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sh0ek0 · 1 year

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after hours (part 2)

please find the other parts via my masterlist or the #sh0ek0 tag, I'm having some trouble with my posts not showing up in the tags and I think the links are messing this up

genre: angst, smut, dark content, kinda all over the place content warning: 18+ !MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! mentions of alcohol and drug use, name calling, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, violence, emotional abuse, choking, rough!megumi, slapping, threatening with a gun, Russian roulette, manic kinda episode, I should honestly stop romanticizing this kinda behavior, still: probably more but I am new to this pairing: Megumi x Reader word count: about 6.5k

summary: After Megumi beat up Choso at Yuji's and his houseparty, you're left drunk, high and confused. You start looking for him and remember an incident from your past before you sneak out of the apartment to meet up with your abusive ex, trying to rekindle your toxic relationship.

I'm so sorry this second part took me so long. Again: I don't want to talk myself down and I love writing, it's so much fun but I am very critical of myself and I really think this is trash compared to all the other amazing writing on here. So, THANK YOU SO MUCH for bearing with me and hyping me up. Every single like I got on 'heartbeat' really made my day <3 (I am terrified of posting so brb logging off for a few days help)

recommended songs: Formula - Labrinth / The Hills - The Weeknd / After Hours - The Weeknd / The Zone - The Weeknd / Streets - Doja Cat / Wicked Games - The Weeknd

You stumble through the open door onto the roof terrace. There are people staring at you and some of them seem to recognize you - you knew people were talking and you were old enough to just not care about that kinda shit anymore. They haven't been through what you've been through and if they decided to judge you? Well that was on them.

Right now you needed to find him. Megumi reacted the way he did because he loved you. You knew that. You pass by a table and a few lounge chairs and recognize the people sitting there from your college lectures. A girl, you remember her name to be Yue, waves you over.

"Y/N! Hi, are you alright?" she asks and you can hear a tiny bit of concern in her voice as you stumble and bump into one of the chairs.

"Hi, uh, yeah 'm fine." you answer and shoot her a smile, fumbling with the sleeves of your dress before you drop into the chair you just bumped into. Your head was spinning while you were desperately trying to process what had just happened inside but it was too much, it was too loud, too many people, too much booze. Everyone around you seemed to have the time of their lives while you were stuck inside your mind.

You reach for the half-empty bottle of vodka that was on the table in front of you and pour yourself a glass. It would definitely not help you to get any clearer in the head, but it would calm your nerves. Or at least you could just escape this mess for a few more minutes.

You put the glass to your lips and down its contents before filling it right back up. You can feel the stares of the guys sitting next to you. You never bothered to speak to anyone in your lectures and you didn't even know their names but apparently they seemed to enjoy seeing you in this state.

Under normal circumstances you wouldn't give them a single glance and you would’ve snapped at them for staring at you like this but now, as drunk as you were, you didn't even notice how far your dress had ridden up, or the spilled liquor on your cleavage. The wet fabric clung to your boobs, exposing you without really exposing you.

"Hey, slow down." Yue laughed as you down another shot, taking the bottle out of your hand. You look at her before leaning back in your chair, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

"Listen I actually don't want to bother you any longer," you frown, unsure what to say next "just 'wanna know if you saw Gojo or Megumi I- I am looking for him." you say, unsure if Yue could understand you over the music.

Yue looks at you. You know she understood you because you can see pity in her eyes and you immediately regret asking her in the first place. You told yourself that you didn’t care but you still hated that everyone around you had their opinion about you and your relationship. No one dared to say it out loud, but everyone thought the same. Even your friends.

"Well, I don't know where Gojo is but I saw Megumi passing by just when I came out here," She moves closer to you to pull your dress down, glaring at the two guys that were staring at you.

"I think he left." She looks at her hands, obviously searching for the right words to say to you.

Yue leans over to you. You weren't exactly close but apparently most people on campus knew about the ups and downs in your relationship. People really liked to talk.

"Y/N I guess your friends are really worried about you," she says gently, trying not to cross your boundaries. "You should really stop looking for him - I mean everyone saw the bruising on your neck-"

Well, so much for not crossing boundaries.

"Megumi would never hurt me." you protest, cutting her off.

"-people say he threatened you with a gun after an argument escalated." Yue carefully put her hand on your leg and you flinched.

"That's bullshit." you laugh, getting flustered. How could this even have spread around? You told nobody except Maki.

"That’s not what happened." you whisper.

"You don't threaten someone you love with a gun." Yue said in a sharp voice. You look at her, completely thrown off guard.

"Yeah and I guess you don't stick your nose in other peoples fucking business." you hiss and lean on your hands to lift yourself up out of the chair, a little bit wobbly on your feet. You grab the bottle of vodka from her hands and stumble in the direction of the terrace door.

You feel tears well up in your eyes as you remember that day a few weeks ago. It happened in your dorm room again, you just came home from another lecture. Grabbing you from behind in complete darkness, Megumi covered your mouth with his hand to keep you from screaming as he pressed cold metal to your temple. You will never forget how utterly and absolutely terrified you were.

You will never forget the look he had in his eyes when he threw you against the wall and made you face him. You could see on his face how much he enjoyed having absolute power over you.

***

"You fucking stalking me now?" he spat at you, holding you against the wall of your dorm room by your neck. Your throat still hurt from the last time he did this to you.

Megumi had an old revolver in the other hand and pointed it at your head. "What the fuck did you think you were doing last night? You are fucking crazy, Y/N." Your body was shaking, he sounded so angry it completely scared the shit of you.

Would you let him treat you like this for the rest of your life?

"You were fucking some other bitch last night you fucking asshole," you screamed out, cutting him off. "I fucking know it! Stop bullshitting me I fucking heard you through that door." You started crying.

"You telling me this after you sucked off some random guy at the party you were at? You fucking kidding me?" - "We just kissed an-and I was drunk-" you started explaining but got cut off as Megumi pulled you towards him by your neck before slamming your head against the wall. You let out a muffled groan.

He was still holding the gun to your temple and you were scared shitless that it would go off.

”'We just kissed and I was drunk'” he mimicked your voice and you cried out in pain. Your head hurt, your face was scrunched up and your eyes closed.

”You are a fucking whore, Y/N, and you don't fucking own up to your actions. You’re a fucking slut and you think you deserve to get treated like a fucking princess.” Megumi spat at you.

You started bawling.

"At least that bitch wasn't as fucking annoying." Megumi huffed.

"I really fucking hate you." You yelled at him.

"Leave me alone, stop touching me." You felt a headache coming on, your head was throbbing and tears were flowing uncontrollably down your face. "I hate you."

How could you keep on doing this to yourself? You slowly came to the realization that nor you were scared of him neither you were scared of him being violent. You were simply scared about the fact that no matter what he did to you, you couldn't stop loving him.

"I know you do." Megumi answered.

He took his hand off from around your neck and you felt the cold metal leave your skin as he slowly lowered the gun. Your pulse pounded against the spot where the barrel had just been pointed at and you see the usual blank stare returning to his face.

"You're abusive and a fucking psychopathic maniac." you cried, trying to catch some air.

He just kept staring at you with emptiness in his eyes, watching tears stream down your cheeks.

"I hate the way you're making me feel, Megumi." you added quietly, staring at the ground.

"I know." he said.

You sniffled, tears still streaming down your face.

"Can't you just leave me alone already?" you said, rubbing the bruising on your throat with shaky hands. You didn't even believe yourself and the words that came out of your mouth seemed so far away. As if you were standing next to yourself and listening to some other person talking.

"That's what you want me to do?" he asked in a calm voice and lifted the gun that was still in his hand.

No you didn't.

Megumi opened the chamber of the revolver in his hands. You saw that it was indeed loaded when he dropped the six bullets into his hand and slipped five of them in his pocket. He then placed a single round back into the gun and spinned the cylinder with his thumb.

You stood there in silence and watched what he was doing.

He lifted the gun and held it against your forehead. You closed your eyes, unable to stop your body from shaking. You begged him to stop.

"Megumi, stop, you’re scaring me, please stop that." you pleaded. "Just leave me alone, please stop-"

Not until you felt him pull back the gun did you dare to open your eyes. Your cheeks were wet with tears and as soon as you opened your eyes, his gaze met yours. His dark eyes looked so empty as he put the barrel to his own head.

Your heart stopped once again.

And then he pulled the trigger.

You squealed and instantly flinched but you could only hear a silent click! - the gun didn’t go off.

Suddenly it dawned on you what he was up to. Even if you didn't quite want to believe it, in the condition he was in right now he would have been capable of anything. Even of something as crazy as this.

And you were so fucking scared of how far he would go this time.

"Megumi- stop p-please STOP." you sobbed.

He was manic. Completely out of his mind.

"You asked me to leave you alone." His voice eerily calm, as always. He closed his eyes and grimaced, pulling the trigger again.

Nothing. No loud BANG! just a faint metallic click!

Watching him almost put a bullet in his head a second time had traumatized you. If he hadn't managed to do that by now, he certainly did at that moment.

"Megumi- PLEASE- please stop this." you screamed hysterically and reached out to him, your hand now touching his chest.

"Please stop, I-I love you- I love you so much- p-please stop I don’t want you to leave me, please-" you wailed. Your body followed your hand and you leaned against him, head buried in his chest. You felt so weak, barely able to hold yourself on your feet. You sobbed and cried into his chest, staining the fabric of his sweater with salty tears.

And you could feel that his body was shaking as well.

You didn't dare look up at him. After a minute that felt like an eternity you finally felt his arm wrap around your waist, stone-cold metal now pressed against your back.

Megumi’s chin was resting on top of your head and he slowly pressed his lips to you hair, inhaling your scent while planting kisses.

"Next time you ask me to leave you I’ll kill us both." he whispered in a cold voice and you nodded, barely noticeable.

"I love you." he added and you closed your eyes.

He loved you. That was all that mattered to you.

You could never love another man, not even if you wanted to.

***

You made it back inside on shaky legs, your heels were way too high for the amount of booze you had in your system by now. You screw off the lid of the bottle in your hands and take a sip. Looking around you spot none of your friends except Yuta but he didn’t seem to notice you.

He’s sitting on that very couch you were sitting on with Choso just a while ago and at a second glance you can see that he’s making out with your roommate. Maki didn’t seem to notice you either, as she was completely distracted by Yuta’s lips and his hands all over her body.

Under other circumstances you would have been quite excited about this turn of events - you knew how long Maki had been crushing on him. And you also knew that Yuta was the one who fell first, given how he acted around her and how he looked at her like she was the only woman on the planet.

But now you were way too drunk and way to invested in finding Megumi to care about anything else. You push past a few people while drinking from the almost empty bottle, trying to find the front door.

After taking a few wrong turns you eventually find yourself standing in front of the door through which you had entered the apartment a couple hours ago. And just as you put your hand on the doorknob, you feel someone snatch the bottle from you.

"What the-" you start and turn around, looking at pink hair and a deeply concerned face.

"What are you doing? Let me get you home." Yuji was completely sober again, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"I really need to get som' fresh air Yuji, please jus' leave me 'lone" You slur, struggling to stay on your feet.

Yuji held the empty bottle in his left hand and grabbed your wrist with his right to keep you from falling.

"Y/N, please, don’t go out there by yourself. You can either sleep in my room or I’ll get you home." He tries to pull you away from the door but you stand your ground.

"Please just let me gooo." you beg, impatiently stomping with your feet after finding your balance again. "Let me go." you insist and try to pull your arm away from him.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Y/N" Yuji says and you have literally no idea on how to get out of this situation. It was not like he would just let you leave like this.

"Listn' I really don' need a babysitter and I have an Uber waiting for me, so please just lemme' go." you lie to him, hoping he would be satisfied with that.

"Bullshit, you did not call an Uber. That’s like a five minute walk, we’re right next to campus." he busted your lie. "What are you really up to, huh?" Yuji asks.

Choso and Yuji indeed lived right next to the campus. You had always asked yourself how they were able to afford this huge apartment and you figured that Choso not only consumed the drugs he hid here by himself - but also dealt them. That would explain at least a few things, for example all the people who constantly went in and out of here.

After a while of not answering him, Yuji finally lets go of your wrist and looks at the ground.

"You're looking for him, don't you?" he asks after meeting your gaze again. The look in his eyes made you feel so terrible and ashamed.

"Listen, he’s my best friend too, but he just beat up my brother and that look on his face? I don’t know Y/N, he looked like he was capable of anything in that moment." You tried to avoid his gaze, but no chance. It seemed like he pinned you to the wall with his eyes alone.

"I'm not looking for him- I'm-" you start when suddenly you get cut off by a few guys that were calling out for Yuji. As he turns around for a split second you immediately take advantage of him being distracted to open the door and slip outside.

You quickly walk in the direction of the stairs, your head spinning but you try to stay composed and take one step after the other before finally stumbling through the door downstairs onto the street.

The sky was completely black, not a single star in sight and the only light was coming from a few dimly lit street lamps. Thankfully it was still relatively warm outside.

You take a few shaky steps away from the building, still a bit afraid Yuji would follow you. You were in no condition to run from him.

For a while the sound of your heels on concrete is the only thing you can hear until you notice the faint buzz of your phone in your purse.

MEGUMI: "Meet me outside. I'll wait for you." Your heart starts beating faster.

The text was from about 30 minutes ago so you figure that you didn't have a signal upstairs in the apartment. You look up from the screen and turn around, trying to find where Megumi was waiting.

You flinch a little when suddenly a parked car on the side of the road starts its engine.

You recognize the black pickup truck and as the lights inside light up for a brief moment, you see Megumi sitting in the driver's seat. Your vision is still a bit blurry and your head’s dizzy but your legs are already carrying you towards the car.

He really expected you to come looking for him.

You open the car's door and slip into the passenger seat without saying a word. The lights inside are dimmed and you can only see his pale, slender fingers on the steering wheel. His dark clothes swallow him up and the hood of his sweater is pulled down over his face.

Megumi did not say a single word either, his face turned towards the windshield in front of him.

"Y/N!" you hear someone call out for you as you close the door behind you. Looking through the window you spot Yuji at the entrance door of the apartment building. He's holding the open door and watching you get into the car.

"Your dog’s already looking for you, huh?" Megumi asks without expecting an answer and starts the truck. He drives off before Yuji could even think about running after you.

Yuji's eyes were full of concern and yours were full of guilt as you turn to face him, but you quickly lower your gaze. You couldn’t stand looking at him. You knew how desperate he must feel right now.

At this point you wouldn't blame your friends if they never spoke to you ever again. The hours they spent worrying about you, the evenings they spent trying to talk you out of your relationship with Megumi.

It was all for nothing.

You slip out of your heels and throw them to the back of the truck. Megumi looked at you, one hand on the steering wheel. He watched you while you were rubbing your aching feet, trying to ease the pain from walking in these goddamn high heels for hours.

With his free hand he stroked your thigh, motioning you to put your legs in his lap.

"C'mere." you hear his deep voice and you hesitate for a second before you stretch your legs out towards him. He starts massaging your freshly pedicured feet with one hand, the other one gripping the steering wheel tightly. His eyes were focused on the road in front of him.

You close your eyes for a moment and enjoy the sensation of his touch, your whole body was aching and this right now was a blessing, no matter how awkward the situation was.

After a few minutes you feel the car speeding up. You knew that Megumi was probably still drunk but you also did not really care about it. It was not a big surprise to you that he would drive drunk and it was also not the first time he did this.

For a really long time neither of you said a single word and you were just enjoying his touch on your skin, without having to fill the silence.

"What were you thinking?" Megumi was the first to break the silence, eyes still fixated on the road. His voice was icy and it made you shiver.

"What d’you mean?" you ask, pretending to be clueless. Your head starts spinning a little as you open your eyes again.

"Don’t play dumb." Megumi huffed, looking over to you, directly into your eyes. "I mean you, sitting in Choso's lap, behaving like a slut in front of everyone."

"Mhm." you answer, turning your face away from him. You switch on the radio. 'After Hours' by The Weeknd starts playing, probably from some playlist you made for him.

"Technically, I wasn’t sitting in his lap." you say. You're not sure you would have had the courage to say that if Megumi hadn't been busy driving.

Even though you’re unsure of what to say next, you didn't want to submit to him again. You did not want to make yourself so small anymore.

"Shouldn’t the question be: Why the hell do you even care?" You shift your weight and put one foot up on his thigh, stroking his crotch through the fabric of his pants.

The last bit of alcohol in your blood gave you at least a little courage.

"It’s not like we are together anymore." you say teasingly as he looks over to you again.

Megumi grabs your leg, pushing it back down roughly. You wince, as his grip on your ankle is a bit too harsh.

"Ouch." you protest and he lets go of you. You send him an innocent smile and tilt your head to the side, as you continue to stroke his thigh with your foot. You feel a bulge growing in his crotch just seconds later

"So why does it matter to you?" He doesn’t answer. You see the grip of his hand tighten around the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he keeps on caressing your feet and legs, trying to push them down or hold you still but you don’t let him.

The two of you just sit in silence again, listening to the music without talking to each other.

"It matters because I don’t want to see that fucking bastard all over you, acting like he owns y-" Megumi says after a while but you cut him off.

"We’re not together anymore and you don’t get to beat up anyone I am involved with," You snap at him. "Cut your fucking bullshit Megumi, I am sick of this."

You don’t know how to feel. This is all so confusing - a big part of you is annoyed with him and so hurt and heartbroken, but the other part, probably even bigger, wants to nestle in against his chest and leave as little space as possible between the two of you.

And he knew that, too. That smug piece of shit knew you inside out, and acting was not exactly your strength.

"Then why are you here?" he asks and glances at you, both hands on the steering wheel again.

You think for a moment, look over at him, then out the window again. You skip to the next song and loll your legs in his lap now sitting on your side and resting against the back of the car seat.

"I guess I make terrible life choices and besides, you almost hospitalized my one chance at some superficial sex tonight so you have to deal with me now." You say, trying to sound almost bored. Or at least unbothered.

Megumi swallows, eyes still fixated on the road. You figured that this was not what he wanted to hear but to your surprise you hear him chuckle seconds later.

Well, as you had already noted: he knew you too well.

"Nah, don’t bullshit me." he sneered. "You started looking for me as soon as you arrived at that party. I saw you disappear with Yuji immediately after."

Megumi ignored your little show of pretending that all of this left you completely cold and you just wanted to end up in someones bed. It was a show after all.

"And I saw you getting out of that bathroom, holding hands with my best friend." You cross your arms. "Wearing the dress I bought for you. "

"I doubt that you wanted Choso to fuck you tonight." Megumi huffs, his deep voice making your heart race.

"I doubt that you wanted anyone else’s attention than mine." He was so right.

After a few more minutes of sitting in silence with the music playing softly in the background and Megumi driving off into the darkness, you roll the window all the way down. He looks over to you as you lean your head out slightly, hair waving in the breeze.

You take a deep breath and lean out a bit further, supporting yourself on the window frame. As you arch your back a little, your breasts start to perk up and you close your eyes to fully enjoy the cool night air blowing in your face. Besides the music and the sound of the engine it was so quiet outside. The world was asleep and somehow that comforted you.

You feel Megumi’s gaze on your body. His hands act upon his thoughts as he starts stroking up your calves, over your thighs and further up under your dress. You lean back inside and your eyes meet, but as always you couldn't quite read his expression.

You slowly pull your legs out of his lap and rest your feet on the dashboard. Without breaking eye contact you lift yourself up out of your seat, pulling up your dress a little and taking off your panties. His eyes widen for a second but he seems to try his best to stay composed.

In your perception, you didn't have much power over him. Not after he managed to read you like an open book once again. He was right about everything he said, even if you wish it was different.

You only went to that party because you hoped something like this would happen.

Megumi would probably not make that statement - even if it didn't seem like that to you, he knew you could bring him to his knees with the blink of an eye.

He swallows hard, turns away for a moment to look at the road and looks right back at you again. You feel his hand run across your thigh, squeezing gently.

You meet his gaze with the most innocent smile on your lips before you throw your panties in his direction.

Megumi's lips twitch as he takes a look at the pair of panties lying in his lap.

"I knew I was right." he says with a smug grin on his lips. You notice his eyes immediately scanning the road for an exit and you giggle as the car takes a sharp turn off into some run-down construction side.

"Well, you better hurry up, so you can make up for the amazing sex I would’ve had if it wasn’t for you." you purr and look up at him from big doe eyes.

He glances over, looking you up and down

"I will definitely make you regret saying that out loud." Megumi hums before he brings the car to a halt in the shadow of an unfinished building.

You roll the window back up and climb over to him without thinking twice, straddling his lap in the drivers seat. He grabs your hips to bring you into the right position and you smile down at him before you lower your lips to his neck.

"Promise?" you ask and feel his hands move all over your body before sliding under your dress, pushing it up and squeezing your ass with both of his hands while you’re leaving hickeys on his pale skin.

"God, I missed that feeling." he groans as you grind down on his lap. You can feel how hard he already was while dampening the fabric of his pants with your soaking wet pussy. You pull back for a moment and look into his eyes. Just seconds later your lips crash down on his, wet and sloppy as you hold his face with both of your hands.

His hands move further down your ass and you moan into his mouth when his fingers reach your slick heat, sliding through your wet folds. He teases you, circling your clit and your clenching hole lazily with two fingers. He deepens the kiss before your lips part with an audible pop! and you’re left to catch your breath.

His lips wander along your jaw and the side of your neck while your hands move from his face down his neck and over his chest, further down to his pants. Megumi’s hands are back on your ass to lift you up a little so you can try and open up his belt to pull down his trousers. With a hasty movement you relieve him of his pants and grind down on him immediately after.

You flinch a little when you feel his leaking tip brush against your sensitive clit. Letting out a quiet whimper you start grinding on him again, sliding his hard dick through your wet folds. He pulls you into another kiss, gentle at first before he nips at your bottom lip and then bites down hard. You pant and slide your tongue into his mouth, making him groan in return.

You pull away and look deep into his eyes, arms now wrapped around his neck. Megumi pulls you up again by your waist, positioning his cock at your wet entrance. You cry out in pleasure just as he pushes the fat tip of his cock inside you without giving you any time to adjust.

"Ahh, 'gumi! Fuck-" you moan. You lift yourself up again, the sensation of his dick filling you out being just too much to handle for you right now. Megumi looks at you, a crooked smile on his lips. Hands on your hips and lower back he pulls you closer to him, you can feel his hot breath against your neck.

"Too much?" He breathes into your ear. "Guess you didn’t fuck around after all."

"Good girl 'been waiting for me." he whispers, caressing your back with one hand before he thrusts up deep into your tight pussy, bottoming out completely. You squeal but have no chance of escaping him as he holds you in place with both of his hands.

"Ah- Fuck! Fuck- Megumi-" you whine, throwing your head back in pleasure.

"Shit- How are you so fucking tight?" you hear Megumi growl though clenched teeth as he holds you down for another moment to keep you from moving. Finally his grip on your hips loosens a little and you start grinding up and down, picking up the pace. Still, you felt how much he hated not having full control over you so he kept on guiding you with his hands.

He watched your pussy swallow his cock whole, going so deep and hitting spots inside you that made you cry out in pleasure and pain, his thick girth stretching you out just right.

Megumi is quick to push your dress further up your waist to expose your boobs, watching them bounce up and down as you keep on riding his dick. You moan out in pleasure while picking up the pace of grinding on his cock, making him pant and groan against your soft skin.

His gaze and hands wander all over your body, having your soaked cunt crush down on his cock even harder now that you were free to move however you liked. Megumi’s getting lost in watching your cute pussy bury him deep inside, creaming and slowly forming a white ring around his shaft.

Your head’s still thrown back in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of your tight hole clenching around his thick girth, your moans and gasps and groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill up the car.

He watches you in awe as you fuck yourself on his cock exactly how you need it, whimpering, moaning and breathing so hard as he puts a thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles that make you flinch.

"You’re so fucking beautiful-" he groans, trying to catch his breath and coming back to reality as he notices your moans getting needier and your breathing getting harder.

"'Please 'gumi- need you to-" you babble, your grinding on his dick gets sloppier and after a few more lazy circles Megumi's hands move to your waist, squeezing the fat on your hips on his way up.

One hand on your waist, the other moving up, grabbing and squeezing your boobs before wrapping around your neck, he holds you in place as he roughly starts fucking up into you.

Your thighs were already shaking, his hand around your neck still squeezing tightly. You’re gasping for air while now being fucked at a brutal pace.

"Oh- Fuck- just like that Megumi-" you moan. "Please d-don’t stop- Just like that-" The quiet pleads leave your lips and you close your eyes, desperately trying to hold yourself up by supporting yourself with your hands on the window frame and steering wheel.

"You think Choso would’ve made you feel like this?" Megumi sneered, already leaving bruises on your neck by how hard he was squeezing down his hand. You try to shake your head but instead you can just let out a quiet whimper.

"Huh? You think he could’ve fucked you like I fuck you?" he spat, loosening his grip just as you begin to see stars forming in the corners of your eyes. You feel his hand on your cheek and a second later you hear a loud slap! followed by a stinging sensation on your face.

"I asked you a question." he growls, his thumb on your lips, pressing into your mouth. You begin to suck on it instinctively, your eyes half closed and your strength slowly leaving you because he was pounding so hard up into you.

"N-No- only you-" you whimper, voice breaking.

"Good girl," he praises "be a good little slut and keep squeezing me so tight." His thumb leaves your mouth and you fall forward a bit, losing the support of his hands. Your walls clench around him, turning you into a moaning mess against the hot, sweaty skin of his face.

"Fuck- such a good little whore for me, huh?" Megumi growls into your ear while your head rests against the side of his face. He’s still at a brutal pace, his thrusts getting even deeper and you can’t help but whimper and cry on top of him.

"P-Please- Can’t take n’more" you sob while he fucks into you relentlessly, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Please- Please let me cum-" you whimper, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Look at me." Megumi orders and you try to lean back again, supported by his strong arms holding you upright.

"F-Feels so good." you cry, squirming and wiggling under his touch, overwhelmed with the delicious feeling of his dick pumping in and out of you. He’s hitting all the right spots while your walls are squeezing him so tight. Megumi holds you in place, hands on your hips and lower back, not letting you move a centimeter to the side.

"Fuck- doing so good- now cum on my dick, be a good girl for me." Megumi groans, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Tears roll down your cheeks while you look deep into his dark eyes, black strands of hair sticking to the damp skin of his forehead.

With every thrust you feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter, with every brush of his shaft against your puffy clit you feel yourself getting closer to the edge until you feel that sweet release washing over your body with a final harsh thrust. Your lewd moans and your tight pussy clenching around his cock throw him over the edge just seconds later and you feel him pumping his load deep into you with a few feral groans escaping his lips.

"F-fuck- keep squeezing me so tight," he breathes into your ear, pressing your body as close as possible to his while you lazily continue to move up and down on his dick. "Good girl." Megumi moans. He holds you tight and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

For quite a long time you both are just trying to catch your breath, entwined in each others arms. The truck’s windows are steamed-up and only the shallow light of the moon falling through the windshield makes it possible for you to see anything at all.

"You’re something else." Megumi whispers after a while, his soft cock gliding out of your sticky cunt and his hot breath hitting your skin. He quickly pulls up his pants and pulls down your dress before he pulls you back into his lap, your body trembling under his touch.

"I missed you." he says and you feel so exhausted that you can only nestle into his chest, listen to his heartbeat and close your eyes, while he strokes your back gently.

"Let me stay the night. I’ll get you home." he whispers and plants a kiss on top of your hair.

"Not if you’ll leave me again." Your voice sounded so delicate and fragile, he had to pause and swallow before he could answer.

"I won’t." he says quietly.

"Please don’t leave me again." you repeat yourself and you feel a single tear forming in the corner of your eye that gets wiped away by Megumi’s hand caressing your cheek.

"I promise." You look up at him and he pulls you into a deep kiss. "I love you." you say quietly.

He doesn’t say anything.

"I still love you." You feel so vulnerable, it’s almost making you sick. "I don’t care about us fighting or fucking or obsessing over each other - deep down I know that I’m only capable of loving you."

"You’re the only one I want." You add in a low voice.

"I know." You hear Megumi’s muffled voice, his face is buried in your hair.

If only he could see the damage he did to you. How dependent you were, how much he was hurting you.

If only you could see how much you were pouring oil on his fire, how obsessed you were with him.

There was no happy end for the both of you and deep down you knew that.

#megumi angst #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #Jjk x reader #jjk #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #smut #fanfic #sh0ek0 #dark megumi #dark megumi fushiguro

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trippygalaxy · 2 months

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I have a couple of band au questions for you.

Do you have any scenarios with the group that you've yet to build on that you want too?

We know Sky has a stylised guitar. Do the rest of them have designed instruments/ mics? If so what do they look like?

Oooo!!!

First, i would love to explore more of the chain's dynamic before and during the time they are band! I struggle with that -at least I think so- and i would love to be able to make compelling dynamics and bonds between them! I have some ideas such as Legend and Hyrule being childhood friends, Warriors being Wind's babysitter before being adopted by Wind's grandma after his mom passes, Twilight and Time pranking other into thinking their father and son when they arent, Sky, Four and Wild bonding over custoumizing their instrument, etc etc.

I would also love to explore more of the media's reactions to the Chain and how the Chain would feel/interact with said media! Theres obvilously fan accounts, edits, fanart, allll that sort of stuff yet to have them (the chain) react to it would be SO FUN!!!! Ive said this before somewhere but Hyrule would be the one who sends edits to the GC, Wind is kinda banned from looking at any of their tags on socials cause...people are weird, Twi is a secret fan favourite and hes so confused as to why, SO MANY WARS SIMPS, Time being a living meme in the fandom and he has no idea about it, people doing deep dives to find what band Time was in and Time throws 'hints' to them but really is just saying random shit, etc!

For your second question, there are a few who customize their stuff but the majority leaves them plain!

Some of these people are, Four, Wild, Legend and Sky! Four had his drum set custom made -he and his grandpa made it together!- while Wild and Legend put on stickers on their guitars (Legend has the most, Wild normally gets pins and patches for the strap!) and of course there's Sky who paints his own guitars!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!

#trippy answers #linked universe #linked universe au #lu band au #band au #lu legend #lu sky #lu four #lu wild

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spookyspecterino · 2 years

Text

Daft Pricks Get What They Deserve

Tangerine x GN! (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Part 1

SFW; Fluff, some violence, Tangerine being really mean to others but really soft to you, proposal, language.

Justin obviously didn't get the hint you were off-limits. Tangerine really has to get the message through.

A/N: Wanted to follow up my other work with this. Wanted those soft feelings, that good fluff. Also felt like writing a fic where Tangerine beats the shit out of someone who bothers you. Self-indulgence is a form of self-care everybody. <3

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The evening rush of traffic would normally have made Tangerine crave a cigarette. Cars honking and people carrying on with raised voices while being stuck in bumper-to-bumper lines—it was dreadful to be stuck in. Except, he had the one thing that calmed him; soothed him more than any cigarette ever could.

You.

At the moment, in the middle of traffic, you weren’t mad or impatient—you were talking about how much you loved running the little shop that had cost him a considerable amount. Money well spent in Tangerine’s opinion. The look on your face when he sees you talk about it, the absolute light that shines behind your eyes, is enough to justify it.

As the traffic starts to thin out, he continues on toward the restaurant. You’re currently unaware that there’s a special occasion to celebrate; your boyfriend is just taking you to a lovely place for an evening date. To Tangerine, he’s celebrating a personal milestone.

“Oi, you sure you know what you’re doing Lemon?”

“Yeah, bruv. My taste is impeccable.”

“Ok, sure, but this is gonna be the thing they wear for the rest of—listen, it’s just very, very impor—”

“Tangerine, relax. You asked me to help pick out a ring and that’s what I’m doing mate. They’ll love it, don’t worry.”

The anxiety leading up to picking out an engagement ring had stalled him many times over. Finally, he had broken and asked his brother for help. Since Tangerine got it yesterday, he’s been carrying the little ring with him constantly. It serves as a reminder of his plan for the future; a future with you by his side.

Except, his nerves really do get the better of him when he thinks about what comes next. After buying the ring, Tangerine had almost broken down in the car, worrying about whether you would say yes; worrying over where the wedding would be or how you might react seeing that he and Lemon didn’t really have any family to attend the ceremony.

“What’re they gonna say when it’s just you and Momo in the church on our family’s side? They’re gonna think I’m an absolute nutter.”

Lemon—bless his soul; what would he ever do without him, came in to save his ass a second time with much needed advice.

“One step at a time. That’s all. You’ve got the ring; next step, simply think on where you want to propose. You don’t have to do it right away. Just think, then the step after that can be to make a plan.” He had clapped his brother good-naturedly on the shoulder after Tangerine sniffled and thought that over, calming down. “And, believe me, if they didn’t run when you told them you were a contract killer—they won’t be bothered by anything else.”

The restaurant Tangerine had placed a reservation at wasn’t the nicest place in the city, but it was one of the top three. Wearing one of his best suits, you were dressed to the nines to match. Walking in with his hand on the small of your back, your shoulder brushing his chest, was enough to make him glow with pride.

Being one of the nicer evenings this season, it made sitting outside in the garden area wonderful. Private and serene, something Tangerine was always willing to pay more for in order to have. He could tell you enjoyed it too as he pulled out your chair for you to sit. As he took his place across the table from you he couldn’t help himself from matching your beaming smile.

You sat looking at him with stars in your eyes. It was enough to crack his heart wide open. “This is really, really wonderful Tangerine, thank you.”

God, he was so in love with you. “You’re welcome, darling.”

Taking a slow look over his suit while smoothing out your own clothes, you ask, “So, what’s the special occasion?”, while leaning forward and looking at him playfully.

Tangerine’s stomach clenches, one sentence from you is enough to have him tripping and falling over himself. Are you onto him? How would you even…Christ, why bother wondering—you were always 10 times smarter than him.

Trying to keep his nerves from getting too overwhelming, he chuckles and takes your hand in his. “I don’t need a special occasion in order to take you somewhere nice.”

Your blushing smile is enough to tell him he did well in playing that off. He breathed a silent sigh of relief; however, his nerves were not as easily banished. They dwelled and simmered in the back of his mind, threatening to sour his mood.

He was relieved when the waiter appeared, giving him something else to focus on. After ordering food and a bottle of wine for the evening, Tangerine got up to use the restroom. He was adamant to get rid of these nerves; deciding, reluctantly, to use some breathing exercises Lemon showed him from a YouTube video that Ladybug had in-turn showed Lemon. He’d thought the whole thing was rather silly, but he was willing to give it a shot for you.

As he made his way through the tables and inside, he caught sight of a familiar looking muppet sitting at the bar and staring in the direction Tangerine had just come from. He slowed to take a better look.

Yeah. It was that fucking dick head you used to work with. He hadn’t noticed Tangerine yet, by the looks of it.

Tangerine followed Justin’s line of sight. No surprise, he was zeroed in on you from across the restaurant like a fucking hawk. Tangerine’s brain instantly switched modes from ‘pleasant, on a date, boyfriend’ to ‘contract killer looking to take out a target’.

Just as he was deciding on the best course of action, Justin got up from his place at the bar and started making his way over to you. The audacity of this fucking bloke.

Tangerine skirted around a table, intercepting him, and literally swinging him around to the opposite direction of the exit. His voice was pleasant, albeit laced with a threatening undertone. “Well, hello! I haven’t seen you for a few weeks. Let’s catch up outside, shall we?”

It takes Justin a moment, but then remembers that accent. He’s too late to struggle or make any attempt at calling for help, because by the time he realizes what’s going on Tangerine has a death grip on the scruff of his neck and is steering him down an alleyway.

Out of sight from the street and sidewalk, Tangerine shoves him up against a wall. “You think you’re clever don’t you? Trying to sneak in and talk to my partner—tell me, do you have a lick of common sense?”

Justin was seemingly a little more prepared for Tangerine this round, versus when he first met him. “Hey, man, listen—”

Tangerine smacked him across the face; not hard, but enough to stun him. “Shut it, I was asking a rhetorical question.” He moved in closer, putting his hands on his hips. “I saw you staring, and I have to say that really gets on my last fucking nerve. You remember the last time we met, yeah? What’d I tell you?”

Justin made a disgusted noise in his throat. “Fuck you, I wasn’t doing anyth—”

Tangerine didn’t let him finish as he drove a fist right into Justin’s stomach. He keeled over with a groan. Tangerine shook his head, astounded. “You are a real piece of work, you know that? How many times do I have to tell you they’re off limits, no matter what?”

“I—I just wanted to talk—”

Taking a hold of his shoulders, Tangerine straightened him up and slammed him into the wall. “What part of no means no do you not get through your thick fucking skull? Talking isn’t allowed, approaching them isn’t allowed.” He points a thick finger in Justin’s face. “In fact, if you even try to look at them again, I’ll fill your empty head with bullets.”

There’s an ugly sneer. Justin thinks he’s bluffing. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would. You know why? Because I kill people for a fucking living, mate. I’d kill you in the worst way possible, pop you in a shredder, and chum the waters with ya.”

Justin still doesn’t seem to be buying it. “You’re a such a bastard. It should be me with—”

Tangerine reels back a fist and cracks him across the jaw. He holds back just enough not to knock Justin clean out. “Don’t say their name! If I ever hear their name out of you again, I’ll fold you into a pretzel and send you off to Siberia in a bloody box!”

The hit has Justin reeling, as if he can’t believe he’s been punched. He holds his face with wide eyes.

Tangerine takes out a cigarette and lights it. The much-needed feeling of nicotine rushes into his system as he takes a slow inhale. Flipping the lighter closed, he stares down the man across from him and tries not to think about how long he’s left you sitting at the table by yourself.

Justin recovers a little, enough that a twisted grin creeps across his face as if he could read Tangerine’s mind. “Do they know? Do they know what you do for a living?”

Tangerine hits him again, this time not holding back. The thick gold rings on his fingers are covered in blood. Taking out his gun, he rams it under Justin’s jaw which is starting to color black and blue under the blood, there’s a pathetic squeak in response.

Tangerine blows smoke into his face. “Yeah, they do. So, if you think you’ve got something over me, you’re shit out of luck mate.”

Tangerine grins, mustache curling up, the memory of how turned on you had been when he told you flashed through his mind. The sex had been fantastic. Jabbing the gun in a little further, “And you know what else? They fucking love it.” He looked Justin over with a mocking curiosity. “What do you do for a living? Not work at the little shop anymore, since you got sacked—what an unfortunate thing that was.”

Justin’s shaking all over now, trembling from head to foot. The reveal that Tangerine had a gun was a slamming wake up call. When he doesn’t respond Tangerine laughs. “Well, I sincerely hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He moves the gun away and takes a step back, Justin practically slumps over. “Word of advice, get out of this fucking city. If I see you again this gun is going up your fucking arse.”

The man doesn’t move, just stays bent over, heaving breath in and out of his lungs. Tangerine clicks his tongue. “Go on then, run along.”

As if an invisible hand had pushed him, Justin stumbles forward and scrambles away down the alley. Tangerine puts his gun away and smooths out his suit. Thank god he kept a handkerchief in his pocket, cleaning blood off his hands in a fancy restaurant was not something he wanted to do. Throwing his cigarette away, he exited the alley and made his way back inside.

You were fiddling with the silverware, looking slightly bored as he sat back down. “I am so sorry, love.”

Looking up at him, you had on the faintest of frowns. “You smell like smoke, what’s wrong Tangerine?”

He cursed himself for the error, what had he been thinking—of course you would notice. Since you’d been dating, Tangerine had agreed to cut down on smoking when you had brought it up, admitting that it wasn’t healthy. Now, he only smoked when he felt extreme anxiety; and while you knew this, you were ok with it in those circumstances.

Tangerine felt so helpless in this moment. “Oh..I..uhm.”

He didn’t want to lie to you, the thought made him sick to his stomach. And you were staring at him with that worried look in your eyes now, the look that makes him want to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you until you’re laughing and any worry you might have is long forgotten.

Taking his silence and reluctance as something must be really bothering him, your brows furrow a little more and you lean in, reaching for his hand. “Baby?”

Tangerine decides to admit to something that has been causing him to smoke in the past week or so.

He pulls out the ring.

Holding it in his fingers delicately, as if his whole world were right there in his hands, he swallows a thick lump in his throat. “I was going to wait, Lemon told me to take things in small steps—”

Jesus, he had never seen your eyes this wide before. Did he fuck up? After seeing your wide eyes and parted lips he’s rambling now. Just saying anything and everything that comes to his mind.

How he was so nervous to get the ring, Lemon had to help him, and how he loves you so, so fucking much. How he doesn’t want to disappoint you, or ever let you down. He understands if this is too much, he’s a no-good contract killer and you’re you. Wonderful, amazing, brilliant, you. Everything he’s always wanted.

The more you sit and stare the faster he talks and it’s all spilling out of him in a long stream of consciousness. He’s not sure he can take your silence any longer, he might just start smoking another cigarette right then and there—and wouldn’t that be classy?

But before he can, you’re standing and moving toward him. He looks up at you, wide-eyed, scared, completely unsure of what your next move is. He’s about to combust and then you’re bringing his head to your chest and hugging it to you tightly. Peppering the top of his head with kisses, threading your fingers through his hair, as you repeat with tears in your eyes, that yes, yes of course you’ll marry him.

He’s standing and hugging you to him as his hands come up to hold your head into his chest. Relief is flooding through him and he can’t help but feel just a little silly for being so worried, because you love him. You really do.

As he slips the ring on your finger and kisses you so sweetly that it has tears falling down your cheeks, you ignore the scrapes and cuts on his knuckles. You ignore the blood on his suit sleeve. You ignore the fact that Justin, who had been staring at you from the bar all night was now nowhere to be seen. You ignore these things, because you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

And you are, because Tangerine is yours.

🍊 Taglist: @whatiswrongwithpeople @marquisdefrenchfry @everythingisspokenfortbh @titaniusanglesmith @sjprongs @piechans @cherrygayness @queenofstarsanddarkness @idkwhattowritelol

If you'd like to be added let me know!

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train 2022

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katnissgirlsmakedo · 2 months

Text

ok dune 2 post. obviously spoilers you know i don't give a shit. there is nothing i can say to you now that could possibly "ruin" your movie going experience should you decide to see dune 2. or maybe there is. i don't care though either you're reading my monster ass post or you're not. but i'm very nice and beautiful and kind so i added a read more <3 just keeping it really niceys <3

FIRST thing i want to say is that men are reacting to these movies in a way that is so diabolically insane to me i don't think i will ever be able to understand the underdeveloped male human brain. that was mean sorry. i hate men though and i think they're less intelligent than normal people. sorry. have you seen what men are saying about dune though. you understand. "it's the greatest triumph of cinema i've ever seen!" like calm down ryan it's dune part two.... we're not talking about the hunger games catching fire rn you can talk about the movie like a normal human being talks about things... yes it was good. it was also only the second best timothee chalamet film released in the past six months... and as i've said. the world at large will forget about dune like two years after the last movie, i'm sorry, but we will... we are not all male sci-fi fanatics peace and love

so what did EYE like about it! well i love zendaya <3 i love zendaya so much, not enough to watch spiderman, but a lot. i lovedd that she had a bigger role in part two (both me and my mom were sooo disappointed at how little she was in part one), and i especially loved how her role provided this point of contest to paul's messiah status, where his mother and stiglar are like, true believers, chani is the skeptic because she knows he's still only a man not a god, because she loves him as a man!!! it was crazy. also they were in crazy beautiful tragic love... (side note we can come back to this later if the need arises. their asses are GOING in the timeless video remake. spent a good ten minutes of the movie's runtime thinking about this fr) i really loved their relationship and their dynamic, idk anything about the books btw i want that out there as a disclaimer now. anyway i loved the drama of their whole thing it was craytown insane. the way he didn't want to go south and solidify his becoming as the people's messiah because he knew that if he became that he would lose her, and ultimately that's exactly what happened... "i will love you as long as i breathe" as his final words to her before enacting this plan to take over from the emperor by marrying the princess... ok that was insane. in many ways this happened to a friend of mine. by the name of. guinevere.... unless you're all here for my gay king arthur theory in which case. in many deeper ways this happened to my friend arthur. but i'm not supposed to talk about that because the people aren't ready. (i do genuinely and truly in my heart of hearts believe that king arthur is gay and i mean it in a way completely divorced from bbc merlin i didn't even want to bring up bbc merlin it makes me so mad how that show corrupted gay king arthur, i don't mean it like that. EYE mean that it's gay as fuck to be a man with an older brother. but we aren't talking about that). basically. kind of a tragedy slay... rooting for them in. deep sigh. movie three.

a thing i DID NOT like was the whole deal with. austin butler. i did not learn his character's name, don't care, he's dead anyway. it's not even that any of it was bad it was just boring. and there was that whole section on him too and i was like ugh this could have been a two minute scene wrap it UP! you may have noticed i was posting while in the theater. yeah i was posting from that section of the movie. because i was BORED. yes there was some vital info in that part, but i also believe it could have been explained in a significantly lesser amount of time!!! me in denis villieneuve's editing room screaming "cut it!!!!" it's boring... i'm sorry... i was bored and i don't care about the harkonnens (? i'm not looking that spelling up) and i don't care that that cult lady "secured his bloodline" by going to his birthday party and seducing him... i don't careeee about the harkonens!!!!

a thing i DID like was rebecca ferguson's deal. she was soooo. i mean she was terrible, of course, insane bitch for real. also i want her so bad but that's not relevant. loved her schemes. love it when a character starts playing god. and she got what she wanted in the end too! was that a good thing? unclear. but god forbid women do anything!

can i say something is this a safe space. i don't care about the worms the way a lot of people seem to care about the fuckin worms... they're cool i guess? but what is with the fascination with the sand worms... i don't get it. i'm gonna leave this point here cuz frankly what more is there to say

there seems to be a disconnect between two camps of people on timmy's actual messiah status in the narrative. i've seen people refer to the character as jesus and i've seen people call him a false prophet, and it all made me so confused i read the entire wikipedia entry for the original dune novel and the article for the larger dune chronicles. and i've come to the conclusion that yes he was literally the ultimate manifestation of powers the bene gesserit were trying to cultivate, and he did become a leader, but i wouldn't be so quick to call him jesus because he's only jesus because the bene gesserit wove their agenda into the religious legends and prophecies of the fremen people to be able to control them through it. so it was kind of all propaganda. but his abilities are very real and he DID want to help the fremen break free from harkonenn persecution. so i wouldn't call him a false prophet. i think the thing with the uh. "water of life" (it's worm piss. it's sand worm piss. it's gatorade blue, straight up fresh from the worm piss. i'm sorry) and he drank it and gave him visions of the future and he was like "i see it all so clearly now" and all that. i think that's real, he can see the futures and he knows he can play an important role and he wants to prevent war (flopped btw) and that's why he leaned into the messiah rhetoric, because it was easy i guess, and the people already believed it. i wouldn't call him evil or corrupt i'd just say he was trying to be realistic through the means he was raised (and remember that his mother raised him for war and power). um it's complicated. do i think there's a jesus metaphor? obviously there is. do i think he's really like. The Messiah? well no, because it's textually true that there was never REALLY a prophesized messiah, it was all just stories put into motion generations before he ever existed. that being said i wouldn't call it fake per se. lot's of interesting stuff is going on here with regards to religion to be honest. does it matter what's real? do we not each control our own perceived reality? does saying it's not real rob the believers of their choice? does it matter that the people were told to believe in him as a way to control them? does it matter that they made the beliefs their own anyway? what is religion? what is god? if i had more time on my hands i'd get deep into dune just to get into arguments online this summer about this shit.

i'd be interested to see how it all unfolds in a third movie, but as i understand that's not a confirmed thing that's happening and frankly i already read the wikipedia article about it so i guess i do already know how it unfolds. but i'll see the eventual movie anyway i guess.

the thing with the "atomics" was wild to me though i was like hey man i do not think a jesus figure would launch atom bombs... but to be fair i think they set those bombs on a mountain? and people were only killed via the rubble? that's obviously still bad i'm aware but i mean. well actually i don't know if that's what happened. the bombs only killed the bad guys though so who gives a shit. sorry. but those bald dudes were creepy i'm sorry they sucked so bad i don't care that a lot of them died in a war that they started. it's a movie. were they atomic bombs though? they called them "atomics" so i did assume they were fucking. oppenheimer atomic bombs. or is this such a distant future that they've advanced technology and undergone so many linguistic changes that words don't mean the same things anymore. i think however that i fully just overthought that. anyway whatever on the bombs i don't wanna talk about bombs

um getting back to my girl chani. "i will love you as long as i breathe" for real she should get to kill him a little bit for all of that shit i am not gonna lie to you. i was reading these wikipedia articles seeing the word "concubine" thinking to myself oh he should die. call me pontius pilate the way i am about to kill this fucking christ figure. i understand it narratively, i get it. i understand that he marries the princess for political reasons but he loves chani i understand that. but i am gonna tell you one thing right now and you need to hear this. cassandra would never pull something like that. and if you wanna talk to ME about an expansive fantasy universe totalling over a dozen books, you are gonna have to go through cassandra there. no one will ever be cassie, not to me, you'll never do the things cassie has done, i don't care who you are i don't care how influential to sci-fi dune is. if you're gonna come to me and be all oh dune was influential for sci-fi, i'm gonna come right back at you and say the shadowhunter chronicles was influential for urban fantasy. there is not a weird middle school girl out there who's life was not affected by cassandra clare. that woman is like a deity to me. i don't care about what men write, SHE is huge to ME. and she would never pull that shit. she would never, and she would rather die. peace and love. i hate men

and you know what let's all back it up for a moment. and when i said. timeless video. oh i meant that, as i said i spent ten minutes just straight up thinking about this comparison. my ultimate conclusion is that paul has the kit herondale swag (but if kit was written by a man. you understand). chani does not so much have ty blackthorn swag but she is kind of a cunt which was good enough for me tbh. the way that like. she was a fremen warrior above everything, even him, was very ty to me though, in the sense that he's a shadowhunter who like, IS a shadowhunter. we have shadowhunters like say, simon, who aren't so much suited to the shadowhunter way of life (because it is an entire way of life, it's not just being a human plus some magic, being a shadowhunter is a whole different class of existence completely unlike ours) but they're a shadowhunter because that's just the hand life dealt them. and then there are shadowhunters who are real, passionate, believing in the cause shadowhunters, and that's gonna be like. isabelle, cordelia, jace, emma. and ty. there are characters who, if they stopped being a shadowhunter they would survive, and there are characters who would not know a way to be without it. (sorry girl gonna interrupt you. this was a dune post? a post about the movie dune part two? um stop rambling about tsc...) ok. basically chani has that drive of caring so much about what she is (fremen) and what she can do. and i love how i gave that a whole paragraph explanation but with paul i just said "yeah he has that kit herondale swag nothin more to say" (sidenote. the audiobook i read the other day has been sticking with me to such an extent that. ok there was one character who i guess was meant to be from new jersey and the narrator was doing this crazy voice for him which was so fun and iconic i have been talking to myself in my head with that voice ever since for real and serious... i get a real kick out of it. and that last sentence pre parentheses was meant to be read in that voice so. imagine an exaggerated sort of goon-like jersey accent)(um just went to the little wiki page for this character to verify the new jersey thing. his dad's from jersey that's not important. under relationships. "they clearly have an abusive relationship" hey now... what fucking. lame fangirl wrote this... they were just homoerotically vibing in a toxic fucked up way... rolling eyes emoji. people didn't understand it...) anyway. um he does have the kit herondale swag. you know. in the simple sense that everybody is telling him he has this Destiny and he really didn't want it. kit would never drink that fuckass worm piss though. actually lie, he might. speaking of the worm piss. not the substance i mean the part of the movie where he almost died from it because it's literally poison and he knew that and drank it anyway. me when i have an exaggerated sense of self worth. me when it's literally poison but i'm different <3 anyway. when chani found him in that coma and jessica was like Only You Can Wake Him because like. some prophecy shit with "tears of the desert spring" and her secret name meant desert spring and she had to cry on him to save him from something she never wanted him to do. and that was effectively the moment that killed their relationship. that was crazy stuff girls...

not much more to say. oh. i must bring up the redacted of it all, of course, i mean naturally. this movie, above all other things i liked about it more than part one, had the added bonus of NOT being "from the ******* edits". watching part one was a constant game of "oh yeah i've seen this one" "classic c****** r***** edit clip!" "oh yeah the hair in his face with a dark expression in his eyes we've all seen it" like it was nice to watch a dune movie that was about dune. you know.

#and that's my story <3 #dune #tagging for organizational purposes <3

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chewriting · 2 years

Text

the closet can be a freeing as it is restricting

Relationship: Kit Herondale x Ty Blackthorn; Kit Herondale & Livvy Blackthorn

Word Count: 7.3k+

Read on Ao3

Content Warnings: references to past bullying with homophobic language, a brief panic attack, and vague references to an adult concert goer flirting with Dru even though she's fifteen

Summary: You know how there are things you know about yourself in the present day and you look back at your past and think: shit I was always this way, wasn't I? Passing through forests of clothes while shopping with his mom, subtly brushing his fingers along the array of fabrics, he feels that all too familiar tug deep within his chest that's had years of practice trying to suppress. He knows its name but never dares utter it unless he's the only one awake in a darkened house, or else it might come alive and swallow him whole.

Longing.

Kit stares at the open maw of Livvy’s closet, his angle stretching the sides to look like it’s raring to swallow him whole.

It matches the fear that wrapped a cold, iron vice around his stomach. Her clothes hang as needle-like teeth; used outfits droop out of the hamper like a wagging tongue; the swirling night sky backdrop Julian painted many years ago acting as the tunnel to the beast’s stomach. Kit’s heart hammers in his chest, palms sweat against the warm, shag rug, but he doesn’t move a muscle, doesn’t make a sound. Any sign of his fear could cause the animal to pounce or draw Livvy’s attention to his situation

He doesn’t know which would be worse.

Livvy is applying a second coat to her nails– pistachio–and humming along to whatever song scratches through the shitty speakers she refuses to replace. The beat is nice: pulsing through the floor and up into Kit’s skin like it’s trying to manually slow down his heart.

They lapsed into silence almost as soon as Ty and Dru left for their concert, but Kit didn’t overthink it as Livvy’s closet took over all empty space in his mind. It’s been almost two hours. Kit’s been staring at Livvy’s clothes, not speaking, for almost two hours. She probably thinks Kit’s just zoned out again, drifting somewhere of his own invention while she pads around the room to attempt the daily crossword that she and Ty make an unusual competition of, work through another line of code for her summer project, and eventually settle down to do her nails.

Kit’s blood echoes in his ears. The beast can definitely smell his distress. He’s easy prey.

“Hey Kit, do you want me to do your nails?”

His eyes slide away from the sweaters shoved against the furthest wall–because the September air is still clinging to the heat of July like a petulant child–to look at Livvy. What can Kit say that won’t give everything away? He’s said yes to her painting his nails before. They’d been decked in black, maroon, forest green, and once a sparkly purple that made Mina giggle when he wiggled his fingers in the light. There’s nothing conspicuous about Livvy painting his nails; it’s normal.

But Kit knows that she’ll take his hand and feel his rocketing pulse. She’ll listen to the way his blood sings in his veins, ecstasy at the acquisition but begging Kit to just finally take the plunge. She’ll take one, long look at him–like she always does because her blue-green eyes somehow always see straight through Kit like he’s nothing more than tissue paper–and just know.

Kit doesn’t even know what it all means quite yet; how will he react when Livvy connects all the dots before he does?

“Sure,” Kit replies. Because if Kit is good at anything, it’s ignoring the panic signals flashing red and blaring loud in his own body.

Putting his back to the closet makes his skin crawl, but he takes a deep breath and tries to reel back the line of dread he’s been unspooling for the past few hours back into something he can brush off as his stupid, sensitive response system after hearing a door slam from two houses down.

“I just got this shade that I think with match you perfectly.” She holds up the bottle. It’s the color of peach ice cream Ty always orders whenever they inevitably walk far enough down the beach to hit the pier. “And it’s just soft enough that it won’t draw a lot of attention.”

Kit’s grateful because they do have classes on Monday and the last thing he needs is everyone seeing him starting to paint his nails after the entire debacle of Kit’s coming out. Though Livvy’s been painting his nails long before the entire school found out about Kit’s huge, gay crush on Ty, it’s not like anyone would ask about it before shoving him into the lockers and calling him a fairy.

“Whatever you say,” Kit pushes out, pressing his hands against the cool wood of Livvy’s desk to mask their shaking. She doesn’t blink, just slides a tissue beneath his fingers and gets to work.

Whenever Livvy does Kit’s nails, she doesn’t stop at just applying a color. She always pushes back his cuticles and cuts away the excess, dead skin, puts two layers of the agreed-upon shade so it’s even and vibrant before applying a clear top coat, and dabs a drop of oil on each cuticle to keep it moisturized. Nothing about it makes Kit’s insides squirm as it’s the exact process she does for herself, Dru, and even Ty every so often–though Ty prefers to get just clear polish and it never lasts long with how often he thrusts his hands into dark, rocky crevices or the ocean.

But, even if Livvy didn’t do it exactly the same for everyone, Kit knows he wouldn’t shy away from the treatment because there’s a small part of his chest that rolls over giddily at being pampered. He glances back at Livvy’s closet, looking more foreboding without a clear line of sight.

The clothes call to him. They beckon with silky smooth fingers and croon with cotton soft voices. All Kit wants to do is block them out; think about anything else than how wonderful they must feel against the skin. He’s done it for years, why is it so much harder now?

Maybe it’s because he’s not under the same pressure to act and look a certain way. Maybe it’s because he now has a little sister who begs to braid his hair and clip childish butterfly and flower barrettes without structural intention. Maybe it’s because he saw Julian painting his own nails in hopes of preventing him from biting them to irritated nubs and could only think, wait boys are allowed to do that?

A sudden resolve settles over his shoulders, though he has no idea where it came from. It drapes across his skin, soothing its rapid-fire buzzing and settling his heart until it thumps harshly but evenly. The words fly out without giving Kit a chance to even think of snagging them back inside.

“Livvy, do you remember that dress you wore to school last week?” He asks, “the green one with puffed sleeves?

Because there is one thing in there that’s acting as Kit’s siren song. He saw it the moment they retreated to the twins’ room to wait out the concert of bands neither of them listen to but hear coming through Ty’s headphones or behind Dru’s bedroom door. It was like everything else in the room has been drained of color, the only object keeping its saturation was the beautiful sage green dress hanging just to the right of the center.

Kit walked into school, spotted her and Ty against the section of wall they claim each and every morning, and actually stopped in his tracks. It reached about mid-thigh, gathered around her waist, and showed off a large expanse of her chest. He couldn’t look away, too mesmerized by the way the fabric bounced animatedly as she talked with her hands.

There was no doubt he looked like a creep, stopping the flow of student traffic to just watch his best friend from several feet away. Eventually, she spotted him and waved, forcing Kit to snap back into himself and pretend like he didn’t just have an entire crisis soundtracked by sneakers squeaking against linoleum and students lamenting about calculus homework.

It’s not like Kit was the victim of a flood of attraction, that ship got its hull smashed when they shared a tight-lipped kiss at fifteen and Livvy fully grimaced afterward. No, Kit was jealous. He wanted that dress. He wanted to wear that dress.

“I do remember it, yes,” she replies; Kit pretends to not hear the snark in her tone, she doesn’t know why Kit is asking.

“Is there any way,” Kit swallows heavily, all his internal organs shoving their way into his throat, “I could try it on?”

He doesn’t immediately see Livvy’s reaction as he’s closed his eyes as tightly as they could go, bracing for her reaction. When she doesn’t say anything at all, he cracks one open slowly. She’s staring at him, hand frozen where it was rubbing in the last bits of oil around his thumb’s nail, not an ounce of judgment on her face. Actually, she’s beaming.

“Absolutely!” She cries, jumping up from her chair to rifle through the rainbow of fabrics to find the dress. Kit doesn’t point out that she passed over it twice because that would mean he was hyper-aware of its position and he doesn’t know if he can admit to that just yet.

He flaps his hands as he comes up behind her, taking the hanger when she thrusts it in his direction. She smiles again, makes a quick get-to-it gesture, and plops down onto her bed, criss-cross and facing away.

For a moment, all Kit can do is stare. He can’t even touch it yet, instead keeping his grip firmly on the plastic hanger so its rough edges dig into his palms. All the years of longing narrow down into Kit’s chest, pinpoint accuracy straight through his diaphragm that he struggles to breathe. He’s seven again, watching a pair of young girls skip by his father’s stall with matching floral skirts and Hello Kitty band-aids on their knees. He’s ten, trying to not seem like he’s following a woman just so he can get a prolonged view of the way her cropped tanktop hugs her ribs and stretches as she walks. He’s sixteen, with his comforter over his head like a force field as he watches fashion week runways on his phone in the middle of the night.

He’s wanted this for so long, aching for a chance to even entertain the thought of dressing like them. And Livvy just enthusiastically thrusted it into his arms because all Kit did was ask.

His fingers drag down the line of the hanger to tease against the tops of the sleeves. Despite it being nothing but a polyester and cotton mix, it feels electric. Alive. Only for a beat does he entertain the thought of just throwing it over his t-shirt and jeans; make it all for a quick joke to save his dignity at the expense of shoving it all down so far it’ll never see the light of say again. He was just outed to the entire school in one of the most violating and cruel ways, why is setting himself up for another beating? Will his heart be able to handle it?

That train of thought doesn’t last long in the presence of finding how exactly how the skirt will feel against the apex of his thighs.

It pulls around his chest but droops at his hips. The dress is clearly not made for his frame. But Kit has it on his body, adjusting the neckline so it sits centered on his chest and smoothing out any wrinkles he sees in the waist. Elation roars in his veins. He holds off from looking at himself for as long as he can–equally too afraid of hating how it looks and loving it so much he’ll never be able to take it off–but he takes a deep breath and rips off the ban-aid by stepping back and getting a full view in the mirror Livvy tacked to the inside of the door.

Oh, he looks nice. He looks really nice. The sleeves come down to just above his elbows, minimizing his biceps in a way he didn’t even know he craved. Where the bodice would normally have cleavage, it just holds the flat plane of Kit’s chest, but can’t bring himself to care. A soft laugh bubbles up his throat as she swings the hemline around his legs; it feels even better than he dreamed.

Livvy turns around at Kit’s joy and she just stares. Her hands come up to cover her mouth like she’s praying, doing nothing to block the giant smile that forms. She takes in everything, eyes darting along Kit’s body in a way that has him flushing but doesn’t diminish the pure joy acting as a barrier against everything.

Then she shrieks.

Compliments gush out of her like a waterfall, soaking Kit in warmth. “Oh my god, Kit you look so good! This color does amazing things with your skin. I know it’s a little longer due to our height difference but oh, just imagine how you’d look if I had something in your size!”

She pauses, her hands gripping Kit’s exposed clavicle. “How do you feel?”

Kit has no idea if he can put it into words. Like finally listening to a voice that’s been echoing in the back of his mind for ages. Like scratching an itch that he’s housed beneath his skin since before he could remember. It feels like freedom.

“Good,” is what he settles on, everything else feeling too big to make it up his throat, “I feel good.”

Livvy’s face falls into something more serious, gentle, but serious. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Talk about?” Somehow Kit feels like they aren’t thinking the same thing.

“Like, do you still want to be called Kit?”

All the warmth gets sucked out of Kit’s body, leaving him cold and shaking. Livvy trudges on without noticing. “Because you know, it’s fine if you don’t want to be Kit anymore. And you know that I’ll love you no matter what. I mean, you about Diana–”

“I’m not trans,” Kit cuts in. He backs up, allowing the closest monster to breathe heavily against his back. “I’m not a girl,” he whispers. He knows he shouldn’t have spat it out like it was an insult, but in the right context, it could be.

It’s scary, coming out as queer and then telling everyone you like girls’ clothes. He knows what everyone’s reaction will be. Oh, so he’s one of those gays. So we know who the girl in the relationship is. Just wait, in a few years, he’ll be getting everyone to call him she. Kit’s fingers dig into his arms, the sleeves doing nothing to cushion his skin from the pain. It’s no use trying to explain to everyone who questions what makes Kit Kit. They’ll never understand that his appreciation is aesthetically based, that he’s still a boy even if pairs his jeans with heeled boots or his t-shirt with a skirt. He’s already had people come up to him in the halls with insults veiled as questions about being bisexual. Do you even have a type or is just anyone who will give you attention? How will you keep a relationship if you have that bisexual urge to cheat? Does this mean you’ll still take it up the ass if you have a girlfriend? They ring in Kit’s ears, piling on top of each other until they’re nothing but white noise that threatens to make his eardrums burst.

He knows he’s hyperventilating, can feel his lungs burning, his heart pounding against his ribs, and his vision darkening around the edges, but’s helpless to stop it. Kit wants Ty. Who clings him to so tight that if Kit shattered into a million little pieces he’ll stay put together. Who mutters reassurances right into Kit’s ears even when Kit can’t clearly hear them. Who lays with Kit afterward–when he's still shaking but at least back in his own head–and goes through the known evolutionary history of dolphins.

But having Ty comforting him would mean Ty would be here, seeing Kit in a dress. And that only makes Kit’s panic worse.

There’s a hand rubbing a firm circle against his exposed spine and a voice speaking directly into his scalp. It’s not a lot, but it’s the tether Kit needed to drag himself back to reality.

The room comes back into focus, tears Kit didn’t realize he was shedding clouding his vision. Livvy has pulled him into her chest, curling over his head so his forehead rests against her collarbone. Slowly, her words sharpen.

“It’s okay Kit, I’m sorry I said anything. You’re okay, everything is okay. I promise you’re safe. Nothing’s here to hurt you.”

It’s so similar to what she whispers to Ty when he’s on the verge of a meltdown when Kit has to just watch from a distance as they curl into each other like two parentheses, protecting the vulnerability Ty shows by fisting his hands in his hair and repeating words under his breath.

It’s good, and soothing in an almost mindless way that helps piece Kit’s brain into a functional organ. When his heartbeat calms down and his lungs are able to take in a gulp of air without protesting violently, he pushes himself back again.

Livvy just watches him, waiting for Kit to say the first thing but daring him to brush it off with an I’m fine.

“Sorry,” he says instead, which is not a better line but at least he’s admitting he’s not okay.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry,” she presses, “I shouldn’t have assumed. Especially if you were working through something like your gender. It’s a lot to admit.”

“I just want to wear whatever I want. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Livvy agrees. The tension that’s coiled tight in Kit’s chest loosens somewhat. Though he shouldn’t be so surprised Livvy is as accepting as she is, with over half of her family identifying as queer in some fashion, including herself. But it’s nice to be taken at face value. Hearing what Kit says about himself and acknowledging it as the simple truth.

“I do have a question though,” she says.

Kit isn’t proud of how his shoulders draw up. “What?”

“You look kind of a right mess.” She tucks a lock of hair back behind Kit’s ear. “So I was wondering if you’ve considered makeup when thinking about your new look and if I’d be able to do it for you.”

Kit lets out a fragmented breath. That’s a much easier question to answer.

“I have. And you can. Just nothing too–” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before Livvy is dragging him back to the desk. With the briefest of checks that Kit’s okay, she bursts out of the room and down the hall leaving Kit alone with his thoughts as he fingers the hemline between his forefingers and thumb. He’ll never get how people claim they can see no similarities between Livvy and Ty after finding out they're twins. Sure, they’re not identical but Kit can see the shared traits easily. They both laugh with eyes squinted and heads thrown back, they both cock their heads when confused, and they both are unrestrained balls of energy when excited.

Livvy’s considerably more collected when coming back into the room, a good chunk of her makeup collection cradled in her arms. Though there’s less care when she just dumps it all across her desk. He blinks at all the palettes and applicators, praying that the pencil he saw Dru and Ty use to coat their under eyes black will go nowhere near his waterline.

“Alright,” Livvy huffs, falling back into Ty’s chair she borrowed from his desk, “is there anything that you’ve just been dying to try?”

Kit thinks back to Halloween a few years back. They had decided to go as something fantasy themed and all together they looked like they were heading to a Renn Faire rather than trick-or-treating. Livvy had gone a knight, her fencing saber acting as her trusty sword, though everyone kept assuming she was Joan of Arc. Ty went as a necromancer, which Kit believes was just an excuse for him to wear a heavy, black cloak the entire night and spend three days creating a detailed Necronomicon prop with Dru. And Kit was a faerie. The costume itself wasn’t terribly complex, just a linen shirt and pants combo that he spruced with tying his hair back in a loose updo that he let Mina decorate with beads and leaf decals, but Tessa had helped him apply mascara and some eyeliner to give him a more ethereal appearance. Kit couldn’t go by a mirror or window without sneaking a quick glance at his reflection all night.

“I really like how mascara looks and I don’t mind how chapstick feels, so, lip gloss?”

With all the shame-filled late-night searches Kit’s done to pin outfits to a private Pinterest board, he never dived too deep into the complex world of makeup. Everything he knows is simply by osmosis of having a girl best friend four years running.

“I can do mascara and lipgloss, but let me just help reduce some of this puffiness first.” She pulls out a green device that looks like a rolling pin attached to a long handle. Her hand against Kit’s shoulder keeps him from flinching too far back but once it hits below his eyes, he’s relaxing again. It’s cool and it feels like it’s dragging the heat that had pooled up and away.

It’s just how when Livvy does his nails: following a set set of steps to make sure it looks as good as possible. They don’t talk much as she works, the only breaks in silence are her answering the quiet questions Kit has about brands and techniques. Oddly enough, it feels like bonding. He shares so much with Ty: being queer men, being neurodivergent, and recently romantic interest.

Maybe this can be the thing they share.

“If I may ask, what draws you to feminine things?” Livvy requests, bringing a blond pencil up to his eyebrows. “If there even is a reason,” she tacks on.

Kit shrugs as lightly as he can without jostling his face too much. “I can’t say it’s much different than what draws you to it. Just wanting to feel pretty, I guess.”

“Well, good thing you were always partly there, pretty boy.” Kit flushes despite her teasing tone.

She instructs him to look up as she applies the mascara and luckily Kit is already familiar with the process; Tessa got to deal with all of Kit’s flinching and eyelids fluttering. “Have you always felt this way?”

“I think so?” Kit questions, thinking back on his childhood. Sure, a lot of his interest could have been chalked up to budding pre-pubescent attraction–which is probably what saved him from being questioned too heavily by his biological dad–but even then Kit knew something about looking at women’s clothes felt different than him wanting to kiss a girl. “But it’s the stereotypical story: boy likes girly things, society calls him fag, so he just repressed it until he forgets about it eating him from the inside out.”

It’s almost enough to make him laugh. He sure did turn out to be pretty gay without putting on makeup.

Livvy’s hand pauses just for a moment before continuing. “Well, I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me.”

“I appreciate you being so cool with it,” Kit responds.

She leans back, mascara brush swinging dangerously close to her cheek, lips pursed.

“We don’t have to worry too much about blush right now because the general redness of your cheeks is enough.” Kit scoffs. “But I will admit everything would look so much better if I had a foundation shade in your color. You’re lucky Emma left one of her brow pencils here and it’s close enough of a match to get by. Maybe when we go to get you some clothes we can swing by Sephora and pick a few things out.”

“Livvy,” Kit warns but she’s already turned to look at her lip gloss selection. He doesn’t know if he can do something like that yet. Trying on his friend’s dress in the privacy of her bedroom is very different from taking something into the changing room at a public store.

“Oh, It’ll be so fun! I love shopping with Emma and Christina, we make a whole day of it. Now I know the first time will probably be just you and me but it can still be a blast. I’m also pretty much an expert, so you’ll need me to help pick out things that flatter your body type.”

Kit isn’t even sure what his body type is. A disproportionate leg-to-torso ratio accompanied by an extra layer of fat around his stomach? Do they get that specific? Livvy holds up a few tubes of lip gloss, checking their color against the flush in Kit’s skin.

“It’s not that it won’t be fun. I just don’t think I’m ready to go the whole nine yards yet. Baby steps, yeah? Let’s just get a few feet first.”

Livvy sighs but Kit knows his barest hint at acceptance will be enough for her to have a plan put together when he officially says yes. Finally, she settles on a brand and he’s saved from shoving his foot in his mouth by a sticky layer of artificial strawberry flavoring. He smacks his lips when instructed, silently pleased with the soft pop they supply.

Wordlessly, Livvy holds up a handheld mirror for Kit to inspect her work, looking far too smug. For the second time today, he’s left speechless. She was right about not needing any blush as his cheeks are already flushed from his brief panic attack–and it’s not like he’s going out the look–but everything Livvy touched looks good. It’s still his face, but somehow more. The mascara makes his eyelashes look longer and fuller, framing his eyes in a distractingly familiar way. She filled in his eyebrows to make them darker and more defined and the lipgloss glistens along his cupid’s bow as he turns his head.

Kit definitely looks pretty. But all with all the fizzing that’s taken up residence in his stomach, heavy stones quickly dispel it all.

He’s never been blind to how he looks. Growing into his features in his late teens meant growing into something he could only describe as androgynous. People have always called him a delicate balance of handsome and beautiful. High cheekbones and full lips with a strong jawline and broad shoulders. It was when he started to grow his hair past his ears that people started to do double-takes for more reasons than interest. Passing them in public, Kit could always tell what they were thinking: was that a boy or a girl? He can’t help but think about Ty.

“What’s going on?” She whispers, resting her folded forearms on his shoulder.

Kit snaps the mirror closed and throws it back on the desk, unable to look anymore. “Ty’s gay.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty aware,” Livvy chuckles, “you should have seen how many times he watched 10 Things I Hate About You just for Heath Ledger.”

“So what if I start doing this,” Kit makes a broad gesture to his face and clothes, “and he starts to lose interest.”

Livvy lets out a sympathetic sound. “Oh, Kit.”

“I know it won’t be an everyday thing. I still like masculine styles! I just want to be free to wear the stuff everyone associates with girls. But what if Ty can’t bring himself to kiss me when I have lipstick on.” Kit sniffs. “What if this tears us apart?”

He can feel his throat closing up and tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, but Livvy is already there with a tissue before any can spill again.

“First, please don’t cry as I just applied that mascara and it will run like a bitch. Two, you know Ty doesn’t care about stuff like that.” She holds onto his elbows as he collects himself, then trails her hands down his forearms to link their fingers together. “Ty likes you however you present yourself.”

“There are tons of gay guys who are masc-for-masc and all that shit.”

“Well Ty isn’t one of those guys,” she assures. Her thumb comes up to swipe at a tear that slipped out. “Do you like it?”

“It kinda makes me look like a girl.”

“But do you like it?”

Kit hesitates, thinking back to how his body immediately reacted to putting on the dress, seeing his makeup in the mirror. “Yes. I really like it.”

“Then that’s all Ty will care about.”

He can only nod, pressure building behind his eyes with renewed force. It takes a lot of effort to not cry, though the remaining shreds of his dignity and Livvy’s hard work being on the line are excellent motivators. When Kit finally nods, waving for Livvy to step back, he feels a little better.

“I’m okay,” he promises, “sorry about nearly crying again.”

“Babe, for all the times I know you’ve choked back tears. Letting yourself cry twice in one day might actually be good for you.”

Kit laughs and all the fear and anxiety in his chest finally dissipates. It reminds Kit of the scene in most teenage coming-of-age stories. Where the main character inevitably goes to their wiser, older sibling, usually back for Thanksgiving or Christmas, and pours their heart out to show all the terrible pressure they’ve been under. The older sibling will just take them under their arm, give all the right advice in the most condensed way possible, and make a reference to some comfort action they used to share. It’s cheesy and so overdone, but it’s always been one of Kit’s favorite scenes. Because, when he was growing up, all he wanted was an older sibling or friend with more life experience to tell him that everything will work out and he shouldn’t stress out so much.

He and Livvy are the same age, with the possibility of a few-month age gap depending on when Kit was actually born but will probably always be up in the air, but this feels like that kinship. Despite how often they’ll flick each other off across the cafeteria floor, rib each other over the smallest of things, or send stupid jokes in the middle of the night knowing it’ll wake the other up, the root of their friendship is something loving and pure, no matter what.

Livvy is like the older sibling Kit always craved when he inevitably fell asleep and woke up to an empty house.

“And you know, we can always just take your picture to see what Ty thinks.” Livvy wiggles her eyebrows, leaning in close. “He might actually really like it.”

Kit gags. “I don’t need you suggesting that, ever. Need I remind you he’s your twin brother?”

“Hey! I wasn’t suggesting anything! Just that he might be the exact opposite of opposed to you expressing yourself.” She shakes her head. “You allos man, all you can think about is sex.”

Kit puts his head in his hands, which Livvy immediately slaps away claiming it’ll ruin her masterpiece, you don’t touch the art.

After letting Livvy take one–one–picture of Kit’s makeup, they continue to lounge in silence, though now Kit has to be more conscious of not rubbing his face and how he sits so he doesn’t flash his boxer briefs. But as the clock gets closer and closer to when Ty estimated they’d be home, Kit has to take it all off.

Thankfully it’s easier than he’d thought it’d be, though Livvy goes through a lot of rules to get the makeup off that makes Kit wonder why he can’t just dunk his face in water and scrub. Asking results in such a heavy sigh that Kit absolves himself to just listening to what she says.

Looking at the dress now in Livvy’s hamper makes Kit’s heart ache, though. Even after Livvy assures him that if he ever wants to come around to wear it for a little while again–or anything else in her wardrobe–that he’s more than welcome, Kit wishes he had things in his own closet so he won’t have to express himself solely in a shared bedroom in a house miles from his own. But he meant it when he told Livvy baby steps. The longing lets him know that this is real.

He lays back down on the rug, watching Ty’s digital clock flip at each passing minute. A whole new kind of dread settles deep in his bones. He’s going to have to lie to Ty for a while. Not that Kit particularly wants to, but he’s just not ready to share it yet. It came out to Livvy because Kit was a pot boiling over and he physically couldn’t keep it contained anymore. But telling Ty will involve them sitting down and Kit having to talk through all his feelings and answering any questions Ty’s bound to have. He can’t just show up to a date–because they actually have those now–in a skirt and tights with no prior explanation. That will never go over well.

Not really knowing himself made it easier to not talk about it, but now it’s something he has to actively keep from Ty, which sucks. But necessary, for the time being.

He’s so deep in his own rumination he doesn’t notice Livvy shuffling around the room until she drops a heavy Sears bag just to the right of his head. It’s so heavy it thumps loudly even against the carpet and stays upright for all of three seconds before tipping over due to its own mass.

“Jesus Christ! Livvy! You could have taken my head off!” He yells, earning a flippant wave in return.

“I have impeccable aim, look inside.”

It’s clothes. A lot of clothes. Things he’s seen Livvy wear before and things he doesn't recognize. He spots a familiar shade of navy blue that he knows is a buttoned crop top he loved a lot when Livvy wore it. Though he’s not sure if it’s coincidence or Livvy noticed him looking that long ago.

“Livvy–”

“Ah, ah, don’t Livvy me like the idea of someone doing something nice for you is enough to send you into hysterics. They’re all clothes I haven’t worn in a while so I was going to donate them anyway. You can go through them first if you relieve me of having to go down to the GoodWill.”

“You’ve already done so much today,” he protests. Livvy just holds up her fingers.

“And people don’t have daily kindness caps. I’m allowed to be as nice as I want. Do whatever with them, they’re yours now.” She flops backward onto her bed, bouncing several inches off the mattress and rattling the lamp at her bedside. It makes Kit laugh because it always makes Ty tense when she does it, concern radiating off him in palpable waves.

Kit tucks everything back into a hopefully inconspicuous lump. It won’t fit in the duffle he brought for staying over so he can only pray no one asks why he’s taking a Sears bag he definitely didn’t arrive with. At least he has time to come up with a convincing lie.

“This is a lot like you telling me you’re bi before Ty,” Livvy says off-handedly, staring at something on her phone. Then she shoots a pointed look his way. “You need to tell Ty. I don’t like keeping shit from him.”

But Kit knows that she won’t say a thing until says it’s okay. He won’t force her to keep it a secret for longer than she must. “I will, I promise. I’m not going to go behind his back and do drag once a month to get it out of my system.”

“Oh please, you don’t have the resilience for drag. Don’t kid yourself.”

Kit cackles, which sends Livvy into a fit as well. This is good, familiar. The world hasn't tilted off its axis now that Livvy knows.

Eventually, they decide to wait downstairs so they can catch Dru before dragging Ty back out. They have plans to gorge themselves on late-night Mexican street corn from the vendor that passes by the Blackthorn’s house after a long stint selling off the Santa Monica Pier.

At a quarter to midnight, the front door opens and immediately Dru’s laugh fills the room. Her tightly woven braids had come undone at some point in the night, leaving her hair in loose curls that spill across her shoulders. With her mascara running down her cheeks, it honestly adds to the look. She’s cackling and while Ty isn’t smiling behind her, his eyes are alight and he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Seeing him so happy makes Kit’s chest feel like it’s glowing.

“Good concert, I take?” Livvy asks, sprawled across the couch like a Victorian damsel after a fainting spell.

“It was amazing! Life-altering!” Dru gushes, folding herself over the back of the couch.

Ty doesn’t sit down in favor of pacing in front of the tv. “It was really fun.”

A light from upstairs clicks off as Dru dives into the setlist of each of the bands, with Ty piping in on the songs he wished they had included. All of it fades to the background as Kit just stares at his boyfriend. His eyeliner is not in the same state Dru’s is, but it has smudged out into an unintentionally smoky eye. The black is stark against the heavy flush of his cheeks. He fiddles with the end of his striped sleeves while each of his steps thud against the hardwood.

He’s an interesting mix of devastatingly handsome and cheek-pinchingly cute.

“–and Ty totally almost punched a guy!” Kit zones back in at the end of Dru’s sentence and is suddenly very invested in the conversation.

Though Livvy’s been listening to her sister attentively, she also perks up considerably. “Wait, Ty almost punched someone?” Despite asking Dru she looks directly at Ty.

“What do you mean by almost punched?” Kit adds.

“It was so badass!” Dru then turns to Ty, absolutely beaming. Ty doesn’t react, too focused on folding his sleeves a certain way over his fingers.

“He wouldn’t leave you alone,” he says, “even after you told him you’re a minor.”

“Ty found me to get our spots back in the mosh pit after a brief intermission between bands and the guy got all up in his face.” Dru's voice got a little quieter as she addresses Ty, “I mean, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you threw a punch.”

It’s hard to imagine Ty fighting someone. The image forms vaguely with the few times he’s gone to Ty’s taekwondo meets, but that’s also very controlled combat with a ton of rules and referees to prevent anyone from getting seriously hurt. Ty’s about as violent as he is protective, which isn’t a lot. Kit doesn’t want to imagine what the guy could have possibly been saying to get Ty going.

“If I hit him, we would have gotten thrown out and would have missed the rest of the show. But,” Ty looks at Dru for a second, a flash of something passing over his eyes, “he definitely deserved to get his nose broken.”

The laugh bubbles out of Kit’s throat without him really thinking and suddenly they’re all in hysterics. It’s a uniting feature of Blackthorns Kit has found, their laugh that resembles more of a shout.

“At least the concert was mostly fun?” Livvy asks, still struggling to get a full breath in.

This sends Dru into another tangent about how hot Andy Biersack was in person which has Ty softly agreeing. They got on for a while, trading stories of crazy moves by band members and other people in the mosh-pit with brightly dyed hair and more spikes on their clothes than fabric. At least the most pit wasn’t a poor experience, given its reputation.

Then Kit’s stomach groans loudly, cutting off whatever Livvy was about to say.

“I think it’s nearing street corn time,” he jokes.

Livvy shoots off the couch. “Thank god! I’ve been thinking of how to subtly hint at it in conversation for the past ten minutes. Let’s get some food!”

“I need to shower first. I smell,” Ty says.

“And as much as I love the aesthetic I slaved to create,” Dru swipes a finger under her eye, smudging what’s already there more than wiping it away, “I need to get this off before it blinds me.”

“Sounds good. Kit and I’ll just wait.” Livvy casts a look at Kit, catching him staring openly while Ty unlaces his boots. “Actually, Dru, why don’t I help you with your makeup.”

“If you want, but I’m just wiping–”

“Yeah, I know. Let’s go!”

Then they’re gone, Livvy’s promise of buying Dru her food is the last Kit hears before a door closes and leaves the house deathly quiet.

Ever since Kit and Ty started dating, Livvy’s been leaving them to have more time alone. Despite how much she loves to tease that now they’re together all they can think about is sex, she loves to set up scenarios where they have time and privacy. Kit doesn’t have the heart to tell her that they aren’t waiting for the second she’s gone to throw themselves at each other. Things have hardly changed, except that they definitely kiss more than friends. And Kit will not complain about the kissing.

“Hey,” Kit says, leaning against the wall as Ty kneels down to slide his boots off.

“Hi,” Ty replies.

Kit takes a deep breath, working up the courage to speak. They’re dating now, officially, with a few formal, romantic outings between the two of them that can no longer be passed off as friendly. He’s allowed to say these things. “You look really hot.”

“I do?” Kit can’t believe that’s how Ty responds, because clearly he’s been in front of a mirror in the last four hours.

“Yeah, babe, the eyeliner really does it for me,” Kit croons. He tries to not giggle at the heavy flush that overtakes the light exertion on Ty’s cheeks. So, instead, he leans closer to ask: “Can I have a kiss?”

Because even though they’re dating, Kit knows it’s still best to check. Ty isn’t always open to having people touch him and especially after something so stimulating as a concert with a heavy emphasis on moshing and apparently a narrowly avoided fight. He doesn’t want to assume Ty doesn’t need some space to decompress.

“I meant it when I said I smell.”

“Eh, I don’t really care.” Kit grins smugly. “And maybe I like the boyish musk.”

Ty grimaces but stands up to give Kit a peck all the same. Which still makes Kit’s insides do cartwheels around his abdomen. His lips are slightly dry against Kit’s, but since he knows they’re from Ty screaming lyrics he loves so dearly, he can’t be upset. But Ty freezes, pulling back just enough to stare at Kit’s mouth.

“Are you wearing new chapstick?” He asks. Kit touches his lips, feeling no residue left behind from the lip gloss. He made sure to get it all off and apply his usual, flavorless chapstick to soothe the friction irritation.

“Why?”

“You taste like strawberries.”

Kit flushes. Immediately, his mind starts supplying all the little lies to get out of this situation. “I must have grabbed one that I usually save for my house. Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Ty hums, his tongue darting out to run along his lips. His socked feet tap against the floor frantically. “I like it.”

And then he turns on his heel to go upstairs and shower.

Kit stands in the middle of the living room, listening to the pipes creak when Ty turns the shower on and the chime of the clock on the mantle hitting midnight. The fizzing starts up again in his stomach with renewed vigor.

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peachypede · 11 months

Note

😶🐯🍯🔐 for Pecha and Rawst?

Ask meme is here

Pecha

Tbh she doesn’t have a lot of control on what her face is doing. It’s a trait she inherited from her dad. When she tries to show an expression, such as smiling, it looks forced even if she is genuinely happy at the moment. She tries to keep a smile on her face most time because she doesn’t want to chase people away.

Often her face blanks without her realizing it. She’ll space out during a conversation and become very stoic faced or bored looking without meaning to. When she’s concentrating hard, her face goes between blank to glare that can kill. So during pokemon battles she either looks ready to murder you or completely unfazed by the battle…works in her favor though since it makes her hard to read.

Rawst

Has the same thing as Pecha and his dad, though he doesn’t try to force expressions. He doesn’t care if people have a hard time reading him or if he seems unfriendly. He believes it’s up to people to not make too harsh of first impressions of him.

He’s extremely blank faced while watching horror movies or playing horror games. His deadpan humor and inability to be phased by even the scariest of jumpscares is what attracts people to his streams and let’s plays. It’s hilarious watching a guy react to a creepy monster by saying ��oh you silly little rascal! Come here…”

Pecha

When she used to have a battle training schedule, her first song on the playlist would be Kick in the Door by Xenia Pax and if her Pokemon hear this song they instantly go into battle mode. (From sweet house pets into battle machines lol)

Nowadays, she needs songs that get her into creating mode. Oresama- Morning Call has a nice snappy feeling to it that helps her focus on her work whether it’s making concept art or actually creating the pieces.

Rawst

He prefers soundtracks over songs with words, especially since he’s mostly trying to get pumped during a stream. Lights, Camera, Action! from Sonic Mania is a nice one to start off the stream. Any royalty free 8-bit music would be nice as well.

For more chill, just chatting streams some soundtracks like Lori M from Night in the Woods has really nice chill vibes to hang out to. (tbh I feel like this also would be kinda Rawst's theme as well. Mellow and chill.)

Pecha

Has a weakness for sweets but also a very sensitive tummy so if she overindulges, she's in pain town. She loves cakes, pies, cookies...especially home baked goods. Since she was taught by her tita to bake, it's kinda hard to avoid temptation when she knows she can just whip up her own cake or something.

ice-cream though has to take the top. So many flavors! So many toppings to add! Also romantic in a way cause you can share a milkshake with someone all cute diner style~

Rawst

Junk food eater. Eats a lot of candy. Also a freak though so his favorites are probably the extreme sour candies that would make a normal person pucker but with Rawst he has some extra citric powder that he adds to them to make them even more sour. (which if you consider that he ALSO has a sensitive stomach, he is always in pain and feeling like shit because of this)

His all time favorite is the sour gummy worms. He rolls those in the extra citric powder and eats a whole bag. Gremlin man.

Pecha

Her closet holds a secret...she has a furry suit. It's her own original character called Webby whose a Galvantula. She's got sparkles in her eyes and the main arms connect to a second lower pair of arms , having four arms like a Galvantula does. And yes. Pecha made this herself after watching tons of tutorials. She's remade and redone it for years until it looks really well made. And yes. She goes to convention incognito with it. She just likes furry stuff and thinks they're super cute! All the colors! All the cute mascots!

She doesn't like showing people due to all the stigma. If a friend or lover stumbles onto it, she'll get very embarrassed...

She really wants to make a Ribombee character next, though.

Rawst

He writes songs, poetry, and also draws people he thinks are attractive. All these journals are kept in one of his drawers at his computer desk. He's only lately started sharing some of his music online, but he'll never show off his poetry or drawings to people. They, um...hold his secret feelings for some certain people that he doesn't like to show

Might someday sing a song for his lover but that might also be something he keeps hidden away forever...

#oc pecha #oc rawst #ask meme | rainbow yellow #realizing more that Rawst is the opposite of Pecha's anxious bundle of nerves lol

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just-mebs · 2 years

Text

I know for the majority of people on here y'all don't know shit about JJ (Scout OC) and Emile (Spy OC) but I just have some thoughts about Emile and Sniper (idk if hes gonna get to become a full fledged OC or not, haven't put too much thought into him) I want to get out:

[literally don't read this unless you're prepared for a whole lot of OC lore with no context ;v;]

I've just been thinking about how their relationship builds pre-AU (?) before ultimately crashing once Emile leaves to go get JJ.

I think that their relationship begins how a lot of Sniper//Spy stuff usually starts: as in they hate/are just flat out aggressive towards each other to a fault before finding common ground and getting closer. I think that they would fall under "mutually pining" for the better part of their relationship - that is leading up to Scout's death.

I think that Emile reacts really badly to him dying. Its not an immediate thing, but at the end of the day when everything is said and done? Someone asks where Scout is and everyone turns to him, knowing that he was the last person to see him, he just... its so much at once. I think he manages to keep his composure long enough to get the message across, but slips away not a second later.

Snipes is the only one who really picks up on this initial grief. Emile's known for slipping away often enough and considering they are all exhausted from the day no one really bats an eye. Granted most of them are also most likely grieving the death of their teammate as well so its not that they don't care but just they all have their own issues to deal with. Going back to the original point, Sniper is the one that probably goes looking for Emile after and I think its the first time Emile genuinely shows more emotion than what his carefully crafted image would normally allow. Don't know if he just breaks down completely or not, but I do know its like a turning point in their relationship.

The relationship changes from here, moving from mutual pining to relying on each other for support. I imagine that even before they confess to each other there is this sense of clingy-ness to the two of them. Never not close to one another. Emile more often than not sleeping/staying in Sniper's van. I think they end up dating before either of them actually realizes it. Over the course of a few months they become the other's support systems and I think that leading up to Emile's disappearance there might be actual love confessions.

But then let's get into Emile's disappearance because its what reverses all their work relationship wise. Its a few months post-canon when Emile finally works up the courage to go through Scout's old stuff. I think Sniper is there too, possibly helping, maybe just there for emotional support, but there nonetheless. I think Snipes is going through a box on the other side of the room when Emile finds the paperwork. Paperwork that's probably buried under many others, probably crumpled to some extent even, but upon reading just the first page it completely flips Emile's world on its head.

He doesn't tell Sniper about it, doesn't know how, just shoves it back where he found it to retrieve later as he tries to work his way through the rest of it. Time goes by, they sort out the rest of the room and Emile says how he's just leaving for a few days to deliver the possessions to Scout's mother before disappearing off the face of the earth. I don't even think Sniper is that shocked by Emile leaving. Probably had a feeling it was what was happening after the third week of Emile being gone. It was the fourth week that the rest of the team started asking questions and the sixth that Pauling officially told them he wasn't coming back.

But while he wasn't too shocked it still hurt like a bitch. Which is why, fast forward like 10 years, when Sniper meets Emile again he doesn't know how to let go of this pain he's held for the good part of the decade. I don't even think he realizes he has all that pain until he meets Emile again and all the old feelings come back up. He sincerely doesn't want anything to do with Emile, which Emile 100% understands and doesn't blame him for, but JJ ends up being a little shit (affectionate) which kind of forces the two of them to rekindle.

I haven't put too much thought into their relationship after the 10 year jump, but Emile defiantly in his time away + his time spent raising JJ becomes more... understanding? It's like he took a massive chill pill I guess, but he's still the same Spook by all means. I just want them to end up happy in the end (whatever end that maybe).

#mine.mebs #oc.jj #oc.emile #tf2 oc #long post #au.penitentfather #oc.gilbert

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fainting-fat-cat · 6 months

Text

Inveigle

“They tell me you’re a famous author.”

“So they say.” Eva acknowledges with a shrug. She looks up at him with mild interest. He has the look of a man who used to be handsome but a little too much food stretched over a few too many years and an unfortunate mustache mask his otherwise charming good looks. “What I want to know is, who are you?”

“My name is Gary Hudson.” The man says holding out a beefy hand to shake, manners so deeply ingrained that it never even occurs to him to not. “And you are Eva McCormick.”

“Yes I am.” Eva says taking the proffered hand and shaking it. “And what can I do for you, Gary Hudson?”

“I was hoping to interview you.” Gary says pulling out a composition notebook and a pen. He looks expectantly at the author, a challenge in his eye. “I’m a journalist with World Focus.”

A slow smile pulls up one side of Eva’s mouth and she leans back in her chair, a picture of relaxation. “Sure. Why not? I’ve got nothing but time.”

The first meeting had to have been aligned in the stars, or at least that’s what Jay thinks. There’s no way to plan a meeting like that, a literal collision of worlds, so brief and yet so meaningful at the same time. Very few words are actually exchanged as they both scramble to pick up their belongings from where they lay scattered across the floor of the subway terminal and hurry off to catch their respective trains.

“Oh!” Jay exclaims pulling up short as best he can in order to stop from completely barreling over the petite rushing woman as she tries to cross the flow of traffic exiting the escalator. The people around them react faster, parting like the Red Sea to go around them and make their connections, the occasional foot scattering their fallen possessions even farther across the dirty subway floor. “Oh hell, I’m so sorry! I was- I was distracted by my phone- are you okay?”

“Shit.” The woman says scrambling to extricate herself from Jay’s grasp and go after the papers she had been carrying but which are now scattered across the terminal. “Shit.”

“Here, let me help.” Jay hurriedly shoves the phone in his pocket and bends over, beginning to collect the fallen sheets. The terminal is emptying, people dwindling out like grains of sand from an hour glass as they filter off into their respective trains and connections. Leaning down he scoops up a pile of papers and other sundry items, shoving them back into the woman’s arms. “I’m so sorry. I should have been paying better attention.”

“It’s okay.” The woman says in a tight voice, cringing at the dust that gets on her crisp black blouse from the papers. “I’m late and my pages are out of order. Shit. And your stuff- here, let me help you get your stuff-”

“No, no, go. I’ll be okay.” Jay says with a dazzling smile. His books had landed in a haphazard little pile not far from them and he knows he can gather them up easily enough and still be on time for class. “You go ahead. I’ll be fine. Don’t be late.”

For just a second the woman looks like she’s ready to argue but then she nods, utters a hurried thank you, and rushes off, barely making it onto the train before the doors slide closed and it takes off down the tunnel. Jay watches after her as the train speeds away and then goes to collect his own belongings, shoving the books into his bag without looking at them. There was no way for him to know it at the time, but that meeting – simple and short though it was – would shape the rest of his life.

~*~

It isn’t until Eva is sitting down on the train after the third stop when there’s finally an open seat that she actually gets to brush off the dust and sort through the detritus of papers and belongings in her arms. To her eternal relief her manuscript isn’t too horribly out of order and within another two stops she has it nearly back to normal. She’s just sifting through the last little bit when something considerably heavier falls out of the pages and lands with a thunk next to her feet. For one second she stares at the black square of fold-able leather in confusion but then she leans down and scoops it up, flicking it open to see an ID in photo-laminate, the earnest face of the man who had nearly knocked her over staring up at her. She flicks through the rest of the wallet with interest. There’s a small stack of bills totaling less than fifty dollars behind the slots holding what appear to be a couple of store reward cards, a debit card, a library card, and a student ID to Martinique University. She flips back to the government ID and looks it over carefully. ‘Jay Morgan. Born 27 November 1996. Address listed is only a handful of blocks from campus.’

Intriguing. She’ll have to get the wallet back to him soon. The ticker tape above the door reads her exit. Quickly she flips the wallet closed and shoves it in her purse for later before scooping up her pages and queuing up by the door. The editor at Ideo Publishing won’t appreciate it if she’s late for any reason.

~*~

“Hey man, I started to think you weren’t gonna make it. You’re lucky you got here before Professor Psalter locked the doors.” Curtis says sidling up to where Jay sits at the very back of the classroom, digging through his bag with a deeply concerted look on his face. “What happened? You’re never late for class and you didn’t answer my text.”

“I bumped into someone in the subway.” Jay tells him not looking up from digging in his bag.

“Oh?” Curtis perches on the edge of the desk and looks down at his friend. “Someone you know?”

“No, no.” Jay glances up distractedly. “No, I literally ran into someone when I was checking your text. Dropped my bag and a bunch of my books and completely destroyed the papers she was carrying. It was an absolute mess.”

“Oh. I get it. Was she at least cute?”

Jay doesn’t respond and instead just gives Curtis’ hip a little shove forcing the other to stand up or fall and then goes right back to digging in his bag.

“What are you looking for, buddy?” Curtis comes right back and slides his butt up on the desk again.

“My wallet, I can’t find it anywhere.” Jay says giving it up as a bad job and dumping the contents of his bag out on the desk so he can return them all one by one and make sure the wallet isn’t hiding anywhere. “I must have dropped it in the subway.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh is right.” Jay manages to get everything back in his bag and heaves a heavy sigh. “Well, shit.”

“Call your bank and cancel your card.” Curtis tells him sagely. “Last year I didn’t do that fast enough after I lost my wallet at a party and someone decided my bank account was fair game.”

“I’ll call in between English Lit and Creative Journalism.”

“Why do you have such a boring major?” Curtis asks with a wrinkled nose.

“Not all of us can be criminal justice majors.” Jay dismisses rolling his eyes and getting up so the desk tips forward with Curtis’ weight and the other man has to catch himself quickly.

“No, some people are criminal justice minors because they can’t handle it for real.” Curtis says knowing it will antagonize his friend. “Speaking of, isn’t Violent Crime and Violent Punishment next?”

“Yeah, lets go.”

~*~

“Yeah, this just isn’t going to work for us.”

“What part isn’t working?” Eva asks trying and failing not to get too discouraged. Getting published is hard, she knew that coming into this. But she’s been visiting with an editor now for several months and she’s made every change they’ve suggested so for this guy to tell her it ‘just isn’t going to work’ is about enough to blow the top off her head.

“All of it.” The editor says with a little shrug. “Listen, you’re not a bad writer, there just isn’t any real drive. Even with all the changes, the story just falls flat. There’s no pulse. No pull to keep reading because it doesn’t feel believable. I just don’t feel it. And if I don’t feel it readers won’t either. Books that don’t engage people don’t sell.”

“How can I make it more engaging then?” Eva presses through clenched teeth. She’s put years of effort into this story. How can this guy tel her it’s not engaging?

“I don’t believe the story. Maybe if you made your main character male- but even then. It just isn’t believable.” The editor tells her brutally. “Find some way to pull us into the story and make us believe it. Make us connect with everything your characters do. Make us believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that you know what you’re talking about here. Then and only then will we talk publishing.”

“Find a way to make you believe it.” Eva parrots thinking that over. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that she’s gonna change her main character to a male. Her fists ball at her sides. “So what? Do more research?”

“If you think that would help.” The editor says but his tone very much tells her that he doesn’t think it would. “Whatever you gotta do, do it. Until then, don’t waste any more of my time.”

~*~

“Oh thank goodness!” Jay exclaims taking the wallet from the woman. “Thank you so much! My friend Curtis kept telling me horror stories of losing his wallet and having everything he owns stolen and I couldn’t help it, my mind would not stop worrying and turning you into some identity stealing ax murderer. Boy am I glad you returned it.” He flicks it open and looks inside. Everything is right where he left it. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Eva chuckles a little and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks again, I really can’t thank you enough.” Jay says glad this pretty woman doesn’t seem upset by his overactive imagination or his penchant for over-talking.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Uh- can I buy you coffee or something? To say thank you, I mean.” Jay asks slipping the wallet back in his pocket and finally taking real notice of the woman for the first time. She’s short, with natural black hair and gigantic pansy eyes offset by the most luscious creamy skin and Jay thinks she’s absolutely gorgeous. A dark flush starts in his chest and creeps up his neck. “Sorry, I just realized I never even got your name.”

“It’s Eva.” Eva supplies looking around at the coffee shop Jay had chosen to meet at. “And you of course are Jay.”

“Guilty.” Jay says with a charming grin. His phone chirps in his pocket but he ignores it. It’s probably Gary anyway. “But seriously, can I get you some coffee? I really appreciate you returning my wallet.”

“No problem.” Eva says with a smile but then she sighs and looks back at the other, taking in the earnest look on his face and the flush creeping up his neck. He’s kinda cute in a lost pet, hyperactive puppy sort of way. “Unfortunately I have to get going. Thanks for the offer though. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, okay.” Disappointment he isn’t sure he wants to examine slinks low in Jay’s belly. “Well, thanks again.”

~*~

Eva’s brain feels broken. She sits in front of her computer and stares at the word document. The words blur together and she takes another long pull from her glass in hopes the gin will help steady the characters. How the hell can that editor say her story doesn’t connect? How can he say it isn’t believable?

Even unable to read the words she knows what it says. She wrote the damn thing after all. She knows every word and line and scene and paragraph. More than that though, she knows it’s realistic. Taking another long swig of gin she lets her eyes slide out of focus and thinks it over. The book was planned as theoretical but what if she actually lived out her own story? Prove to herself and that shit-bag of an editor that it’s realistic. Yeah, maybe she should do that? Maybe if she lives her own story she’ll be able to write it in a way that connects.

She takes another big drink and smacks at the burn, making up her mind. Yes. She’ll do it.

~*~

“This is good work.” Gary praises lowering the pages so he can look at Jay. “You did great work on this.”

“Thanks, Gary.” Jay flushes with pleasure at the praise. “It’s based off what I could find in the papers obviously. It’s not ideal to work off someone else’ work but I don’t have credentials, no body’s gonna talk details with me.”

“You’ll have credentials before you know it.” Gary tells him raising the pages again and rereading the last paragraph. “You graduate in just a couple short months and then you’ll be in the job market. Any idea about where you want to work?”

“I mean, if I could pick anywhere it would be the World Focus. But they’ve already got a great crime writer.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Gary says lowering the pages again and smiling a little at the praise. He looks at the younger man, seeing him staring off into space, mind enveloped in worry for his future, a worry that Gary can help alleviate. “I showed the editor a few of your articles. He likes the way you write and since I’ve had a bit too heavy of a work load recently, he thought maybe you could join the World Focus team and work with me. Thank goodness for crime, I guess. Job security and all that. Anyways, you’d have a secondary position here under me. You’d have credentials and your articles would be published under your own name. Only catch is they have to go through me first before they even go to the editor. It would be a great way for you to build your name and break into crime writing for yourself.”

“Really?” Jay asks, eyes shining with all the hope of someone in their early twenties being offered the closest thing to their dream job that they can imagine. “You- you’d want me to work with you?”

“Yes.” Gary chuckles. “I wasn’t blowing smoke up your ass when I said you’re a good writer. I’d like to work with you. Just know I’m a tough edit at times.”

“Yeah, cuz I didn’t know that already.” Jay says rolling his eyes. “How many times have you completely destroyed my articles since I started interning here?”

“A few times.” Gary concedes, mustache twitching with a lopsided little grin. “But notice I haven’t had to do that so much recently.”

“Yeah, well, I paid attention.”

“So should I have them make you a new name badge?” Gary asks pointing at Jay’s badge that clearly states ‘intern’ in bold font along the bottom.

“Hell yes.” Jay grins.

~*~

If asked she wouldn’t be able to give an answer as to why but Eva has started hanging out at the coffee shop Jay had met her at when she returned the wallet. Her apartment feels like bad juju so each morning she packs up her computer and heads down to the subway, traveling all the way across town to sit at the little coffee shop just off Martinique University’s campus. If she looks up each time the doorbell jingles she just calls it being aware of her surroundings – there’s no way she’s hoping to see the tall college student again.

And then one day Jay does walk in, nose buried in his phone, an air of distraction around him. He’s carrying that heavy satchel again and looks like he’s got a lot on his mind, going directly to the counter to order before turning and scanning the seats in the care. There isn’t a single open table and Eva can actually see the disheartened slump in Jay’s shoulders at the thought of having to leave and go somewhere else for whatever it is he has to work on. Pasting what she hopes is a welcoming smile onto her face Eva raises a hand in greeting, wiggling her fingers in a gentle wave. She knows it’s effective too when a bright smile lights Jay’s face and the tall man waves back, grabs his coffee from the hand off plane, and bounces over.

“Hey! I never actually thought I’d see you again. How are you?”

Eva thinks it’s fucking adorable how Jay greets her, like they’re long lost friends or something. It makes her sharp mind move at double speed. Hmm… “Hey, yeah. This is a nice little coffee shop. I’ve been coming here to work on my book.”

“Oh, you’re a writer?” Jay asks taking a sip of his coffee and regretting it when the strong brew burns his lip. He scrunches his face up and fights the watering in his eyes, berating himself for not waiting until the drink had cooled a little more. Smooth. Real smooth.

“Something like that.” Eva says with a little smile that makes her eyes crinkle in merry little half-crescents. “You need a place to sit?”

“Yeah, actually.” Jay pulls out the chair opposite Evan when she waves an offering hand at it. “I’ve got a few emails to check and the internet’s been out at my apartment for the last week. No idea when it’s getting fixed or even if it’s getting fixed. So I come here. Got a little worried when I saw all the tables taken.”

“Well make yourself comfortable. No point in you going somewhere else when we can easily share the table.”

“Thanks.” He pulls out his computer and sets it up, glancing over the screen at Eva. She’s obviously older than him but probably only by a few years. Definitely not school age anymore but not so much older that Jay wouldn’t have a chance. With effort he focuses, clicking into his email as soon as the computer finishes booting up. Just as he’d hoped there’s an email from Gary there waiting for him as well as an official one from the editor outlining the job offer. He scans both of them, going back to the one from Gary after he’s sure the job offer is satisfactory. It’s the details of a case that came across Gary’s desk just this morning that the journalist wants Jay to write an article for. Nothing too wild, just a standard armed robbery. But Gary wants to see what Jay can do when he’s presented with nothing but the facts and few witness statements. He rubs one finger along his lower lip in thought. “Hmm.”

“Bad news?” Eva asks not even bothering to mask the fact that she’s been watching Jay and not at all focusing on her story.

“Naw, more like a challenge.” Jay says looking up and grinning. “Just trying to think of how I’ll go about it.”

“A challenge?” She knows she’s being nosy but she doesn’t care. “What kind of challenge?”

Jay chuckles and flashes her a winning smile. “A mentor of mine is a crime writer for the World Focus. He sent me a case and wants to see what kind of story I come up with. That’s my major. Writing I mean. I hope to eventually have my own crime column.”

“Really?” Eva says leaning back in her chair and assessing the student. This guy is just too perfect.

“Yeah.” Jay rubs a shy hand on the back of his neck, flushing under Eva’s undivided attention. “I’m minoring in criminal justice and majoring in journalism. I figured it would be a good start to getting a foot in the door. And it’s helped. I know how to read between the lines of police reports. My mentor even offered me a position writing under him for the Focus after I graduate later this spring.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Eva tells him with a sincere smile. “Good for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Say,” Eva begins, an idea coming to her already half formed, “I write crime novels. Nothing too crazy. But my editor says I could be a little more realistic. Would you mind if I picked your brain? Just to see if my plot would hold up in real life. No cop is gonna talk to me, writer or no, they’re not gonna tell me if I’ve plotted out the perfect crime or not, you know what I mean?”

Jay laughs along with her. “Yeah, I can’t see them being too keen to help you on that.” He gives Eva a mock probing look. “Promise it’s just for the book? I’m not helping a criminal mastermind get away with murder or something, am I?”

Evan laughs, lips pulling back to reveal a disarmingly playful gummy smile. “Just the book.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Jay agrees with a grin of his own. “It’ll be fun.”

“Awesome!” Eva gives a little nod and leans in, pulling up her story on her computer. Suddenly she feels far more motivated than she has in weeks. “Thank you.”

~*~

One would think after literally planning the perfect crime for her book Eva would have an easy time adapting it to real life but she’s having trouble ironing out a few of the details. It makes her feel incredibly sour to realize that this is exactly what the editor had been talking about. Every time she comes to a sticky part that just doesn’t feel right she thinks about the conversation with Jay and the possession of the college student’s phone number sits like a phantom weight in her wallet. She has to actually force herself not to pull it out and dial him so she can pick his brain for hours. But if she wants this to go perfectly then she needs to plan out as much as she can by herself. She can’t share too much of her plan with anyone else, not even Jay.

Getting up she pads to the kitchen and pulls out the half full bottle of gin, pouring herself a glass and adding a couple ice cubes. She’ll set up camp in front of her computer and drink herself blind. That seems to be her biggest inspiration lately. And then in the morning when she’s sober again she’ll make sure drunk-Eva isn’t completely stupid. If she can pull this off she’ll be a best selling author in no time. With that thought firmly in the back of her mind she takes a big gulp of whiskey and sits back down. Time to work.

~*~

“There’s no red on this.” Jay says accepting the printed out version of the article he had written for Gary’s challenge and staring at it in dumbfound wonder.

“I’m not your teacher, Jay.” Gary reminds him voice in a dry voice but his mustache gives a little tell tale twitch all the same..

“Yeah, but for all intents and purposes you are my editor.” Jay says trying to play it cool and failing. There really isn’t a single correction on the page. He can hardly believe it. “There wasn’t even a period or a comma I did wrong?”

“Nope.” Gary pops the ‘p.’ He leans back in his chair and rests his hands on top of his lightly rounded pot belly. “That’s a darn good article. So good the actual editor would like to put it in tomorrow’s paper. If that is acceptable to you.”

“Really?” Jay’s face lights up like the fireworks.

“Yes really.” Gary shakes his head. He won’t say it but he’s proud as all hell of Jay. When he had first come to him a year ago for a class project he had grit his teeth and allowed the kid to interview him simply because his editor insisted. Then when he had asked if he could intern under him he had accepted with only slightly less reticence. Now though, well, he’s a talented writer and he feels honored that he would be so excited to write with him. “Don’t cut yourself short. You did good work. You should be rewarded for it.”

“I mean, I’m just surprised is all.” Jay says trying to explain. “I didn’t think I’d be publishable until after graduation.”

“We’ll publish you as a guest journalist.”

“Oh.” Jay supposes that should have been obvious. “Well then yeah, of course I want my article in the paper.”

“Good.”

~*~

“Thanks for meeting with me.” Eva says when she and Jay have their coffees and are settled at a little table in the back of the coffee shop. She pulls out her computer and sets it up, pulling up the word document she prepared with all the questions she wants to ask the student. “I really appreciate you taking time to help me.”

“Oh gosh, no worries.” Jay says easily settling down opposite her and setting his phone down on the table. He feels like his whole life is lining up right now and he couldn’t be happier. If he plays his cards right he’s pretty sure he’ll have a good chance with Eva, the idea exciting him to no end. “It’s the least I can do after literally bowling you over in the subway.”

“I have to take a little credit for not paying attention to where I was going.” Eva says but she’s pleased with the shyly appreciative glances Jay keeps sending her way.

“So what questions did you want to ask?” Jay says when the silence stretches and becomes just a little too warm.

“You said your minor was criminal justice, right?”

“Yeah,” Jay confirms with a little nod, “Criminal justice minor and a journalism major.”

“So you’ve got a pretty good grasp of what would and wouldn’t fly in for a criminal who may or may not want to be caught.”

It isn’t a question but Jay nods all the same and cracks a smile, waiting for the other to continue.

“So you’ve got a pretty good idea of what does and doesn’t get people caught.” Eva presses on as delicately as possible. She’s fishing a little here. If at any point Jay starts getting weirded out by her questions she’ll drop the whole thing and go back to the drawing board.

“Yeah, I mean most of what I see with the journalism is people who get caught, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what goes into the perfect crime.” Jay gives a little shrug and a self-depreciating chuckle. “It’s a pretty common pass time, I think. Especially for people who spend a lot of time in this kind of thing. I see so many people being idiots and getting caught, I can’t help but think about how I’d do it only better.”

Eva smiles then and it’s the most genuinely heartwarming gesture with her gums showing and eyes crinkled in happy little half-crescents. “I totally understand. I mean, I’m a writer. A mystery crime writer. I spend all my time thinking of stuff like that.”

“So you get it.” Jay relaxes and takes another sip of coffee. “It’s not that I want to commit a crime, I just like knowing if I decided to I could do it better than these idiots who get caught.”

“Exactly.” Eva agrees. She leans forward and lets her brows furrow as she confides in the other. “Problem is, my editor says my story doesn’t connect. That it isn’t realistic enough. Here I thought I had planned the perfect crime and he says it doesn’t connect with the readers. I just wanna make sure I’ve got the logistics of the crime figured out right.”

“Sure.” Jay nods because that makes sense. “So what kind of crime are we talking about?”

“Kidnapping and murder.”

~*~

“Did you get lost on your way here?” Gary asks when Jay breezes into the office five minutes to close, sliding his phone into his pocket as he walks. They hadn’t had a set time but it’s not like Jay to cut it so close. He takes in the flush high on Jay’s cheeks and the slightly disheveled look of his hair and immediately puts two and two together. “You met someone.”

Jay chuckles a little breathlessly. He’s spent the better part of a year working closely with Gary and he feels comfortable responding in the affirmative. “I did. You remember that author I told you about?”

“Yeah, the cute one with big eyes that you tried to squish in the subway?” Gary asks with a paternal grin. He’s happy for Jay, his life is falling neatly into place. “Did she actually call about her book?”

“Yeah, she did.” Jay doesn’t wait for Gary to invite him to sit, he just settles into the chair like he lives there. “She’s got a sick brain but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was kinda intriguing and maybe even a little hot.” He flushes a little at his own candor. “She’s got the perfect crime planned out.”

Gary laughs and shakes his head. “You would get excited about something like that.”

“I mean, it’s not like she plans to act on it.” Jay says with a shrug. “It would be creepy is she did because she’s writing a murder mystery. But yeah, if she ever did decide to commit a crime, she’d get away with it.”

“And you find that attractive.”

“God help me, I do.” Jay admits not minding the playful judgment from his mentor in the least.

“Your hair’s messed up, does that mean she gave you a practical ‘thank you’ for helping her?” Gary’s eyes sparkle and he leans back in her chair, mustache twitching with suppressed mirth.

“Maybe.” Jay grins.

“Are you seeing her again?”

“Maybe.”

Gary chuckles. “Good for you. So tell me about her plan. I wanna know if I agree with you or not.”

~*~

Door’s open, let yourself in.

Eva checks the text and then does as she’s instructed, walking with purpose towards the little apartment just off campus where Jay had told her to come. She’s nervous, palms sweating but she just gives herself a little pep-talk and opens the door. “Anybody home?”

“Hi.” Jay pokes his head aroudn a little divider that appears to separate the entryway-combination-living room from the kitchen.

“Hi.” Eva smiles in response to the shy warmth in Jay’s handsome face. She holds up a bottle of wine. “I brought wine, I hope it goes with dinner.”

“I’m making spaghetti, it’ll go perfectly.” Jay says smiling beatifically. “Slip your shoes off and get in here so I can say hi and thank you properly.”

Eva’s eyebrows raise but she does as she’s told, anticipation curling in her stomach. She couldn’t be more pleased with how the night is shaping up and she can’t wait to see how it continues to unfold. With that in mind she toes off her shoes and pads into the kitchen, handing over the wine before tipping her head back and accepting the kiss Jay gives her.

~*~

It isn’t like Jay to be late. Gary glances at the clock and then goes back to rifling through his things trying to find his work badge. Where could it have gone? His mind flicks back and forth between the task at hand and Jay’s tardiness. It’s only five minutes. If he still isn’t here in another twenty then he’ll try calling. But the time passes and Jay never shows.

“Hey Jay, just wondering where you are.” He says into the phone’s speaker when Jay’s voicemail picks up. He’s given up looking for the name badge, unable to find it anywhere. “Did you forget we had an appointment today? Call me when you get this!”

He hangs up and goes back to her work. A new case comes across his desk then and he gets immersed in sussing out the wether-to’s and why-for’s of it. It isn’t until the office is closing up that he finally surfaces from the proverbial avalanche of work he’s been digging through and realizes he never heard back from Jay and he never found his name badge. Worry lowers his bushy brows as he checks his phone just in case Jay called and he didn’t notice.

Nothing.

Frowning at his phone he stands up and grabs his coat. Maybe he should swing by Jay’s place, just to check on him. They’re relationship has blurred from mentor to friend and with concern mixed curiosity coursing through him he thinks this is probably the best course of action. No doubt the giant oaf is in bed with his new amour and he’s about to embarrass the crap out of all of them, but he’d rather be safe and embarrassed than sorry.

But the trip across town is for nothing. He knocks at the door and receives no answer. Very real concern lights in his belly and he pulls out her phone again, calling Jay while peeking through the thin little window by the door. He can see the coffee table, Jay’s phone buzzing away on the polished wood surface so loud he can hear it through the closed door.

His concern grows and turns into outright worry. Sick and hot in the pit of his stomach. There’s no way Jay can’t hear that from the bedroom or any other part of the apartment for that matter. When it goes to voice mail he hangs up and dials again.

Then he does it again.

And again.

No way Jay would ignore his phone like this. Worry amps right up and panic claws it’s way down his throat. Something is very wrong.

He looks at his phone again, this time dialing in another number. Impatiently he scratches at a spot behind his ear and waits for the other end to pick up, wishing he could just break down the door and make sure his friend is okay. Dispatch picks up after only one ring. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“I think my friend might be hurt.” Gary says thinking quickly how to concisely state what he believes has happened. He knows to the casual observer it’s gonna look like he’s going from zero to one hundred too quickly but his instincts are screaming at him that something about this whole thing stinks. “I’m at his apartment. He’s not answering his phone. He missed an appointment earlier today. None of this is like him.”

“When was the last time you saw your friend?” Dispatch asks, the sound of a computer clicking away in the background.

“Day before yesterday.”

~*~

Ray purses his lips and listens to Gary’s explanation of the events leading up to the police entering Jay’s apartment. “Is it possible your friend is simply at the apartment of his new love interest?”

“No.” Gary shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “No, you don’t understand. Jay’s one of those young kid’s who’s attached to his phone. It’s his biggest flaw. He doesn’t go anywhere without damn the thing. There’s no way he’d go out without it.”

“Do you know the name of the lady he had the date with so we can follow up with her?” Ray asks making another couple notes in a small green flip notebook.

“Eva McCormick.” Gary chews on the inside of his cheek and tries to decide if he should tell the investigator the rest. He has no desire to mess with this Eva lady’s life but he’d be lying if the knowledge of what Jay had shared with him about Eva’s book hadn’t left him with a bad taste in his mouth following his friend’s disappearance. He waits so long trying to decide that Ray gets up and tucks his little notebook in his pocket along with his badge.

“I’ll be in touch.” Ray says in a distracted voice, already moving for the door.

“Wait!” Gary says quickly, swallowing hard when Ray pauses and looks at her in question. He’s a hardened journalist in his fifties for crying out loud but under this cop’s no nonsense stare he feels like a kid in trouble all over again. He’s not sure if he’s doing the right thing but if Eva did something he’s got to make sure the cops know he had the wherewithal to pull it off. “There’s something else.”

~*~

Eva flicks a glance between Ray and the handcuffs he’s holding. “You’re arresting me because I was the last person seen with him? That’s ridiculous. Check his phone. Check his apartment. I was there from a little before six on Friday evenign until just past three in the morning. We had dinner. He made spaghetti and we split a bottle of wine. After we had very satisfactory sex and I left. No doubt my DNA is all over the apartment but there are witnesses who saw me leave. Three of Jay’s neighbors were out on the porch smoking when I left. You can check with them.”

“See, we did.” Ray says giving Eva a hard look. “They also said that Jay wasn’t seen again after your visit. So for now you’re coming in for questioning and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“You cuff everybody you bring in for questioning?” Eva asks with an arrogant quirk of her eyebrows but she turns around and puts her hands on the small of her back all the same.

“Only the ones I really don’t like.” Ray answers clipping the cuffs around Eva’s thin wrists. “C’mon. We’ll continue this conversation downtown.”

~*~

“So eventually they indicted you.” Gary says wishing he could get a read on this lady. She’s charming despite the ugly orange jump suit. But oddly arrogant too, something about her just rubs him the wrong way and he has to grit his teeth to keep from making a snide comment. His mind keeps going over the plan that Jay shared with him all those months ago and he can’t help but wonder – did this woman do something to him?

“Yeah, they decided there was enough physical evidence at Jay’s apartment to try me for murder.” Eva says with another little shrug as if she can’t believe the audacity of the legal system. She paints a sad look on her face that’s just this side of too much. “It’s sad really, he’s a good guy. I’ve no idea what happened to him but I hope he’s okay. They never found a body- I’ve got to believe he’s alright.”

“Your book has been published since you’ve been in prison.” Gary says fighting the urge to tell this lady that Jay would never just disappear without talking to somebody. The only way he’d disappear like this is if he were being held somewhere against his will or if he was dead.

“Yeah, I mean, I had time to sit down and edit, you know?” Eva says with yet another shrug. “Spending time with real murderers must have helped the writing process because my editor said ti felt much more connected this time.”

“In your book the main character uses drugged wine to kidnap the victim. There are some who speculate that you could have done that with Jay.”

Eva gives him a calculating look. “Why would I? Listen, I liked the guy. We went on a couple of dates and I bounced story ideas off him. If I was going to – what? Drug and murder him, why would I tell him how I’d do it first? That just doesn’t make any sense. Besides, the cops tested the wine I brought. There was nothing in it but wine.”

“Maybe.” Gary concedes staring hard at Eva and trying to read beneath the phony facade she puts forward.

“I had no motivation to kill him.” Eva tells him steadily.

“They say you’re writing another book.” Gary presses. Something tickles the back of his mind. Were there ways to drug someone without leaving a trace? How could Eva have gotten Jay out of the apartment without being seen? She’s such a tiny little person he has trouble imagining her taking care of a body. He has no answers but instinctively he knows that there’s truth in the last little bit that was said. She had no motivation to kill him. Maybe Jay isn’t dead after all. “I’m told it’s about a kidnapping this time.”

“You are very well informed for a newspaper journalist.” Eva tells him with a mild look but then she shrugs and quirks an eyebrow. “But the cops and lawyers have asked all these questions. What makes you think you’re gonna get a different answer?”

“We all have our own roles.” Gary tells her dismissively. “I have to ask so I can write the article.”

“For the World Focus.” Eva confirms, look knowing, a small smirk playing around her mouth.

“Yes.” Gary’s sharp mind moves fast. Is there some way this Eva chick knew about him? Is he being played? The questions swarm his mind and he tries desperately to discern some kind of answer form the look in Eva’s eyes.

“Well,” Eva blinks and the moment is lost. “I look forward to reading it when I get out.”

“When you get out?” Gary asks, confused. “The jury has not reached a verdict yet.”

“Jury reads tomorrow.” Eva tells her steadily. “All things considered, it’s looking like I’ll be found innocent. Without a body – no evidence, no crime, right? Hopefully they’ll find something so they can bring whoever hurt Jay to justice. Such a fine young man, just goes to show crime is indiscriminate about who it targets.

~*~

Gary sits in his car and watches the front gate of the prison open up, two guards walking out flanking a smaller figure. Eva. That bitch is going free. Shaking his head in disgust Gary sinks a little lower in his seat and pulls his baseball cap low on his head, watching.

He watches as Eva is picked up by a taxi, sliding into the backseat as if it’s a five star limo. There’s a brief moment as she talks with the driver but then the car pulls out into traffic and Gary eases out behind them, several cars behind so he can follow at a discrete distance. They make their way across town to a neighborhood of tall nondescript apartment buildings, pulling up outside one with several rusted out balcony’s that look like real hazards.

Carefully Gary eases his car in behind a dumpster and settles in to watch. Eva pays the taxi driver and exits the cab, going directly to the front door of the building. The address matches the one Gary had found as belonging to Eva. He knows the author paid for the place through her internment in prison and he wonders at it. The place isn’t anything special. It’s just a standard apartment building in a less than okay neighborhood close enough to the subway to walk to it. Why would he stay here when he’s suddenly very wealthy?

Knowing he could be here for a while Gary pulls out Eva’s book and flips through the pages. He doesn’t know why but he just feels there’s got to be a clue in here. Eva seems like the arrogant type who’d leave a clue – who’d want there to be a chance someone could figure it out but who’d trust that no one would. He reads over the kidnapping scene again and then goes to the murder. Where did she do it in the book? In the book the main character had chosen a place significant to how they met.

Gary thinks that over. How had Jay and Eva met? Literally running into each other at the subway. His brows furrow as eh thinks that over. Which connection would it have been? A sudden brainwave strikes him and he tosses the book into the passenger seat, putting the car in gear so he can ease away from the curb and speed off down the street, so focused on driving he doesn’t notice the lone figure six stories up watching him from the balcony.

How?

His breath rips from his chest and his heart pounds painfully against his ribs. There’s no fucking way.

It takes less than five minutes for him to reach his office, parking his car and nearly sprinting past the elevator to the subway connection below. He comes out on a landing, halfway down where there are two nondescript service doors. He test the first. It’s locked. Then the second. To his surprise and growing dread, it swings forward. Steeling himself he steps forward. It must have been this connection where Jay and Eva had first met. He and Jay had had a meeting earlier that day and Eva must have used the connection to get go wherever it was she was going that day since it’s the closest connection to the apartment building.

The room he steps into is dark and he fishes out his cellphone, pulling up the flashlight feature so he can see. It casts long shadows all around but for the life of him all he sees is a dark boiler room. He’s just about given up when he catches sight of something darker than the rest of the shadow in the far back corner behind one of the big metal machines. With slow steps he eases forward, heart amping higher and higher with every clank and whir of the surrounding machinery. Bracing himself he rounds the final machine. There he finds a recess inside the wall, nearly completely hidden in shadow and utterly imperceptible from the door.

He sucks in a steadying breath and tries to steel himself for the worst as he aims his light into the opening because he’s pretty sure he’s about to find Jay’s body. But what he finds is even worse than a body. It’s a pool of blood, several hairs the exact color as Jays, and worst of all – his own office badge, smeared with more of that same blood. What in the hell?

And then it hits him. Everything points right to him. His interest in the case. Him being the person to report Jay missing. His mentorship and playful rivalry with the kid. Visiting Eva in prison. His avid following of the trail. And now this. His missing name badge here, smeared no doubt with his friend’s blood. He thinks it over. The jury had gotten stuck on Eva’s stature, believing her too small to have manipulated a body the size of Jay’s and although Gary has no idea how she did it, he knows she had to have done it. She had to have! His stomach drops and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna throw up. If he hides this then he’s an accomplice. If he reports it – there’s no doubt in his mind the conclusion the cops will come to and then in turn the conclusion a jury would come to. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place and all the evidence points in one very clear direction.

He’s been framed.

#prose #Short Story #Inveigle #D.B. Armstrong #Original prose #original work #original fiction #mystery #short #writer #student #This is an old story I wrote #Just throwing it out there #god I hope someone reads this

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button-mash · 1 year

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What I played last week #9

Taz-Mania [Sega Mega Drive]

I think this might be one of my all time most hated games. I remember when I was a kid, my dad had a bet come in and he said he'd buy me a game. We went to the Woolworths (RIP) on the way back to my mum's house and I remember excitedly picking up Aladdin, but when we got to the checkout they didn't actually have it in stock. I then audibled to Earthworm Jim instead before my Dad noticed this was 50% off and essentially picked it for me. What could have been From the very second I took it home I have hated this game. I think it actually developed into somewhat of an abusive relationship, because I was so determined to get some kind of value out of it that I would actually play it loads. What amazes me the most looking back is that I remember getting up to this mine-cart level in the game I could only occassionally pass which Id assumed was like 2-3 levels into the game. Playing it back however, I learned it was incredibly far into this dreadful piece of shit game, meaning that as a kid I actually battled a decent way through what is basically just a punishingly hard, obtusely difficult game.

I refuse to believe anybody could ever beat that minecart level by simply reacting to the hazards, its basically just a cheap level that demands you die over and over, further and further into the level enough so that you can hopefully memorise it, except the limited lives and continues mean you'd have to battle your way all the way back there to even try again.

The game just breaks pretty much every single cardinal sin of design. The controls are clumsy, enemies have awkward hitboxes, beginners traps are everywhere, hazard items are located in chokepoints that are hard to avoid, the game constantly asks you to make leaps of faith you can't actually see, the backgrounds are cluttered so it's difficult to know what you can and can't be hurt by/land on/etc, instant deaths on hard to learn jumping patterns, etc, etc etc. At one point the game even inexplicably adds fucking depth perception platforming into a fucking 2D game. Maybe worst of all, the game has SO many levels too. Usually you see tactics like this employed in games to drag them out, but this has something like 15 levels and some of them are so long and punishing that the length seems to be more cruel than it does value for money. A few do have checkpoints but a lot of them don't. I am not too proud to say I used save-states just for my own sanity to get through this. I don't normally like to use them beyond some QoL stuff like saving time putting in Passwords, or to practice a boss, but there are so many bullshit sections I felt like it was the only way I'd play more than 10 mins.

I did beat the mine-cart level pure though, I had to do it for young me.

I cannot fathom the patience I must have had as a kid. I think I initially decided to play it partly out of twisted nostalgia, but after a few levels I was essentially on some sort of revenge quest to vanquish the ghosts of that shit game

Dogshit

Pocahontas [Sega Mega Drive]

Am I gaming's top boy? Not really for me to say, but hard to deny it given the streak I'm on at the moment. I randomly decided to play this after seeing a 'Disney games on the Mega Drive/Genesis' video by the excellent SNES Drunk

youtube

Most people know that this era of Disney games actually yielded a pretty solid group of classic licensed games - even ones that had different versions on either console like Aladdin. One I hadn't actually ever tried on this list though was Pocohantas, and I actually thought it looked pretty interesting in the video. It has a rotoscoped animation style like Prince of Persia or Flashback, and it actually suits the game really well. There is zero combat in the game, and instead it's a puzzle platformer - for most of the levels you're able to switch between Pocohontas and her Raccoon mate Meeko, and most levels are about figuring out how to use their different abilities and limitations to help each other out to create pathways for each other. As the levels go on Pocohontas gets more and more abilities by rescuing various animals, so you start off pretty limited, but by the end she can swim underwater, sprint, etc. It's a smart way to gradually introduce new mechanics into the game whilst still staying on theme, and it suits the game really well

It's obviously aimed at kids, so it never gets too challenging - there are hardly any enemies in the game and the platforming puzzles tend to be more about figuring out what to do rather than pulling off some tricky skill gauntlet. It's actually a pretty good, well made game - it's not exactly some must-play hidden gem, but it wasn't some braindead baby game either.

If anything my criticisms are that it's a little short. It felt as though they rush through the film and pretty much skip most of the middle and the end really. You basically go out, meet John Smith and rescue him and the game is finished. Also for a game based on a Disney film they music is pretty bad - there is obviously lots of music to draw on, but other than a few sections, 95% of the game's entire sountrack is just some looping midi version of 'Colours of the Wind' which gets real fucking old real quickly, to the point I just had to turn the sound down on the game

Overall I'd say it was worth checking out as a curiosity, especially if you have an interest in those 90s Disney games. It's not exactly at the level of something like Castle of Illusion or Aladdin, but it's definitely leaning towards the upper end of those licensed movie games

I did actually play a little bit of both Castle of Illusion and World of Illusion but got bored and stopped halfway through both. It's funny because they're both better games than Taz-Mania and Pocohontas - significantly so in Taz-Mania's case, but they just didn't grab me in that moment. I've played them both to death in my childhood, so maybe familiarity outweighed nostalgia in this case. Still, they get a mention in the name of posterity

#video games #video game #computer games #retro gaming #retrogaming #gaming #90s games #90s #90s movies #pocohantas #taz mania #disney #sega mega drive #sega genesis #movie games #Youtube

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rezzyromance · 3 years

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How would the four lords react if their s/o suddenly says, “I think I’m in love with you,” while watching them do something mundane, eg. Alcina putting on her lipstick, Heisenberg tinkering with something, etc.

This makes me so happy :,)

Alcina

You lay on the large bed you and Alcina shared. It was made to fit her, so to you it was like an ocean of soft mattress and silk sheets. You were so comfortable, although the presence of your lover would make the situation all the more comforting. Instead of laying with you, she was hurrying to get ready for a meeting Mother Miranda had called together. She always made sure to look her best before leaving the house. You lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, all your weight put onto your elbow. You watched as she sat down in front of her mirror to do some touch ups on her makeup.

"I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you could just lay here with me." you complain. "I know my dear. I'd love nothing more than be able to spend my time with you, lazing away, but I'm afraid this meeting is very important." her tone was soft and sweet. It was a tone she only spoke to you in. You sigh and continue to stare at her, admiring the way she gently bounces her hair in her hands to make sure it sits perfectly. She notices you staring through the mirror and can't help but smile as she reaches for her favorite lipstick.

"I'm surprised you haven't burned a hole in me with that stare of yours." she says before parting her lips to apply her lipstick.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you lovingly say. It wasn't odd or out of the ordinary. You told her that you loved her often, but there was something special about the way you said it this time that made her freeze. Her eyes grew wide for just a second as a blush began to rise from her pale cheeks. She turns to face you, intensely staring into your eyes as the corners of her lips perk upwards into a pleasant smile. "Oh my sweet (Y/N).", she stands up and walks over to you before placing a kiss on your lips, leaving a red stain from her lipstick.

Donna

You yawn as you curl up comfortably in a chair with a hot cup of tea in your hands. It's not a yawn of boredom or exhaustion, but a yawn of comfort. The type of yawn your body produces because it's so at peace that life itself begins to lull you to sleep. You were watching as Donna sewed a brand new dress for one of her dolls. She had taken off her veil to do this, not wanting any lack of vision to ruin her progress. The dress was beautiful. She had been working on it for days. It was a small, pink and flower patterned dress with white lace around the edges that Donna stared at with intensity as she attached it with her needle and thread.

No words were spoken for the entirety of her process. You sat in silence and watch through out all of it. The way her eyes never unfocused from the task made your heart flutter. The way her dainty hands held the fabric so gently caused a light smile to rest on your face. She was just so beautiful.

After a while, you decide to break the silence. "I think I'm in love with you." She gasps and nearly pricks her finger with the needle. Her whole body language changed as she nervously fiddled with a stray strand of hair with her fingers. Her shyness only made you smile harder. "I think I love you too.", she whispers before smiling and continuing with her work, attempting to hide how flustered she is.

Moreau

The light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room. Moreau had put on one of his favorite romance movies for you both to watch. You told him you'd never seen it before and that absolutely blew his mind. How could you NOT see this masterpiece of a movie? There was no negotiating with the man. You HAD to watch it and so now here you are, curled up on the couch with him in the dark.

You had noticed out of the corner of your eye throughout the whole movie that Sal kept turning his head towards you, observing your reactions to his favorite parts of the movie. He wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy the movie just as much as he does, so you made sure to pay close attention. It was a very cheesey movie about an underdog winning the girl of his dreams who's way out of his league. But still, you pushed through.

You noticed that he hadn't looked over at you in a while. His face was too fixated on the television. You glance over to and notice something. Very subtly, he was mouthing every word spoken in the movie. You kept staring but made sure to not make it obvious enough for him to notice. Word for word, he got everything right. Every single word and sentence was right on time. "How many times has he seen this?", you wondered to yourself. Then, the movie goes silent for a second other than some cinematic music. His lips stopped moving as there were no more words to speak, but a smile grew on his face. You look to the movie and see that it was some sort of scene where the two characters have their first kiss. It's passionate and wholesome. "I think I'm love with you.", you say as you stare at him. He jumps as his shocked expression jerks from the tv to your face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. "R-REALLY?!" You laugh at his excitement. "Of course! I know it!", you assure him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Heisenberg

"Son of a bitch..." he grumbled quietly as he fiddled with something small in his hands. He had been working on a gift for you for a while now, but he needed it to be absolutely perfect. His face was sweaty even though he wasn't doing anything that required any hard physical labor. It was just the sheer intensity of his own perfectionism that caused such stress for him. He had a pair of glasses that he never wears on. They just help magnify things for him so he can see even the smallest little details of whatever he's working on.

"Heisey, I'm bored. Mind if I sit in here while you work? I promise I won't be a distraction.", you lean on the doorway to his workshop. "Sure but you're gonna have to sit..", he paused for a second as he dragged a metal chair across the room, setting it in a corner that's the farthest away from him. "Oh come on!", you groan. "Don't give me that bitchin'. I'm busy and this is top secret stuff I'm working on!" You groan at his ridiculousness and walk over to the chair anyway. You sat down and watched as his brow remained furrowed intensely. "Damn. He must be working on something serious." You thought to yourself. You noticed he had his tongue sticking out ever so slightly as he worked. You wanted to chuckle, but didn't want to distract him. "Stupid piece of shit..... come on....", he whispers to himself through gritted teeth.

You stared at him, captivated by his focus and intensity. Whatever he's working on must be really small because he's able to hide it from your field of vision with just his hand. He kept grunting and whispering things under his breath. You could tell he was growing frustrated with whatever he was working on. "What are you working on again?", you question. "It's a surprise.", he says bluntly. Your interest is peaked.

He looked goofy. His large body was hunched over a chair, hovering over something so small you hadn't even seen it yet. How could something so small be causing so much stress from such a large man. The absurdity of it all caused you to chuckle. "What the hell's so funny?" He sounds aggravated as all hell yet his focus never strays away from whatever is in his hands. He looked to be carving into whatever it is.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you blurt out. He responds with a cocky chuckle after pausing for a second. You couldn't tell, but in that second where he was speechless, he felt like his heart stopped. Did you really mean it? Could you really mean it? Why now? How could him in such a strange position invoke feelings of affection from you? While his mind raced, he was able to appear as if it didn't affect him. "Oh yeah? How come?" "You're just so funny looking right now. But in a cute way.", you explain. "Like, you're this big and powerful guy, but you're so stressed over something that's so smile and you're trying so hard to work on whatever it is with your giant hands. I'm not sure why, but it's just so loveable to me."

He had completely frozen during your words. He had no idea what to do. It felt as if his brain short circuited and was unable to proceed normally from that moment. "You know what. I think it's perfect.", he says before stepping away from his workshop table with his hand clasped together. He swallowed harshly as he walked towards you and revealed what was in his hands. He made a necklace all by himself with his own blood, sweat, and tears. On the front, it was his family crest. He had manage to manipulate the metal perfectly. On the back it had the word "Buttercup", engraved. You didn't hesitate to put it around your neck. "It looks even better on you.", he smirks before pulling you into a kiss.

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noteguk · 3 years

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be quiet | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a drabble for bad influence. It can be read as a stand-alone.

— summary; in which jungkook is the best at picking the worst possible place for a quickie.

— contents and warnings; smut, pwp, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, public sex (library), doing the nasty in the theology section, dirty talk, unprotected sex, mid-sex arguments, jk is a mean lil shit (nothing new), kind of dom!jk, creampie, oral (female receiving), cum eating, cum play

— words; 3.1k

— author’s note; this was requested by anon and I thought it would be a nice thing to drop before the angsty parts begin 😌 also, for time context, this happens a bit after “bad behavior”

You were pretty sure that Jungkook had chosen that section on purpose. Because he hated you, that’s why.

Never once in your life had you wondered so far into the university’s library, past the known biology and chemistry shelves, and into the dusty alleyways of the humanities courses. And that was the shameful reason why you didn’t even know that there was a religious section in the first place.

The realization was obvious if you actually stopped to think about it: there were so many classes related to theology in your university that it would be ridiculous not to have books on that. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel like the old, hardcover bible was staring at you in endless disappointment as Jungkook turned you around and threw the hem of your dress over your hips.

“Shhhh, baby, keep it quiet,” he shushed you after a small whimper had escaped your lips, his palms spreading over your ass cheeks. “Someone’s gonna hear you.”

Because Jungkook hated you (as previously established), he instantly contradicted himself with a loud slap against your ass.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you hissed, fumbling closer to him as he tugged your underwear to the side. The cold air hit your wet folds instantly, spreading goosebumps through your skin. Jungkook was an expert at noticing the most timid, basic ways that your body reacted to his touches, so the clear asymmetry between your rough speech and the shivers running through your body was enough to make him snicker. “Keep it down. This isn’t funny.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, the sharp noise of his zipper opening sounding like a gunshot inside that quiet building. “No. It’s hilarious, actually.”

You sighed, praying to all the books around you that no one would stumble across that erotic spectacle. You had no idea if there was another living soul wandering around the library so late — in fact, the place was like thirty minutes away from closing and you were positive that the librarian was already dozing off on the front counter when you arrived, so she was probably balls deep in REM sleep by that point. There was no one cramming for midterms, no night owls to interrupt the two of you and, just to top it all off, it was a fucking Friday. The library was so empty that you didn’t even know why you went to that place.

Okay, that was a lie. You went there because Jungkook had booty called you — yeah, yeah, boo-hoo, shame and disgrace — but, in your defense, you honestly thought he was just in desperate need for some extra help with his project (which was what he had initially told you). Turns out, “extra help” in Jungkook Dictionary didn’t mean the academic one. It meant that he was pathetically hard and he wanted somewhere to stick his dick in (instead of doing it like a normal person and using his hand).

Regardless, your position was equally embarrassing. You could’ve just walked away when you realized his true intentions, and not followed him into the theology section of the library, for fuck’s sake. You really needed to start exercising some self love and put some limits in that chaotic situationship before you got yourself in serious trouble.

Still, all those mental promises turned into silence when you felt his fingers playing with your folds, teasing their way between them. “So fucking wet,” Jungkook’s horniness dripped from his voice like honey, so soft and deep that got your knees buckling, back arching so he could reach your heat better. “Such a needy girl. Always begging for cock.”

“I didn’t beg for anything,” you weren’t in the mood to deal with his bullshit; looking over your shoulder just so you could stare him down. Somewhere along your messy make-out session and the Bible-induced guilt, Jungkook had already moved his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, his cock standing erect and proud. His timing was fantastic when he was actually interested in something. “You’re the one that can’t keep it in your pants.”

He scoffed. “Don’t ruin the mood.” Jungkook punctuated his sentence with the plunging of two of his fingers inside your pussy, making a surprised whimper fall from your mouth — which you suppressed a second too late. “And of course I can’t, not when you’re dressed like this.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the pleasure that started to build up at the pumping of his fingers in and out of you. “My knee-level dress is neither sexy nor an open invitation, you troglodyte.” You had chosen to wear that dress because it was a deliciously warm afternoon, not because you wanted to get railed while staring at religious texts. Jungkook, however, seemed to stare at your choice of clothing like he was looking at an “all you can eat” bouffet. You groaned. “But if you’re gonna do it, can you rush? I don’t wanna get caught.”

It was Jungkook’s turn to roll his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as his digits left your heat. You knew he’d tease you endlessly if you didn’t say that, and you two were on a tight schedule. “You never do,” he mumbled.

“Duh,” you said, watching as his hand curled around his cock, pumping it a few times. You placed your own hands on the shelves and refused to look at the books any longer. “I have a future, you know. Don’t wanna get expelled halfway through the—”

“Shut up,” he interrupted you, holding onto your hips. Jungkook aligned himself with your entrance, coating his crown with your wetness and grunting at the sensation. “Fuck. Don’t wanna talk about your stupid high marks right now.”

Jungkook made his point clear with a swift roll of his hips, his thick length gradually entering your pussy. You bit down on your lip, closing your eyes as you marveled at the aphrodisiac sensation of his cock opening you up. “Shit,” you moaned — a whispered, breathy moan that wiped all your fierceness away. “You’re so — fuck — so annoying.”

“I said shut up,” Jungkook hissed, his cock hitting deep inside you with a strong hit of his hips against yours. You could feel him everywhere, mercilessly pushing his way inside your tight walls and stretching them wide for him.

Your eyes instantly fell shut, eyebrows raising as he started to set a rhythm, moving in and out of your soaked heat. The sounds of your bodies meeting was dirty and, worst of all, it was super perceptible to any one passing by — however, in typical Jungkook magic, you quickly forgot about most of your worries. “Oh my… Jungkook,” you gasped, feeling his grasp on your skin grow tighter at the uttering of his name. “Someone’s… someone’s gonna hear us.”

But you had successfully managed to piss Jungkook off, which was a terrible sign in that specific (public) situation. “Shit, you’re always like this,” he groaned, raising the force of his thrusts. A desperate moan died on your throat at the feeling of his cock drilling in and out of you, your breath shallow. That couldn’t be good. “Can’t stop fucking talking.”

Thinking was starting to get difficult, and speaking was even worse. “That’s not what I—”

Another whimper broke your sentence, your trail of thought long forgotten, and he used that opening to his advantage. One of Jungkook’s hands slithered from your hip to the front of your body, moving between your breasts before, at last, settling on your neck. There was no strength on his actions when he pulled you backwards, making your back press against his chest. “Why can’t you understand when I tell you to be fucking quiet, uh?” His voice was a rough growl close to your ear, filled with so much hunger that you almost lost your balance. Before you did, however, the tap of two of his fingers on your lips made your focus shift. “Do both of us a fucking favor and put your mouth to good use.”

For the first time that night, you were obedient. Without hesitation, you parted your lips so his fingers could move inside your mouth, a deep exhale leaving his chest once you started sucking on them; muffling your whimpers.

“That’s it, fuck,” he praised, his momentaneous anger slipping away from his grasp. You could feel Jungkook throbbing inside you every time you swirled your tongue around his digits, his length splitting you open like no one else could. “You’re so fucking tight. The only reason why I don’t stuff your mouth full of my cock right now is because this pussy is too good.”

You clenched around him, tried to say something that sounded like gibberish with his fingers still in your mouth. Amazingly so, Jungkook understood what it was.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” He asked, breathless. You could only nod, your body bouncing up and down with the force of his precise thrusts. “Yeah?” He chuckled. “You know, I should just leave you like this, see if you learn to shut up for once.”

“Pfflease, no,” you struggled to get out.

“No? Now you listen to what I have to say?” Jungkook kept teasing you, watching as your initial petulant attitude was washed away. Doing that to you seemed to be a habit that he couldn’t let go, no matter how hard he tried. There was something about the way you fumbled and whimpered under his grasp that inflated his ego more than anything. “You only listen when I have you like this. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

Jungkook pulled his fingers out of your mouth, using that hand to press your body closer to his; tattooed arm wrapped in an iron grip around your waist. “Sorry,” you didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point; you were just trying to grasp at anything that could bring you some sort of salvation. Maybe if you tried to appease his pestering spirit, he wouldn’t be so cruel when it came to your release. “Jungkook, please.”

“Please what?” He asked, his breath ragged against your ear; sounding like he was almost getting lost in your pussy.

“Please let me cum, please,” you begged. You didn’t know how he managed to do it: to make your entire personality crumble down into a desperate, needy mess with little to no effort. He knew just the right buttons to push; just the right way to fuck you. It was a dangerous game that you were playing and the score clearly wasn’t in your favor.

“I’ll think about it.” He groaned, a particularly loud moan ripping itself from his throat at another hash buckle of his hips. He was fucking your so well that you couldn’t even remember where you were for a second, all inihibitions pushed aside as your mind turned into a hazed, disconnected mess. “First, be a good girl and let me fill you up.”

You nodded desperately, not trusting yourself to say anything else. The heat in your stomach was building up at a worrisome speed, threatening to spill over at any given second, and yet you didn’t think it would happen quick enough.

Just as you expected, Jungkook was cumming a few thrusts later, spilling himself inside your pussy as he groaned against your shoulder. “Fuck, baby,” he was fighting for air, trying to keep his moans as quiet as he could manage them. And yet, when his mouth right next to your ear, you could hear with divine clarity the beautiful, airy sighs he gifted you as he continued to fuck you through his high. “Take it, come on. Fuck.”

You were almost pleading for your own body to hush and allow you to cum before Jungkook pulled away but, once again, you weren’t that lucky. You were left with shaky legs as he removed himself from your heat; feeling awfully empty as he swirled you around before crashing his mouth against yours in a messy kiss.

Yes, Jungkook fucked you like no one else could, but kissing him managed to be even more heavenly sometimes. Time and time again, he would surprise you with kisses that left you seeking for air; the slow drag of his tongue against yours matching perfectly with the way his hand cupped your cheek, thumb delicately caressing the skin. It was the eye of a hurricane, the tranquil skies before the storm hit, and you could get lost in it with such ease that it scared you sometimes.

But then he pulled away, and the magic left you just as quickly as it had arrived. “J-Jungkook, I didn’t—“

“Shh, baby, I know.” Another tender kiss against your lips, and his mouth moved to your jaw, nibbling on the skin. “Gonna clean you up, princess. Don’t worry.”

Brain too overwhelmed to react, you were left speechless as Jungkook trailed a path of sloppy kisses down your neck, sending shivers down your spine before, at last, getting down on his knees before you. A question got trapped in your throat, rapidly forgotten, when he raised one of your thighs and placed it over his shoulder. “Hold this up for me.” He signed at the hem of your dress, and you did as he requested, pulling the fabric to the level of your breasts. “That’s my girl.”

A shivering sigh danced on your tongue as you waited for him to move, his eyes eagerly taking in the way his release dripped between your folds, mingling with your own wetness. Jungkook loved to watch his work. “So pretty,” Jungkook mumbled, as he always did; sounding like he was trapped in a daydream. Like you weren’t actually supposed to hear that. “Always so pretty for me.”

You got lost in his praise for exactly two seconds before he was leaning in and pressing his mouth against your heat. Your hips buckled forward, barely held in place by his strong arms around your thighs. “Jungkook,” you called his name, making his dark eyes snap towards yours. His tongue prodded against your opening once, twice, teasing your pussy a few times before he licked his path up your slit, lips wrapping around your clit. “God, so good.”

Jungkook hummed against your heat, lapping between your folds like he was a starved animal, not caring about the fact that his own cum was mixed with your arousal. You were starting to consider that maybe he had a bit of an oral fixation, because you never saw him so focused as when he had his face buried between your thighs; his tongue playing with your sensitive spots so eagerly that you couldn’t help but whine out his name.

“Oh— Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling as that familiar pressure started to build on the base of your spine. Your hands were sweaty, clenching onto the fabric of your flowery dress as Jungkook continued to moan and lick his way around your pussy. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

Jungkook was looking up at you through the thick curtain of his messy hair, his devilish eyes sparking up in a silent dare for you to make a mess on his tongue. At the same time that he told you to keep quiet, you knew that he got off when you were loud — especially in a place like that, where the two of you could get caught. He was a fucking demon when he wanted to be, and he seriously didn’t have any trouble dragging you to hell along with him.

The worst part was that you liked it. You liked it since the very first time he had you, liked the way he took your precious control away from you. You liked when he had you like that: a shivering, desperate mess hanging by a thread; dwelling in the fantastic sensation of his wet muscle prodding your entrance, fucking it open as he stared up at you like he could eat you whole.

It was always the sight of Jungkook like that — between your thighs, eating you out like you were his favorite sweet — that pushed you over the edge. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, muffling your needy cries as you finally reached your high, his tongue still playing with your clit as you came down. Jungkook groaned as a small wave of your arousal dripped on him, his mouth expertly cleaning it up, just like he had promised.

“S-Stop,” you whimpered, a violent shiver overtaking your muscles as you started to feel the effects of your sensitivity. “Too much.”

After a final stroke of his tongue against your slick, Jungkook tugged your panties back in place and removed your thigh from his shoulder before, finally, he moved back to his feet. Your hand, weak, let go of the fabric and allowed your dress to collapse back into place, covering the mess between your legs.

He smirked at your overwhelmed, fucked-out state as he tugged himself back inside his pants. The sound of his zipper was once again a noisy interruption, which brought along a new wave of panic as you remembered your location.

You grabbed Jungkook’s wrist, twisting it around so you could look at his watch. “We have five minutes until closing time.” You sighed heavily, looking up at him with your typical irritated stare. His magic didn’t last for long, after all. “Why are you always like this?”

“Like what?” Jungkook raised one eyebrow, unable to hide the entertainment in his voice as he watched your expression. He ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it back. “Incredibly handsome? Charismatic? Good at everything? Including eati—”

“I was going to ask why do you have the inherent need to defile religious places, but whatever helps you sleep at night,” you interrupted. “By the way, this,” you pointed between you two, “is not happening again. So I hope you had a good last time.”

Jungkook chuckled, holding your chin with his fingers. “This is like the third time you’re saying that, baby.” He pulled you in for a quick kiss, barely a tender press of his lips against yours. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

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