“Sorry, for hiding in your room.” Y/N apologized.
“My face was just between your thighs, and that’s the topic of conversation?” He laughed.
She hummed, nuzzling his neck. “There’s not much to say for the other subject… I can’t feel my legs.”
Denki snorted, hugging her closer. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“Wait, you didn’t cum.” She realized sitting up.
He gently traced up and down her sides, grinning. “That’s okay, that can wait until after our date I’m taking you on.”
She pouted down at him. “Why not before and after…?” Her question brought more life to his cock that already strained against his shorts, but he shook his head.
“It’s okay, babe.” Still she pouted at him for a moment, thoughtfulness swimming through her eyes. Suddenly, she scooted back, sliding downwards until she was pressed against his hardness.
“Please, I want to help…” She begged, softly grinding on him.
“Fuck, princess.” He groaned, his head falling back.
She felt him twitch and pushed herself harder against him. With each roll of her hips, her slick soaked through his shorts. He grabbed her hips, helping her move against his low curses escaping him. Finally, Y/N grew tired of the dry-wet- humping and raised her hip to tug his shorts down.
“Babe-.” He breathed, ready to make sure she didn’t feel pressured into it, but she stopped him with a whine.
“Please, I want you in me.” She pleaded, just hovering over his tip.
Denki nodded and watched as she slowly lowered herself onto him. He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to keep still, despite the intense urge to bury himself in her, he didn’t want to hurt her. Her head fell forwards in pleasure feeling him stretch her out so nicely. Denki was quick gently massaging her sides as he whispered soft praises to her. “You’re doing so good, babe. Relax.”
Finally, she was fully seated on him, trying to take a moment to adjust, but the fluttering of her heat broke his will and he gave a sharp thrust into her. She cried out, clamping down around him, walls rippling and juices soaking him further.
Eyes wide with lustful awe, “Fuck… Did you just cum?” He asked, redundantly.
She shuddered and panted. “N-not, oh god. Not my fault.”
He rolled them over with ease, staying inside of her and growled into her neck. “You’re so tight, fuck...”
He slowly retreated from her warmth before plunging into her. A gasping moan tumbled from her lips as he repeated his actions and she tried to lift her hips to meet him. His pace increased and he nip at her neck, lifting her legs up to wrap around his hips.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking my cock so well, shit.” He praised, drilling into her harder.
“Denki… I-!” Y/N’s sobbing moan and tightening walls alerted him that he had found her soft spot. “Gonna cum, gon’cum. Please, please, please. Oh my god!”
Her admission sent him into overdrive, he pulled one of her legs over his shoulder and pounded into her at a pace that sent her eyes rolling back. Her nails clawed down his back, the overstimulation making her seek out some sort of support.
“Let go, baby, I got you.” Denki kissed her cheek and trailed his hand down to draw messy shapes on her swollen clit.
It all soon became too much, and she felt the familiar knot forming in your abdomen once more. She clenched around Denki and after a few more pumps her legs started to tremble as her final release washed over her. He was quick to pull out, emptying himself on her stomach, groaning deeply as he finished.
After a moment of admiring Y/N’s fucked out state he got up to retrieve a warm towel to clean her up. She hummed as he kissed her as he cleaned her, before finally coming up to connect their lips. It was softer than the most previous ones they shared but it made her heart pound just the same, maybe even more.
“Mmm,” Y/N tapped his shoulder, pulling back. “Can we roll over, I’m lying on my tail.”
Denki chuckled, but complied, rolling onto his back, pulling her onto his chest and draw soft circles in her back. Her tail waved contently, tickling his skin when it brushed across his hand. Slowly, they drifted off, their heartbeats lulling the other half to sleep. Well, almost to sleep.
“Sparky, you see the Yokai anywh-!” Bakugo threw open Denki’s door, scarring the fuck out of both naked parties.
Denki instinctively pulled the blankets up around Y/N and coughed awkwardly. “H-hey Bakugo. Nice hair…”
Bakugo stood, face slowly reddening, jaw slack. He blinked a few times before snapping out of it. “Naked or not, you’re dying you little shit.”
Y/N squealed and scrambled out of Denki’s arms as Bakugo fell into them. “Text me!” And with that she shifted into her fox form and bolted.
#denki kaminari#denki kaminari imagine#denki kaminari x reader#denki smut#kaminari denki#kaminari denki smut#denki kaminari smut#denki x reader smut#bnha#mha imagines#bnha denki#kaminari x reader#kaminari denki x reader#smut
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this last month has really been a slow motion realization of “oh, i really Really liked deltarune chapter two a LOT huh” (which has been great; i was really worried i wouldn’t be able to enjoy it very much cuz i was traveling when it first dropped and struggled to avoid spoilers for the first week x_x) and as a result I’ve been falling back into just Unabashedly Loving Undertale and Deltarune in general....it feels good. these games are good and i like them so much.
the emotionally difficult flipside of this last month is that it’s also been a violent tumble through the five stages of grief in regards to how i feel about spamton g spamton funnyman deltarune. i dont know what the fuck happened i dont know what the FUCK toby fox put in this little bastard that made me do a complete 180 i went into the game ready to absolutely hate this guy out of spite for getting spoiled 3823485 times and now i have spamton brainworms leaking out of my ears. he got me. i let him in and now he won’t leave. by talos how did i let this happen to me
#i want. to draw him again. perhaps i am Not immune to thee sexyman of the month. what of it#deltarumblings#<--in case i talk more about this game. i would like to. i have many silly thoughts in my head about it#anyway god i love ut and dr so much. they just hit me different
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Me and You Together, 6/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega
fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.
a/n: won't say much but i will say that i love tits and cats but i love reblogs, screaming in the tags and asks a whole lot more babes. if u like this i would love any of the former, but mostly the latter xo hope u all enjoy this chapter!!! cw for smut fam (hwfg!!)
last chapter: February- Valentine's Day saw Tayce and A'whora's cover blown as they were interrupted by Ellie and Lawrence.
this chapter: April- a lot has happened since last month, and at Lawrence’s friend’s flat party A’whora struggles with her feelings for Tayce. The trouble is, neither of them have ever been any good at sticking to the rules.
***
In front of the wooden tenement door with the music and voices muffled behind it, A’whora watches as Ellie frowns, tugs at the hemline of her green snakeskin-patterned skirt.
“Is this too short?”
“ No , Ellie,” A’whora, Tayce and Tia all groan at her in sync before giggling at the absurdity of their unison. She catches Tayce’s eye for a second before smiling bashfully and looking at the floor, electing to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. She wordlessly orders her heart to calm down, to stop doing backflips the way it’s doing right now. A reaction like that is much too selfish, against everything they said they would be going forward.
“Ain’t short enough,” Bimini shrugs blithely, hitching the top of their own hotpants up as if to make a point but only succeeding to rip their fishnets on one of their chunky rings. “Shit.”
“Were they new?” Tayce asks.
“Yeah. A whole two quid out of Primark.”
“How is your bank account ever gonny recover?” Lawrence dramatises, clutching at her heart as Bimini sticks their tongue out at her good-humouredly. As the others snort at Lawrence’s joke, Lawrence herself turns to Ellie and pats her arm. “It’s not too anything, you look great.”
A’whora doesn’t miss the way Ellie flushes red as she thanks her friend, and in spite of herself she finds herself trying to hide a smile. If she can’t be happy, at least one of her friends looks like she’s on her way to figuring her own feelings out soon enough. A’whora just hopes it’ll all have a better ending than her own love story seems to have had.
“Have we definitely got the right flat, Lawrence? You’ve not just brought us to some randomer’s party by accident?” Tia agonises as she rubs her arms, self-conscious and cold. April’s blessed them with some sporadic day-long heatwaves but tonight hasn’t been as kind; the walk over to Lawrence’s friend’s flat party had been chilly, and they’d all needed their jackets.
A’whora supposes the temperature suits her situation.
Embittered by the cold and her self-pity, A’whora rolls her eyes. “It’s not 2010 anymore, Tia, nobody says randomers .”
“Well I do,” Tia shrugs lightly, and before A’whora can begin to bicker with her Lawrence huffs a sigh of exasperation.
“It’s the right flat, awrite?! I have been here before, you know. She’ll answer any second. Could yous all just stop the arguing and pretend to be normal human beings for once in your lives?”
A’whora raises her eyebrows pointedly. “A feat that’s going to be harder for some of us than others…”
As both Lawrence and Tia whip their heads round to scold her, the front door opens to reveal a tall girl with full lips, striking hazel eyes and a thick head of candyfloss pink hair that tumbles down over her shoulders and the straps of the tight black bodysuit she’s wearing. She’s gorgeous, and A’whora is immediately intimidated. Her eyes dart to Tayce in a small panic, trying to gauge her reaction, but she’s distracted by Lawrence’s “WAHEY!” and the girl’s excited squeal as they pull each other into a hug.
“Lads, this is Rosé, Rosé, lads!” Lawrence gestures at her flatmates flippantly, and A’whora waves a hand in an awkward hello much like the rest of the others. Lawrence turns her attention back to her friend with an apologetic grimace. “Hope you don’t mind me bringing them, babes. I know you said bring people if they’re cool, but I don’t actually know any cool people, so…”
A’whora holds back a snort as she watches Tayce’s face screw up in involuntary offence. Rosé, for her part, just laughs and ushers them all in warmly.
“Don’t be silly, of course it’s fine! Come in, baby, let’s get you and your friends sat down and you can introduce me properly, m’kay?”
Once they’ve hung up their jackets Rosé leads the six of them through a crowded hallway, forgoes the thump of the bass and the packed space of bodies all crammed together in the kitchen and instead chooses a quieter room. The multiple sofas, stained coffee table and mismatched chairs suggest it’s a living room of sorts. There’s already people on the couches but Rosé simply bats them away as if they’re flies, irritation on her face.
“Move, my friends are sitting here,” she says simply, before the others grunt and slink off like foxes, tails between their legs. Rosé pats the now-empty seats, pulling a face. “Sorry about them. They’re just girls we hung out with last year before we realised what they were actually like. Freshers friendships, y’know? Nobody really wants them to be here, but Jan insisted we had to invite them so things weren’t awkward.”
“Ever the diplomat, oor Janette,” Lawrence smiles with understanding, throwing herself down beside her friend comfortably. Ellie quickly sits beside her on the other spare space, prompting A’whora to take the other sofa that’s left.
(To her surprise, Tayce sits beside her. Not close, though. A’whora doesn’t know what she expected.)
It leaves Tia and Bimini to take the other smaller couch, and as they sit Rosé stays true to her word and introduces herself to everyone, making an effort to learn their names and appearing genuinely pleased to meet them all (although that could just be a result of the bottle she’s drinking from). When she gets to Ellie her face grows scheming, and A’whora doesn’t miss the way she digs Lawrence in the ribs.
“So you’re Ellie! I’ve heard so much about you from Lawrence,” Rosé purrs, earning a glare from her friend and a laugh from Ellie.
“Fuck’s sake, I bet you have. All horror stories, I’m sure.”
“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Rosé smiles smugly, then flinches suddenly with a hiss. It doesn’t take Poirot to figure out that Lawrence is the cause.
“SO, Rosé! Where the fuck is your girlfriend anyway? Don’t tell me she’s left you,” Lawrence says, too-quickly and too-loudly.
“Shut up. Last time I saw her she was in the kitchen talking to one of her graduate friends,” Rosé pouts faux-dejectedly. “Think it’s a girl who studied fashion design so they were in the same faculty and knew each other for a bit.”
A’whora perks up. “Oh, we’d get on then, I think. I’m studying fashion design too, and Ellie does costume.”
“I’ll get Jan to introduce you!” Rosé smiles enthusiastically, before continuing with the conversation. “Plus I totally didn’t realise she was flatmates with Nina, who was in the MT society with us last year! Small world, huh?”
“Oh my God! You guys did MT?” Tia squeals excitedly. A’whora presses her lips together to stop herself from saying anything; trust Tia to be completely unable to play things cool. “I’m in it this year! How come we haven’t met before?”
Rosé giggles, covers her mouth with her hand. “We didn’t audition this year. Not to be rude, but we wanted to give everyone else a fighting chance, you know? We’ve got a slot in the Jazz Bar with our friend every Tuesday now instead.”
Tia’s face drops like she’s been slapped, and A’whora can’t help the way her eyebrows fly up her forehead. As she looks to Tayce, though, she’s disheartened. Usually Tayce would chime in with a little whoop in response to the shady comment, throw herself right into the conversation, be the complete life and soul of the party. Instead she’s muted, quiet, practically a wallflower in comparison. A’whora knows this isn’t like her. The guilt eats her up as she knows it’s somehow her fault, but still she can’t work out exactly why.
“Kandace!” Rosé suddenly yells out into the hall, startling A’whora somewhat. “Where’s my girlfriend, mama?”
Just then a girl enters the room, her dark hair in thick braids which she flips over her shoulder dramatically. “Well damn, bitch, I never took her! Would know better than to do so, you would come at me with a big...pizza cutter or some shit. She prolly in the kitchen drinking all the punch.”
“There’s punch?” Ellie pipes up, Tia’s wide eyes and anticipative smile matching her excitement.
“Damn right there’s punch, what sort of party d’you think this is? Amateurs. C’mon, I’ll show you both. You can introduce yourselves on the way,” the girl shrugs with the efficient energy of an infant teacher.
“Oh, I like you already,” Ellie smiles as she springs up from the sofa, and A’whora doesn’t miss the crestfallen look that takes over Lawrence’s face in response to Ellie's departure.
“Rosé, if I find Jan I’ll send her through,” the girl yells from over her shoulder, as the three of them leave the room. Rosé immediately turns to Lawrence as Ellie leaves, whispers something like ‘ so when are you gonna tell her?’ before she’s hastily shushed by her friend.
A’whora always has to remind herself she’s not meant to know about Lawrence’s crush on Ellie. She only knows because Tayce told her. Tayce doesn’t really tell her things these days, not in the same way she used to. Their chats used to be deep and meaningful, shared over a glass of wine in a dimly-lit bar or in bed pressed close together and wrapped around each other like vines. Now it’s flippant inquiries into how each others’ day was that neither of them care about the answer to, the question only serving as a box-ticking exercise to maintain the illusion of friendship.
That’s what they said they’d be. So why does this friendship feel so different to the one they had before?
Well. A’whora knows why.
She’d thought this situation would be perfect- Lawrence had been invited to Rosé’s pre-exam-season flat party, and of course had in turn invited the whole flat too- and A’whora had assumed that it would be the perfect opportunity to get everything back on track with Tayce, a little bit of alcohol giving them the gentle nudge in the right direction that they needed to mend whatever had snapped between them. But as Tayce sips one of the cans of cider she’s brought with her, she only smiles at Rosé politely and laughs half-heartedly at Lawrence’s jokes.
It’s been weeks since that day in March and A’whora’s still trying to figure out what exactly happened. It’s strange for something to be over before it ever really had a chance to begin.
Her thoughts are ruptured by the arrival of two more people: a boy with black hair, an earring and a black denim jacket and a girl with tumbling straight blonde hair and warm brown eyes. She’s got a pink sash that’s squint and falling off her shoulder, and a huge pink birthday badge pinned to her purple dress. When she walks in, Rosé’s whole face lights up.
A’whora tries to remember if Tayce’s face ever did that when she came into a room.
“There’s my baby!” Rosé beams, holds out her arms for a hug. The girl instead elects to tumble down onto her lap, and the two of them giggle like Care Bears.
Fleetingly, A’whora hates them.
“Oh, fuck me, right?” the boy fakes offence, before Rosé rolls her eyes and pats the space beside her where Lawrence has scooted up.
“You know damn well I was referring to you,” she addresses him, before turning to her girlfriend once more. “Jan, Mik, these are Lawrence’s flatmates!”
“Oh my God, adorbs! Lil’ fresher babies,” the boy says, with a vocal fry to rival that of a Valley girl. A’whora knows he doesn’t mean to be patronising, but her back’s put up all the same.
She’s probably just in a bad mood over Tayce.
“I hope it’s okay I brought them,” Lawrence says, apologising for their very presence for the second time that evening.
“Hey, the more people here to get drunk and forget about the overwhelming stress of deadline season, the better,” the girl shrugs cheerfully, then waves to nobody in particular. “Nice to meet you all! I’m Jan, that’s Mik. Can I learn names? Pronouns if you want to as well?”
Lawrence slaps her thigh decisively. “Crackin’ idea, I’ll start. I’m Lawrence and my pronouns are she/her, or fat/bastard.”
The room is filled with hysterical laughter that immediately breaks any ice that had been present between the freshers and the second year students. As they all introduce themselves politely, A’whora doesn’t fail to notice the way Mik’s eyes light up when Bimini introduces themself.
“Hey, do you know if they’re single?” Mik asks Lawrence, tipsy and sloppy and in a whisper that isn’t really a whisper. A’whora can’t help but laugh as she watches Bimini blush from their position on the sofa and smile over at Mik, flattered.
“Sorry to disappoint, babes, but I’m taken.”
It’s with Bimini’s words that Lawrence gives a yell of surprise and A’whora’s jaw drops open in shock. She can’t help the way she immediately looks wide-eyed at Tayce, and her heart jumps a hurdle when she sees her looking in her direction with much the same expression. Tayce’s shock at the secret Bimini’s kept from them prompts her to lurch forward on the sofa and give a cry of surprise.
“Ex-squeeze me, Bimini Bon Boulash?! Since bloody when ?!”
Bimini shrugs, clearly bashful. “Made things official with Asttina late on last month. Ain’t a big deal.”
“And when were you going to tell us this exactly? Were you gonna leave it in your last will and testament or something?!” A’whora cries, heart jarring at the laugh her words earn from Tayce.
Bimini stretches in their own catlike way, unbothered and laid back to an almost horizontal extent. “Well, you never asked.”
“What the hell?! This is big. C’mon Rory,” Tayce suddenly turns to A’whora and clutches at her hand frantically, and in doing so sends a thousand sparks flying between them. As A’whora’s pulse leaps, Tayce does the same off the sofa. “We need to go find the others. You ain’t getting away with just the three of us on this interrogation squad, Mx Bimini!”
“Alright, Line of effin’ Duty,” Bimini chuckles good-naturedly, and A’whora allows Tayce to drag her up off the sofa and through to the hall.
Tayce is giggling as she’s weaving them both through the crowd, and for a moment it’s like nothing has ever changed between them. A’whora’s not been keeping track of how many cans Tayce has had so far but she herself has only had three (two at pres, one here so far), so she’s not attributing that to the sudden personality transplant. She’s trying not to overthink it too much but this is the most authentic interaction she’s had with Tayce for a while, and it’s silly, but it’s hard to believe it’s not too good to be true.
For a moment, she’s almost glad Bimini didn’t tell them about Asttina if it meant she and Tayce could bond like this.
“Can you bloody believe it?!” Tayce squeaks at her as they reach the kitchen and, in turn, the punch bowl. Tayce wrenches two red cups from the stack beside it and fills them up with the ambiguous orange liquid that’s inside, pouring it sloppily and messily from the ladle. “I mean they’re meant to be our bloody friend! And then they don’t even tell us about the breaking news in their own love life! What goes on!”
“To be fair…” A’whora begins without thinking, then snaps her mouth closed as her heart shudders in her chest. She’d been about to say we kept us a secret from them too but she can’t bring that up now, send them crashing back down to earth and into the broken, uncomfortable bed they’ve somehow made. So she smiles tightly at Tayce who’s looking at her expectantly, takes the cup she’s holding out to her as she finishes her sentence. “...Bim’s always been a pretty private person.”
Tayce shrugs and holds the cup to her lips before she raises her eyebrows, takes it away and holds it out in the middle between them. “Cheers, slag.”
Silly and overeager, A’whora crashes their cups together then takes a too-big swig. The punch fills her mouth like poison and she feels her eyes grow wide as she swallows and then gags, Tayce doubling over laughing at her reaction.
“What the fuck is in that?!” she cries with horror, looking at the cup with incredulity as Tayce continues to laugh at her expense.
“It’s called punch for a reason, girl! It ain’t some fruity dilutey Slug and Lettuce pornstar martini tree we’re talking about here!”
“Punch is right. Feel like I’ve been punched in the fucking stomach,” A’whora screws her face up. Tayce’s face lights up and her hand rests on A’whora’s arm as she launches into a story excitedly.
“Oh my God. D’you remember that time we made punch back near freshers week and Lawrence added that thing to it...fuck, what was it called?! She kept calling it ‘wreck the hoose juice’.”
“Buckfast!” A’whora remembers with glee, trying not to grow too animated because if she moves she might scare Tayce away like she’s some sort of rare bird. This is the closest she’s been to Tayce in every sense for quite a while, and the moment is so magical that she’s determined not to let it slip away.
“That was it! And then the next day we were all so ill we were like...convinced we’d been spiked! But it was just that bloody Buckfast!”
As the pair of them giggle, A’whora starts laughing harder as she remembers what Tayce had said.
“Sorry, but hearing the words ‘wreck the hoose juice’ in a Welsh accent is probably the funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks.”
Tayce removes her hand from her arm only to slap her on it. “Oh, because the same thing in a Worksop accent is so much better!”
“We should get Ellie to say it. She's Scottish, it'll sound the same as when Lawrence says it,” A’whora says, then scans her gaze around the room and narrows her eyes. “Where the hell is she, anyway? We still need to tell her and Tia about Bim.”
The roar of a countdown from ten down to one on the other side of the kitchen prompts both her and Tayce’s gazes to wrench in its direction, only for their eyes to fall on Tia glugging a horrific-looking brown concoction out of a pint glass and Ellie yelling descending numbers at her, along with Rosé’s flatmate they’d disappeared with and a crowd of strangers.
“Of course,” Tayce deadpans, earning a snort from A’whora. Just then, A'whora remembers some chat Ellie had told her while they were getting ready, and she turns to tell Tayce without thinking. It's just natural to tell Tayce these sorts of things by now, and she's missed doing so.
“You know Ellie told me earlier she’s gonna like...see what happens with Lawrence tonight?” A’whora relays to Tayce eagerly, before she forgets that Tayce had sworn her to secrecy about the whole thing and her mouth snaps shut. It’s too late though, because Tayce is fixing her with a single raised eyebrow and a smirk which shouldn’t make A’whora’s stomach flip over like it does.
Friends, friends, friends.
“God, wonder how come Ellie’s suddenly over Tia and open to Lawrence?” she teases her, and A’whora groans apologetically.
“Look, I know you said not to tell anyone but it was the day they had that row in the flat,” she explains, belatedly and awkwardly realising that it had been the same day that she and Tayce had had that conversation and everything had changed between them. A’whora tries to shake the feeling of regret as she carries on. “Ellie was saying how Lawrence didn’t care about her and all that and it...well, it just came out. I had to shut her up somehow.”
Tayce shakes her head and laughs, toeing the line between long-suffering and affectionate. When she takes A’whora’s hand and squeezes it the line is crossed, and a thousand fireworks go off in her bloodstream. Tayce's eyes are soft as she looks at her and it only makes A’whora’s heart hurt.
“My fault, really. Should’ve known you can’t keep a secret to save yourself.”
“Kept us a secret for long enough,” A’whora says before she can stop herself. She feels like slapping a hand over her mouth, a flimsy gesture illustrating her mistake, and from the way Tayce lets go of her hand and looks to the floor it seems she regrets it just as much as A’whora does.
Fuck.
When Tayce snaps her head back up there’s a smile on her face that A’whora knows is fake, and she sets her cup down on the counter as she looks back over at Ellie and Tia. “Right! You wait here and guard the punch. I’ll drag those two hounds over and we can give them the goss.”
A’whora nods as she takes her turn to look to the floor, and suddenly Tayce is off in the direction of their other flatmates and all she can do is sit and stew in her embarrassment and regret at having said the wrong thing yet-a-fucking-gain.
Ellie has told A’whora countless times to just talk to her! and that if you just sit and chat things through everything will be fixed! but it’s been things A’whora’s said that’s somehow got them into this mess, even though she still doesn’t really know what specifically it was that made Tayce make the decision to stop it all, to stop falling asleep together and waking up together and going on dates (because they were dates, and that’s the hill A’whora will die on) and talking to each other like they’d known each other for eight years and not eight months.
When she thinks about the ways she misses Tayce, the sex isn’t even the first thing that comes to mind. That’s how she knows she was in deep. Well, still is. But A’whora would be lying if she said she didn’t still think about Tayce when her hands are between her thighs, has to stop the memories that flood her head when she's in the shower, moans just that little bit too loudly when she uses her vibrator in the pathetic hope that Tayce will hear her through the wall.
She supposes there’s a ridiculous part of her that misses the intimacy and the closeness most of all.
“Aurora!”
A’whora’s dragged out of her thoughts and turns around to see Jan standing beside a tall blonde in a tight red dress. Even though her mind is still entirely preoccupied by Tayce, her mouth goes a little dry and her heart skips a beat because...well, she still knows an attractive girl when she sees one. She fixes the two girls with a polite smile as Jan gestures at the girl beside her.
“This is Brooke Lynn! She’s my friend from the design faculty that did fashion? Rosé was saying you wanted introduced.”
A’whora feels her cheeks flush red as Brooke cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks. “Truthfully, I’m flattered. Always happy to meet a fan.”
A’whora shakes her head and gives an embarrassed laugh. “That’s not...I mean-”
“I’m just fucking with you. Nice to meet you,” Brooke smiles lazily, leaning against the countertop as Jan slips away. “So Jan was saying you’re studying design too?”
“Yeah! I mean, it’s hell on earth just now, especially with deadline season coming up. But I do actually really enjoy it most of the time,” A’whora replies politely.
Brooke laughs in fond recollection. “God, I don’t miss that. Portfolios were a bitch.”
“Right!” A’whora agrees enthusiastically. “It’s quite nice, though, because lots of my flatmates are at the art school as well, so we kind of all have that shared bond of going through the shit together. Lawrence does textiles, Ellie does costume and Tayce does fine art. In fact, that’s Ellie and Tayce over there.”
A’whora turns to point to where Tayce has found Ellie, although she’s perturbed to see the two of them already looking their way. Ellie’s eyes widen as she gives them an awkward wave and Tayce immediately looks elsewhere, her entire body language shifty as if she’s been caught out.
A’whora’s pulse starts to race all over again. Is she…? No.
But then she thinks about that night in December when they first kissed, how A’whora had been driven so crazy by Tayce talking to so many other girls that she was basically forced to show her hand and her feelings. She knows they said they’d be friends, but this situation is being handed to her on a plate and she’d be an idiot to turn it down.
So A’whora flips some of her hair over her shoulder and exposes her neck as she tilts her head with interest. “So, Rosé was saying you graduated last year?”
She and Brooke Lynn talk for a while; A’whora doesn’t know if it’s five minutes or twenty, but with every passing minute she steps up the flirting just a little tiny bit more, so that it’s nearly imperceptible to any onlookers. Tayce is different though, because she’s not just any onlooker. To anyone else it just looks like two strangers getting to know each other at a party, but A’whora knows Tayce sees every time she tucks her hair behind her ears, every time she giggles behind her hands, every time she nods eagerly at whatever Brooke is saying.
She can feel Tayce’s eyes on her, and A’whora would be lying if she said it didn’t make her stomach flip over all the more.
She’s not getting much from Brooke, though: not much of a reaction, not much reciprocation, not much anything. So the moment she steps things up a bit and touches her lightly on the arm as she laughs at a joke she’s made, A’whora’s sure it’ll get her somewhere. Only Brooke pulls a face, moves her arm away and apologises.
“God, I’m sorry...you’re sweet, but I’ve actually got a girlfriend,” she explains, and A’whora feels herself blush, embarrassed at having been spurned but also that it was all in full view of Tayce. It’s made even worse by the way Brooke’s face lights up as her eyes fall on someone over A’whora’s shoulder. “In fact, here she is now! Hey, baby.”
Another girl appears from behind her and moves to stand beside Brooke, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. She’s small and pretty and hostile, and A’whora is suddenly regretting the entire making-Tayce-jealous endeavour if she’s about to get grief from Brooke’s girlfriend.
“And who the fuck is this bitch?” the girl says by way of an introduction, not so much a question but a demand.
“Vanessa…” Brooke looks at her warningly, but the girl continues regardless.
“Nah, I just wanna know what business she thinks she has comin’ onto my girl like this?” she narrows her eyes at A’whora. A’whora, for her part, has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow her more.
This never happened to Tayce in December, that’s for fucking sure.
“Honestly, babes, we were just talking. She’s just told me she’s taken, I would never have tried anything if I’d known,” she tries to explain, but judging from how the girl reacts she’s only made the situation worse.
“Babes? I ain’t your babe, Milkybar-Kid-lookin’ ass!” she cries, and A’whora feels her eyes darting to the punch bowl beside her, suddenly terrified that the liquid inside it could be used as a potential weapon. “Bet your damn life she’s taken, bitch!”
A’whora’s weighing up the options of apologising more or escalating this into a full-scale brawl (because really, who the fuck does this girl think she’s talking to?) when she feels a hand slip into the crook of her elbow and tug her away from the kitchen, the pint-pot Conor McGregor still yelling at her as she leaves.
“Okay, home time,” Tayce’s voice says, amusement coating her words and only serving to make A’whora feel worse. As she turns to look at her she sees Ellie on her other side, who ducks into the living room as Tayce picks up their jackets from the hooks in the hall.
“Tia wants to stay and keep drinking, think she’s found some of her MT friends here,” Tayce explains, handing A’whora her coat with a little smile. “Ellie’s gone to get Lawrence and Bim. What the bloody hell was that, girl?”
A’whora rolls her eyes petulantly, annoyed that her plan hadn’t exactly been as successful as she’d hoped. “Well, you know what they say. The hot ones are always taken.”
“Not always,” Tayce shrugs at her, a little twinkle in her eye as Ellie reappears with Lawrence on her arm.
“Bim’s gonny stay and look after Tia. They’re staying at Asttina’s tonight, anyway, so they can drop Tia off at ours or Veronica's depending on what she wants to do,” Lawrence explains, only a little unsteady on her feet. “Anyway, what’s this I’m hearing about A’whora being a homewrecker?”
As they leave the party, A’whora reluctantly tells the story and the three of them all laugh and joke in response. If she’s being honest, Tayce finding the whole thing funny isn’t the worst thing to come out of the whole situation. She’s not annoyed or ignoring her, and at least that’s some form of progress, as ridiculous as it seems.
The four of them walk home full of tipsy, carefree joy, Lawrence’s voice bouncing off the buildings in the streets as she sings Rain On Me and the others all join in with Ariana’s whistle tones. They fill the air with their horrendous, off-key yelling and no doubt awaken everyone who’s unfortunate enough to own a flat on the main road, but none of them care.
Lawrence and Ellie’s arms are still linked, the pair of them leaning into each other as they walk, but Tayce hasn’t afforded A’whora the same affection. Which is fine. They’re not what they were now, whatever the hell they had been. They’re friends, but A’whora isn’t sure that label is meant to make it feel as if a broken shard of glass is getting jammed through her heart every time she uses it.
It’s fine.
Their hands still brush against each other every so often as they walk, though, ghosts of moments when they’d hold hands in bed and Tayce would trace around her fingers silently and intimately. The sporadic contact only seems to amplify the electricity that’s already so present in the atmosphere. A’whora thinks back to the party, talking in the kitchen with the girl who was Tayce’s opposite in every way. She doesn’t know if she’s being deluded when she thinks about Tayce being jealous. She hopes she was, though. Really it’s not like she has any right to be; A’whora can do what she wants with who she wants, and if Tayce wanted her to herself then she should have…
Well. A’whora knows what she should’ve done.
If it hadn’t been for Brooke’s tiny pitbull girlfriend coming in and yelling the place down, A’whora would’ve probably tried to kiss her. Not that she wanted to kiss her. Not that she was even really hugely attracted to her like she is to Tayce. But she’s intoxicated by the idea of Tayce watching her kiss someone else and burning up with regret and hurt, wishing it was her in Brooke’s place. But Tayce clearly hasn’t been bothered by the whole thing, A’whora thinks, as they laugh and quote lines from Tracey Beaker at each other while they walk. She’s not acting as if she’s annoyed at A’whora. She’s acting as if...well, as if they’re friends.
Which is what they agreed. A’whora doesn’t know why she expected anything different.
It takes the four of them five goes at inputting the code on the door to their block, yelling in delight when A’whora manages it and then frantically shushing each other as they ascend the echoey stairwell. It’s Tayce who unlocks the door to their flat and they all stumble in, still giggly and laughing.
“Kitchen afterparty?” Tayce suggests as soon as she’s over the threshold. A’whora’s ready to agree. Pathetically, after everything that’s happened, she’d still always agree to more time with Tayce.
Ellie shakes her head though, and as she pushes the door to her own bedroom open Lawrence moves to linger in its doorway too. “Nah. Too tired. You two have fun though.”
“Speaking of you two having fun,” A’whora jokes, pointing her finger at the two girls and wiggling her eyebrows. She dissolves into giggles as Ellie rolls her eyes and Lawrence’s face turns bright pink, happy she’s managed to get her own back for the endless teasing she and Tayce had to go through at the hands of their flatmates.
“Shut up. We’re gonna watch High School Musical 3, Lawrence hasn’t seen it,” Ellie explains, a look passing between the two girls that A’whora’s endlessly suspicious of.
“Oh, I haven’t seen that either! Can I join?” Tayce says lightly, A’whora smirking at her and seeing the twinkle in her eyes as she realises exactly what she’s trying to do. The question gets the desired reaction: Ellie’s eyes shoot wide open and Lawrence’s jaw drops as she tries to think of an explanation as to why Tayce can’t join in their impromptu, cosy movie night.
Tayce puts them out of their misery a second later. “You know what actually, I think I’ll just head to bed too after all.”
The visible relief on the two girls’ faces makes A’whora stifle a laugh, and as they all say goodnight she catches sight of Ellie taking Lawrence’s hand as the door closes. A’whora’s eyes meet Tayce’s as they’re left on their own, both girls laughing softly at the situation.
“Cute. Good for them,” Tayce smiles gently, before looking at the floor bashfully. “You down, then? Kitchen afterparty?”
A’whora’s stomach twists awkwardly. As tempted as she is and as much as she wants to, she feels as if more alcohol would make the current situation worse, and if they’re going to try to be friends then they need to commit to it. So she shakes her head, watches as something shuts down behind Tayce’s eyes. “I’m gonna get some water and then head to bed. Sorry.”
“Water seems like a good idea,” Tayce shrugs, and as A’whora peels off down the corridor towards their kitchen Tayce follows behind her.
Neither of them bother to turn the light on when they get to the kitchen- filling up a glass and taking a few quick sips doesn’t take a long time- and the light from the hall paired with the glow through the window from the streetlamps outside is just enough to ensure A’whora can see what she’s doing as she takes a glass out of the cupboard overhead and fills it up, glugging at it quickly. She can feel Tayce waiting at the sink behind her, but doesn’t turn to make eye contact. The silence is tense and deafening and awkward. Friendship no longer suits them.
So when A’whora turns around from the sink and Tayce is closer to her than she thought with a sparkle in her eyes, she is immediately struck down with all the feelings she’s tried to suppress. Tayce boxes her in, one hand on the edge of the countertop at either side of her, and as she leans in she’s got a little smirk on her face.
“Tayce, wh-”
“Shhh,” Tayce whispers, before leaning in and kissing her, slow and gentle but with an underlying intensity that makes a heat pool in the pit of A’whora’s stomach. She becomes so caught up in the moment that she almost forgets about everything they’d said, everything they vowed they’d stop doing.
So A’whora pulls away, but the needy whine Tayce gives and the way she moves her hands to rest at her waist makes her have second thoughts. She smiles a little, cocks her head to mock her just a tiny bit. “We said we weren’t doing this again.”
Tayce gives another whine, pushes one of her hands a little higher to rest at A’whora’s ribcage. “I know, it’s a really bad idea.”
Tayce drops her head to rest on A’whora’s shoulder, presses light kisses to her neck that are too much and not enough all at once. A’whora hears herself gasp into the kitchen, already equal parts frustrated and desperate.
“You should probably stop kissing my neck, then,” she breathes out, hissing as Tayce’s lips hit a sensitive spot that doesn’t make the situation any better at all.
“You should probably stop acting like you like it so much,” Tayce smiles against her skin, punctuating her sentence with another kiss before adding, “Or else I wouldn’t do it.”
“Yeah, it’s all my fault, isn’t it?" A’whora giggles, looking to the ceiling in exasperation as she already knows how this is going to end.
It’s fun to let Tayce work for it a little, though.
“All your fault, you bad girl,” Tayce murmurs, pulling away from A’whora’s neck and instead keeping her eyes trained on her as she runs her hands up the sides of her thighs and under her skirt. If Tayce is looking for a reaction then she’s got one, because the feeling of Tayce’s fingers against her skin is filling A’whora’s head with all sorts of memories that’re making it even harder to stick to the rules they both set.
“You looked so good tonight,” Tayce murmurs, her eyes cast down to the floor. The praise makes A’whora’s heart race twenty times harder than it already is. She pouts, brings her own hands to rest at Tayce’s hips.
“I was so pretty, wasn’t I?" she teases, not missing the way Tayce’s eyes flutter closed at her words. She decides to twist the knife a little. “Bet you’re so gutted I wasn’t picking my whole outfit out thinking about you. You can’t stand to see me talking to other girls, that’s why you need to corner me in the kitchen to get a reaction, right?”
“Worked though, didn't it?” Tayce smirks, running one finger along the edge of her underwear and sending a shiver down A’whora’s spine. She’s so determined not to let Tayce win whatever game they’re playing though so she takes one hand off her waist, reaches behind her for the glass of water she’d poured that’s still half full.
“Hasn’t worked yet, we’re just talking,” A’whora smiles smugly, sipping from the glass whilst looking Tayce dead in the eye. She gets met with an equally challenging look, one that makes her squeeze her thighs together.
“Yeah, we didn’t make rules against talking,” Tayce says, bringing one of her hands up to brush a little piece of hair out of A’whora’s face and tuck it behind her ear. The contact makes A’whora’s whole body tingle as Tayce continues speaking. “Didn’t make rules against me telling you how much I want to fuck you against this counter and watch you have to try and be quiet.”
“Tayce!” A’whora laughs in shock, at once annoyed and turned on by the smirk that appears on Tayce’s face. She brings her arms up to circle around Tayce’s neck, pulls her a little closer so they’re pressed up against each other.
“Didn’t make rules against me telling you how all night I’ve been thinking about flipping that skirt up and touching you and feeling how wet you are,” Tayce mutters darkly, pushing her knee in between A’whora’s thighs as if to make her point. A’whora can only bite her lip to stop herself from giving a whimper of a response, because Tayce is busy reducing her to a puddle right in the middle of the kitchen and she can’t give her the satisfaction of appearing needier than she already is.
“Or how much I want to tell you exactly what a perfect angel you are while you’re riding my fingers and begging me for it-”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora sighs before Tayce’s lips cut her off and they’re kissing again, messy and hot and desperate and everything A’whora’s wanted for weeks. They can’t be friends when they’re so good like this, when they know just what the other likes and wants and needs, and A’whora needs Tayce so much.
Tayce pulls away only to murmur against A’whora’s lips. “Tell me what you want, babe.”
A’whora pulls back a little, taking a little breath of composure as she tries to form her words. “Want you to do all that. Everything you said.”
She can see she’s said the right thing from the way Tayce paws at her waist and slides a hand up the side of one of her thighs. She gives her a funny sort of smile. “Might need to beg me for it a little bit.”
A’whora pouts involuntarily at her words, moves a hand to cup Tayce’s jaw. “Shouldn’t have to beg when I know how much you want me.”
“Hmm. Sounds like something a spoiled brat would say,” Tayce smirks, leaning against her and pushing her thigh a little higher so that A’whora is pressed right up against it. When A’whora grinds down and Tayce’s eyes grow dark it sends a little thrill of delight down every single nerve ending in her body.
Tayce runs her tongue over her bottom lip before she whispers again. “If I didn’t want you like this so badly I’d take you over to those sofas and spank all this bad behaviour out of you.”
“Yeah, you want to watch me put my pretty little ass in the air for you, don’t you?” A’whora murmurs, squirming against Tayce’s thigh again. She can feel herself throb against her and it feels so good, fucking insanely good, but she hopes Tayce is going to give her what she wants sooner rather than later because she doesn’t want to end up coming just from this.
Tayce pulls her in for a kiss again, more frantic than the last, and as their lips crash together A’whora pushes her hands into Tayce’s hair, tugs on it in the hopes it’ll get a reaction out of her. Tayce gasps against her and it elicits a reaction in A’whora that’s so visceral that she bucks her hips again, the friction making her whine.
“Think you need to start begging or else you’re gonna come and I’m not even gonna get to touch you,” Tayce says as she pulls away, biting her lip and raising her eyebrows triumphantly when A’whora hisses out a fuck .
“Please, Tayce,” she swallows her pride and begs, her fingers playing lightly with the straps of Tayce’s top as she hears her hum in consideration.
“Not sure that’s quite enough begging for making me stand and watch you flirt with another girl at that party. Maybe I could just walk away and watch how you react to having nothing to fuck yourself against at all,” Tayce whispers as A’whora rides her thigh needily, but the tone to her voice tells A’whora she’s not anywhere near serious.
“You like watching me get all wound up way too much to do that.”
“I do,” Tayce leans in, rests her forehead against A’whora’s as she tugs her top up from where it’s tucked into the waistband of her skirt and skims her fingers against her bare skin. “I love watching you get exactly what you want, you look so pretty when you want to come. Hair all messed up and biting your lip like such a perfect little mess.”
A’whora feels her stomach flip over and the heat grow between her legs as she begins to get worn down. Her hands drop down to grab Tayce’s ass through her jeans, tries to pull her closer even though there's already hardly any distance between them. “Please, Tayce, want you so much.”
“Just wanna make my princess feel so good,” Tayce pouts mockingly, and it’s almost sinful enough to make A’whora disregard the “my” that Tayce drops in the middle of her sentence. It hurts A’whora’s feelings more than she’d care to admit, so as revenge she gives a self-indulgent shudder against Tayce’s thigh, lets out a moan that’s too loud and makes Tayce’s eyes grow wide.
“The girls are gonna hear,” Tayce warns her, leaning in for three short kisses which she clearly delights in pulling away from each time.
At this point A’whora thinks she’s being driven slowly insane and so she finally lets her pride crumble to the ground, well and truly demolished as she gives a desperate whine. “Fuck, please , baby, please, please, please, need you so much, please.”
Tayce smirks at her triumphantly and tilts her head. “There. That wasn't hard, was it?”
It’s then that A’whora breaks. As she loops her finger around the velvet choker Tayce is wearing and crashes their lips together again she only breaks the kiss to hop up onto the counter, spreading her legs wide and feeling a flutter of anticipation between them as Tayce immediately gets to work, gently trailing her fingers up the inside of her thighs and making A’whora’s mouth drop open. She tugs her lace underwear down so it’s sitting at her knees, rips her top and her bra off and brushes her fingers over her nipples, presses hot, wet open-mouthed kisses over what feels like every inch of bare skin. A’whora is such a panting, incoherent mess that she almost doesn’t notice that Tayce has stepped back a little. When she opens her eyes she can see her sweeping a long, slow glance down her body, her pupils blown and her jaw slack.
“You are a fucking miracle ,” she gasps in awe, and A’whora immediately feels herself growing shy, Tayce’s words making her feel more naked than the fact she’s sitting on their kitchen counter half-dressed. Tayce seems to grow a little reserved as well, maybe picking up on the reaction A’whora’s given her, and when she leans in to kiss her again it’s slow and languid in the same way that honey falls from a spoon.
There’s a pause in the kiss where Tayce hooks her fingers over the waistband of A’whora’s underwear and pulls it off of her completely, leaving her free to trail her fingers up the soft skin on the inside of A’whora’s thigh and make her buck against thin air helplessly. Tayce fans her fingers against her thigh and lazily swipes a thumb over A’whora’s slit, the moan of relief A’whora lets out and the little gasp Tayce gives piercing through the quiet of the kitchen.
“So wet for me,” Tayce breathes out all at once, dropping her lips to her neck and kissing her. There’s a second where she bites and sucks at her skin, making A’whora gasp and giggle guiltily and squirm against her touch. Tayce’s lips are hot against her skin as she continues. “I would be on my fucking knees if I didn’t want to look at your gorgeous face the whole time.”
“Tayce, please,” A’whora begs, bouncing a little on the countertop as she desperately and wordlessly tries to get Tayce’s thumb to circle her clit. She suspects Tayce is being deliberate with the contact; she knows if she holds back then A’whora will just start begging her desperately like she did before.
The little smirk that appears on her face confirms her suspicions. “What is it, baby?”
A’whora grinds down but Tayce only flicks her thumb away, the frustration she feels and the way she’s practically aching in response turning Tayce’s little playful smile into a shit-eating grin. A’whora feels her bottom lip stick itself out and she whines needily. “You know what.”
“Aww. You not able to use your words any more, princess?” Tayce pouts mockingly back at her, and in response A’whora brings her hands up under the hem of Tayce’s top and skates her nails down her back. It seems to have the desired reaction as Tayce pulls her hand away for a second, A’whora subsequently drawing in a deep, shaky breath as she feels Tayce’s fingers slide deep inside her, her thumb rubbing gentle circles against her clit and leaving her feeling so overwhelmed that she tips her head forward to rest on Tayce’s shoulder.
“Fuck, so good,” she whispers, shuddery and breathy against Tayce's neck as she rides her fingers. Going from minimal teasing to having her every need met all at once is rendering her almost speechless but as she straightens up she finds she wants to keep talking if only to see the way Tayce blinks slowly and heavily as she collects herself, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she watches A’whora become more and more wound up. “So perfect, keep going...fuck…”
“God, I wish you could see what you look like right now,” Tayce hisses, curling her fingers and managing to hit a spot that makes A’whora squeeze her eyes shut and bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from squealing in ecstasy. She keeps her eyes closed as Tayce keeps talking to her, every word making her melt and only intensifying the waves of bliss that are racking her body. “You’re so beautiful, Aurora, oh my God, so, so, so gorgeous...perfect fucking angel…”
A’whora presses a frantic hand to Tayce’s jaw and pulls her in to kiss her again, but they’re unable to make it last all that long when they’re both breathing so heavily and A’whora is rocking so much against Tayce’s fingers it makes her momentarily wonder about how sturdy the countertops in their shithole of a flat actually are. It’s at the point now where A’whora is feeling so soaking wet and overstimulated that she can’t even form a single thought apart from just fuck , so how she manages to form a sentence Christ only knows.
“Missed getting me like this?”
“Like what, baby, a dripping wet desperate mess?” Tayce’s free hand grips her thigh just that little bit tighter in response. “Missed it so fucking much.”
Her words make A’whora shiver with lust, and something inside her curls like a tightly wound spring. She can feel her orgasm building with every passing second but there’s something different about how it usually feels; it’s all far more intense and all-consuming than normal as if every single one of her nerve endings are buzzing in anticipation. She’s completely incapable of speech now, only breathy little moans and needy whines as Tayce keeps whispering into her ear about how perfect she is, how pretty and gorgeous and beautiful, all the while fucking her gently and pulsing her fingers against that spot deep inside her and teasing her clit.
It’s because of her lack of words that A’whora can’t give Tayce much of a warning when suddenly her body seems to leap two levels at once and she’s so dangerously close that all she can do is urgently whisper Tayce’s name before her moans get increasingly louder and louder, her orgasm rips through her, and she swears she comes harder than she’s ever done before in her life. Everything is throbbing so violently that all A’whora can do is let out broken cries into the silent kitchen, completely unable to care about who could hear her. Her orgasm seems to last a few seconds longer than usual and it takes her by surprise, and her body is so racked from it that she needs a couple of seconds to compose herself. She breathes raggedly with her forehead against Tayce’s shoulder, and she can feel the other girl rubbing her back gently with her free hand.
It’s Tayce who speaks first, her voice humoured as she whispers quietly into the silence and slides her fingers out of her slowly and carefully. “Fuckin’ hell, girl. I could feel that.”
A’whora has to take two little breaths before she lifts her head off Tayce’s shoulder and replies with the only word she can form. “Shit.”
Tayce giggles, and it’s so endearing that A’whora feels her heart swell with affection and maybe a little something deeper. She’s barely got time to dwell on it before Tayce locks eyes with her, a little sparkle in them as she takes the same two fingers she’d fucked A’whora with seconds ago and wraps her lips around them, sucking them into her mouth before drawing them out and letting her eyes flutter closed. “You taste so good, fuck.”
At that point, A’whora could've just stayed silent. Or responded with something else. Or just pulled Tayce in for another kiss before returning the favour. But no- she has to ruin it by opening her mouth and saying the first thing that comes into her head, a stupid joke that’s only going to hurt her instead of make her laugh.
“I don’t think that’s something that friends do.”
Tayce’s expression falters and her palms come to rest on A’whora’s thighs. Her gaze is fixed on the floor and there's a small pause before she replies quietly. “Well maybe I don’t want to be friends.”
Every cell in A’whora’s body freezes up and she’s rendered almost motionless at Tayce’s response. She doesn’t even care about how desperate she comes across as she replies almost breathlessly. “What do you want, then?”
Tayce doesn’t meet her eyes. The seconds tick by. Her palms slip off A’whora’s thighs and come to rest at her sides.
“Tayce?”
Tayce takes a step back, casts her gaze to the ceiling this time. She seems to be looking everywhere but at her. A’whora watches her press her lips together, bring her arms up to wrap herself in a hug. The silence grows longer and more ominous, storm clouds hanging over the two of them that are heavy with rain.
And then it dawns on A’whora that what Tayce must be feeling is all-encompassing regret. She regrets it all. Everything she said, everything they just did. She’s dug herself into a hole that she can’t escape from.
So A’whora helps her out of it. The tears flood her eyes as she hops down from the kitchen counter, snatches up her clothes with her face burning from embarrassment, and her hot tears run down her face almost as fast as she dashes back to her room. She’s completely humiliated, and she’s not going to stick around to talk things out.
Tayce doesn’t yell after her, doesn’t come back down the corridor for her, doesn’t stand at her door and knock and ask to be let in. Instead there is only silence and darkness, and all A’whora can do is lie down on her bed and sob into her pillow, trying her hardest not to make a sound but wondering if she's failing even at that.
#rpdr fanfiction#rpdr uk#uk2#ortega#me and you together#taywhora#lesbian au#college au#university au#freshers au#british au#roommate au#smut#tayce#a'whora#friends with benefits to lovers#lawrence chaney#ellie diamond#bimini bon boulash#tia kofi
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Only You (8)
Word Count: 12,827 // angst (mention of physical abuse/harm, mention of child abuse/neglect, mention of forced pregnancy, mention of murder), smut (brief mention of cockwarming and masturbation), no fluff
Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader
Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.
A/N: I’m so sorry this took FOREVER for me to write. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, please come scream in my inbox so I can scream with you! - 🐰
The red and yellow iron man figurine is snatched away from his clammy little hands, the harsh ridges of the plastic cutting across his palm to leave gashes that burned. Jungkook’s eyes are already glossy with unshed tears as he stares at the beloved toy in her grasp.
“Fucking useless piece of shit!” His mother screams, voice cracking as she throws the plastic figure at the man sprawled on the couch, a small pouch of belly fat pooling over his unzipped jeans. His dark disheveled hair and tattered clothing makes him look older than he actually is, earning a disgusted sneer from the woman. The head of the figurine hits the side of his arm but he simply glares at the child, and then at his wife, before turning away in silence. Iron Man lays on the dirty carpet, feet pulled apart, head dislodged from the neck.
“You think you’re the only fucking man in the world that works!? If I didn’t push out your bastard child, I would’ve left you years ago!”
Jungkook’s face scrunches into a frown, hiccupping as he gasps for air between sobs and hiccups. He knew he shouldn’t cry for the sake of angering his parents further but he couldn’t help it. Catching his mother’s attention, he steps back only for her to yank his small arm through the oversized superhero shirt and drag him across the living room. The child falls onto his knees, unable to help himself as the grip on his arms numbed his little hand in which he held his lunch bag.
“I’m sorry! Mama, I’m sorry! Mama!”
The soggy brown sandwich bag tumbles away from his grasp as his mother drags him into his makeshift room behind the sliding door of a storage unit. The shoebox-sized space is thankfully warm as it’s situated next to the hissing water heater. Jungkook’s mother pushes him onto the futon next to his school bag, empty cartons of milk, and mismatched socks.
“Don’t you dare make a fucking sound,” she spits, glaring down at the shaking boy who’d curled into the yellowed blankets in the corner. “You don’t want to upset mama, do you?”
Jungkook shakes his head, toes digging into the sheets below him. His ears are ringing, but he knew better than to disagree when her eyes become as red as the knitted dragon on his socks. Red means danger, red means silence.
The door slides shut with a bang and little Jungkook shakes and shakes, bent knees knocking into each other as cold sweat forms on his temples. He wipes his moist eyes with the back of his hand and curls into the corner, hunger pains wringing his stomach tight. He struggles to hold in his bladder and cries harder when he tremors once more and his pants turn dark with urine.
The room gets darker, the house falls steadily falls silent, yet there is still no food offered to him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed as the only window in the room is nailed shut with wooden boards; only the small amount of sunlight shining between the rotten wood tells him when to sleep and when to dress for school. Looking at the dark gaps, he’s disappointed to find that it’s well past dinner time.
He can hear his parents screaming at each other between bouts of silence, their voices lowering gradually as exhaustion takes over them. He’s glad that at least he’s left alone. When the screaming ends, there is moaning, sounds of flesh against flesh, and silence once more.
They must have forgotten he hasn’t eaten, he thinks to himself as his frown deepens.
Jungkook knows they are most likely asleep but he doesn’t want to risk disturbing the peace – the silence – that he can finally enjoy. If it weren’t for his hunger, he would be perfectly content staying still. He closes his eyes to the world and wishes on the lonely lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that one of his parents will awaken and at least take pity on him to throw the sandwich bag in the room. The roaches might have gotten to it first but he wasn’t in a position to complain.
Wiping away the dried snot on his face with the back of his hand, Jungkook looks up at the spotted roof and imagines a big studio like the one Iron Man has. When he becomes big and strong, he would have a drawer full of chocolates and another one full of clean and cool clothes like his classmates. He would be so successful and so cool that his teachers will fall to their knees and he will never have to do homework again. Even Iron Man will come knocking at his door to spend time with him – that’s how cool he will be.
Despite the growling in his stomach, Jungkook giggles softly. He discards his soiled bottoms away from the futon, being extra careful not to let the wetness touch his backpack, and lets his big shirt fall over his knees. He then rolls over to cushion his head with the back of his backpack. At least in his dreams, he lived well.
Some days are painful but some days should be better, he thinks.
“It’s a miracle you survived,” Taehyung says one day as he hands Jungkook a bigger share of his rice ball. Jungkook rolls the sleeves of his black Busan middle school uniform up to his elbows, knowing the smell will be hard to get rid of if the loose seaweed falls apart in his hands like last time. The cheap tuna Taehyung stuffed it with smelled like gasoline and they made it a habit to hold their breaths as they chew. The mayonnaise at least helps the mouthfuls of fish slide right down their throats. No matter how strange his lunch boxes smelled, Jungkook never complained.
“I hate them,” Jungkook whimpers as he chew, leaning the heel of his sticky palms against the wet boulder beneath as his older friend rubs the tender sores on his neck with a free hand. Several bruises trail down his spine and Taehyung knows there are more underneath the uniform. “I just want to get out of here.”
Their naked feet, exposed under their rolled pants, dangle from the sharp layer of rock and moss protruding from the side of the boulder. The sound of ocean waves drown their voices and they find themselves shouting over its volume. Jungkook jumps slightly when cold water splashes over his toes.
“We’ll go anywhere you want.” Taehyung stretches his neck from side to side to undo the knots, his steel eyes landing on the grains of dry rice rolling down the rock.
Jungkook looks at his dearest friend, truly look at him, and grabs another rice ball from the canteen. He coughs slightly when the tuna goes down the wrong pipe, taking a swing of the water bottle from his opened backpack laying at his feet. It was hard for him to sit still when Taehyung says such things so frivolously. In fact, Jungkook found himself annoyed – annoyed that these fantasies are way beyond his imagination and annoyed that Taehyung might not mean what he says and Jungkook is just waiting around for leftovers like the rice ball in his hands.
Jungkook kicks the side of the rock as he licks his fingers clean, scraping his heel along the ridges back and forth. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “You’re going away to med school later too…we might not see each other even when you get to college. It’s like…ten years.”
Jungkook can just imagine it. Taehyung, the miracle from a small town in Busan who surpassed everyone with his razor-sharp intelligence and sly fox charms. He’ll walk up to a podium for a white coat ceremony to attend the nation’s best medical school. There will be cheers and flowers everywhere; he bet even the president will show up for the ceremony because Taehyung will represent the rags-to-riches fantasy everyone wants. He’ll go on to be a surgeon full of pride and joy. He’ll marry a naïve but rich girl from Gangnam who will pity his hardships and they’ll have five children together and live in a penthouse. They’ll live on the top floor where they can look down at the people passing by like they’re nothing but ants.
And as for him, he might still be sleeping in that same storage closet next to the hissing water heater.
“I’ll take you with me.” Taehyung pushes the half-full canteen towards the younger boy, giving away his share, and wipes his hands on his pants. There are three giant rice balls left and even some pickled radish at the bottom. The food offering doesn’t make the younger boy smile like he usually do, his brain is so full of worries it might explode.
Jungkook shakes his head at nothing. The future seems so, so far away, almost out of reach. He can barely image his life without Kim Taehyung, the only genius the sad little town has produced this generation who ironically became his best friend and caretaker. There’s been rumors that he’d skipped four grades and grew up speaking Cantonese just from watching films. Jungkook hasn’t confirmed these theories himself but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. He had a future as bright as the stars while Jungkook knew, deep in his heart, that his kind is bound to be in the sewers. He’s forever looking up at the stars that Taehyung can collect without lifting a finger.
“I won’t burden you, Tae. I’m just trouble.”
“You’re not,” he runs his fingers through Jungkook’s dark cocoa hair with his damp fingertips. The younger boy trembles slightly at the feeling, kicking his feet to hide how much he’s enjoying it. “That’s what they want you to believe…but you’re not. We’ll get out of here together, I promise.”
“N-No, you have to go Tae,” Jungkook puts the rice ball back in the steel canteen set between them and turns, serious all of the sudden. His voice is cracking and his leg shakes up and down as he tries hard to control the rage and grief boiling inside him.
He knows what will happen. When Taehyung leaves, luggage in hand, to whatever top-tier college in the country with a full scholarship, he’ll end his life. He’ll take the kitchen knife and plunge it deep into his heart and bleed out in front of his sad excuse of a mother. His father can join in on the crying, or the celebration, over his corpse once he wakes up from a drunken slumber. Actually, they might not even notice he’s bleeding. With the piles of newspaper and dishes laying around, Jungkook would be nothing but bones underneath all that garbage by the time they discover his body.
Taehyung, gripping the hair above the nape of the boy’s neck, keeps him in place like a bothersome cub. “I won’t leave you, Kook. I swear on my life I won’t. When the time is right, we’ll get out of here together.”
Jungkook doesn’t reply immediately, weighing the sincerity on his ears. Feeling tears sting his eyes, he leans his forehead on the older male’s broad shoulders to hide his face and circles his arms around his biceps. Taehyung nuzzles his chin into the younger boy’s hair and smells the salt of the sea in his scalp.
“I’m useless,” Jungkook says at last. He’d decided that Taehyung was genuinely concerned about him after all and not showing off. Those words were not like the empty promises he’s heard many times growing up. “I’m not smart like you. I can deliver milk and newspaper and that’s about it.”
Jungkook rubs his cheek up and down Taehyung’s shoulder blade, scratching the little wound on his cheek until it burned. He can still feel the buckle of his father’s belt ripping a patch of skin off the top of his cheekbones. He had considered leaving that day without a dime to his name but knew better to stay.
Taehyung reaches behind him and tugs his backpack forward, choosing to instead comfort the boy through a gift he’s been wanting to give for some time. He shrugs Jungkook away, earning a pout as the boy wanted to hear more honeyed words of comfort. His irritation, however, is short lived when he sees a flash of onyx and silver in Taehyung’s hands. He watches as the film camera gleams under the tangerine sun, the cracks on the side oozing a type of charm only antiques have.
“This is grandpa’s camera,” Taehyung says as he sets the camera down on his friend’s lap. “I want you to take pictures of the things you love before we get out of here.”
It’s not a gift, but a promise.
“You’re giving this to me?”
He nods. “Don’t worry, he ran off ages ago. I wanted you to have it…I think you’ll like it once you get the hang of it. There’s already a roll inside, it’s half used. I know you wanted that camera from Mickey’s but…this is good enough for now.”
Jungkook’s cheeks turn bright red as he holds the camera in his hands, brushing his thumbs across the protruding lens and the square of white plastic in the corner. He didn’t realize that Taehyung paid enough attention to catch him staring at things he can’t afford. It was equally humiliating as it is flattering that someone notices his wants and needs. Although the camera in his hands is not as fancy as the one in the display cases, Jungkook is more than grateful for he would not be able to afford the basic point-and-shoot camera on a delivery boy salary.
He can’t help but think maybe this will be Taehyung’s final gift to him before he goes away. Maybe the older boy is just taking pity on him because attachment is an illusion that slowly dissipates as absence takes its rightful place.
That rags-to-riches fantasy happens to those who are smart and sincere like Taehyung and not to boys like him – boys who stupidly spend hard-earned money on Iron Man comic books despite needing money to escape.
“I can’t afford to buy film,” Jungkook complains because he knows he’ll burst into tears if he thanked Taehyung. He peers into the viewer with one eye closed. He takes a shot of the waves dancing under their feet. The cerulean blue, their tanned feet, the black rocks – he can already feel excitement bubbling within him when he’ll make the time to develop the roll at the school photography lab.
“I have a box of unused ones in the basement. I’ll dig it out for you later.”
“Mm…okay.”
He points the camera towards the setting sun, taking a snap just when two birds fly past him. The film inside clicks into place with a satisfying snap, making him giggle. He turns at the waist and points the lens towards Taehyung, who stares into the camera with a disinterested amusement that tugs Jungkook’s heart a little more than he feels comfortable with. To please the boy, Taehyung holds a peace sign over his cheek, shielding half of his face as his eye peers past the ‘v’ shaped fingers. Jungkook takes the shot.
“Happy?”
He giggles louder this time. “Very much so.”
Taehyung takes the camera away, enveloping his large hand over the boy’s fingers. He holds the viewer up to eye level, seeing Jungkook nibble on his lower lip. He knows what the boy is thinking. There’s no way he can look pretty with the wound on his cheek, with the purple bruise blossoming around his right eye, the chapped lips split open from his nervous gnawing. Sensing his discomfort, Taehyung reaches over with his free hand and tugs at Jungkook’s hair tucked behind his ears. His deep mahogany-black locks bounces forward like a curtain, shielding the injuries without effort.
“Perfect.”
The camera snaps once more.
*
You curse under your breath after splashing your face with cold water in the office bathroom. Work has been absolute hell in contrast to the newfound heaven at home with Jungkook. You swear there’s a force in the universe set out to get you; as one part of your life heals, another part has its wounds reopen. When Jin called in sick for a few days two weeks ago, you did not realize how different he was going to be when he returned. Something about the way he looks at you these days leaves you paralyzed, often times leading you to work entirely in your personal office instead of the open cubicle like you usually do.
You assume that perhaps there is something going on in his personal life that can explain his passive aggression towards you and your coworkers. Taking pity on him through your own self-talk, you complete his share of the paperwork without complaints for an entire week without earning a single ‘thank you’ or even a smile from him. He often walked back and forth in the hallway, dialing his phone with an aggression that leaves you wondering if the screen even works with how hard he’s pressing. Knowing he was the type of person to need distance during hard times, you didn’t push it.
That is, until he’s suddenly calling in the middle of the night and dragging you out of break rooms. The office is already short on staff due to Sora’s absence, you didn’t need to be reprimanded for laziness especially after you carried his entire workload and apologized on his behalf for mistakes in the software he was supposed to fix.
Honestly, you’re not sure why Jin is cold one moment, hot the next, and then absolutely boiling on some days. But you’ve had enough of it and you’ve reached breaking point today when you heard rumors for the first time that your department, usually praised for its performance, has too many unprofessional workers (it did not take energy for you to figure out people are talking about your little cat-and-mouse chase with Jin). Thus, it was a relief when your former assistant shows up at the office and gives you a break from the cycle of avoiding your childhood friend while saving whatever reputation you have left here.
Pleasant and giving as always, Sora brings sandwiches for the people in your department with no pressure to have the favor returned. It’s the first time you’ve seen your assistant since she took her maternal leave; you almost forgot about her despite receiving occasional updates about her condition and even yearning for her when Jin disappears from his cubicle or stares at you from across the room. To you, she’s one of the best persons you’ve worked with so far in your career. Although Jin is great at handling IT issues that arise too many times for you to wonder if the whole job should be thrown away, it was Sora who brightens the atmosphere with her rambunctious laughter and messy desk in which she was miraculously able to get work done at an unmatched rate. Sporting a small bump beneath her floral wrap dress, she greets you with a kiss on both cheeks.
As you take her in your arms, you peer at Jin leaning against the office fridge with arms folded. His public questioning about Jungkook stays fresh in your mind and everyone else’s as they quietly glance between you and him between conversation.
Almost every time he chases after you, the first words out of his mouth was your boyfriend’s name. It got to the point where you wish you’d wake up from this nightmare that will pass when whatever in his life fixes itself. You’re sure his irrational behavior, arriving from nowhere with the suddenness of a car crash, is coming from something else in his life. You are sure, one hundred percent, that this is the kind of asshole behavior that somehow manifested in your male peers back in college, not that you were ever on the receiving end of it. Until now.
Currently, Jin seems to be deep in thought, sporting dark bags under his eyes. His eyes meet yours momentarily before you pull back and gasp at Sora’s belly with the vigor of a seasoned actress.
“Why do I have a feeling you didn’t just come to bring sandwiches?” You tease while your coworkers chuckle, turning their heads towards you for a moment before turning back to their plates. There are only a few sandwiches left on the counter as you couldn’t leave a conference call until much later unlike others. Actually, it was the same conference call from the person who was disrupted when Jin pulled you out of the room for an “emergency” days ago. You were too angry to even listen to him then, and even angrier now that you’re here smiling after apologizing with a bow just moments before.
With the merry atmosphere dancing in the otherwise cold break room, even your boss sitting at the end of the table has a difficult time asking people to head back to their cubicles and corner offices.
“No, I came here because I missed you,” she squeezes your arms, dragging you softly towards the table scattered with sandwiches of all types. How unfortunate the lobster roll – your favorite – is all gone.
“Please,” you scoff and she laughs with that hearty, sweet sound you missed so much.
“Actually,” she begins, “I’ve been thinking of staying at home to be a mother.”
Your jaw hangs. “You won’t be coming back after this?”
Her face falls slightly at your question and you immediately shut all your thoughts deep inside. You don’t understand the first thing about being a mother. It’s only reasonable you hear her out first. From the corner of your eyes, you see Jin walk towards the coffee pot and pour himself a cup in his chipped mug that brings a spark of annoyance in your chest.
“I do,” she sighs, “but…I found out I’m having twins. Just last week actually. This entire pregnancy was a bit of an accident and I needed time to rethink my priorities. My husband is more than thrilled we’re having twins, you know how he is-“
You nod in sympathy.
“-but it’s difficult for me. I already have a toddler and now with two more…I thought about handing in my resignation soon. I just wanted to see you all one more time before I do.”
You place your hand on her back once you see the tears in her eyes, leading her outside of the break room and into the small walkway where sunlight from the open windows gives you a better view of her solemn yet saccharine face.
“You do what’s right for you. But I understand it’ll be difficult for you to get another job if you need one later with kids around. Have you talked it over with Alex?”
At the sound of her husband’s name from your lips, her cheeks redden slightly.
“He’s glad that I’m strongly considering staying at home. He always wanted to have a big family and we’re more than financially stable with his salary alone. It’s just…I’m going to miss work.” She looks up at you, eyes watering even more. “It feels like I have a family here. Especially you, I feel like I have the little sister I always wanted.”
“Oh Sora,” you sigh, bringing her in your embrace once more and letting her cheek rest on your perfumed shoulder. She inhales the scent of soft geranium and jasmine, letting it calm her anxiousness only further amplified by pregnancy hormones. If the rest of your coworkers found out how emotional she’s getting, they all will follow suit and cry along with her. “We’re still family whether you work here or not. I’m always a phone call away and you know the team will be here to help you if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” she sniffles, “I’m grateful…really, for everything.”
“It’s no problem at all,” you smile. “I can’t wait for the babies to arrive. From the bottom of my heart, congratulations on the twins, Sora. It’s such a rare and precious thing.”
She beams at you, eyes glistening, her smile stretching wider as she takes your hands in hers and gives them an eager squeeze.
“I don’t even know how to explain it. Just seeing the ultrasound for the first time was, god I wish you were there!”
“Me too,” you agree, turning your head to the side to see Jin peering at you from between the gap of the door and the column in the corner of the hallway. “Alex must be so thrilled.”
She rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t shut up about it. He’s baby-proofing the entire house right about now even though I’m not even due for another six months.”
You giggle with her, thinking back to the time you walked into your home to see Jungkook on all fours, rubbing sandpaper to the edges of your coffee table. It’s too dangerous, he said when you stand in front of him with a fist on your hip, you’ll hurt yourself. His strong arms bulge and flex as he works the wood with the ferocity of a mad man. You wonder if Alex is in the same position on the floor, religiously rubbing sandpaper back and forth against the corner of the wooden table.
“That’s so funny,” you muse. “Jungkook baby-proofed the house once and made a mess of the living room…and I’m the farthest thing from a clumsy child.”
Sora raises an eyebrow, elbowing you softly on the side. “Is he dropping hints? You have sex regularly, don’t you?”
“Shhh! Sora!”
She cackles as you turn back and forth between the open door and at her amused face.
“We’re not even married, or even engaged!”
“Well,” she shrugs. “Do you really need to be married to have a child these days? Men can have baby fevers way early in the relationship,” she muses, thinking back to her college days. She seems completely different from the emotional expecting mother just a few minutes ago now that men are the topic of the conversation. Classic Sora move. “I conceived my daughter just a day before Alex proposed.”
You blush, tucking your hair behind your ears. For a moment, you think of your picture-perfect boyfriend on his knees rubbing your lower belly and cooing with his ears pressed up against you. “I guess not but…Jungkook and I aren’t ready for that yet. At least, for the time being.” You shake your head dramatically from side to side, bringing your hands up to your face. “All this baby talk is giving me ideas I don’t like.”
“Alright alright,” Sora waves her hand back and forth like she’s swatting away a fly. “I won’t be one of those annoying office moms that constantly pressure people into pooping out kids.”
You laugh, leaning your back against the wall.
A coworker from two cubicles down peeks his head out the door and urges for Sora to come back into the room. From the ruckus, you can hear your coworkers fighting over the last few sandwiches in a game of rock paper scissors. It seems people are also curious about the picture of her ultrasounds – which you didn’t realize were there before – scattered across the lunch table.
Everyone except for Jin, that is.
You turn towards the door as she waves you off and staggers into the room, just in time to maneuver around Jin who walks towards you while closing the door behind him.
“I need to talk to you about something,” he pleads, peering down at you with a heavy, foreboding stare that wipes the remaining laughter out of your chest.
“Can we talk later?” You move to the side to walk past him, only to be blocked as he steps along with you. You really don’t want to deal with him today when you’re having a good time. You actually don’t want to deal with him at all, at your wit’s end.
“You don’t pick up my calls and you almost always leave before me, if not right away. When I ask, you avoid me.”
Every word out of his mouth is true and you feel sick being confronted with it all despite how valid your anger is with the way he seems to want nothing to do with you when he returned, then wanting to bombard you all five working days last week. However, you’re not sure if the sourness in your gut is regret or anger; regretful that you stayed away from Jin like your boyfriend asked or angry that he is slowly getting on your nerves with his recent behavior. Anytime Jin approaches, it’s never about work or even about your friendship and always about your relationship with Jungkook that he somehow sees as unhealthy and worrying.
“Sora is retiring, Jin. I want to be there for her.” You step around him, only for him to grab you by the elbow and drag you further away from the door. You push him away, glancing at the end of the hallway to see if anyone saw.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jin questions.
“No,” you whisper-snarl, looking back and forth from the door to your childhood friend. “What the hell happened to you? Why do you keep picking fights with me when you know I’m going to react the same way?”
He raises an eyebrow. “With you ignoring me?”
You can feel the anger in your veins making your nerves curl. For the past week, he had been insufferable. You’d never seen someone turn from a friend to a stranger so quickly after you have to bear the weight of his eyes following your every move, leaving you unable to do any substantial office work without errors. Even then, you assume he must have personal business to take care of and needed the well-deserved sympathy. After all, Jin has always been a hard worker and you’ve never once doubted his work ethic, especially in this company where he thrived from your recommendation.
However, his newfound aggression has you thinking back to your boyfriend’s warning about how little you know about men despite living with one. His glare sharpens every time you leave early to head back home or when you take a quick call from Jungkook during your lunch breaks. His eyes seem to follow you across the room as you move back and forth from the copier to your office. You think Jin would be over this little temper tantrum of his until, just yesterday, he’d thrown his cup of coffee in the break room sink while you were on the phone. The sound of porcelain meeting steel and the anger in his eyes was something you couldn’t forget about and in your heart you knew the fury extended past you onto your boyfriend waiting for you at home.
“I know you obviously have an issue with Jungkook.”
“So now you’re ready to discuss?”
“Discuss what?” You scoff. “You claim to be my friend who watches out for me yet you can’t even be happy that I’m finally with someone who cares for me. Jin,” you sigh in exasperation, “look, I know you let your paranoia or whatever get in the way but I promise you Jungkook isn’t a liar or a cheat like Namjoon. You’re overreacting.”
He crosses his arms. “Are you so sure about that?”
“About what?”
“Him not lying to you.”
You didn’t like how serious he looked at that very moment. You’d constantly teased about how his classic poker face he kept from his agent days is the reason why he’s been single since the day he was born. It’s a type of unique hardened face that intimidates anyone smaller than him. Now that this sternness is directed at you, you’re not enjoying a single moment of it.
“There’s no reason for him to lie to me.” You’re confident in that statement and he can sense it by the way your spine straightens and your eyes brighten.
It tugs his heart that you feel so strongly about another man when he knows the truth. It hurts him to know that you’ll be ruined by the files he received from Hoseok and Yoongi sitting in his flash drive. Above all, what hurts him the most is that he risked both of his former coworkers’ safety to verify his intuition, an intuition you easily brushed off to prioritize a months-old relationship against his life-long friendship to you.
On the other hand, you can’t fathom just how much Jungkook can possibly keep from you despite being the most sensitive and loving boy you’ve ever met. A little over two weeks ago, on your balcony, Jungkook had revealed everything you needed to know about him and the reason why he feels the way he feels. He’d trusted you enough to tell you something that affected him the most, that justified his habits you were once annoyed by, and that gave you the reason to become more than just his girlfriend. Sitting on his lap, kissing his scars, and listening to his words, you knew nothing can stop you from loving this boy you met under unwelcomed circumstances.
Really, it was ridiculous that you never noticed the signs before. Jungkook had always cowered to your anger, always the one to put your needs first before his, almost never raising his voice at you except for the few times you were oblivious to your surroundings and endangered your wellbeing.
And here, your friend, belittles you the longer he doubts the validity of your relationship with Jungkook.
Jin’s lips part but you manage to speak before him, stepping closer to him as you crane your neck to meet his unwavering gaze.
“I need to set this straight.” You put a hand on his arm. “I appreciate you as a friend, as someone who has been with me for a long time and looked out for me. I know you’ve always been good to me and I don’t hate you, even if I’m more than angry at you right now. I know you care a lot about the people close to you.”
You see him visibly soften at your words. The tender, loving expression on his handsome face makes you weak for a moment.
“But I need to draw a line here. I’m a woman who can make her own choices about what she wants. I don’t need you to be this…bodyguard stressing yourself to protect me from harm. I know what I’m doing and who I’m with. For god’s sake Jin, I’ve been living with Jungkook for months. If he’d somehow lied to me, I’d know by now. So please,” you beg, your eyes going back to the laughter coming from the closed break room door to your best friend’s piercing eyes. “Leave my relationship alone. Let me land on my feet after what Namjoon did to me. I’m,” you sigh, “so happy now. I’m at peace. So please…Jin,” you squeeze his arm. “Please. Can we just go back to being us?”
For the longest time he stays silent, his eyes moving across your face as if he’s looking for something important.
He finds his voice when you step away from him. “…I understand. I’m sorry…for making you uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.” He takes your hands in his. “I’m really sorry.”
You offer him a small, sympathetic smile and bask in the warmth of his palms. “I’m sorry too, for avoiding you when I could’ve said all of this earlier.”
“I just-” he starts and pauses.
Jin looks out the window, focusing on nothing in particular. He can see the top of trees and similar silver rectangle buildings reflecting sunlight. He watches a few cars drive past the swirl path leading to the parking lot situated around the main entrance of the building. He looks back down at you.
“I actually wrote everything I wanted to say and…I was too chicken shit to read it out loud. I,” he clears his throat, looking down at his shoes. “I’m just going through a hard time. I know I’m taking all of it out on you. I’m really sorry, I really-”
“Wait, Jin,” you cup his face in your warm hands, immediately shedding all traces of anger and annoyance you carried for the last few days. Of course, your friend of many years would never hurt or anger you on purpose. He’s overthinking and lashing out when logic hits a wall of emotions, just like you had with Jungkook before. You’ve never seen Jin on the verge of tears until now and it’s tugging your heart painfully. “I forgive you, everything’s okay now, right? You’re still one of my dearest friends, I’m not going to be mad at you forever.”
Jin shakes his head. “No, there’s just…”
He freezes mid-sentence again, leaving you curious as to what his next few words might be. Jin’s eyes move frantically from his shoes to the trees outside. Sweat prickles his scalp as he considers the weight of what he’s about to do next, what he’s about to reveal to you. He’d considered and reconsidered his plans only to wing it all last minute. What good does thinking ever do for him? When Jungkook holds your heart captive, is planning worth the trouble? Or is it easier to play Jeon’s game with his unpredictability? Right now, Jin is convinced it’s the latter.
You watch as he digs into his pocket to reveal a small black flash drive the size of a rifle bullet. “Everything I want to say,” he swallows, “is all here.”
You feel glued to the ground by the weight of the object in his hands and by how intense his gaze is as it sets on you. If Jungkook can see you know, you know he would be furious. Jin takes your hand, revealing your soft pink palm, and places the flash drive in the center before curling your fingers around it. Even though the object itself is as light as a feather, the burden of his words lay heavy against your chest, restricting your ability to breathe.
He whispers your name softly like a prayer, rubbing his thumb across your enclosed fist. “Please read it all for me when you’re alone. I promise I’ll leave you and Jungkook alone unless you need me.”
“W-What’s in it?”
A love confession? Maybe Jungkook was right all along about Jin, about men.
Jin shakes his head. “Just read it. Alone. I went through a lot of trouble to make this for you. If you forgive me and want me to be the Kim Seokjin you grew up with, read it.”
Your fist tightens slightly as you take another step away from him. When you walked to the office this morning and found him staring into his mug of pitch-black coffee, you weren’t expecting anything more than the usual passive aggressiveness or being chased during lunch breaks between your boyfriend’s calls. You didn’t expect to stand here in front of him, wondering if the contents of this flash drive will confirm the doubts Jungkook had about him all along.
Noona, can’t you see he wants you for himself?
You dig your hands into your pocket and tuck the flash drive away, garnering the strength to finally look back into your friend’s eyes. Jin’s eyes are fixed on your pocket before they scour your face once more as if he were searching for something.
“What is it?”
How ironic that you’re the one asking the questions now.
Jin’s lips part just slightly before he digs his fists into the pockets of his black slacks and look out the window. It’s strange that he can’t find the words he wanted to say when he can finally be alone with you for once without raising the suspicion of others or, worse, Jungkook’s. The wind blows gently into the hallway, carrying with it the scent of wet leaves. He stares into the distance as you stare at him until a round of laughter interrupts your thoughts. You look at the break room door and then back at your friend who seemed to have turned to stone.
“I’ll make sure to read it,” you reassure him, unable to bear the silence any longer.
He turns back to you but his smile is sad. You gaze at him longer, unable to decipher anything that just happened in this lonely hallway. One thing for sure, you know the contents of Jin’s flash drive needed to be opened alone and whatever is inside affects you more than it’ll affect Jungkook. Something about the content is going to change you, alter your reality, and take the blissful filter you’ve been wearing for the last two weeks at home. The thought makes you feel queasy as if you have something dirty to hide, as if you’re committing adultery behind Jungkook’s back after he’d spilled his heart out to you.
It was Jin who turns on his heels and heads back into the room.
You dig the flash drive out of your pocket and hold it up to the sunlight. It’s such a small and simple plastic tool costing just as much as a tin of mints.
Yet, it scares you so much you nearly miss your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Jungkook’s name flashes across your screen and for the first time, you hesitate to press the answer button.
Perhaps you thought too highly of yourself all along. How different are you really from Yori or Namjoon when you can keep a man’s secret in your pocket while you live with another?
*
So far, Jungkook has learned that fear is a strong motivator. It influences you, shapes you, makes you create paths where there isn’t one. It crawls up the walls and knocks on your window as a reminder that there’s always something lurking in the distance. It’s why Jungkook believes in never settling when things get comfortable.
When he asked Taehyung to make placebo pills, he had done so in fear that you would leave him. Yet, this does nothing to settle his nerves. In fact, it makes him uneasy that he’ll get caught somehow as if the birth control pills he flushed down the toilet never melted. In his unease, he can imagine those eggshell white tablets sticking to the sides of the drain despite the chances being slim to none. One call from a neighbor about a clogged pipe and it’s over for him.
This is the nightmare that lingered in his mind before he’d sat you down in his lap and pressed your hand against the dent on his cheek. Three weeks ago, you listened to him attentively as he wraps you slowly around his fingers. He can smell himself on your neck, taste himself on your tongue, feel your touch so agonizingly sweet on his taut stomach. It pained him a little that you, the privileged girl from the world above, might trade love for pity. But you were so accepting and so understanding of his past, his dependency on Taehyung and you, that there was no way someone can come along and convince him you weren’t made for him. Making love to you, worshipping your skin and scent, has never been so otherworldly for him.
Sitting in front of the television and replaying the footage of you from the wedding that could have taken you away from him, Jungkook inhales and exhales slowly. He’d taken the time to clip Namjoon’s footage away so that all that’s left is you in the wedding boutique twirling multiple dresses to your chest, your soft wavy hair pooling over your shoulders as you do so. In a silk robe, you lift a ballroom dress up against the mirror, eyes moving up and down the charmeuse and tulle quickly to take in all its miniscule details.
He loves that about you. The way your eyes glisten and widen when something strikes your heart. It’s the same look you gave him, sitting in his lap on that damp balcony, running your thumb over the scar on his cheek.
It was especially painful for Jungkook to reopen his past wounds but in one way he felt the invisible weight lift off his shoulders. He couldn’t tell you everything – especially not about the strings Taehyung pulled for him to live a normal life – but he was satisfied that you didn’t mind one bit. He swears he could hear you purring and sighing softly underneath his chin, reacting with a slight gasp when he tells you how often he was hurt back then and how thankful he was that Taehyung took him under his wing. Although a small spark of jealousy ignited in his chest when you mentioned inviting his attractive friend for dinner once he’s back in down, Jungkook was more than grateful that you didn’t seem to mind how attached he is to the older man.
He wonders if you’d react that same way if he’d told you he’d lost his virginity to Taehyung a year into high school and that his first kiss happened on that same beach rock. He wonders if you’d react in the same sympathetic manner if you truly knew what happened before he was able to graduate high school before the world plunged into tar.
*
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Jungkook’s hands tremble as he yanks the storage drawer open and dig out his shirts, undergarments, and jeans into the duffel bag. He has to make sure he doesn’t forget his winter clothes because he would be livid if he finally gets out of this house only to freeze to death on the streets. From between the cracks of the rotten wood plastered against his window, he can see Taehyung standing with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Taehyung looks around the house, at the rusted gates connected to the concrete walls that surround the perimeter, and the mailbox slumped over the garbage can. He looks at the messily covered windows and puffs out a smoke. There’s a similar slumped duffel bag next to his feet inflated with clothes and packets of food.
“I’m leaving.”
Jungkook’s mother attempts to grab him by the neck, unable to do so easily as he stands tall after he outgrew his middle school uniform. Her grip slips as fast as it comes.
“You ungrateful little shit!” She spits, reaching up successfully this time to grasp the ends of his hair as she shoves hard enough for him to stumble into the wall.
Relentless, Jungkook continues throwing his clothes, then his lunch box filled with coins and a wad of cash, into the bag.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?!” She sobs, throwing herself on the floor next to his shoes and dirty socks. She scratches the slits on her arms and proceeds to drag her nails across the floor. A wretched cry falls from her lips and Jungkook feels his throat clenching, his eyes watering. Rather than sadness, it was boiling hot resentment that keeps him silent.
He doesn’t turn to look at her. He knows she’s going to manipulate him, somehow, with her disgusting guilt-tripping shrieks and nail him against the wall to prevent him from moving.
She pounds the sticky floor mats with the heel of her palms, her voice hoarse. “I made you, Jungkook! I took care of you, I fed you, I bought your fucking clothes. And you’re leaving me with this fucking asshole,” she slams her hands down again, her head snapping towards the sound of the back door slamming open followed by heavy footsteps. His hands begin to sweat, causing the toolkit he grabs from the top of the shelf to slip and clatter on the floor.
In the distance, Jungkook can hear his father crushing a can of beer against the kitchen counter and throw it in the sink for him to clean like he usually does. No longer is he going to be yanked around like a puppet for these two sad excuses of a human being. How his mother was able to carry him inside her full term and give birth while smoking and drinking like a sailor is unknown to him. He’s grateful, at least, that he came out sane. He thinks with a sudden surge of anger that perhaps his mother’s need to have a punching bag was more critical than the inconvenience that the pregnancy caused her.
To her, his father coming back with the stench of prostitutes and alcohol always became his fault. It was his fault that his mother’s body isn’t as it used to be. It was his fault their marriage is dead. Above all, it was his fault for existing to remind them that they produced another good-for-nothing trash to add to the pile of garbage that is this town’s desolate population.
“I’m not coming back,” Jungkook grunts as he throws a camera and several rolls of film in the bag. “I never want to see you or dad ever again.”
His mother shakes her head over and over again, arms stretched towards the door as it suddenly slams open to reveal the lean yet pot-bellied figure of a graying man. His father looks down at the duffel bag on the floor, and then at his wife curled next to Jungkook shoes. His face seems lifeless – like a corpse – with bulging black beady eyes that reflect no light and a mouth set in a thin strip. It’s the first time in years that the man came to see Jungkook in the makeshift bedroom, usually taking the couch in the living room as his permanent place of residence. It’s where he drinks, where he watches the same television program about car remodeling, and where he demands weekly handjobs in his drunken stupor.
“You’re leaving?” He interrogates, voice low and tired as if he’d woken up from a slumber.
Jungkook nods, zipping his bag and glancing around the room to see if he missed anything. He didn’t own much but it pains him to leave his heavy stack of comic books behind. There was no way he could carry that with him across the country.
“Why?”
Jungkook looks at his father under the single light bulb illuminating the otherwise dark and swampy room. For the first time, he notices how similar they look. He has the man’s eyes, his soft yet chiseled jaw, and even the mole under the lips. If the man were several decades younger, they would be a splitting image of each other. The thought makes bile rise up Jungkook’s throat.
Why is he leaving? Was that even a question he needed to answer? One night with the Jeons and anyone will run far away. Jungkook has lived here for nearly a decade and a half and at no point during his residency was he able to remember a time when his body wasn’t covered with bruises or scars. It’s a miracle that he’s never broken a bone nor hospitalized after being whipped across his bare buttocks for years like a prisoner. The humiliation was far worse than the pain.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jungkook retorts for the first time, gaze hardening. “I fucking hate living in this hellhole.”
His mother watches as her husband swings forward and slams his fist down on the side of Jungkook’s temples, knocking the boy against the open drawers. Jungkook splutters a ball of saliva and blood and digs his arms and legs into onto the ground the crawl away. Unfortunately, the room had only so much room for him to move. The stronger male pulls him by the ankles, dragging him back and flipping him on his back for him to see the belt buckle coming undone.
Jungkook crosses his arms across his face and shields his eyes away from the light and those deep black eyes. From the gaps between his forearms, he sees his mother crawling towards him and yanking his pants down, digging her nails so deeply into the patch of skin where his hips meet the waistband that the scratch marks instantly bleed.
“This boy needs to be taught a lesson!” He hears his father say with a voice as sudden and full of viciousness as thunder, the first lash coming down across his arm. He cries out, spine stiffening as a he gasps into the side of the bag. His breath is ripped out of his lungs. The second lash comes down shortly afterwards across his thighs where former bruises had only recently begun to heal.
“He does, doesn’t he?!” His mother encourages, no longer seeming as distressed as she was before looking down at his scrunched and tear-streaked face.
“When I am done with you, boy, you are going to wish you were dead. You ungrateful piece of-”
A stream of thick liquid splatters over Jungkook’s trembling body, a few droplets attempting to seep into his eyelids squeezed shut. His pounding head gifts him with a vision so hazy he might as well stare through a dense blanket of fog. When his arms come down at his sides to hold his temples together, he can feel his veins pulsing beneath.
It takes a full minute for him to even understand what he was looking at. There’s a muscular arm holding his father across the chest to hold the man’s spine straight and another swung over his shoulders as a silver scalpel, following a trail across the neck, stays lodged deep into the trachea. Jungkook sees another splash of red fall over his bare knees as the stream of blood falls to his feet. The smell of iron is thick in the air when his father, eyes bulging out further than he thought possible, slumps to the side.
Pulling himself away from the weight of the corpse at his feet, Jungkook watches the figure rip the knife standing tall from the man’s throat and plunge into the side of his frozen mother’s neck. He watches her pale, skinny limbs thrash as if she’s burned before she slumps down next to the futon.
With a feeling he can only describe as akin to relief, Jungkook looks up at his savior.
“I told you you’ll need me here.”
With soaked hands, Taehyung gathers the boy in his arms and leans him against the wall. He watches as Jungkook’s face scrunches in pain once more and stray tears make its way down his baby soft cheeks. He takes his trembling bottom lip under his front teeth and shakes as he whimpers like a wounded puppy.
He is truly a puppy, Taehyung thinks.
The older boy takes his place against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, watching Jungkook with the same enthusiasm as one watches a child take its first steps. Jungkook, wiping the splatters of blood from his face, exhales and sniffles loudly before crawling towards his mother. He wraps his fingers around the silver scalpel from her throat and pull until her skull knocks back down to the floor with a thud. Bloods seeps from her wound down to his fingers and, with a sudden strength, Jungkook lodges the sharp end of the tool into her heart. She must have been partially alive as a throaty gasp makes its way out of her mouth.
Her blood is darker than he remembered from the many period-stained panties of hers he scrubbed with his hands over the kitchen sink. It looked like tar, thick and warm yet lightweight as it drenches his clothes. Remembering his state of undress, he curls his fingers around the waistband of his pants and pull it up towards his hips and over the scratches at his side.
Jungkook grasps the knife once more to push further and relishes in the feeling of it hitting bone. He realizes, with wonder, that his parents don’t even look like corpses in front of him but like puppets.
Maybe that’s how they saw him when they were alive – like a puppet they could throw around without a care knowing it’ll live and die under this roof.
Jungkook takes the knife and stumbles over to his father’s body with enthusiasm, puncturing the man’s stomach and dragging the knife up towards the breastbone. More tar-black blood seep into the flooring, flooding the horizontal bamboo until it ran underneath the drawers and the small shelf holding his textbooks in a neat stack. He grips the knife and plunges, again and again, into the side of the man’s head, gasping only slightly when the bone gives away with a small crack like a camera shutter.
Jungkook situates himself on his knees, heels digging into his buttocks, and looks down at his soaked hands resembling red gloves. He examines his nails, the cuticles darkening as the blood oxidizes in the swampy room. He blinks a few times, watching the red glow under the dim lightbulb above him.
He’s imagined this moment many times before in his fantasies, some much more exciting and drawn-out than what occurred like a fight scene from a Bruce Lee movie. But none of those fantasies included Taehyung coming to rescue him like he had many times before. None of these fantasies included such quick and boring deaths. He was hoping he could say everything he wanted to say to them, about how much he loathed them with all his heart, how much he wished he could watch them boil alive like an insect in a summer pond.
They probably knew but didn’t care.
Now that it’s over, now that there will no longer be screaming and tiring cycles of starvation and receiving the belt, Jungkook is rather grateful for Taehyung’s interruption. And he’s grateful that his best friend of years has never really hid his experience from him. Taehyung just merely waited for his slow brain to catch up.
There’s only one thing he could say as the room falls silent and still.
“Is this what happened to your grandpa too?”
It was with a sudden intuition that Jungkook asked such a question.
“This…and a little more.”
Jungkook slumps down to the floor, looking past his shoulder at Taehyung, silently motioning him to come hold him.
Reading the silence without hesitation, the older boy crawls forward and envelops him in his embrace, keeping him tucked beneath his chin as two hands grip the underside of his arms. He shields the boy’s gaze away from the bodies, knowing that the first time is always the most poignant despite him taking it so well.
“They’ll know it was us.”
Taehyung brushes Jungkook’s bangs back and tucks the ends behind his ear.
“They’ll find us even if we left.” Jungkook continues. Without looking, Taehyung can hear the pout in his voice.
“Are you worried?”
Jungkook nods, fingers palming the thick ropes of muscle beneath his grip.
“Don’t be,” Taehyung chuckles, his long fingers brushing over the small sensitive patch of skin just behind the boy’s earlobes. “I’ll take care of you.”
*
Jungkook decides to take a long, cold shower after ending the call with you. It concerns him that you sounded exhausted over the phone but he expected it anyway as you’ve been working far too much this week. Your voice, so soft and gentle, makes him semi-hard enough that he finds himself palming the length of his cock under the running water to relieve his frustrations. It had taken him a substantial amount of self-control to refrain from asking for more time in the bedroom these days. As sweet as you are allowing him to nestle inside you and nuzzle you when you were too tired and sleepy to move, your exhaustion ultimately lead him to tucking you in his arms and make sure you at least get some sleep. God, how he wishes for you to run your hands over his chest and arms now.
Jungkook twists the shower knob into the wall and ruffle his dripping hair. He slides the glass door to the left, heaving a soft sigh as he examines the surface of the tub, the toilet, and the sink. The smell of sanitizing lemon cleanser still lingers in the air but he knows the scent will be long gone by the time you’re back from work. Next to the polished sink, he prepared a small basket of bath supplies – jasmine-scented bath salts, dried flowers, and a heart-shaped sponge – for you to pamper yourself when you drag your feet through the front door looking like death. Work has been rough on you and he was more than happy to handle all the responsibilities at home that you sometimes habitually do.
He grabs the towel folded over the slightly rusted rack erected next to the shower curtain (he reminds himself to replace that) and wraps the fluffy material around his waist. Stepping out of the shower, he grabs his cellphone just in time for it vibrates aggressively in his grip.
Head tilted to one side to make sure the moisture at the ends of his hair doesn’t drip on the surface, he answers the call with a smile.
“Tae!”
“Is she pregnant yet?”
Jungkook exhales softly, a smile dancing on his lips. The older Taehyung gets, the less he beats around the bush. “Not yet but she’ll be fertile next week, I think I’ll have better luck soon. How’ve you been? Jimin told me you were in Cuba…and Hong Kong too.”
He hears a sigh over the speakers and chews on his bottom lip. Oh, Jimin is going to get an earful for sure for blabbering his business around.
“I had to deal with a few people…listen,” his voice lowers suddenly, “has anyone approached you or your girlfriend recently?”
Jungkook walks into the bedroom, turning off the bathroom lights with his elbow on the way out. He sits at the edge of the bed, combing his hair back until the droplets trail down his spine and shoulder blades.
“Not that I know of,” he shakes his head, “why do you ask?”
When Taehyung doesn’t reply immediately, a pang of anxiety wraps his heart in a vice grip.
“I-is there someone after me?” He grips his phone.
A few thousand miles away, the older man shakes his head, re-evaluating what he needs to hide or reveal. He wants Jungkook to be prepared for emergencies but after discovering that this Kim Seokjin person is in the same city and, out of a strange coincidence that may not be a coincidence, worked in the same building as you, he’s come to a logical conclusion that makes the situation unpredictable. A basic background check tells him that Seokjin no longer works for the government nor does he have permission to access private health and criminal records of strangers. It explains why the man needed to contact Hoseok and Yoongi. The motive behind such an unethical behavior could also be because of you, Taehyung guesses when he scrolled through Seokjin’s social media profiles to see more than a few pictures of him and you at cocktail parties and birthday gatherings. It did not take much deduction to understand that Taehyung is staring at the jealous male figure that his closest friend complained of lingering around his precious noona. Perhaps the man is using unethical means to dig for the literal skeletons in Jungkook’s closet?
However, if Jungkook sees the man as a threat and if Seokjin has evidence in his possessions, why has neither of the men taken drastic action? Jungkook is far too immature (Taehyung admits) to not consider using his services to take care of a male threat. He seems unusually at peace with you now, leading Taehyung into a wall. If Jungkook isn’t truly threatened and if Seokjin hasn’t acted yet, the former agent is probably smart enough to realize you’re not worth the trouble of dealing with a criminal. The contents of Jungkook’s case must have scared him off. Yes, that’s it.
Taehyung mentally slaps himself on the forehead for not thinking through before calling and worrying the boy.
“Tae? Are you still there?”
That bug he planted in the software used to track juvenile criminal cases lent him more paranoia than relief. There were numerous times Jungkook and his files were accessed by agents that were actively filtering or attempting to study old cases to his annoyance. Maybe the pictures scared Seokjin off for good. Two weeks is too long of a wait to expose a man when there’s an abundance of evidence.
“You don’t have to worry. I was asking because someone messed up a shipment and my customer isn’t very happy. Sent some threats that sounded a little too serious than the usual.”
Jungkook exhales a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding. “…I mean…it sounded serious enough to worry you. Should I keep watch? Should I tell Jimin?”
“No, no need for that. I called to check, just in case. You know nothing is guaranteed in our line of work.”
The thought makes Jungkook upset. Nothing is guaranteed, but he hopes your devotion and Taehyung’s safety is. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without the both of you.
“Okay…” Jungkook looks down at his toes clenching into the floor. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything wrong, right?”
To that, Taehyung replies quickly. “Of course. We’re brothers after all.”
He smiles to that, brushing his locks back and standing. He makes his way towards the closet, fishing out a pair of black sweatpants and a matching cashmere shirt.
Hearing the ruffle of clothes through the phone, Taehyung makes the decision not to tell you about Kim Seokjin after all. With the expectation of pregnancy and Jungkook’s proneness to jealousy, he didn’t need more work on his plate. Despite the brotherhood, they each had their own lives after all and constant surveillance of the past would do more harm than good, reopen wounds that have longed healed.
“I’m catching a flight, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” Jungkook beams. He suddenly looks forward to the day he’ll introduce Taehyung to you if there’s business that needs to be done in the city. “Bye, Tae-”
The doorbell rings, prompting Jungkook to turn towards the opening where he can see past the living room to partial front door. By the time the bell rings a second time, Taehyung has already dropped the call. Jungkook makes his way out of the bedroom slowly, keeping his feet light.
Taehyung has already reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. Being approached by someone seems unlikely if this customer of his had expressed similar threats in the past. Yet, somewhere in his gut, he couldn’t fight the feeling that there’s something he isn’t noticing. And the answer to that feeling might be on the other side of the door.
When he reaches the panel, he presses the button next to the monitor to reveal the image of a neatly dressed middle-aged woman carrying a small, wrapped box in her hands. He can tell just from her clothes that she belongs to this part of the town – her posture itself reflects wealth and respect.
It took a few more blinks until he realizes who he’s looking at.
Mother-in-law!
The door opens with a loud clang, causing the woman’s head to snap upwards at the tall man smiling down at her. She notes his damp hair and handsome features – doe eyes, a button nose, pink shapely lips and aristocratic cheekbones. You sure know how to pick your men.
“Are you…Jungkook?” The woman inquires.
He nods eagerly, stepping to the side. “Yes, you’re noona’s mother, right? Please come in.”
He notices the hesitation followed by a pair of Celine heels clicking against the polished floors. He mentally rewards himself for dedicating the morning to polish the bathroom, the kitchen, and the parquet. The house smells a bit like lemon but the balcony carried the scent of orange blossoms that masked the unpleasant sharp notes of artificial fruit.
The woman’s eyes move across the living room, eyebrows slightly raised as if she was bracing herself to witness a pig sty instead of a home.
“What time does she get off work?”
Jungkook closes the door and hovers an arm across her back to lead her towards the sofa. She’s about the same height as you, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders. He silently hopes the furniture doesn’t smell like sweat as he’s been melting there with the television on for the first half of the afternoon.
“A-about nine, she’s been working overtime for this week.” His knees hit the side of the couch but any hint of pain is overridden with the need to impress. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring you some water.”
“Thank you,” she smiles, although the light doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Jungkook backs slowly towards the kitchen and then jogs to the fridge, yanking the door open and fetching a cool bottle of water. His hands shake when he fishes a glass from the dish rack, making sure he chose the glass without the uneven bottom. He should have refunded the entire set months ago when it came with such a frustrating defect.
He quickly pours into the cup and wipes any stray droplets on the side of the glass with the back of his hand. She thanks him under her breath when he sets the cup in front of her with a wooden coaster propped underneath. She takes the glass in her hands and take a small sip, smacking her lips together as if she’s tasting wine.
Jungkook struggles to look for the right words to say.
“I brought marinated crabs,” she thrusts the neatly packed box towards him, “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Jungkook’s smile couldn’t have been any larger as he takes the wrapped box from her with both hands. “Thank you so much…I’m sorry I don’t have anything prepared. I wasn’t aware you were coming.”
At that, your mother clears her throat. “I came to talk to you about my daughter. Without her knowing, you see. I’m sure you know we…haven’t been on speaking terms for a while.”
Jungkook nods, placing the box on the table and gathering his hands in his lap. Despite keeping close watch on your every move, he’s kept in the dark about your family situation. He only remembers you shaking with laughter and tears when hearing about your mother maintaining close ties with the Kim family after what happened. Even though the woman hurts for her daughter, financial ties are hard to break.
“…Yes, I’m aware.”
The older woman sighs softly, dragging her gaze across Jungkook’s expression and posture. The boy certainly is polite but it was obvious he was not from the kind of world you’re from. She can tell by the way he fidgets and seem too eager to please; it was endearing but also pathetic to watch. He’s extremely sweet and charming – she admits – and overwhelmingly so. Unlike Namjoon, he seems to be much more expressive and sensitive.
She can understand why you took such a liking to him, why you could overlook the not-so-pleasant behavior that reveals his poor upbringing.
“I wanted to come to tell you…I found someone for her.”
He smiles, not understanding the woman for a few moments until her solemn eyes met his. He can feel his belly clenching as his stomach drops. He must have misheard, that’s it. “I-I’m sorry?”
Your mother takes another sip from her glass, looking around the house once more, as if she were stalling time, before planting her eyes on Jungkook’s appalled expression. She seems guilty, at least, that she’s said such a thing to the boy although she’s never once held a high opinion of him.
“I’ve been looking for a suitable partner for her.” She continues. “I am aware she is rightfully upset with me and she won’t listen to me, much less talk. I know she was seeing several men before she became…serious with you.”
Jungkook can feel his stomach churning.
“You must know by now what kind of family she comes from. There are some…things that are expected of her to respect our traditions. I know it’s entirely unfair of me to-”
Jungkook stands, turning away from her as he brings a hand up to his mouth. His temples pulse with nausea as her voice grows louder.
“-come here and ask for you to understand! What you did to Namjoon did irreversible damage to my daughter’s reputation and as a mother,” she shakes her head from side to side, “I can no longer sit still and watch her make a terrible mistake”
“I…” Jungkook starts, his heart hammering in his chest. “What I did to him…I would never do to noona. I’d never hurt her o-or even think about doing such a thing.”
The woman sighs, her eyes devoid of warmth. “I know, darling. I do trust that the incident happened because you were protecting her feelings. I can appreciate your sentient. However,…she’s my only child. As a mother…as her only parent…I have to make sure she’s on the right path.”
Jungkook turns, his eyes glazed as he bores into the box sitting on the couch. This wasn’t a present given for pleasantries, it was brought to cushion her true intentions.
“Jungkook…” The woman stands to stretch her arms out and hold Jungkook’s hands under her warm palms. He’s paralyzed, whether or not it’s from her insulting logic or from her general disapproval of him, she doesn’t care to know.
“I’m not your enemy. I know you love my daughter, I’ve heard of how much you’ve taken care of her. Please understand that-”
His ears are ringing. Jungkook can feel himself shrinking under her gaze. He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry because he knows, deep down, how incompatible he is with you considering the two very different lives you both have led. Did you phone your mother for the first time in months behind his back after he told you about his past? Did you pretend to be okay even if it scared you?
It’s like your mother reached into his core and pulled every shred of insecurity he carried within him. Every night for the last few months, he felt like he was given permission to consume the forbidden fruit that is you, knowing there are consequences to his consumption. Your devotion, your promises, your endless compassion towards him – is it all going to turn into a mirage?
He knows since the very beginning that in many ways he’s incomparable to Namjoon and even some of your rebound lovers he had the displeasure of following around. A glance at a man’s wristwatch and he could tell whether they belonged to your world or not. Jungkook can only hope that the struggles he’d faced would give him the leverage others don’t have. He is willing to risk it all for you and make sure you won’t ever have to experience a single morsel of pain he’d endured.
“Can you give me a chance?” Jungkook pleads, voice small.
Suddenly, anger flashes across your mother’s face but as quick as it came, it disappeared. He could tell she was struggling to keep herself in check after several months of you ignoring her calls, her incessant demands to maintain the family image, and the burn of needing to sneak around your schedule to reach your new apartment herself. It’s the pent-up frustration of having the family pride stepped on again and again by you that has led her to this moment.
If he were your guardian, he’d also be worried too. He can forgive your mother just as he had forgiven you many times.
“A chance?” She fumes.
Jungkook nods. “I promise I won’t disappoint you…I-I have a business and I’m more than willing to be the sole provider-”
The woman’s hand tighten around his relaxed fists.
“Jungkook,” she grits. “You are not hearing me. I don’t want her marrying into a family out of our circle. We have an established tradition of-”
Jungkook scoffs, ripping his hands away. “No, ma’am. You are not hearing me.”
Her eyebrows come together as her foundation-covered wrinkles deepen with a frown. She watches Jungkook walk across the living room to the hanging picture of you and your father. You were a mere child then, staring naively up at your late father with wonder as your little fists reach up to take the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.
Digging his hands inside his pocket and running his tongue over the inside of his cheek, he turns to the woman.
“I’m asking for a chance because I’ve already decided to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
#bunny:fic#yandere bts#yandere fanfiction#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfiction#jungkook angst#jungkook fanfic#bangtan fanfiction#bangtan angst#bangtan smut#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts fanfic#jungkook x reader#only you#chapter 8#i had to make a super hard decision to take out the smut that I wrote like over a thousand words for *WHEEEZEEEEE*#there will be smut in OY9 tho i GUARANTEE#pls don't come for me with pitchforks lmfao
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