#I need to switch my brain off a little between commissions

[omaano]

…. Just so we all know this is the stage from where I need to pull my little clone portraits together

#Wip #my art #and then I will merge my sketch and paint layers together and the messing around starts for real #but FIRST I need to figure out my colours for good #haven’t struggled with them so much in a very very long time I feel like #shadows and mid tones and secondary light source and all that aaaah #I need to switch my brain off a little between commissions #I swore I was normal about that Tem gifset didn’t I? #then I stumbled into a fic where Rex picks up the horrible habit of smoking while on leave and here I am #I know I messed up something in my sketch that I will suffer to try and fix later but even when I flip it it doesn’t look TOO bad #he looks FINE in the reference window #which I will take at this point #the sketch took me as long as the other portraits from first line to colour adjustments lol #purple is giving me hell…. it’s time I run away and live out the rest of my life as a hermit away from civilization I suppose

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Beg for me

If you know me IRL, no you don't.

This was heavily inspired by me playing around with the Jealous Law AI chat thing (10/10 great conversation)

In my opinion, this is unrealistic because this could VERY easily turn angsty, but I didn't because I'm writing so much angst in my other fic (Torn Apart).

Anyways, enjoy this one shot!

Commissions open

Summary: Law harmlessly pranks you when you're desperate for him to touch you, and your petty ass makes him pay.

WC: ~3.2k

CW's: No actual smut but NSFW, Fem!reader, fem pronouns used (kinda), switch!Law, switch!Reader

“L-Law… please?” 

He had worn you down to the last reserves of your patience- your need for his touch and your pride were warring in your head, but you could only beg for him. You were blindfolded, laying on the bed in your new lingerie. You had the flimsy meshy material embroidered with his Jolly Roger right over your nipples and right over your throbbing clit, and gold rings went from your sternum to right above your tiny thongs, with criss crossing black silky straps accentuating your body. Your mesh bralette was two triangles barely covering your breasts, the Jolly Roger scraping over your nipples, making them sensitive with every heaving breath. 

“Awww, already begging? Maybe I should just play with you instead of giving you the surprise,” he drawled. You turned your head in the direction of where his voice came from, standing at the side of the bed. You whined, brain whirling. So far, every time you had begged for him to show you the surprise, he had pushed your patience even further. You had one last strategy to play. 

“I just want you… Law. Please? I’m begging you,” you spoke softly, desire lacing your voice. You felt him crawl onto the bed, finally coming to a stop as he hovered above your body, caging you in. You whined softly, reaching a hand out blindly. You wished you could see his face to bring some comfort to your desperation. You felt his breath on your lips, and your hand finally found his warm skin, and you felt his heartbeat under your fingers. Your fingers curled gently over his neck, letting your hand slide up to tangle in his hair. 

“Well… if you’re so desperate for me, then it seems like we can forget all about the surprise, yeah?” he asked teasingly. You whined. You were desperately curious about this “surprise”. After mentioning it all day, he gave you two hints- it would bring some spice into the bedroom, and would make you very satisfied. You had no clue as to what it could be. A vibrator? A dildo? A vibrating attachment for his tongue piercing? A cock ring? Your imagination had been running wild all day, so you decided to surprise him with your new lingerie to spice things up even more.

“It.. can be later. I just want you,” you whispered. He chuckled darkly, and brushed his lips softly against yours, before sliding off your body. You whined, nipples peaking again from the cold as his body heat suddenly disappeared. 

“Law… I can’t wait much longer. I’m soaked,” you begged. He didn’t answer, and you heard the tell-tale signs of his shirt hitting the floor. You heard him peeling off his signature spotted jeans, dropping them to the floor with a small thump. 

“L-Law?” You called out to him. You felt his hands on your thighs, and you jolted at the sudden touch. He chuckled at your reaction, and parted your thighs. You whined a little at his movements, but eagerly spread your legs for him. 

“What a good little doll. Just stay quiet and do as I say, yeah?” He spoke. You felt the softest brushes of his lips on your inner thighs, and you started to tremble with anticipation. You nodded, just wanting him to touch you. His weight suddenly disappeared from the mattress, and you felt alone and cold. You whined a little, nearing frustrated tears. You parted your lips to call out to him, but you knew he would prolong the time between touches even more if you spoke. You heard him rustling about, pulling something out from under his desk, then placed it near the bed, and you shifted a little, grinding your teeth with impatience. 

“You’re being so good. How about a little reward, hm?” he cooed. You looked in the direction of where his voice came from, and you nodded with a small smile. You felt his weight press into the bed near your head, and his hand slid along your jaw and cheek, tilting your head up a little more. You parted your lips in anticipation, but he only gave you the briefest brush of his lips against yours. When he pulled back, you waited for a second to see if he would do anything else. His weight disappeared like a ghost yet again, and with it, the last of your patience. A tear of frustration escaped your eye, but it was immediately absorbed into the blindfold. You curled up on the bed, feeling exposed. 

“Aww, cmon. I’ve got your surprise~” he said quietly. You perked up a little at that, hope sparking in you again. 

“Sit up,” he commanded. You followed instructions, and knelt on the bed, sitting on your heels. You felt Law climb onto the bed, sitting in front of you. 

“Hold out your hand. I’ll guide you so you can grab your surprise in the box,” he instructed. You held out a hand, and he grabbed your wrist with gentle fingers and guided your hand to your surprise. You jolted back a little as your fingers unexpectedly came into contact with something soft and fuzzy. You reached out again and grabbed it, looking at what you hoped was Law’s face with confusion. 

“If I take off the blindfold, can you behave yourself?” he asked quietly. You nodded frantically, and sat still. You felt his fingers drag up your outstretched arm, up your shoulder and neck, and slowly up your cheek before pulling the blindfold off in one swift motion, careful not to pull any of your hair in the process. You blink at the sudden light, even if it was dim. You focus on your boyfriend in front of you, then on the “surprise” your hand was holding in the box placed rather strategically between Law’s legs. You were holding what looked like the arm of a snow leopard plush. You pulled it out of the box, confusion on your face. 

“Speak to it as if you were speaking to me” he ordered with a smirk. You rolled your eyes. 

“Stop joking around. I brought out this new lingerie so you could give me the surprise,” You said. Law shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“He is the surprise.” 

You gave him a flat look of disbelief, then looked down at the snow leopard. You had to admit, it was actually pretty adorable. You couldn’t help the soft smile that curved your lips as you looked down at it. 

“Well… thank you. He’s actually super cute,” you murmured. Law tugged it back. 

“You’ll only get it if you speak to it like you're speaking to me” he said, humor evident in his voice. You sighed and shook your head. You had no idea where he had even gotten this idea, nor where he was going with it. 

“Fine,” you snap. Your eyes land on the snow leopard, still held in Law’s hands. You begin speaking, feeling like a dumbass. 

“Well… mini Law, you know I love you, right?” you looked back up at your boyfriend for approval. He shook his head. 

“More.” 

You sighed heavily, and rolled your eyes. 

“You’re the only man I know who could make me do this and I’d still consider having sex with you right after,” you grumble. You snatched the plush from his hands and turned around, holding him up to eye-level. 

“Law, hypothetically, what would you tell your female friend if she told you that her boyfriend had been talking about a surprise for the bedroom all day, so she decided to bring out some brand new lingerie that she had embroidered with his Jolly Roger, and wore it under her sweatpants and shirt while she was making a delicious dinner for him, and then he teases her in the bedroom until she's literally crying from frustration of not being touched, and then he pulls a prank on her to give her a snow leopard plush as the surprise. What would you say?” 

You could feel Law rolling his eyes at your dramatics. You heard the huff of his sigh behind you, and for extra effect, you brought the snow leopard up to your ear, as if listening to what it had to say. 

“What’s that? You think she should make him sorry? I think so too. Thank you, Law!” 

“Oi,” Law said, annoyance seeping into his tone. You turn back to him and shrug, putting the plush by the pillows and crawl off the bed. You feel his eyes on you, watching your movements curiously. You stop by your dresser to grab some cozy pajamas, and strut to the ensuite bathroom. 

“Oi. What the hell do you think you're doing?” Law called from the bed, naked except for the box covering his softening dick. You scoffed from the bathroom. 

“You aren’t getting any tonight, Law,” your voice was muffled as you closed the door, and began stripping off the lingerie. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you’re bluffing. Just get back out here, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he called, exasperation evident in his tone. You rolled your eyes, but said nothing, only walking out of the bathroom dressed in your pajamas, and tossed the lingerie set at Law. 

“Not bluffing. If you wanna play, you better know damn well who your opponent is, and you haven’t even seen even part of how stubborn I can be,” the smirk on your face was absolutely evil. He caught the lingerie, and looked at you skeptically. 

“Yeah? Whatcha gonna do now?” he asked, a sardonic grin lazily curved his lips. You hated how it made your heart flip in your chest. 

“Me? I’m going to go get a cup of sleepy time tea. Want any?” You slid on your slippers and walked to the door, looking at him curiously as your hand rested on the handle. His jaw dropped a little.

“Are you serious?” he said quietly. You only raised a single brow with a smirk on your lips. He rolled his eyes and stood from the bed. 

“Fine. Just give me a second.” he quickly put on some sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. You waited until he was approaching you to open the door, leading the way through the submarine to the kitchen. He followed you, playing along with your demands. You reached the kitchen and started the kettle, dragging out two mugs and two tea bags as he leaned against the opposite counter. His gold eyes followed your movements closely, and you swallowed at his tousled hair, gray sweats that hung low, and his abs that seemed prominent in the low light of the stove light. Having run out of things to do, you finally faced him with a smirk and arms crossed over your chest. 

“So,” you started. He quirked a brow up, and smirked at you. 

“So…” he echoed. 

“You aren’t getting anything until you’re as desperate for me in that lingerie set as I was for you. I literally cried a little from frustration,” you complained. He scoffed. 

“You’re kidding me. We both know that you can’t resist me,” he said cockily. You rolled your eyes, smiling evilly

“Usually, no I can’t resist you. But I’ll resist just for the sake of being stubborn. I’ve got something to prove, and you have something to make up to me,” you said. His smirk widened at the challenge. 

“Uh huh. Fine. What are the conditions?” he said, catching on. You laughed a little, but it was more ominous than anything. 

“The conditions are that you won't get anything other than friendly touches from me. I’ll tease you, and I’ll wear you down until you break,” you say confidently. Law rolls his eyes. 

“Easy. You’ll break first,” he said. You pouted at him, but the kettle signaled that it was done, and you poured the water into the mugs, handing one to him. You looked at him as if you were concerned about something. 

“Did you not like the lingerie?” you ask sweetly. He choked a little on his tea, splashing the hot water on his bare chest. He sucked in a breath at the sting, and you handed him a towel, looking a little concerned. He waved off your concern. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. But uh… I think… It made me… feel a way that I really liked. Possessive over you almost. It marks you as mine,” he stumbled over his words a little, a little blush on his cheeks. Your face lit up with understanding, morphing into something mischievous. You step forward until you could whisper in his ear.

“Ohhhh ~ so you really liked it, huh? Might want to remember exactly how I looked, laying under you, blindfolded and soaking through the thongs that had your mark right on my little clit. I needed you, Law. I was crying from frustration because that’s how much I needed you. I was helpless under your hands, willing to do anything to get you to fuck me. And now…” you stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter, “Now, I want you to come crawling to me, begging for my body like I was begging for you earlier,” you tease. Your eyes trail lustily over his lanky body, biting your bottom lip and letting it slide out from between your teeth seductively, and traced your tongue over your teeth as your eyes rested on his obvious erection in his sweats. You finally let your eyes trail up his tattooed torso, noticing the white-knuckled grip he had on the handle of his mug, and how his chest seemed to shakily rise and fall. You finally met his eyes, and put your mug of tea behind you, and let one hand trace your curves over your shirt, then raise the hem of your shirt until a sliver of underboob was showing. You used both hands to hold it up evenly, so only the underboob was showing, and then squished them together. Law wasn’t breathing, and you could see the seeds of regret beginning to sprout behind his eyes. You were honestly a little afraid he’d break the mug in his grip, but your attention was diverted to his dick straining through the gray sweats. You met his eyes, and winked at him as you dropped your shirt. You picked up your mug and nonchalantly walked out of the kitchen.

“Night, captain~” you teased as you left. He watched you leave, knowing he was stuck standing there until his dick calmed down, lest he run into a crew member with an erection bobbing in plain view. 

You went back to your shared room, and settled into bed. You had finished your entire mug of sleepy time tea and was starting to get ready for bed when Law finally walked into the room. You caught his gaze in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, and bent over the sink, sticking your underwear-clad ass out in clear view as you spat and rinsed your mouth. Law looked up to the ceiling, head falling back as if he were asking the gods for mercy. You finished getting ready and crawled into bed, yawning as you curled up under the blankets. By the time Law had finished getting ready for bed, you were half asleep. He crawled into bed next to you, and ran a finger down your face. 

“I love you… you know that?” he murmured sleepily. You hummed and nodded. 

“You’re still not getting a kiss, but I love you too. Unconditionally,” you answered. He snorted a little at your answer before landing a kiss on your forehead. You were too tired to argue, and it felt good after being denied so much of his touch earlier. He laid facing you, the both of you drifting to sleep quickly. 

Two days. 

He lasted two days. 

The night after you had set the rules, he could only think of you laying under him, squirming and soaking the lingerie. The stockings hugging your thighs, tight enough that there was a little bulge at the top of them, and garters decorating your hips. The strings of the thong were also decorating your hips, with his Jolly Roger rubbing over your sensitive clit as you spread your legs for him. The gold rings glinted down your midline, with crisscrossing silky strands accentuating your curves, and moved with every heave of your breath. The mesh bralette was the final touch, a flimsy thing that rubbed your sensitive nipples into hard buds with the stimulation his embroidered Jolly Roger provided. The night after he accepted your terms, he woke up humping the mattress, on the verge of an orgasm. You only woke up when he got up to go to the bathroom, and he quickly hushed you, reassuring you he would be right back. The following day, he locked himself in his office, claiming something about expense reports and researching something about the island they were approaching. 

You knew damn well that he was avoiding you, hoping to win this bet if he didn’t see you tease him. Unfortunately for him, you’d bring him snacks and drinks through the day, always leaving him a blushing, scowling mess as he sat at his desk, waiting for his erection to go down before he could stand again. 

It was at dinner on the second day that he approached you, leaning down to whisper in your ear as he passed by you. 

“Meet me in our room later,” was all he said. You smirked to yourself, and you had every right to. 

After dinner, you strolled back to your room slowly. You took your time, making him wait like you had to two nights ago. You finally opened the door, and quickly shut it as you saw the view in front of you. Law was kneeling in front of the door, naked with a throbbing and leaking dick. He was blushing, and you looked down at him in shock. 

“L-law?” you whispered. He looked up at you, and pointed to the bed. You looked, and saw your lingerie set laid out carefully on the bed, next to the blindfold. 

“You win. I can’t… I need you. P-ple… fuck. Please? No matter how many times I cum, it doesn’t feel as good as it does with you. I can’t… I can’t get it right,” he nearly whimpered. 

Your jaw dropped. Trafalgar Water D. Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates and the so-called Surgeon of Death, was on his knees begging for you to put on your lingerie embroidered with his Jolly Roger and to make him cum. You started yourself starting to get wet, and you swiftly knelt down in front of him. 

“Okay. Okay sweetie. C’mere,” you gently cupped his scruffy jaw in your palms and kissed him deeply. Your tongues clashed together, and he let you win the battle for dominance quickly, moaning as he finally touched you. You pulled back, and looked at him with a grin. 

“Just let me go get changed, and you decide if you want to be more dom or sub tonight, okay? If you’re sub, I want you to be wearing the blindfold. If you’re dom, I want you to put it on me once I’m on the bed, okay?” 

He nodded, and kissed you again briefly before standing. You stood with him, and gave him a flirtatious smile as you grabbed the lingerie from the bed. 

“I’ll be right back… wait for me.” 

“Always.”

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #one piece x y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law smut #one piece law #law one piece #law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law is a little shit

[sarcasticlee-afterdark]

Break Your Rules

Contains: Bratting, Dom/Sub, Edging/Denial/Multiple/Overstimulation, Bondage, slight objectification, size, Sensory Deprivation (sight)

Word Count: ~3.5k

Curled up in bed, quietly scrolling through whatever app has my current attention. My work on various commissions for people done for the day. A bit of frustration still running through me from some of the nonsense I had to deal with over the past 9 hours. Mind not registering much until a gif happens to reveal itself on my feed and it's a delectable one. I stare at it for a little bit, letting it play over and over. Thighs subconsciously rubbing together as I feel a trickle of heat slither its way between my legs. A quiet whine slips out from below my vocal cords, a soft flush dusting my cheeks as my gaze fixates on the gif. Black and white, a rough hand teases between a set of legs, rubbing along soft fabric of cotton panties as hips press up into the fingers, seeking pressure and pleasure.

Another whine leaving me as I feel need building, my own hips subtly following the same tempo of the ones in the repeating set of frames. Huffing quietly, I switch to our messages, eyes scanning over the last set of texts as I flush at the words. Denial. Edging. Not allowed to cum unless it's onto your fingers…or that pink muscle in your mouth that leaves me completely melted and ruined. Fluttering and soaked. Needy but desperate to get away from the overstimulation.

"Just wait til I get home like a good little toy…then we can destress together. "

I quietly send you a question, hoping maybe you’ll be lenient in your orders. Tossing the phone aside, I try to clear my mind of that gif but it's seared into my brain and I can feel my body temp rise. I catch myself grinding into the bed and stop. Accidentally stoking the fire between my thighs and I let out a needy noise. A soft chime notifying me of your incoming response. Eyes alight, hoping for your approval.

Your name tumbling out in desire as I read the message. Electricity sparking up along my skin as I read. Your response a no and an order to keep my fingers away from the apex of my thighs. Be a good little one and maybe I'll get to have a couple orgasms before the holidays as an early gift. I send another question to you, desperation flooding my blood as I squirm. I set my phone aside. The need now boiling as I stare at the clock on the bedside table. You won't be home for a good few hours. Body needing to grind into something just to douse some of the fire that licks through me. I can feel a gentle clench and a little more heat leaks out. Another soft ping and I look at your response. No grinding.

A loud whine tumbles out of me at those two simple words as I whimper out your name. Mind pleading for another message saying you've changed your mind but it doesn't happen. Your decisions normally set in stone unless it's to draw out the torment you put me through when the consensual non con kicks into the forefront for both of us. My thoughts wandering down that path as I flush heavily as my body yearns for a teasing touch. A deep frenzy slowly coming to the surface. I bury my face into my pillow and softly whimper before letting out a soft growl. I sit up and look at the clock.

“To hell with your rules tonight…”

The brat coming out as I situate myself in a position. I have plenty of time to get myself off a couple times, clean up the mess, come down from the heat and you won't be none the wiser. My fingers slipping under the waistbands to the heat and feel the slick that has built up.

Mind switching to images that get me going. Muscle pining me down…your mouth buried in my neck, growling about how wet I am…your hand gently covering my mouth as I whimper and moan into it…your other hand stroking and rubbing me, heel of your palm keeping me pinned down amongst a sea of pillows…sweat covered skin as shivers of pleasure wrack through my body as you completely dominate me…edging with skittering fingers along sparking skin as I try to grab at your hands so you can focus on my clit and center. Breath picking up as I let out little moans of your name and pleads. Body temperature flaring up as I can feel my fingers working me towards the exquisite edge of deep pleasure.

My skin flushed and blood roaring in my ears as I'm so close. Eyes slamming shut before I hear something that turns my blood cold. My stomach twist and my fingers stumble causing the coil of tight heat to all but disappear. Footsteps and my eyes hone in on the doorknob as it turns and the door opens. I’ve lost track of time and you're home far sooner than I thought.

Did I misjudge the time for your shift? I definitely can't hide what I've been up to and it's all too easily read on my face and across my body language, even with it hidden underneath the blankets. You walk in and our eyes meet. It takes you all but a few seconds to know that I've disregarded your messages and you smirk.

“So naughty…couldn't have waited for me to get home could you?”

I whine and shake my head as you wander over to me. You stand at the foot of the bed before beginning to prowl up it. On instinct I try to get away but the pillows and blankets make it difficult. Not to mention my legs weak from the pleasure I was working on, but also the nerves that your domineering presence instills in me. A slow methodical approach, my body thrumming with an addicting mix of electricity and fire and an edge of ice. My fingers now trying to work faster to get me over the edge before you deny me. And I know it’s going to be multiple denials. Maybe unending with how I threw aside both your answers to pursue my dire need to make a mess.

The bed sinking underneath your weight as your hands reach either side of my feet, then my calves, thighs…then my hips, then my sides and eventually my shoulders. Forearms caging your little prey in as you duck down to where our noses briefly touch. My eyes locked with yours, face flushing a deeper red, as I feel you pull back the blankets, revealing just exactly what I've been up to. Legs spread slightly, fingers deep beneath my shorts and panties. Hips subtly grinding into my fingers, hoping you won’t notice the movement.

Oh you notice. It’s almost impossible for me to hide anything from you. From moods to emotions to little bouts of mischief. You read me like an open book. Eyes studying my movements before locking with mine and I feel a hitch in my breath as I note the darkening of your gaze. A sudden shift and my arms are pinned above my head, your mind noting the wetness on my left fingers before giving me a smug look.

“You're fingers not doing the job this time? Too soft to get you the friction and pressure you need hmm? Couldn’t finish the dirty little deed that I forbade you from doing? Poor little thing… Maybe I can help you…I could help you but I think a punishment is in order…”

Shivering and squirming, I huff, eyes narrowing at your words, before I whine and squeak as I feel your free hand slip underneath my shirt to trace down my ribcage and side. Nails gently stimulating the nerves before burying themselves suddenly between my thighs, a single finger pressing up and grinding into the soaked bundle of nerves and I let rip a carnal moan as we both feel the pulse of pleasure shoot through me. Breath leaving me for a split second before a whine of your name tumbles out.

The heated coil reforming as I press down onto your rough finger, letting out noise of protest as you relent on the pressure, now keeping it feather light. Finger circling as you feel my hips buck and twist…trying to regain that stimulation that had me clenching and leaking more then my own fingers could ever.

Taunting slick pressure as you trace the pad of your finger across my clit, up and down, dragging the wetness from my center up. Occasionally pressing into the nerves and letting me grind and buck, hips trying to follow as you pull your digit away. You shift a bit, our faces close as I feel the heat of your breath along my lips. My mouth going dry as my mind short circuits at what little distance is between us.

"No no…you broke the rules angel and disregarded my answers. You know exactly what's going to happen now…”

Your name dropping from my lips as I try to plead with you to lessen the punishment. My words broken in-between gasps and moans as you toy with me. Digits working me towards the edge before pulling me back. Denying over and over before I beg and plead for you in need. Dizzy with desire as my body burns with your touch. Always on the edge of tilting, my brain fuzzy and my eyes glazed over as you pull me into deep submission.

"Please let me cum. I'm sorry for not listening…please please please please!"

My words registering but not listened to. Body alive with twisting tendrils of need that are coiled so tightly that I feel like the slightest brush of your finger could shatter me…and keep me shattering over and over until every nerve is screaming for it to stop…but my mind wanting it to continue. But who knows how long that could take. Those fingers can work quickly but also drag out the exquisite torment if you so will it.

“You're apologizing isn't going to work sweetheart. You're in for a long punishment tonight…”

You remove your hand and sit up, straddling my thighs as you search above my head for something before I feel the cool leather of your belt around my wrists. Shaking my head, I try pulling my wrists from your grip but unable to loosen the soft steel of your hand wrapped around my wrists. Swiftly they're restrained and I stare up at you, eyes begging for you to understand my words that die in my throat but I know the next part of the punishment. Something deep down that I secretly relish and crave on a base level at times from you. Too embarrassed to admit it outright but I know that you’ve picked up on it over time.

Watching, my gaze scans you over as you pull your shirt off. Only the briefest of glances of the form that is practically seared into my brain, before all falls dark as you blindfold me with your shirt. Nerves on edge as all other senses are heightened. Goosebumps litter my skin as I feel you hike my shirt up enough to expose some of my ribs and my stomach.

I feel your weight press me into the pillows and squeak as your mouth brushes against my neck. A deep blush painting along my face as I feel your teeth scrape along the sensitive skin. Hips jerking in approval as I feel your nails trace along the tops of the waistbands before pulling them down and off my legs. A moan leaving me as I feel your fingers rub and trace along the lower part of my thigh joints. I can feel the slick sensation spread along the joints from all the edges earlier. The less friction making it easier for your nails and fingers to glide. Stimulating the sensitive soft skin there.

Suddenly your mouth leaves my neck and I feel my legs being moved to your shoulders and I plead quietly. Your lips now kissing and licking right above where I'm desperate for you most. The fire an inferno as I writhe and squirm, your fingers rubbing into my hip bones, causing little squeaks to tumble out as you hit sensitive spots along that area. Your beard long enough to cover the joints and my apex, sending waves of tingles and softly growing pleasure through me.

We both know the mess I’m going to make, so I’m going to end up not just helping to ruin the sheets but soak through the hairs of your facial hair. I try to buck my hips up to get your mouth where it needs to be but your hands have me pinned. Tongue lazily flicking and dragging along my skin as my back arches, I feel your hands move up to my sides. The texture of your fingers on the backs of my sides, sending tingling sparks as I try to squirm out of your hold.

A couple giggles slipping out as I feel you gently but rapidly squeeze, your nails skittering along the sensitive skin. Your name mixing into the giggly protests. Slowly you work your way down before you bury yourself into my center. Tongue snaking out and dragging up to my clit as I squeal at the sudden sensation before falling into a mess of moans and whines. Wetness leaving me and soaking the sheets beneath as I press the heels of my feet into your back. Needing you to stay where you are.

Firm teasing kisses litter around my clenching center and twitching clit. Your fingers now tracing and scritching along the sides of my ribcage, sending rampant giggles mixing with whimpers. Body twisting and arching, trying to dislodge your fingers from my skin. The notable signs of me about to fall over the edge are felt and you pull away. I can feel your breath against the mess of my center and I shiver. My ankles crossing to pull you back but you hold your position.

“No cumming. This is still a punishment little one.”

I whimper between the laughter, your name mixing into the noises and my center clenches as I feel a stream of gentle air blow across the hot bundle of nerves. Legs twitching and shifting on your shoulders as I feel another wave of slick heat leave me to drip out onto soaked sheets. A broken gasp leaves me as you dive back in, a growl vibrating up my spine as I feel my insides flutter about as you eat away at me.

Pleasure building and rippling through me, causing my brain to spin and my toes to curl. A little tasty snack so easy to torment and devour in its current position. Pulling me close as to keep the pressure of your tongue and lips firm on me. Making sure that your lips and tongue are drowning my drenched apex in an intoxicating mixture of scribbling fingers and deep licks and addicting kisses.

Thighs shaking and my arms desperately pulling at the restraints. My fingers aching to dig into your shoulders or your hair. Nerves on fire and overstimulated from the constant punishing edges. The muscles that make up your tongue cleaning me of whatever leaks out but never what comes after a mind shattering orgasm. You refuse to listen to my whines of needing release.

“Someone seems so desperate. So needy…a needy and messy little toy. Oh so tasty as well. I can feel you fluttering underneath my tongue.”

The tone of your teasing driving my nerves to feel singed. My body slowly losing its ability to fight as I gently squirm and writhe as I feel your tongue and mouth drinking and licking away at me, pulling what little fight I have left from me. What little coherent threads of thoughts I have that aren't focused around you. Another small shift and I feel you nibble into the center of my waistline as your thumbs toy right outside my center, your fingers dancing and skittering along my lower sides.

A vocalization of yet another protest before my fight renews as I yank heavily on your belt, adrenaline surging as I break into laughter. The lingering pleasure mixing with the electric tingles, dancing along my nerves in a way that drives me up a wall. Legs trying to remove themselves from your shoulders but currently an impossible task. Always an impossible task when you focus on my thighs and the most sensitive spot of my body. Every prior attempt has had a zero success rate, not that I complain in the moment. Though I do call you mean for putting me in such a helpless position. You know it's just me being a brat to cover up the enjoyment I get at being shown that I really am no match for you in terms of getting out of these positions.

Mind spinning before falling over the edge into another ocean of need as you work your mouth down my lower stomach. Tongue flicking out at random intervals, touching sweaty and trembling skin, to trigger a breathy whine of your name to tumble out between the peals of laughter. A soft moan leaks out as I shiver and clench at the feel of your slick tongue right at the border.

A few seconds is all you need to build up a foggy question in my mind before a deep carnal moan leaves me as you once again bury yourself into my center. Stealing my breath before I break into what feels like incoherency as every possible thread of thought disintegrates and a tumble of two words tears out of me. Body on its way to an explosive orgasm and you know it. You can feel it and my body isn't holding back what your actions are doing to it.

“Hold it. Hold that orgasm. You're still being punished little one.”

I let out a pitiful whimper as I desperately try to keep myself from crashing into the overwhelming need to careen over the edge. Soft broken protests and pleading leaving me as I try to seek out just a tiny fraction of more friction but you know just the right amount of licking and teasing to keep me so damn close to ecstasy. Some of my pleading making very little sense as I feel the concept of the English language practically evaporate from me.

Body practically humming and still very gently squirming as your fingers and nails still trickle along my flesh. My temperature feeling like I could just melt the permafrost with a single touch with how much you can get my blood flowing through my veins. Hips moving in time to your motions, the bundle of nerves overstimulated and soaked. Twitching as I feel myself so close to my breaking point.

Relenting at some point, where you hear the soft rasp of a safeword, always regarded even in punishment, you let me go, working on muscles and helping blood flow as my legs tremble with residual nerves and my insides flutter and clench as my body still reels from the amount of denial. Words washing over me as you slowly work me down. Praise and comfort wrapping gently around my subconscious as my body stops trying to grind into something. You slowly let my legs rest on the bed, the sheets below me soaked alongside the skin of my thigh joints and between my legs.

Quietly, you murmur to me to close my eyes so you can take the blindfold off, another murmur of words letting me know you’ll be right back. A soft nod as your words register. By the time you get back, which isn't long, my eyes have adjusted and flicker open briefly to look at you. Warm washcloth in hand, you gently clean me up. I’ve noticed that you’ve cleaned yourself up a bit.

“You took all that so well. Maybe if you're good tomorrow you'll get an orgasm tomorrow…but I also hope you enjoyed it as well.”

Voice raspy, you help situate me into your side, after helping me stretch a little, away from the sticky mess that's gathered itself in the sheets, helping to ground me as you lay soft praise and attention as I nod and bury myself into your shirt. Arms wrapped around your waist. The pieces of my mind still scattered but some slowly clicking back into place as I quietly mumble into your shirt how much fun, but also mean…very very mean, that all was. Though if that's what happens if my bratty self disobeys, then you sure are gonna have to figure out many other ways to punish me…

#rei writes a fantasy #it's a lemon rei

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hi there. Can I request a poly relationship with Albedo, Xiao and Scaramouche ? A mix of fluff n a pinch of smut is this possible ?

First of all, what the fuck gave you this wacky idea? I thought at first, wow, this is so random, how did they think this. But then upon making the banner- IT'S ALL MY HUSBANDS IN ONE FICNWOFHLSNDLKSBSOANA

I'll do my best but oh gawd, I'm just so baffled right now HAHAHHA- brain juice GONE

Three Shorties Convention

Poly Relationship with Scaramouche, Albedo and Xiao... (event masterlist)

HOW?!

Three individuals from three different nations somehow collated to love a single human, that of which is you. With how wide your range is for such individuals, we can greatly assume that you are an adventurer travelling the world.

You first met Scaramouche who was undercover, on the way to Mondstadt/Liyue through boat. As he was in the down low, he made sure to act friendly to avoid suspicion. When he heard you were on the same path, he thought of using you as an alibi.

The next person you came across was Xiao when you were passing by the Inn. You heard of the Adepti residing in the area and wanted to ask for blessings as your journey would be much more confusing and dangerous. You lit up incense and a small prayer before leaving.

The last person you met was Albedo. Mond was your last destination before you laid low again until your next long expedition, and you were looking for Alice who you met long ago during your expeditions. You last heard about Mond from her and wanted to talk to her about your adventures but ended up empty.

What made them stay/intrigued? For Scaramouche, he saw you messing with the meteors and your theories, your disarrayed thoughts and ideas somehow made sense when he looks past the lines. And you ended up being the reason he found the large piece of meteor in that... island thingy.

For Xiao, it was the incense I mentioned earlier. It was something you got as a souvenir from a commission in Inazuma, and the scent it gave off brought him to Teyvat Nirvana, the voices silent and his body soothed. His curiousity got the best of him as he tracked your path.

And finally, you first piqued Albedo's interest when you mentioned your affiliation with Alice, and when he listened to your stories (you forced him to listen since Alice was not there) it remindee him greatly of his master.

All of them were attached so badly that on your way to the wilderness one day, the three of them ended up confronting you in some kind of JJBA way with you in the middle. Their Visions and weapons were raised in worry until you identified how you knew them all.

And when they found out of each other's interests towards you, they grew more wary but turned to you: who was busy picking up a mint flower to truly understand what's going on.

"I like all of you!" Somehow all three of them were smart enough to realize that you hold at least a drop of endearment for each of them.

It was supposed to be a silent competition, that then ended up to an ambiguous relationship through coexistence. The problem here is: all four of you barely understood the grounds of a proper relationship, and delved deeper into this polyamory without a second thought.

Equal Thirds

Oh geezus, this is the most confusing setup you've been through. Having to juggle between three continents, three men, three different occasions. They were so petty to the point that your schedule must be split EQUALLY or else the other two would ambush the place you would be in.

Albedo is the busiest and lax when it comes to your "relationship schedule." As a person of Alchemy, he takes days buried deep into his research and he is more than thankful for the existence of a schedule, as he struggles with the maintenance of human relations a concrete time and day for when he is needed balances this. Albedo requests your presence during the period after his major experiments where he wishes to unwind and empty his brain of the equations and machinations. His type of love deals with comfort and distraction.

Xiao has the most free time in your relationship in terms of work, but he is also the one tied down strictly to his code of conduct. His time with you comes from your visits to Liyue and he will always be by your side whether you're in the outskirts or within the mortal realm. His type of love, ironically, is filled with longing touches and whispers of adoration for your strength and light that silences the voices in his head.

Scaramouche is the neediest boy in this bunch, the most mortal of them and the farthest from your reach. Your relationship is a secret to everyone especially the Fatui, but he makes sure that every agent in Liyue and Mond does not lay a hand on you or else he's breaking that same limb. Your time with him comes when HE comes over no matter where you are or what you do. His 'love' is filled with materialism and feisty aura, revelling in strenght and power dynamics.

When you're in charge of the schedule is the rare times that all three of you are together, because you plan your expeditions well in par with their seemingly conflicting schedules. Soon enough you four would be a whole team of travellers going around Teyvat to indulge whatever curiousities you lay upon.

"Circus Festival in Fontaine? Sign me and my three boys the fuck up. No complains, I know you're free."

Camping and travelling with them is sooo convenient too because they're all incredibly strong in constitution and battle. You only need to hang back and watch as they bring you a fireworks of elements, which are thankfully not very harmful against each other.

You're NEVER hurt or even TOUCHED when they're with you, they always have keen eyes for danger and always stick close to you to make sure you are safe. But on a RARE occasion that you DO get hurt, they have a formation: Albedo is tasked in retrieving you, Scaramouche is the backup in clearing a safe area for possible first aid, and Xiao lets all hell break loose once you three are gone.

They help out as much as they can whenever you all go out to camp but ultimately it ends up being some kind of adventuring class for the three of them since you're the master in this field.

Cute stuff: You never keep watch because they always want to cuddle, so one would be up and the other two would be cuddling you on both sides, and the rounds would switch between them while you have your beauty nap.

Albedo is pretty chill with the other two, but Scaramouche and Xiao seem to have a tension between them due to his Harbinger status. Xiao is wary and protective of Albedo because of the knowledge of his background coming from Morax. And all three of you deal with Scara's chattiness.

Your Pet Names for them! Scaramouche: Darling; Xiao: Sweetie; Albedo: Beloved. If you go beyond that, they start to see favoritism so you picked them carefully.

Their Pet Names for you! Scaramouche: My Dear; Xiao: Beloved; Albedo: Sunshine.

Soon enough, their soft rivalries turned into friendly coexistence and they would start to at least see each other in a better light besides acquaintances. While nothing physical or lovey-dovey would happen between them as they only ever see you in that way, they develop respect and slight trust. Competition long gone as it dissolves into compassion in protecting you and giving you the loving you deserve.

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @kookieyachi @struggljng @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22

Softcore under the cut! No looking, my children

In this relationship, individual and multiple participating intercourse is normal, and they happen when all parties involved are ever comfortable. With the fact that you'll change continents in mind soon after, the boys have their little rituals with you.

The most prominent of all would be Scaramouche's signature hickey on your neck. He sucks it hard enough to make it stay for WEEKS, so that when the other boys move to kiss you on your neck, they see the apparent mark and groan to themselves in defeat. It was your sensitive and ticklish spot, and he makes sure he owns it.

For Albedo, he almost always (probably in a kink way) do it with you on a surface that's NOT the bed. Table, chair, sofa, his lap, it seems that the bed is a sacred place for rest. And he usually ends up doing it when he is about to finish his work, hence the convenience of such furnitures. You were conditioned to the point that if you even just innocently lean on a furniture, your mind and body immediately snaps back to those moments, making you back off with a flushed face.

Xiao is the most innocent and yeet friskiest of them all. He loves to litter you with kisses all over your body, no bites and no scratches, just innocent flutters of his lips that makes you tingle. But such moments of lovemaking... seem to always happen on the Inn's balcony. Most of the time it's when the door leading there is closed for the night, but you were sure there were occasions that someone at least knew or saw what was happening, but you two were too drowned in pleasure to notice.

Whenever all four of you were to participate, safe words are always emphasized. Because you're suffocating right after between their bodies with all holes filled to the brim with them. Usually the formation goes as: Albedo behind you, Xiao in front and Scaramouche in your mouth. They may switch up when you still have the stamina but that's their default order, and yes, you orgasm multiple times and are overstimulated a lot. To the point that you're getting used to it.

It's a golden rule to always shower before and after your session, and they would be very caring and gentle during aftercare. With this arrangement, you always have a large bed rented or in your arsenal for a huge cuddle session at night.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #xiao x Reader #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #poly #smut #not for children kinda #exile.flower #exile.goblet #kabdisnsosmsps

[navegandoaciegas]

Messy

Pairing: chubby!Bucky x f!Reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, watersports, omorashi, sub/dom (not too much imo but Bucky is the more submissive one), humping, cum.

Summary: It was always the same game but neither of you could ever get tired of it. He’d pretend he was doing you a favor by humoring your kinks, and you’d act like you didn’t know that he was just as eager- if not more- as you.

Word count: slightly over 1k

A/N: My comeback after two months of not writing anything due to my mental health crisis and of course it’s got piss in it lmfao please don’t read it watersports bother you!

Commissioned by @chubbybuckydumpling

It started with an accident, like most sexual things do, one humiliating on Bucky’s part and quite uncomfortable- in more than one sense- on yours.

One that, despite his endless stuttered apologies and your drenched sheets, you’d found exciting rather than gross, like some forbidden switch had flipped in your brain, and suddenly you were getting off seeing your boyfriend squirm and struggle to hold his pee.

Today was no different, with Bucky moaning, whining and panting above you, bathed in the soft red hues of your colored lights, half lidded eyes blown with pleasures and pain.

He looked ethereal, yet so sinful, his chubby cheeks flushed and his face scrunched up.

One of your hands grasped his hard cock over his boxers, thumb hovering over his leaking slit, barely grazing it. He shuddered and twitched over you, gripping your shoulder while grinding his hips on yours.

“Please, please princess, I can’t- I can’t hold it anymore,” he panted, “It hurts so much.”

You chuckled, tracing up the dark hair that trailed his belly, his full bladder bulging out of it.

Your fingertips brushed the firm swelling as your core got warmer with each little whimper, each tear that fell down his bottom lashes, each audible gulp.

Your hand on his chubby belly only added to the strain, his desperate need to finally empty himself after hours of suppressing and ignoring the urge to piss.

But the fun of watching him squirm and cry wasn’t over yet.

You pressed onto his bladder, a feral grin spreading over your lips as Bucky squeaked, clinging to you in a bruising grasp and pressing his thighs together, desperate to hold his flow in.

“No, no, I can’t, don’t-” he whimpered, letting his head fall onto your tits, his chest heaving with labored breath, “I need to.”

You hushed him, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of his neck, “What do you need, hm? Use your words baby.”

Bucky hesitated a second too long for your liking, and you dug in his bladder again, more forcefully this time, enjoying the way his eyes widened in horror as he tried to get away from you.

You felt wetness on you, seeping into your panties, and took notice of the large wet patch of piss he couldn’t hold in on his boxers.

“Tell me, what do you need?”

He took a harsh breath in, crystal eyes darting between yours.

Humiliation looked good on Bucky, especially when he struggled to find the words and keep his wet boxers away from your body at the same time. Especially when he flushed so red that the artificial hues of your lights paled in comparison.

“I-I need to go,” he gulped, averting his eyes, “I need to go to the bathroom, it hurts too much.”

You hummed, reaching down to grasp his wet boxers, fondling with his softening cock.

Bucky grimaced, bowing his head to avoid your piercing gaze.

It was always the same game but neither of you could ever get tired of it. He’d pretend he was doing you a favor by humoring your kinks, and you’d act like you didn’t know that he was just as eager- if not more- as you.

“I can’t say no to my pretty boy, can I?” you asked, inching your hand towards his bulging belly, offering him no warning before you pushed down on him.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, finally losing control.

Bucky’s arms buckled under his weight, and he crashed down on you with a yelp whilst releasing his bladder on you. He kept his eyes tightly shut, almost mewling at the sweet feeling of finally being able to piss.

The squelching sounds of Bucky’s belly sticking to yours, mixed with the pungent smell of his piss, would have been sickening if it weren’t for the warmth that seeped into your panties, erasing all rational thoughts out of your head.

By the time he was done, he looked fucked out of his mind, overcome with the need to feel your hot core pressed against his hardening cock.

“Feel better now?” you hummed, rolling your hips on his, seeking some friction to relieve your neglected clit.

Bucky seemed perpetually conflicted between embarrassment, humiliation, and complete and utter bliss. The corner of his lips lifted in a tiny smile, but he offered you no answer, choosing to grab the back of your head and slam his lips on yours instead.

You were both feral, humping each other, his hips rolling over yours, his painfully hard dick rubbing on your swollen clit.

You kissed him roughly, one hand on his chin and the other in his boxers, teeth clashing and his blunt nails surely scratching the underside of your tits where he pawed at you with desperation.

He groaned into your mouth as you twisted your hand around his dick with a flick of your wrist, relentlessly massaging the sensitive area of the head.

His hands were all over and nowhere at the same time, rolling your nipples, pinching your thighs, scissoring your pussy open, your head empty except for his scorching touch and equally hot piss dripping from the dips of your bodies onto the sheets.

He moaned, a broken, needy sound, hips stuttering as he came all over your stomach, his warm load adding to the mess of bodily fluids on your bodies.

Despite the shortness of breath and the exhaustion, Bucky kept jerking his fingers inside your pussy, rubbing his palm on your clit.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your walls throbbing around his meaty fingers until you too were reaching your peak, gentle waves of pleasure washing through you as you rode out your high on Bucky’s hand.

You both laid in your mess, spent but content, until a wave of cold had washed over you and the pee had cooled.

You turned your head to the side where Bucky was sprawled on the bed, eyes following the gentle slope of his nose and the beads of sweat on his round cheeks.

You stared, enchanted by his beauty for a small, fleeting moment, before the discomfort of your messy bed became too much for you to bear.

“Last one to get to the shower washes the sheets,” you shouted, jumping to your feet.

By the time you were out the door he was still struggling to get up your bed, head still swimming and body sore.

He huffed, and followed the pitter patter of water on tiles to your bathrooms, a small smile on his lips.

He’d wash the damn sheets again, and continue pretending like he minded.

—-

I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave some feedback and reblog if you did.

My commissions are open if you want to help this broke bitch out ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine

[dreaminpetals]

COMMISSION: norton & naib watch their s/o bleed out on the rocket chair, then comfort each other after 🧲 🔪

norton campbell ;;

Your heart dropped to your feet when you heard the chime that indicated a survivor had been knocked down. You prayed as you decoded ー Please don't be Nor, please don't be Nor ...

Hearing a laboured "Focus on decoding!" confirmed your fears. It was muffled, distant, but distinct. Norton had been chaired.

The frantic hammering of your heart in your ears overtook your senses as you sprinted towards the chair, shouting to Helena that you were going to rescue him. Your heart overpowers your brain whenever Norton is in even the slightest ounce of danger. This was one of those instances. You should have thought twice before hurrying to his aid.

You exhaled a sigh of relief when you approached his chair and noticed there was no hunter to be seen. Norton however had the opposite reaction. His expression contorted into one of pure terror when he saw you were the one rescuing him.

"Leave me! Get away from me!" His words fell to deaf ears as you dashed towards him, arms open and ready to free him from his confines.

Everything was going smoothly until you heard the words that would stay with you forever.

"Jack is behind you!"

It was a trap.

In a heartbeat, your back was slashed open and you collapsed to your hands and knees.

"Lovebirds," Jack hummed, stomping on your wounded back, earning a scream from Norton. "Now, where's that decoder..." he turned on his heel and vanished to hunt down Helena with an unmistakable bloodlust.

You weren't panicking yet. You could simply heal yourself, andー

You were out of self heals.

"The hunter is near me!" Helena wailed from across the map, sending ice straight down the spines of you and your boyfriend. The fourth survivor had been eliminated already. There was no saving you.

Norton's entire body was wracked by sobs as you lay curled in a ball on the ground, writhing around in utter agony. If it wasn't for the bar squeezing him down into the rocket chair, he would bandage you up and press endless kisses onto your bloodied skin, his own safety be damned.

He had never seen anybody bleed out before. The Prospector has always managed to heal his teammates, his only punishments being faced on rocket chairs. In Norton's eyes, you were going to die.

"It's okay," you choked out, "I'll be... be..."

"You're going to die," Norton whimpered in the highest tone you've ever heard from him. He sounded like a child with the way his raspy voice cracked.

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he think bleeding out was fatal? Oh no.

You ached to explain to him that the worst consequences were comas that lasted no longer than a week, but you were losing strength. Fast. As your throat closed up, speech became more and more difficult. It felt as if glass was piercing your windpipe, concealing the truth from your guilt stricken lover.

"'Sall my fault... fuck, I love you, okay?" He hiccuped through strained wheezes for air.

'Don't say that... I'll be okay...' you yearned to respond, but each second the invisible weight on your back grew, crushing you further.

Although your vision was spotting and blurring, you could see Norton tremble where he sat. His fingers gripped the bar holding him hostage until they bled. He was using all of his strength to attempt to free you somehow.

With one final, ragged breath, you closed your eyes and succumbed to your injuries. Norton didn't scream like you thought he would. He watched you sink into the ground in utter silence, sniffing back tears and coughing sporadically.

Despite the agony you endured mere minutes ago, you weren't rendered unconscious like previous, less fortunate survivors. You could walk, albeit with jittery legs and a weight on your back forcing you down. Having regained some strength, you noted that you could speak as well. Every bone in your body was aching for you to find Norton and save him from his unnecessary grief.

You immediately captured Helena's undivided attention when you hobbled into the manor, leaving a steady red trail behind you. She wrapped your wounds up with the first aid kit she kept on her, the smell of blood that lingered in the air faded with every careful swipe of your skin. Since you were in the room for injured survivors, Norton didn't see you when he stormed back into the manor. His physical wounds were nothing compared to his emotional ones. If only Helena finished patching you up just a minute earlier, he could have seen that you survived far earlier.

"Norton is in your room, by the way," Helena began, patting you on the back to signal that her work was done, "in the one you share. I asked where he was going."

"Our room," you repeated to yourself under your breath. You thanked Helena and promptly headed to your room, legs carrying you as fast as they could take you.

You were out of breath once you reached your shared room. A series of knocks on the door were greeted with silence. You noticed that the static sobbing from the room paused for a moment, then resumed.

Twisting your key into the door and unlocking it, you saw Norton swiftly hide your shirt underneath your pillow. Was he trying to get the last of your scent before it faded away forever?

"So. You've come to haunt me too." He spat, burning holes into your face with his unwelcoming glare. "Just like everyone else from the mines. Fuck off."

"Norton, it's me,"

"You're only pretending to be them. Second I acknowledge you're not real you'll go away."

His words shattered your heart.

Approaching him with caution, you kneeled onto the bed beside him and placed your palm on his cheek. He leaned into your touch despite his harsh words, his tear streaked face dampening your hand. "If I wasn't real, would I be this warm?" You whispered as soft as your voice could manage to be. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared into your eyes, searching for any signs of life. Your eyes were too warm and full of adoration to be a hallucination, a ghost, a memory.

"How did you...?" he began, teetering on the verge of tears again.

"I'm hurt, but... I'd never die on you, Nor. It's okay. I'm here." You pressed a nurturing kiss to his nose and felt his face heat up underneath yours. Pressing your forehead against his, he felt no malicious intent from you, unlike all the other visions he saw of his deported loved ones. He felt nothing but love and kindness from you, the same way he's always remembered you.

"It's really you," he uttered your name like a prayer, voice flickering above a whisper, before enveloping you in his arms and pulling you snug close to him. He bawled into your shoulder, letting the warmth of your body comfort him after one of the most horrifying moments of his life. You could feel his snot and hot tears bubble on your shoulder but you didn't mind in the slightest. You were home, in Norton's arms.

You knew that for Norton to cry in front of you, he was wounded deep. It was rare to see tears fall from his eyes and to feel him cling to you, terrified of letting go. Between pants, you could hear him beg for you to stay and never die on him. His pleas were answered by soft hushes and gentle kisses.

Norton pulled away for a fleeting moment to turn you around and examine your wounded back. There was a rip through your top and underneath were bandages stained with dry blood. Helena did a decent job of patching you up, though she definitely missed a few spots. Norton pressed chaste kisses to the exposed skin, his silent way of reassuring you he loved you no matter what.

"I'll kill him for doing this to you," your boyfriend hissed, teeth ghosting along your flesh. "I'll make him pay." His mouth was still connected to your back, and he could feel you shiver in response to his words.

"Nor, you don't needー"

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. If anyone... if anyone ever does this to you a second time, I'll..."

"Norton."

Your sudden sharp tone caused him to freeze. Had he gone too far? His demeanour immediately switched and he pulled away from you, offering you a toothy grin to show he sincerely meant no harm.

You pulled your shirt back down and turned around so your calm eyes could meet his wide ones. "I'll be okay. I'm more worried about you, if anything. Come here." You patted your lap and the back of Norton's fluffy hair soon met your thighs. He laid down and began to rub the tears from his eyes, before you pushed his hands away and rubbed them into nothingness yourself.

He loved laying in your lap. Whether he was having flashbacks of past events, or if he was hurt from a match, laying his head on your soft thighs and gazing up at you with love never failed to calm him down. He felt so safe and warm.

"Have a little rest, Nor. I'll be here when you wake up." You rubbed calming circles into his hair as he nodded. His eyes closed, then opened again to ensure that you really were there and you truly were alive. You shushed him, both hands massaging his scalp until he drifted off into a comfortable sleep. He would do anything for you.

naib subedar ;;

"Naib's been containing the hunter for so long, you think we should help out?" Luca asked you as the two of you drummed away at a cipher machine together. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling yourself away from the noisy machine and overturning your empty pockets.

"I don't have any self heals, though. I'll shout if I need anything." This time it was Luca's turn to nod as he smacked the machine, steadily making progress towards your escape.

You roamed the abandoned factory for a few moments before hearing a distant yelp and the sound of someone falling to the ground. You followed the source of the sound to the factory, and the metallic clunks of Guard 26 carrying your lover to the basement made your skin crawl. This rescue was going to be tremendously difficult.

"Don't rescue me!" Naib managed to rasp as the hunter slammed him into the rocket chair. You could hear the pain in his voice even though he tried to mask it. It was always like Naib to hide his true feelings behind a cold front.

You knew Guard 26 chairing your only rescuer in the basement was a recipe for disaster, but you wanted to at least attempt to save him.

Hopping down the stairs, you were met face to face with the hunter. Their cogs whirred as they advanced towards you, and you stunned them momentarily.

"Oh, you're so stupid [Name]," Naib sighed as your fingers danced across the bar holding him captive. "Go back to where it's safe!" You ignored his cries and slid to the side, dodging one of Guard 26's strikes. The floor began to light up in an array of colours under you which you miraculously dodged, earning a gasp from your chaired lover.

Unfortunately, you weren't able to pull off the rescue of your dreams this time. You attempted to psyche out the hunter and trick them into hitting the chair, but their spiked bat met your side before you could pull away. Despite arriving without even a scratch, the impact of being hit as you rescued caused you to fall to your knees.


Blood pooled underneath you and you gritted your teeth as you waited to be chaired, the pain overriding your senses and bringing tears to your eyes.

That relief never came.

The haunting dings of Guard 26 slowly dissipated as they hopped up the stairs to find Luca. There were several other chairs in the basement, why didn't they chair you? It must be in their wiring to save as much time as possible.

You clutched at your stomach, wincing as crimson bloomed on your shirt. Panic hadn't filled your veins yet. You applied pressure to your wound, using the same healing tactics Naib had taught you before. Your plan was to do all you could while you were downed, then call Luca for help at the last minute.

Until Luca was terrorshocked.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Naib's the second you both heard him collapse against the cipher machine. Anxiety began to set in, your movements growing more sloppy. You nicked yourself more often, and Naib noticed it too.

"Easy there... Deep breaths, all right?" He cooed, wriggling to free himself from the grip of the rocket chair. His struggles were unsuccessful, though. No matter how hard he tried to escape for you, the chair wasn't merciful whatsoever.

You felt your body grow numb as you lost more blood. You could no longer feel the cold tiles of the basement. To you, everything was cold. You scooched closer to the chair Naib was trapped in and extended a hand. "Naib, I... I can't feel my legs," although his movements were limited, he was able to wrap his hand around yours and squeeze it tight.

"You're gonna be fine." He was lying through his teeth. Naib could see the glassy look in your eyes, hell, as your hand quivered in his, he could feel the life draining from it. Your voice wasn't a comfort to him anymore, every word you spoke was full of agony and he wished you would stay quiet as to not worry him more.

Naib has seen this before. He's been pinned under debris, forced to watch a comrade succumb to their injuries. It's why he's the man he is today. Always self-sacrificing, never leaving anyone behind. Yet he couldn't extend the same behaviour to you... his lover was bleeding out in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do. He tried so desperately to hide the fear from his face, but a single tear slid down his cheek and his expression sunk when he felt you begin to fade away. As you melted into the ground, Naib cried out your name until there was nothing left of you to hold. Then he followed.

You were awoken by the sound someone scurrying towards you. Rubbing your eyes, you saw a flash of colour before an excited hand met your shoulder. "You're finally up. Can you walk?" It took a few moments to process Naib's words. As you scanned the room around you, you spotted bouquets of flowers and numerous get well soon cards.

"What... what happened to me?" You groggily asked as you gazed at your hands. They had been bandaged up with care.

Naib swallowed hard as he replied, "you've been out for around a day. I've been looking after you... hope you don't mind." As your vision adjusted to the bright lights of your room, you noticed his shirt had been discarded and his chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. Both of you were left bruised and battered from that hellish match, it seems.

Your heart soared as you thought about how much Naib must adore you to watch over you like that. Though he acted coolly as if his actions were no big deal, you could sense that he was still worried about you. He touched you as if you were made of glass and his usual scratchy voice was replaced by a soft, considerate one ー an attempt to ease your anxieties and make you more comfortable.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," his hand connected to yours and eased your weight onto the floor below you. You stumbled over your feet, but quickly met Naib's chest as his arms wrapped around your back. "Easy there, I've got you." He let you lean on him for support and helped you peel off your bloodied shirt before drawing a bath for you.

Naib kneeled beside the bubblebath you rested in, scrubbing your hair with his calloused fingers. It tickled ever so slightly, you couldn't remember the last time somebody had handled you with such care. His hands maneuvered around your body with precision and care as he washed away all of the dirt and dust that marred your skin.

A comfortable silence hung in the air until you decided to speak up, "what about you? Do you want me to wash you as well?"

Naib's expression softened when he heard your voice. "Iー uh, I'm good." His blunt response didn't match his gaze in the slightest.

"I can see you wince every time you lift your arms. And you smell."

"...Fine." He huffed in defeat, beckoning you to scootch forward to make room for him in the tub. You felt the water splash as he took a seat behind you and pulled you into his arms. "Hey. What you did yesterday... don't do it again, okay? I don't want you getting hurt ever again."

You turned over your shoulder to face him and he offered you a faint smile. It wasn't like his usual smug grins, it was more tender, something he couldn't get rid of upon seeing you awake again.

You could keep your head in Naib's warm chest forever, his steady heartbeat and the occasional ripples of water filling your ears. You were on the verge of falling asleep when you remembered that Naib needed to be scrubbed too.

Lifting his arms up above your head, you escaped his gentle grasp and turned around to face him. His expression was one of grumpiness after you slithered free from his arms, but the second you grabbed a loofah and massaged his skin his gaze molded into a loving one. His cuts had faded and closed up but they were definitely visible, and they looked like they hurt. A lot.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless, I just wanted you to get out safe." You whispered between fond swipes of his chest, really getting the soap in there.

He rested his arms on the edges of the tub, huffing in response. "When I tell you not to rescue, don't rescue, okay? Your safety's more important than mine." You attempted to object to his brash statement, but he shut you up with a kiss and stole the breath from your lips. Your lips remained connected for a few lingering seconds, and Naib deepened the kiss right as you expected him to pull away.

"...I thought I was going to lose you," he muttered against your skin, pulling away and pressing another, sweeter kiss to the corner of your lips. "Water's getting cold... let's get out," he drained the tub and scooped you up into his arms, bringing you to your bed and wrapping you up in a bathrobe. You were perfectly capable of dressing yourself, but Naib's must-take-care-of-lover instincts refused to let you do that.

He snuggled up to you from behind, nose breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. "Goodnight, love." And you dozed off in his arms, ever protective of you.

#norton campbell x reader #norton campbell #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines

[jincherie]

say so | knj & ksj [m]

! —  COMMISSION  — !

❥ — pairing: namjoon x reader x seokjin ❥ — genre: poly, 1950s au/rockabilly au, smut, childhood f2l, angst, fluff, musician!namjin, burlesque!mc ❥ — words: 24.5k+ ❥ — rating: 18+ ❥ — warnings: light angst, pining, smut !!!; oral (all kinds), anal, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, edging, light switch!joon, light switch!oc, harder dom!jin, double pentration, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl etc.... if I forgot sometihng I will add it later but for now this is it fellas. ❥ — notes: oh my god I am FINALLY ejecting this fic from my brain !!! part of the reason this took so long was, of course, the current circamstances across the world mixed in with a few personal factors, but also because I haven’t written a ‘historical’ fic before and I wanted to make sure I got it right ! of course, that somehow ended with me going way over word count so i am so sorry for that, but i truly hope you like it! I haven’t gone over it yet but i will do that later, i just wanted to post and get this fic out of my asshole

Returning to your hometown for a week is something you’ve managed to avoid for three years, but when you can finally put it off no longer you find upon arrival the very thing you were scared of encountering. When the two famous childhood friends you haven’t spoken to in years have returned at the same time as you, you can’t quite tell whether you’re going to be able to make it out in one piece or emerge with a heart more wounded than before.

Especially since it turns out the feelings you thought you were over never quite went away.

— masterlist |  posted; 17.08.2020

You didn’t really expect to find yourself back here so soon, but here you are— everything in your room is in exactly the same state as it was three years ago.

The covers on your bed, the magazine cuttings, faded posters and hand-painted canvases that mark the phases of your youth hung on your wall—even the light-toned floral wallpaper and the little knickknacks atop your dresser are the same. It makes something like nostalgia rise within you, a reminiscent haze filtering through your thoughts. It has been too long since you’ve been back here, and the guilt that always lingers in the back of your mind now pushes its way to the forefront. You feel bad, not having been back to your childhood home in so long, despite the reasons you had for moving away.

You haven’t been here all that long, but as soon as you finished talking with your parents downstairs your feet had carried you here, more out of habit that anything. Absentmindedly, you brush your hand over the oak of your dresser, curious when your fingertip comes back without a single speck of dust. Your mother must have come through often to clean. The realisation both warms your heart and compounds the guilt you feel, making you frown.  In an effort to distract yourself, you turn your gaze back to the rest of your old room, catching sight of a few photographs plastered above your study desk. You know what they contain, and still you can’t seem to help yourself as you draw closer and peer at them anew. They’re just as familiar to your eyes as you expected.

Of course, in this house you’d be lucky to find a photograph of you that didn’t also have these two in it. 

Your eyes skip over the older ones with yellowing glaze and curled corners to focus on the most recent-looking image, drinking in the two boys you’d spent the entirety of your childhood and teen years with. Easily your best friends, until… well, until three  years ago. A fond smile fights its way to your lips; you remember when this was taken. Your mother had lined the three of you up for a photo in the yard but at the very last second they’d pushed you into the pool. Both boys stand tall in the image, but you’d recognise the taller one with the goofy grin anywhere, even if his face wasn’t already plastered across newspapers and featuring on the television every other evening. Namjoon is just as boyish in the image as you recall, and next to him where they stand laughing over the pool is Seokjin, appearance every bit as neat and clean as you’ve glimpsed in recent years when he has featured in a magazine or program that is particularly popular with the youth. It was always a bit weird to you, a little hard to process, that the two boys you’ve known since the three of you were in diapers are now pretty much, well… celebrities. Something bubbles in your chest, the pressure of a sigh but the weight of something you’re not quite ready to name yet. Distantly, in the back of your mind, a tiny part of you whispers that it tastes a little like regret, and sounds a little like yearning.

Growing up, the two of them had discovered an affinity for music, and you for the arts. You suppose that small difference is what eventually led to the distance that grew between you, before you left— if not for the fact that they found the limelight so naturally and built popularity quicker than anticipated after their individual musical debuts. It really didn’t take them all that long to begin steadily growing their fanbase within the youth of your town, their songs played more and more often on local stations. Before long people even a few cities over caught wind of them, but you didn’t get to see it. By the point they had spread their wings that far, you were already gone.

You wrinkle your nose, not liking this sudden trip down a particular lane in your memory that you’ve been avidly avoiding the past three years. Taking a step back from the desk that the photographs hang above, you desperately search for something else to capture your attention. Fortunately for you, a voice sounds behind you before you can flounder too long.

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually came. How long has it been, forty years?”

You jump slightly, the familiarity of the voice and sheer amount of attitude in the words allowing you to recognise it instantly. You spin, eyes quickly locking onto the familiar head of straight blonde hair and cherubic features that belong to your sister. You’ve kept in touch with her via letter and the occasional call, but other than that this is the first time you’ve seen her in years. She’s a little bit taller than you remember, and she’s filled out a little more now that she’s no longer a gangly teen. You are surprised though to note the absence of the usual distressed denim that she favoured throughout the years. Instead she’s in a neat pair of capris that rise to the dip of her waist, where she has tucked in a bright red blouse beneath a belt. Out of habit, you look down to her feet and catch a glimpse of red canvas shoes that instantly make you want to laugh; your mother never could get her into a pair of heels, even if she managed to get her out of the dungarees that she used to love so much.  Lisa smiles cheekily beneath your scrutiny, opening her arms wide. With a laugh, you throw your own around her, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you retort, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it. “Of course I would come to celebrate my own sister’s engagement. I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it.”

“Why does everyone say the same thing when I talk about it?” Lisa groans, pulling back with a familiar pout that seems to have survived her transition into young adulthood. She slips her arm through your own,  giving your bicep a smack as she leads you from the room. “It’s not that hard to believe that I’m getting married! Also— what on earth have you been up to all these years? Have you been attending classes? You’re in such good shape, oh my goodness—”

Unwittingly, your cheeks flush; you probably shouldn’t tell her the real reason for your current physique lest she blab with champagne-loosened lips about it to the rest of your family at her party. Sober Lisa is the only one that knows how to keep a secret, as you’ve found out through a number of shamefully scrawled confessions in the letters she would send you. A number of things you’d confided in her over the years have since been aired like dirty laundry to some of her friends, much to your mutual regret.

“Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you say dismissively, quickly returning to the previous topic as the two of you descend the stairs. “And it’s probably because of all those things you said when you were younger, like how you’d rather live in a mud hut on a deserted island than ever marry a smelly boy riddled with cooties—”

“Ah, yes,” Lisa sighs, the sound more fond and less ashamed than you were expecting. “Those were the days— I was such a badass little ankle-biter. What has become of me? I must be the one riddled with cooties at this point.”

“Probably,” you muse, catching sight of your mother behind the kitchen counter and shooting her a smile as you move past. Lisa is lucky she hadn’t spoken too loudly or else she’d be getting a light smack for her language. It never seemed to stop her when she was younger though, so you doubt it would have an effect now either.

“A skirt at the knee, y/n?” Your mother lets out a dramatic, scandalous gasp upon seeing you. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“These are the clothes that you greeted me in?” You give her a pained look; apparently you need readjusting to her oddball sense of humour. She’s always been a little out of place in the straight-laced, conservative society that marks this day and age; your father too, except he was just a bit more sneaky about it. Actually, now that you think about it, Namjoon and Seokjin’s parents were always a little more on the liberal side too… What an odd coincidence that the three families ended up in a row at the end of the same cul-de-sac.

You’re not deigned with a response, your mother smacking her hands onto the apron she has tied over her baby blue skirt and turning to the oven. You think you hear her muttering about ‘time’ and ‘darn apple pies always taking too long to cook’ and can’t help the way your mouth waters in response. Gods, is it bad if one of the things you missed the most while away is the apple pies your mother makes?

You turn to Lisa, about to ask her whether the apple pie is something you’re going to be able to steal a piece of, only to find that she’s disappeared into thin air. Fantastic. You’re not staying here while you’re back in town, so you’re unsure whether you’re going to be able to cash in on dinner or whether your mother will hold it over your head a little first. You wander over to the  edge of the kitchen, sticking your head into the living room to peer around; you’re curious as to just how much has changed in the time that you’ve been gone. Not as much as you might have hoped, to your chagrin.

“You still have that ugly old thing,” you observe, unable to help the way that your nose wrinkles in response to the sight of the monstrosity still wearing holes into the carpet of the living room.

“My love,” you mother says, giving you an (affectionate) sharp smack on the shoulder as she slips past you, shooting you a bright grin when the thickness of her skirt knocks you slightly. Apparently she’s finished in the kitchen for now; you glance back to see a bowl of nuts joining the bowl of fruit that had been on the counter earlier. “I’d sooner perish than give up your grandmother’s armchair. Besides…. I do so adore how it never fails to draw your ire.”

“I do hate that thing,” your father utters suddenly from the kitchen behind you, his hand reaching for the bowl of fruit; he has his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, so you figure he must have retired to his study to read after greeting you earlier. He moves just as fast as you remember— your mother didn’t even have a chance to stop him before he was gone as quick as he came, hands full of whatever fruit he couldn’t fit in his mouth. 

“You—!” 

The sound of your father’s laughter tumbles off the walls, and you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You did miss this; the liveliness, the feeling of home. 

“y/n, dear, darling, light of my life…”

You turn to your mother, already knowing what is coming next from her tone. One thing you definitely didn’t miss—

“I forgot when I went past earlier, but could you go and fetch some cream from Barb’s? You know, that little store on the corner, down the road from the diner you always used to—”

You’re already turning towards the front of the house, heading for where you’d left your purse with a fond roll of your eyes. “I know where Barb’s is, Ma! I only went away to study, I didn’t lose my memories!”

Your mother’s cheeky laugh is what bids you farewell as you duck out the door and start on your way.

X – x – x

You’d forgotten just how tempting the treats in Barb’s are.

When you exit the small corner store around an hour or so later (it was hardly any distance to walk, but of course Mrs. Park was keen to hold you hostage long enough to squeeze every single detail out of you she could about your time away) it’s with an overflowing paper bag in your arms that holds more than just the cream your mother sent your for. One look at the apple Danish pastries and cinnamon-sprinkled goodies behind the glass of her counter and you’d been unable to help yourself. Your mother did always say that your sweet tooth would be your undoing. 

Walking through the streets that you grew up becoming so familiar with breeds a certain kind of yearning that swells in your chest and borders on painful. This, you suspect, is because most— if not all— of your memories of this place are intrinsically linked with those of the two men who used to take up such a big part of your life; and that therefore then left such a big hole when they were gone. 

It’s hard not to fall into them, the memories. The candy store where the three of you would scrounge up as many coins as you could and pile them all together to get the best sweets on the shelves; the library where you spent as much time goofing off and getting scolded as you did studying in your senior years; even the drive-in cinema, where you used to take your parents cars for the evening and sit on the hood while poking fun at the latest flick to grace the screen. Being back here is making you face something that you have somehow skilfully managed to avoid up until now—

You miss them, Seokjin and Namjoon. You miss your best friends.

This is something that is hammered home further when you reach the point in your journey home where you pass the place featured most in your memories. Dana’s Dinery, probably the only thing more constant in your life than those two boys and your own family. The pink and red hues of its name and the exposed bulbs decorating the signage are something you remember clear as day, and just the sight of it alone has your mouth watering for the burgers and other fried goods they loved to serve there. The kind of food you know is terrible for you, but that you also just can’t get enough of nonetheless. You’ve spent so many nights there that at some point every single member of staff there knew you by name. Of course, since the three of you were barely seen apart at that time, they knew Seokjin and Namjoon, too. 

You’re tempted to duck in and say hello, and before you can even give it much thought your feet are already angling you in that direction, short heels scuffing against the pavement. Through the window you can see the familiar shiny red booth seats and the similarly upholstered stools that line the counter; behind it is a woman with wild, dark curls thrown back in a bun, a pencil behind her ear. Ah, so Mrs. Cara still works there. A petal of affection unfurls in your chest at the sight of her, but drops to the ground in the next second as your gaze slides to the side and halts on two figures currently seated at the counter.

No way. No way.

You freeze, eyes wide as you stand rooted to the spot for just a moment. You know that logically, they can’t be here, but the profiles you can just barely glimpse from this distance are so eerily familiar to that of Namjoon and Seokjin that you think your heart skips perhaps one too many beats. For some reason, your stomach roils with the urge to flee; you just got around to admitting that you miss them, and yet the second you think you might be seeing them, you want to run away? Honestly, it doesn’t make sense—wouldn’t make sense to anyone else privy to the thoughts currently whipping through your mind. 

But you’re a master at stewing in your own thoughts and feelings, familiar with dissecting them until you understand them to the best of your ability at the time. So you know why you promptly turn on your heel and begin hastily back on your way home, abandoning any plans to go inside the diner. You know why, but you’re not quite ready to dwell on it yet, so you push it to the backburner and do your very best not to think about it the whole walk back.

X – x – x

You’re ashamed.

A huff escapes you, your eyes boring into the ceiling, unfocused. After delivering the cream to your mother (and promptly having the extra sweets confiscated until after dinner, lest you snack away your appetite—you guess that answers your question about whether you’re staying for supper) you decided to retire up here for now. You’d thought that your room might feel a little alien to you after all this time away, but when you’d dragged yourself in and shucked your shoes off at the door, it had welcomed you back with an air of nostalgia and open arms. You’re sprawled across your bed now, arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. When you were younger, maybe fourteen, you had decorated it with little stars and planets that you’d painted. Well, it wasn’t just you—some of the more crudely decorated renditions towards the wall are courtesy of Seokjin and Namjoon. You wouldn’t say they’re bad at art, just that they have… well, a distinct style that is very them.

Wait, you’re getting distracted—back to the matter at hand: you’re ashamed. 

At this point in your life, if someone had asked you why that particular emotion might be plaguing you right now, then in all honesty you would have a vast array of reasons to give them. But the answer as to why you’re ashamed right now, lies in the two people you could have sworn you glimpsed earlier. 

Now that there is a little temporal distance between you and that particular moment, you can use logic to assure yourself that there’s no way you actually just saw Namjoon and Seokjin at the diner that you all used to haunt in your youth. But in the moment, when you thought you’d seen them, you fell into a bit of a panic. This, you have determined, is because you are ashamed. It’s a little harder to determine why you’re ashamed in relation to them, but what you’ve managed to discern so far is that you feel to blame for the way things went, at least partially. Or, perhaps its that you fear they blame you for the way things went. In reality, from what you remember, they first began to grow apart from each other, and then they began to grow apart from you. That, of course, isn’t something you can blame yourself for. But, what you can blame yourself for – and here is what you think may be the root of your shame – is that you were the one to up and leave suddenly. You were the one to disappear without even a goodbye, almost. You could have kept in touch if you tried, but you’d basically disappeared off the face of the earth.

You wonder if they blame you, or if they might even resent you because of that.

Well, if they even remember you, that is. They’re pretty much in the big leagues now, you remind yourself. They’re making it mainstream and they’re hot on the heels of the most renowned names in the business. 

You’re not very good at comforting yourself. Not that you really attempted it this time, but usually whenever you do you just end up stewing in your thoughts a little. You don’t even realise you’re glaring at the ceiling in the midst of sorting through your mental mess until a knock at the door jerks you out of it. You turn towards it just as it opens and a head pops inside, a gleam you instantly decide you don’t like shining in Lisa’s eyes.

“Come downstairs,” she says cryptically, beginning to ease back out. She only chimes once more when she’s out of view. “If you don’t, I’ll eat all those pastries you brought back! Keep that in mind!”

What on earth… you’re left absolutely confused for a moment, before her last words sink in and you throw yourself from your bed with haste, not even bothering to put your shoes back on before you dart out of the room. The trip downstairs is treacherous in stockings, but you don’t have time to lose. You’re sister isn’t one to bluff, and you don’t want her anywhere near those pastries!

“Don’t you touch those!” you call in warning as you slide across the hardwood floor in the hall and fly down the stairs. “Lisa, I mean it! If you lay a single finger on those pastries you’ll lose it!”

There’s laughter in the direction of the kitchen, and you’re angled to follow the sound when your eyes catch sight of movement to the side and you freeze on the spot. 

“y/n!” your mother cries, clearly ecstatic that you’ve come down to join her. She’s standing in the hall that leads the front door, talking to some people you can’t yet see. “Look who’s here! My, I haven’t seen these two in almost as long as I hadn’t seen you!”

Something like dread, mixed with an odd spike of anticipation, begins to trickle into your abdomen. All too suddenly you remember exactly who you thought you saw earlier, and realise she can only be talking about two people in particular. 

Nervously, you smooth down your skirt and blouse, shooting your mother a look that you hope isn’t too panicked. She is, of course, oblivious, and simply grabs you by the arm to drag you around the corner. 

“I haven’t seen the three of you together in so long! I missed your handsome faces around here, too. Perhaps the height as well— now there’s no one in the house that can reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

Your mother is babbling, but you can’t bring yourself to mind when it saves you from having to speak yourself. As you’d feared, there are two very familiar people standing before you, hovering on your doorstep with almost nervous energy.

“It has been a while,” a soft tone with the luxurious depth of velvet— Seokjin smiles so charmingly at your mother that you think your heart really might have stopped for a second. When his dark eyes turn to you, there is something swirling in their depths that is in such contrast to the winning smile on his lips that you almost feel your knees shake. “y/n, it’s a lovely surprise to catch you here— we didn’t know you were in town as well.”

“Oh, and what brings you two boys back here?” Your mother asks, all too excited to hear exactly what has been going on in their lives since she saw them last. Thankfully, she saves you from having to answer straight away. “Are you back for long?”

“Just a week,” Namjoon answers, bashful smile juxtaposing the beaten leather of the jacket over his shoulders and the low, rough melody of his voice. Oh dear— “We’re actually here celebrating something with a close friend of ours; we were invited to a… party of sorts, you could say.”

You think you might be safe, that he might not say anything to you just yet, when he turns to you and his eyes flick along your form. He smiles again, this time with his dimples making an appearance. 

“It really has been too long, y/n. I’m glad we managed to run into you.”

You know it’s not a dig at you, but you feel your cheeks flush with shame nonetheless.

“Don’t tell me the three of you haven’t seen each other since she left,” your mother gasps, sending you a look that tells you she is going to be wringing information out of you later.

There’s a slight lull in the conversation that tells you it’s your time to chime in. Before you can, though, Seokjin speaks— still with a smile, despite the slight bite of his words. 

“Ah, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. He leans back slightly, switching his weight to the other leg and crossing his arms over his chest— you try not to look at the way it makes his chest and shoulders strain against the material of his button-up. “We wanted to write, or call, but we didn’t know where she was staying to send it. Made it a little hard to keep in touch.”

Your heart squeezes; that was a dig, that was definitely a dig. And you deserved it, but damn you didn’t realise it would hurt that much. And he hadn’t even said anything direct!

“Oh, well this is perfect then!” Your mother smacks you on the back, a little rougher than necessary, making you cough. “y/n is here for the week, why don’t you all catch up? Lisa’s engagement party is on Saturday so any day other than that should be fine— oh, you two should come, by the way! And invite your mothers too; it’s been too long since we’ve all sat down for tea.”

“That would be wonderful,” Namjoon agrees amicably, nodding his head to your mother. “I’m sure they’d love to take you up on that invite— I did get an earful about how lonely she was when I got home earlier.”

You have to fight a smile at that— Namjoon’s mother does have a penchant for the dramatics. You turn your gaze to the side to find Seokjin’s own already boring holes into you— it takes all your willpower not to jump. When he sees he has your attention, he smiles once more.

“We’d love to catch up,” he says, eyes still holding you captive. “How about dinner tomorrow, at Dana’s? I miss the burgers there.”

You catch Namjoon nodding from the corner of your eye, agreeing with the idea, and swallow your nerves down to flash a smile back. “Of course, that sounds fantastic.”

The two men nod, satisfied for now, and Namjoon pipes up once more as they take a step back.

“Well, we should probably get back— if we’re late for supper today we mightn’t be alive for dinner tomorrow,” he jokes, earning a laugh from your mother. His eyes flick to you, unreadable but holding such heat you almost gasp, “We’ll meet you there at seven tomorrow, y/n. I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

“See you, boys!” Your mother waves farewell, jabbing you with her elbow until you join her. “Hurry home!”

They nod with a laugh, and you watch them retreat to their respective homes on either side of yours until your mother closes the door and cuts off your view, turning to you with a look that could mean a number of things. She’s distracted from unleashing a verbal flood on you in the next moment, however, when she catches sight of your feet.

“y/n!” she gasps, tone scolding. “Go put your shoes on! Walking around without them— this isn’t how I raised you, my goodness. You’re going to wear holes in your stockings! Go go go!”

Startled by the way she raises her arm in promise, you yelp and scamper away, back towards the stairs. “Okay, I’m going!”

You’re about halfway up the stairs, petticoat and skirt swishing violently from how fast you scaled them, when she calls after you.

“And don’t think you’re off the hook, missy! You and I are having a long, in-depth chat after dinner!”

You can only resign yourself to your fate.

x - x - x

“I’m in trouble, Mina. Oh, I’m in trouble.”

“It can’t be anything more than the trouble you’re going to be in for wearing holes into the hotel room carpet— stop that! You’re making me anxious!”

You halt mid-pace, sending your friend a pained look. She’s sprawled across the second bed in your hotel room, reading some magazine that touts the latest in makeup and jewellery from some of the more big-name brands.

“Please, just this once, let me be the one having a Diva moment,” you say, almost begging— to your own distaste. You just need someone to vent to, but she’s not exactly being helpful.

“What is this about?” she asks, closing her magazine to pin you with a borderline-grumpy look. “What has your knickers in such a— oh, I love those shorts! Are those new?”

“Uh, yeah. I bought them the other week,” you answer, looking down at the light blue shorts you’d slipped into for comfort’s sake this morning. They’re so comfortable, in fact, that you regret that you’re unable to wear them in public. You quickly shake your head when you realise you’re getting off-topic. “Hey— I told you what this is about! Did you listen to a single thing I said since I got back last night? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mina utters under her breath. “Yes, I was listening! I was just checking we were talking about the same thing!"

The look you give her is dubious at best, "Okay, then what am I talking about?"

"Those two hot cats you grew up with," Mina says, waving her manicured hand dismissively. "What about them is giving you such grief?"

"I ran into them yesterday," you say, eyes unfocused as you fall back into your thoughts once more. "They want to meet for dinner, to catch up."

"Oh, well that's fine," Mina says. "You don't have feelings for them anymore, so it should be alright, yeah?"

You bite your lip, wincing and giving her a look that could only be described as a mixture between sheepish and remorseful.

"Oh, y/n," She sounds a lot like your mother with the tone she's taken now, "Don't tell me..."

"I thought I was over it!" you say, wailing almost, as you throw your arms into the air. "They were already so distant before I left, you know? And it's been so long that I thought the feelings went away."

You huff, one hand on your hip and the other splayed over your face. "But then I saw them yesterday, and I think I nearly had a heart failure. I don't think... that those feelings went away."

When you manage to glimpse her way, Mina is wincing, teeth visible. She reaches up to scratch her hairline, almost dislodging one of the curlers she has wound in her hair. "Well, it's just one dinner... When is it? I'm sure you have plenty of time to get rid of those feelings before you--"

"It's tonight," you say with a certain level of resignation, walking over to your own bed and finally throwing yourself onto it in defeat.

"Tonight?!" Mina positively squawks, scrambling into a sitting position in her disbelief. "Uh, y/n, I do hope you haven't forgotten, but we have a show almost every night Saturday--"

"I know," you bemoan, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the odd marks there-- you don't have the brain space to wonder how they even got up there in the first place. "The dinner will be finished in time, I'm not worried about that. I'm just... worried about what will happen during, you know? It's kind of stupid but... what if they hate me now? I didn't even tell them when I left, didn't give them an address to write me or a number to call..."

"Yeah, that was kind of a rude move," Mina says bluntly, "But I don't think they would invite you to dinner to catch up if they hated you, y'know? They were your best friends, they probably missed the hell out of you."

You ponder her words, unable to pick them apart with logic. "Maybe," you mutter, picking at a loose thread on your blouse."... I did miss them."

"See?" Mina says knowingly, giving you a look before falling back on the bed and reaching for the chunky romance novel that she has perched on the headboard above the bed.. "And who knows— you're a hot catch, they might end up returning those feelings and you might come out of this a lucky woman! Well, probably a bit sore in certain places, but lucky nonetheless—”

"MINA!"

The pillow you threw smacks her square in the face, but does nothing to muffle the cackle she lets out after. God, she's not the first choice to come to for advice, but to her credit you do feel a bit better now.

x- x - x

Seven o’clock that evening finds you hovering nervously outside the doors to Dana's Dinery, hand outstretched to take the handle but unable to follow through completely with the movement. For the moment, you're stuck in your thoughts, and your thoughts are stuck on the same thing that had plagued them earlier in the day.

What's going to happen when you walk in there? When you're seated at the table with them and in the process of catching up? You shouldn't be as fearful of it as you are, but you can't help it. The evolution your feelings for them undertook a few years ago aside, they were still very much your best friends. Their opinion of you... well it sucks, but it still matters to you.

Didn’t stop you from doing what you did though, did it?

Huffing and deciding to ignore the nasty little voice that is attempting to make an already stressful night even worse, you force your limbs into action and simply resign to bite the bullet. If they are upset with you, then being late to dinner certainly won’t help things. 

“y/n! Over here!”

With how quickly they spot you, mere seconds after passing through the doorway, a part of you wonders if they saw you hovering outside like a coward. Shame flushes across your neck and ears at the thought, but you do your best to remain at least outwardly unaffected.

Over in the booth at the very end of the diner, nestled against the window and the wall, the two men who have been haunting your thoughts for more than a day sit. You recognise the booth— it’s your Corner, you always sat there with them, to the point where if the staff saw anyone else sit there when they knew you were coming, they’d politely usher them to a new seat. It makes something shift inside you to see them there again. You don’t feel like you’re in school again, but something else feels akin to that time…

It’s probably the butterflies.

Namjoon is grinning at you widely, waving his arm; he’s ditched the leather from yesterday and is now donning a fitted black button-up that brings a nice contrast against the sun-kissed hue of his skin, though his hair is still swept into its style somewhat half-heartedly. Seokjin next to him is in a tan knit turtleneck sweater, glasses perched on his nose and hair attended to much more neatly than the man next to him. Both men are looking at you as you approach, but their stares (especially Seokjin’s) are a little too intense for you to handle, and you end up looking away as you take a seat across from them. 

The booth is less squeaky than you remember, but somehow just as plush. You place your purse and cardigan onto the red leather next to you, clasping your hands together and offering a tentative smile. The soft rock tumbling from speakers around the diner isn’t going to fill the lull in conversation for very long. “Hey, sorry to have kept you waiting…”

Seokjin raises a brow, and you know in that moment that they did indeed see you hovering outside the diner. You don’t have time to process the embarrassment that follows that realisation, though, before Namjoon begins speaking with a warm smile. 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t,” he informs you, eyes glimmering like he’s just happy to have you here. It makes something painful throb in your chest. “And loosen up, would you? You’re sitting like you’re at a job interview.”

To your embarrassment, a brief internal examination of your posture tells you that he is right. Sheepishly, you allow the tension to drain from your body, leaning forward onto the table slightly. “Sorry,” you mumble, offering a smile. “Guess I’m just a bit wound up from being home. I forgot how chaotic it is here…”

To your surprise, Seokijn snorts; your fears that he was truly upset with you are dispelled somewhat as a lopsided grin tugs his plush lips, eyes meeting yours levelly.  “Tell me about it. My mother had my aunt and the cousins over when I got home. I haven’t felt as exhausted as I did after that night in, well, years.”

You don’t notice the smile Namjoon shoots to the man beside him when he first speaks, but you do notice when he lets out a laugh and beams so brightly that his eyes almost close and something you completely forgot about makes an appearance. His dimples have always been a weak spot of yours, and you’re slightly horrified to find that glimpsing them now has led to a skipped beat in your chest and a flutter in your stomach. 

It’s not looking very good for the state of your old feelings right now…

“You never unwind properly,” Namjoon says, somewhat chastising despite his playful tone. He doesn’t pursue it further, though. Instead, he turns to you with a soft smile. “So, y/n, how was college? If you have replaced us as best friends, I will never forgive you.”

You can’t help the laugh that tumbles from your throat at both his words and his face, Seokjin chuckling to himself in the corner. Still smiling, you tell him that no, you haven’t replaced them, and sort through the events of your first year for something they’d like to hear. 

Just like that, and definitely much easier and less stilted than you feared it would be, the three of you seem to sink back into something like the old dynamic you used to share, conversation beginning to flow and laughter beginning to tumble. There are some small differences, of course. Namjoon, who used to be much more clumsy and prone to blushing in his fluster, now seems to have come into his own and his presence commands your attention whenever he speaks or gestures, each movement sure and with confidence. While Seokjin used to be the more blatant joker between the three of you, now he seems to sit back a bit, observing conversation contentedly until he sees the perfect opportunity to chime in and elicit a few laughs. 

And then, there’s you.

Well, you suppose you haven’t changed all that much. When Ms. Cara comes around to take your order (amongst gushing about how grown up and handsome and beautiful the three of you look), you still order the same thing from the menu, go about eating it the same way (fries before burger, being sure to leave some so you can slip them under the bun), and feel the same butterflies running amok in your stomach as you did years ago. You know that you’ve changed a lot, an almost scary amount, but sitting here in this diner with the two men who used to be your best friends, you’re only realising just how much of you is the same.  

“I still don’t know how you can eat that,” Namjoon says, pausing in scarfing his own dessert down to judge you for yours. “You always used to get it— aren’t you sick of it?”

“Hey!” Seokjin intercepts, pointing his spoon at Namjoon. “The Fun Sized Sundae with the Triple Sauce Special is a respectable choice of dessert, and I won’t have you shaming it when you’re just sitting there with pudding and custard!”

You chuckle at Seokjin’s avid defence of your choice— the two of you were the only ones with a big enough sweet tooth to be able to combat the sugary monster that is your choice of dessert. He hadn’t braved it tonight, though, opting instead for apple pie.

“I actually haven’t had it since I was last here,” you say, without even thinking. Another spoonful is already on its way to your mouth as you continue, “It’s one of the things I missed most after I—”

You cut yourself off, realising your blunder too late. The looks in their eyes tell you they know what you were about to say. After I left. Ah, how could you forget? You’ve been here over an hour and this is the first time it’s crossed your mind since you entered. You left— you. Not them, but you.

Your appetite suddenly begins to fade, and you place your spoon down as gently as you can. It still tinks against the bowl, but does little to break the tension beginning to seep into the air.

You clear your throat, growing a little antsy in your seat. Even as you ask, you’re unable to meet their eyes, “Ah, what time is it? We— I got a little carried away…”

The question had mostly been to dispel some of the awkwardness, but Namjoon’s response had you shooting up ramrod straight. “It’s five-to-nine.”

“Oh, shoot,” you don’t even think about the words escaping your mouth, just that way more time had passed than you thought and if you stay any longer then you’re going to be bordering dangerously close on being late for your other very important commitment tonight. “I— I have to go. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise how late it was.”

You hurry to gather your cardigan and purse, starting to shimmy out of the booth, when Seokjin speaks up, “Is everything alright? Where are you off to in such a rush? If you need, we can walk you—”

“No!” you burst, regret swallowing you moments later when you see how taken aback the two men are at your sudden rise in tone. “No, sorry, it’s okay. I just, um… I just have to pick up something, for Lisa’s party.”

“At nine o’clock at night?” Jin verifies, brows drawing down.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, voice small as you manage to finally get out of the booth and stand somewhat sheepishly at the end. “I’m so sorry, it was so lovely meeting you two again and catching up. I’ll, um… I’ll see you, at Lisa’s party.”

You barely allow them enough time to bid their own farewells before you’re turning on your heel and hightailing it out of there before one of them comes to their senses and offers to walk you again. 

You definitely do not need one of your old best friends walking you to the entrance of a club.

A fifteen minute cab ride is what you choose instead, and it isn’t long before you’re slipping into the building from the back entrance and dashing through the halls.

“FINALLY,” Mina erupts dramatically when she catches sight of you bursting into the dressing room, brows raising so high they almost meet her bangs. “I almost thought you were going to stand us up, Miss Luna.” 

Your eyes sweep over her form, alarm filling you at the fact she’s already mostly dressed, from her netted stockings to the many fluffy and feathery layers that she’ll be discarding on the stage tonight. She’s currently sitting at the dresser, putting the final touches on her makeup with small detail brushes.

“That lip colour is too orange,” you inform her, hastily rushing over to the chest that you know contains your outfit for tonight. Mina halts in her motions, staring at herself in the mirror for a long moment before she tilts her head back and lets out a loud, torturous groan.

“I knew it! Momo, you lied to me! I asked you if this colour was too orange or warm and you said—”

You shake your head, slinging the clothes you retrieved over your arm and making your way over to the screen in the corner to get changed. You feel a little bad for the girl currently on the receiving end of Mina’s whines, but on the other hand you’re now free to rush about and catch up to the rest of your co-performers. 

Within the next ten minutes you’re dressed and ready to go, dropping into a seat next to Mina and reaching to begin powdering your face.

From the tingle of excitement beginning to thrum in the air, you can only assume it won’t be long now before the show begins.

x   x   x   x 

Burlesque. It’s something that you know from experience, something you’d sadly gained before you grew more skilled at hiding your profession from the judging eyes of others, has some quite divided views and opinions. Despite how open-minded and liberal as your parents are, you know even they would struggle to come to terms with the fact that their beloved daughter had moved away for college and somehow come to perform in burlesque theatres on the side. 

You don’t even have a clear explanation as to how or why you’d ended up down this path, just that you had. Contrary to what a majority of the population would likely hope, you aren’t ashamed, and you don’t regret it. This is something you love, and you think part of the reason you had been so drawn to it in the first place was the promise of power nestled within a certain kind of anonymity.

Your act, after all, is a masquerade performed beneath the security of an intricate lace and silk colombina disguise.

When you’d first left, you’d felt… well, there wasn’t any other way to put it but rejected, and abandoned. You might have been the one that left, and it’s something you regret now, but at the time it was Namjoon and Jin who had grown distant from both each other and you. Coupled with their increasing popularity and the way their lives seemed to be picking up speed in the direction they’d always dreamed of, it made you realise that their world was getting a little too big for you, and in the scheme of their lives you no longer held a starring role.

So you’d packed up and moved away, and in the midst of your aimless moping in another city, you’d stumbled upon this… and from the first taste of empowerment it gave you in the wake of all you had been feeling, you quickly decided you weren’t going to be letting it go anytime soon. 

And now here you are; an act with such high regard and admiration that you had been called to perform it in other cities. It was a stroke of fortune that one of the stops was your own hometown, at the same time as your sister’s engagement party no less. You had wondered at the time what the catch had to be, and now, of course, you know.

It’s that in an instance of divinely aligned misfortune, the two people you’d planned to avoid indefinitely happened to be here as well.

It’s been a few days since the night you spent catching up with them, and there is enough distance between then and now for you to have calmed significantly when thinking about it. It had been kind of weird, sneaking away from the diner to come perform that night. Even though years have passed, you’re still so used to telling them everything whenever you see them, that holding something back feels foreign, and oddly enough… you feel a little guilty. The first excuse that comes to your mind in your defence is that  ‘they wouldn’t understand anyway’. You know that is baseless, though. Both of them have become popular and risen to fame not just because of their natural musical talent, but for the topics that their music so brazenly broaches.

The truth is that you know they wouldn’t judge you for anything you do, and you’re not quite sure why you’re so resistant to them knowing. The human mind is a mystery, and yours is no exception.

A slow, smooth saxophone melody brushes your ears, a lower note capturing your attention and bringing you back to the present moment. Amongst the faint tendrils of smoke that reach you from the seating area, an itch rises at your brow and you fight to contain it, not wanting to rub off the thin arch you’d drawn on so carefully earlier. It was always like this; you always got itchy before performing, for reasons unknown to you. One of your friends had theorised that it was due to nerves, or something similar. It drove your manager mad, because you’d ripped your costume pantyhose a few times while scratching your thighs in the past.

Mina’s act precedes yours, usually, and tonight isn’t any different. She’s good, and you can’t help but marvel as you watch her. Her movements are fluid, full of a certain zest and allure that mix into a single heady cocktail that has the crowd enraptured as she allows her skirts to drop ever so slowly with each smooth swing and sashay of her hips. When the ruffled fabric hits the floor there are hoots and whistles from the crowd, and Mina’s beaming face peeks over her shoulder to deliver a wink. The room eats it up.

It’s a special performance, tonight.

Due to confidentiality, none of the performers had been told exactly who was attending tonight, just that they were Very Important People, and they were to be shown the best performance they would ever see in their lives. It was an ambitious set of instructions, but you know that both yourself and the other girls in the show are some of the best in the business, so you aren’t too worried about meeting expectations. You plan to exceed them. 

You always put effort into your appearance, but tonight you admit that you did try the tiniest bit harder than usual. Your hair is pulled back from your face, twisted and pinned into curls at the top of your head; the rest of it you simply allowed to hang to its natural length and shape, though you took care to make sure it was soft and silky enough to gleam beneath the stage lights. At Mina’s insistence, you’d allowed her to pin a few small glittery ornaments amongst the curls, and as you peek out and see just how full the room is, you find yourself thanking her mentally. It’s the little details that really pull together a performance and hammer home the effect it has on the audience, and it looks like a full house tonight that you’re going to wow. Though, none of the faces seem to jump out at you so far— you still don’t know who tonights VIPs are. 

Even though tonight is meant to be a big, important night — as it had been emphasised to you so many times — you still find your thoughts wondering back to a certain two men and the reappearance of the feelings you’d once harboured for them. You’re conflicted, as anyone might expect of someone in your situation, but you can’t say you’re very fond of the feeling. Hence, despite your best efforts, your thoughts just keep coming back to your current predicament. Lisa’s party is tomorrow, and you know from yesterday’s visit to your home that your mother had already extended an enthusiastic invitation to both families on either side of the fence. So you know that there is absolutely no way that those two aren’t going to be there, since even if they hadn’t already expressed their intention of attending, their mother’s would drag them over by the ear.

You’re not sure why you’re still worrying about this. You already met and caught up with them! And it went well… or at least it did, until the topic of your abrupt disappearance from their lives was brought up. 

Perhaps that is why you’re so conflicted still. That is an issue that has yet to be resolved.

When you tune back in to the moment and catch your manager sending you a whithering look, you shake your head and decide to try and ground yourself so that you’re not off with the fairies by the time your cue to perform rolls around. You bring your gaze back to the stage, finding that in the time you spent in your own head, Mina had managed to strip down to just her shelf brassiere and the panties and baby blue garter belt with straps that stretched over her shapely thighs and attached to the top of her stockings.

You get lost in the moment, watching as the spotlight follows her across the stage and illuminates each small gesture she makes that draws the audience further and further under her spell. Her hair is perfectly curled and with each flick of her head and bat of her lashes, the strands slide over her shoulder and bounce against her back. As she reaches for her final garment to discard, it isn’t long before the light fades in tandem with the last note of her song, and the audience gets only the barest glimpse of Mina’s almost bare form before the stage is blanketed in darkness. Cheers and applause break the beat of silence that follows, and then Mina is hurriedly rushing past you, beaming with pride and holding most of her discarded skirts bunched up to her chest. Soon, the applause fades out, the hollers nonexistent, and the stage is cleared.

Now, it’s your turn to wrap the audience around your finger. 

Taking a deep breath and revelling in the light fluttering of your stomach that never seems to fade no matter how many shows you perform, you listen for the first few strumming notes of the song that accompanies your routine. When the low, bass riff of guitar finally brushes the air, you make your way slowly onto the stage and let yourself fall into the familiarity of the show.

It’s kind of ironic, you can’t help but think to yourself. Considering the events of this week, the song you’d chosen to tailor your routine to is kind of funny. For the first few years of their careers, you’d seen Namjoon and Seokjin simply go their separate ways. You thought that would be it, that your friendship had broken up for good, but to your complete and utter surprise, at the beginning of this year there had been a new record to grace the radio and enrapture young fans across the country. An unexpected collaboration between two of the biggest figureheads of the rock and rebellion movement that had started to sweep through the youth. 

When you had first heard the song, you’d done a double-take. It wasn’t anything like the rapid, upbeat rock that came to be synonymous with Seokjin’s name, or the heavier, laidback tune that usually accompanied Namjoon’s records. The beat that lay beneath the lyrics was sultry, deep and dark and made your heart skip a beat and your stomach dip. However when the lyrics registered in your mind, you’d had to fight the urge to cry. They weren’t strictly sad, per se, but to you… they had spoken a little deeper. It felt paranoid to think it, but a part of you had to wonder at how… targeted… the song had seemed to be—

Was it made... for you?

You wouldn’t be caught dead admitting it aloud to anyone or even yourself, but you liked to think so. It helped, when you found yourself missing them and yearning for the way things had been. It soothed the traitorous aching of a heart that didn’t seem to remember that the choice to leave hadn’t been theirs, but rather yours.

In the version that accompanies your performance, there are no vocals. Even so, the beat is easily recognisable and as it begins to play, an excited murmur sweeps through the crowd. Something about it is a little odd, but currently your back is turned to the audience, so you don’t get to investigate the feeling. Instead, you let each note that enters the air and brushes against your skin to soak into your being, closing your eyes for the barest second to centre yourself before you feel the heat of the lights begin to grace your skin, and you start to slowly swing your hips.

It is only instruments that brush your ears now, but you can hear the opening lines of the song so clearly in your head you can’t help but mouth them in time.

We're part of the moonlight, Ain't a fantasy...

Can't breathe in the sunlight, Gotta hide your heart...

Following the rise and fall of the beat, you turn your head over your shoulder to deliver a sly smile and a wink, moving your hips all the while— a round of catcalls and surprised murmurs results. You are the only one of the performers to wear a mask after all, so you’re not surprised by the response. Turning back around, your ease yourself into the familiar motions of your routine and let the song and atmosphere carry you away.

At any other time, you would probably find it funny how second nature stripping yourself of your clothes has become. The silky gown that drapes over your shoulders and ends in faux fur ruffles that trail across the floor is the first to go, revealing the entirety of your stocking-clad legs through a sheer petticoat, and the corset and cushioned bandeau that hides a sheer, cheekily embroidered bralette beneath. The audience eats the reveal right up and at the enthusiastic response, your chest swells with pride. You’re smiling, but with a flick of your wrist you snap open a fan and use it to cover the bottom half of your face, leaving only your eyes to peer out at the crowd from behind the mask. You’d discovered early on that a little bit of mystery keeps them intrigued a little longer.

You don’t pay much mind to the audience as individuals; more often than not, when you perform they become a faceless blur. But as your routine goes on and your body follows each sultry move to the beat, one item of clothing discarded after the other, you find yourself paying a little more attention than you usually would. 

It’s as the top part of your corset meets the floor and your sheer bralette is exposed that your eyes sweep over a certain portion of the room, and you realise very suddenly and abruptly who the guests of honour are tonight.

And you cannot believe the atrocity of your luck.

Two familiar faces return your gaze from the centre-back portion of the room, in one of the deluxe booths. It’s a wonder you can recognise them through the haze of smoke created by cigars and cigarettes, but you think that you’d be hard-pressed not to, at this point. Seokjin and Namjoon sit back comfortably in the booth with two unfamiliar men on either side of them, their eyes lit with a certain kind of intrigue and focused solely on you. For a heartbeat, your chest feels so tight you can’t take in a breath, stomach fluttering. Just barely, you manage to maintain your face and stop yourself from stumbling in your routine. The beginning of panic begins to bubble beneath your lungs, but in a split-second it is stopped in its tracks as something seems to snap inside you and you come to a realisation.

You’re wearing a mask. They don’t know it’s you.

It strikes you again, the way they eyes are trained on your every move, and it knocks you breathless once more, though for a different reason this time. Exhilaration begins to course through you— you feel powerful. When you were with them the other day, the weight of the knowledge of your wrongs and your guilt held you on unequal ground. But now, here in the heady allure and smoky seduction in this room, you have them in the palm of your hands and the dynamic is switched, if only for a moment. 

With barely a moment having lapsed since your initial realisation, you slip right back into the next move in your dance, each shift of a limb accompanied with just that little bit more oomph than before. This is their song, the song you suspect they wrote for you, and since you don’t think you will ever be able to forget it, or them, you will make sure they won’t forget this.

One fluid movement leads to the next, the beat picking up ever so slightly as you bend, legs straight and behind pointed at the crowd, before easing your way back up and unclasping the hooks that keep your corset together. When it falls, you turn and bend once more, this time facing the audience so that they see it when you push your breasts together and wriggle your shoulders, a cheeky wink accompanying the resulting jiggle of your chest. 

More hoots and hollers, as expected of an audience that seems to completely consist of men tonight, and you’re pleased to see that the two guests of the hour aren’t completely unaffected either. Namjoon is leaning forward slightly, gaze intense, and Seokjin’s eyes have narrowed in focus as they follow you across the stage. 

Following each note in the song, you strut across the stage, and when there is a pause before it picks up once more, you drop to your knees and reach forward to the floor, arching your back with your behind to the audience again. Using the strength you’ve built in your thighs over the years, you slide one leg up and turn yourself around, using the momentum to slip into an abridged version of the splits. While in this position you bend backwards, one arm reaching back to unravel the ribbon that keeps your flimsy bralette up. When you feel it come loose, you bring your hands to each piece and make a faux-shocked expression, ever so slowly peeling the sheer fabric down and revelling in the way the room is watching with bated breath. 

Your breasts bounce as you yank the bralette all the way down, the tassels that were hidden beneath and keep the barest remainder of your dignity intact jiggling with the movement. Using the cheers that result as a distraction of sorts, you deftly remove the bralette with one hand and discard it slyly on the floor, bringing yourself out of the splits but moving to another position on your knees, sliding your legs apart. There are a few soft gasps and sharp inhales that echo from the front of the crowd, and you can tell from the way their eyes are focused on the inside of your thighs that they’ve glimpsed the pretty picture inked into your skin there. You don’t leave their gazes to wonder too long though, reaching up to pinch the dangling ornaments of your tassels and using them to lift your breasts. You ignore the low, pleasurable tingle that shoots through you at the sensation of tugging on your nipples, fighting to keep your legs open, and release the tassels from your grip. Your breasts bounce generously once more, cheers sounding across the room at the sight. You deliver a wink, before bringing yourself off of the floor in a fluid movement, hearing the final notes of the song beginning to play and a low, sexy saxophone drawl emerging to intertwine with the rest.

The end of your routine passes in a blur, your mind slipping into a haze as you simply move, barely aware of the way you dance and sashay across the stage. A feathery boa situated strategically to the side becomes incorporated in your final moves, allowing the audience peeks at what they can’t have and drawing them further and further in until the music hits a crescendo and with it, you fall into your final pose.

The last thing you see, as the lights begin to dim and the crowd erupts into applause, is the way Seokjin and Namjoon’s eyes are boring holes into you, transfixed on the place where your hip meets the inside of your thigh and the intricate depiction of a crescent moon and a rose that are inked into the skin there.

 x    x    x

 “...sweetheart? Is there a reason why you haven’t gone outside yet? Everyone is by the pool with those wonderful finger foods your Aunt brought with her!”

You startle at the sound of your mother’s voice, almost dropping the grape that had been en route to your mouth as you stared into nothing, rooted in place in the middle of the kitchen. The day of your sister’s engagement party has come, faster than you were able to prepare for, and now that you’re no longer on the stage staring down your two ex-best friends from behind a mask, you’ve lost a lot of your gall. In fact, it could even be argued that your spine had slipped right out of your body the second you stepped off the stage that night. It’s the early afternoon, and Namjoon and Seokjin have been here for about… perhaps half an hour. You don’t claim to be perfect, but the way you’ve been skulking about and hiding in the kitchen is pathetic even to you. 

It’s just… how do you face them after that? They’ve technically seen you almost completely in the nude! If your grandmother ever caught wind of the fact that a man had seen you without clothes then she’d marry you off immediately— not to mention if she ever found out Seokjin and Namjoon, of all men, had seen you like that, she would have an absolute field day!

It was bordering on disheartening, but at this point, even after all this time, you’re pretty sure most of your family loves those two more than they love you.

“I, um… just wanted some grapes?” you blink, offering a sheepish smile that you hope your mother doesn’t find suspicious. That is quickly shot down when you see her brow raise and her bright cherry lips quirk to the side, eyes flicking to the empty glass by the grapes that reeks of gin. What can you say, you thought downing a glass would help you cope, but you’d been wrong. 

“Uhuh…” Your mother says, folding her arms and leaning her hip against the bench; the fullness of her skirt swishes behind her in an echo of the movement. “Well, now that you’ve eaten half of the vine, maybe go outside? Mrs Kim has been asking where you are, I think she missed you almost as much as we did.”

Your brows furrow, “Wait, which Mrs K—”

“Off you go, sweetheart!” 

You don’t even get to finish whatever you were saying because your mother moves into the kitchen solely to chase you out of it. You drag your feet as she herds you out— or at least, you do before she reaches for the kitchen towel by the oven and starts twisting it.

“I’m going!” you promptly flee after grabbing a handful of grapes to-go, holding up a proverbial white flag. Your mother is a little too good at turning mundane household items into a weapon. Now she’s put the fear of god back in you, you find yourself thinking that it’s no wonder your father has always been so well-behaved compared to the stories some of your friends would tell you about their own parents.

It’s a beautiful day, really. It’s part of the reason you were annoyed at yourself for hiding inside, even if it was only for about half an hour. The sun is out, the sky is clear, and while the sunlight warms your skin there is a cool breeze every so often that keeps you from overheating. Some of your younger cousins are in the pool, and have probably been there since around ten minutes after they arrived an hour or so ago. You’d barely gotten a hug in greeting before they were off, the backyard pool held a little more favourably in their eyes for the moment than their own flesh and blood.

They’re cute, though, so you decide that perhaps just this once you will let them get away with it. You’re going to rain down a storm of kisses on them before they leave, though. No one ignores you for an inanimate object and gets away with it!

As you exit the house and step beneath the sun, the skin of your arms and lower legs warming instantly, you just barely manage to dodge as one of your cousins comes bolting past you, followed barely a second later by his mother, your aunt, who is hotter on his heels than you might have anticipated for a woman her age.

“Jackson! You better get back here with those patties, boy, or you’re gonna regret it!”

You know you shouldn’t laugh, because it will encourage the bad behaviour, but the sight is so funny you just can’t help the way you burst into giggles, shaking your head and turning in the direction of the large gazebo that is rooted by the pool and is currently sheltering most of the guests from the sun. A quick scan also reveals that the lady of the hour, your sister, is over there too. Your eyes narrow when they catch sight of the champagne glass in her hand; hopefully she’s forgotten any and all things you’ve told her in confidence recently, or else they’re about to become public knowledge.

“Ah, y/n, just a moment!” 

You pause in your steps, turning just in time to catch in your arms the plate of small pastries your mother shoves into your hold. 

“Wh—” you don’t get to question her, as she simply flashes you a bright grin and nods her head to the table. “Take these over there, will you? And make sure Jin and Joon get some, I made their favourite!”

And then she is off, shooting back into the house and leaving you on the grass. At the delicious smell that wafts up to your nose, you send a cursory look down at the plate and hum in recognition,ignoring the way your mouth salivates. Ah, these are their favourites. This plate probably won’t last very long when you bring it over there. 

You’re on your way once more, now with the plate of sweets in tow, and the closer to the gazebo you grow you catch the sound of the radio, on one of the channels most popular with the youth and playing one of Lisa’s favourite songs. She’s dancing, dragging her friend Rose with her, giggling like a madwoman as she does so. It brings a smile to your face without you even realising. 

“Oh, y/n! There you are! Where have you been? We thought you might have gotten lost!”

Your attention is drawn to the side of the gazebo closest to the pool, where a few people are lounging in the chairs there, beers and glasses with clear, bubbling contents that you can only assume is gin and tonic on the table and in hand. The older woman who called you over with such a teasing tone is Mrs Kim— well, one of them. Both the Kims are here, and you realise belatedly that of course, their sons are too. It was Seokjin’s mother that noticed you, and as you make your way over you see Namjoon’s mother next to her, and the two men in question in the lounging chairs opposite. They seem to light up at your arrival, and you try not to think about the way their reaction makes your stomach flutter. You aren’t here for them, you’re here for their mothers! 

“Sorry,” you apologise, leaning and placing the plate down on the small table in the middle of the seats. Straightening, you dust your hands against the patterned skirt you have buttoned over your matching swimsuit. “I did get a bit lost, there’s so many kids here right now I thought I might have turned up in the wrong house.”

Both women erupt into laughter at your words, and you take the opportunity to smile at Jin and Namjoon, offering a timid wave. They return it, before following your finger as it points to the plate and they realise you’ve brought them their favourite baked goods.

“Cinnamon scrolls!” Namjoon croons, material of his navy button-up creasing as he hastily leans forward to swipe one off the plate. “And they’re shaped like little fish, like she always used to do! I can’t believe your mother made them today.”

“Of course,” you say, snorting lightly. “She’d do anything for her two favourite sons. She made it because they’re your favourites.”

The two of them beam in pride at that, before proceeding to consume the plate of sweets.

“Ah, and she sent you too, sweet y/n! Our favourite daughter! And even more stunning than I remember, right Soo-ah?”

Seokjin’s mother, Jia, hastily reclaims the conversation and succeeds in making you flush pink at her words. Jisoo, Namjoon’s mother, instantly nods, her short curls bouncing with the action, and shoots you a devious grin. 

“It’s been so long since we saw you last, y/n. You didn’t get a husband while you were away, right? We still want you as our daughter-in-law, you know.”

This time it’s not only you that feels the embarrassment heat your cheeks— to your side, both men choke on the mouthful of scroll they’d been in the process of devouring, Seokjin’s face going bright red as he brings his fist to hit his chest and attempts to dislodge the pastry. Amongst his own struggling, Namjoon reaches to smack his friend on the back, clearing his own throat.

“Ah, no…” you say, awkward and smoothing your skirt to distract yourself; it feels like the eyes of the entire party are on you, despite the fact you know better. “I’ve just been focusing on school…”

“Oh, tell me, dear, do you still do those wonderful paintings? I still have that one you gifted me for my birthday before you left.”

Namjoon follows up on his mother’s question, shooting you a smile that somehow is a combination of both bashful and proud. It makes a dimple pop in his cheek. “She still has it displayed above the dining table, actually. She nearly killed me when I almost knocked it by accident a few days ago.”

Jisoo doesn’t even bat a lash, smiling at you brightly— though a bit drunkenly, if the almost-finished glass in her hand is anything to go by. You’re surprised— you know from all the dinner parties your three families held over the years that despite their petite stature and classy, ladylike countenance,  both Kim women can outdrink their husbands and your father. You wonder just how much they must have had already to have such silly grins on their faces.

“I do!” You answer, feeling your chest warm in affection. It was silly to have ever doubted it, but it made you feel somewhat eased to know that you haven’t lost your place in their lives despite your departure. “But, actually, while away I actually took up sculpting. I’ve been doing that a bit more…”

“Oh, are you talking about your works, sweetheart? Ah Jisoo, Jia— they’re absolutely wonderful! I have photos that she brought, here let me go get them—”

You feel heat flush to the tips of your ears, greeting the arrival of your mother with an embarrassed look. “Alright, let’s not bash ears about it—”

“Oh!” Jia and Jisoo perk up at your mother's exclamation, and you shrink into your seat as you watch her reach into one of the hidden pockets in her skirt and pull out a handful of small photos that you’d printed to show her. Your hubris seems to have come to nip you in the bottom. “I forgot I popped them in my pocket to show you earlier! Here, see— isn’t she just so talented? My baby girl must have been the absolute queen of her department.”

All three parents are oblivious to the way you’re shrinking into your seat in mortification, but Seokjin and Namjoon are anything but. They’re grinning at you, relishing in your discomfort much like they used to. 

“Hey, y/n, could you get us another drink? I’d go get it, but your mother actually told me earlier I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen until she’s finished with the pastries…”

You shoot him a grateful look, shooting to your feet and slipping out of the little seating area. “Yup, doing that! Getting drinks! Be right back, don’t wait up!”

Though you doubt any of the adults heard you, they didn’t wait anyway. In fact, in the time it took you to head into the kitchen and bring back three drinks on a tray, your mother has since downed her glass and has started on another topic of conversation. Thankfully, the victim is no longer you. 

“Oh, Namjoon, where are your peepers?!” Your mother gasps suddenly as you return, pointing at the man beside you. There’s the barest slur accenting her words, and you resign yourself here and now to a night of loose-lipped blabbering from both your sister and your mother. “I’m not goin’ crazy am I? You used to run into things all the time when you were a kid ‘cause you were blind as a bat!”

Namjoon winces, but Seokjin bursts into laughter. Glad for the conversational shift, you take one of the last remaining chairs and settle down, your own drink now in hand. Namjoon reaches for the refill you had brought him, using the opportunity to hide his face, and only when Jin has settled down does he manage to wipe his eyes and claim his own glass.

“I’m tryin’ out something new,” Namjoon answers after a hearty gulp, clearing his throat. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck bashfully. “Lenses, I think they’re called. They’re convenient, especially when I’m performing, but they’re expensive and so dang fragile I’m gonna need to take out insurance on them or somethin’.”

“Isn’t this your last set?” Seokjin queries knowingly, laughing as Namjoon grimaces. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in the peepers you know and love by the end of the week. If he doesn’t break them, he loses them.”

You half expect Namjoon to be irked but he just sighs with a small smile, apparently having made peace by now with the clumsiness and two left feet that have haunted him since childhood.

Your mother decides to tease Namjoon a little more, before she changes the topic and starts gushing about their career, and how she can hardly go a day or two without hearing one of their songs on the radio. All three women are beaming with pride, and though slightly bashful about it you can see Namjoon and Seokjin’s chests swell slightly. 

Lisa, the star of today’s show, happens to walk by right when your mother is interrogating them about where they’ve chosen to settle down for the meantime, and eagerly joins the conversation.

“Ah, cool cats like you must be absolutely rolling in dough by now! How many mansions do you have already?” Lisa laughs, looking for a free seat and simply sitting on you when she doesn’t find one. She’s quite a bit heavier than you remember, and you feel your breath wheeze out of you at her abrupt drop onto your legs. 

“Unfortunately, none,” Namjoon laughs, gesturing to his mother, “Though, the pressure is on. I think ‘Ma wants a nice place to retire before my career is over.”

Jisoo takes a sip to hide her sheepish grin, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt afterwards. Seokjin lets out a soft chuckle before he turns to your mother and answers the question she’d asked earlier.

“We have a sweet pad back in the fat city, actually. We both were leanin’ to the same penthouse with the best view but in the end decided to compromise and split it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you mother exclaims, eyes alight. The last time she’d looked this excited was when you told her you were staying for the whole week. “It’s so good to hear that the two of you stuck together even though you’re such big news now!”

Guilt. You bring your glass to your mouth and take a large gulp in an effort to drown it, the tart fizz of gin and tonic barely disguising the familiar curl of guilt in your gut.  Perhaps if you ignore it, it will go away. 

“Oh, speaking of— that latest record the two of you released together, it really does razz my berries like nothin’ else!” Lisa gushes, throwing a hand out to wriggle her fingers for emphasis. “It’s real hip and different from all your other tracks. Trust you two to be settin’ trends!”

Starting to get slightly tipsy now from the generous downing of your drink, you can’t help how you chime in with little thought,  “Oh, I really do love that one. It’s perfect to dance to.”

“A dance?” Lisa queries, turning to pin you with a confused look over her shoulder. You realise your slip up in that moment, when you glance to the side and see both men looking at you with unreadable expressions.  “It’s a bit slow for a dance, I think.”

“You can dance to anything,” Namjoon swoops in and unknowingly saves you, shrugging nonchalantly. The expression that was present on his face earlier is gone now, but it takes a split second longer to fade from Seokjin’s features.

Sinking into your chair as much as you can with Lisa’s weight pinning your legs down, you bring the glass to your mouth once more. 

Slip-up aside, you can only hope it won’t be as difficult to get through this party as you thought. 

 x - x - x

The day has progressed nicely and as daylight begin to bleed into night, your father emerged to help man the barbecue and dinner was served —  it was a somewhat rowdy affair, given how much alcohol the party had consumed up until that point. After eating their fill, most of your relatives and small cousins went home — they have a strict bedtime to uphold, after all. You made good on your promise to smother the little ones in kisses as they left, and it was with pink cheeks and bright grins that they bid you farewell. 

It’s getting well into the night at this point, and only a few guests are left. Lisa is inside with a cluster of her friends and her fiance, your mother and the Kims are underneath the gazebo with their husbands— this has left you by the pool with Namjoon and Seokjin. They’d gotten a little bold earlier and when you’d teased them about something, you’d had an unceremonious reunion with the pool. It was startlingly similar to what occured right before your mother took that photo hanging in your room, and made an odd mixture of affection, nostalgia, and something a little bit bittersweet settle in your abdomen. 

Just as it had the other time you’d met with the two, any tension and awkwardness had quickly melted away as the evening progressed. A few drinks in your systems and anything and everything is now water under the bridge. All too easily the three of you had fallen back into the same comfortable, playful air that you’d always known—

That you’d missed so much.

You’re lounging now in one of the rubber duck-shaped floaties your mother bought recently (she’d made you blow it up, gushing all the while about what a bargain she’d gotten on it and the companion swan floatie). Your head is more than pleasantly fuzzy, and you decide as you finish this glass that perhaps you’re done drinking for the night. You kick your legs lazily, feeling the heavy material of your skirt swish in the water as you propel yourself around the pool. Normally, the skirt is meant to come off before you take a dip. However given the nature of your entry into the pool, you hadn’t exactly had an opportunity to discard it. 

“No, no— I remember it cleary— clearly.” Seokjin waves his hand, finger pointing at Namjoon— the man in question is cackling in the deep end, falling off the swan floatie that he was attempting to climb onto. Both men are at the point in the night where they are beginning to slur their words, and to be fair you’re not much different. You’d lost count of how many times either of them have slipped up in their words.  “It wasn’t me who fell and broke y/n’s coffee table. From what I remember, it was your buttocks that hit it.”

“But you pushed me!” Any attempts on Namjoon’s behalf to hide his grin and even pretend to be angry prove to be fruitless. He has the same dumb dimpled grin on his face that you remember from your teen years. “It was uncalled for, assault!”

“You!” Seokjin’s mouth drops open, his legs kicking in the pool in his outrage. Namjoon’s eyes almost disappear as he cackles, throwing his head back. It melds into the sounds of the festivities over by the gazebo, where the radio and Lisa’s own gleeful laughter echo into the night. “y/n can confirm, it was Joon, right?!”

You put your arms behind your head, pretending to lounge back on the floatie despite how tentative your position is on the slippery rubber. “I don’t recall, suddenly I can’t think.”

“Yah!”

Your jubilant laughter means that you don’t see it when Seokjin slips completely into the pool, diving beneath the water to where you’re lounging and coming up beneath you. A scream rips from your throat as you're flipped from the floatie, tumbling backwards and into the water with a hefty splash to boot.

When you come back up, gasping breaths above the surface turning into laughter, it takes a moment for realisation to reach you through the sluggish fog in your brain that your skirt has detached. Still laughing, you catch sight of it and reach for it where it’s floating across the pool, recognising the sound of the two males guffawing behind you. When you slip on the bottom of he pool for a moment and get water up your nose, you decide that perhaps it’s time for you to call it a night soon.

“Woah, bubs, are you okay?”

When you slip again, a strong arm catches around your waist like an iron bar, holding you to the surface. Blinking the water out of your lashes, you turn to see the owner; the breath is startled out of you as your gaze meet the dark depths of Seokjin’s own. His hair is still dripping, an inky wayward mess atop his head, and the t-shirt he’d donned as he first entered the pool so long ago is clinging to each line and plane of his body. 

For a moment, yearning and a feeling all too familiar takes up the space of your lungs, and you find that you can’t breathe. 

“I think… I think it’s time to call it a night,” you manage to say, a new kind of lightheadedness emerging to addle your thoughts. You turn, breaking the hold Seokjin’s gaze has on you to seek out the edge of the pool. You feel his eyes bore holes into you for a moment longer, before two hands come to grip your waist and he moves you through the water to the rim of the pool. 

“Probably for the best,” Seokjin says, grip tightening in a split-second of warning before he heaves you up and onto the brick that lines the poolside. Off-kilter and unexpecting of the movement as you were, you have to balance yourself with your legs, which almost end up smacking Seokjin in the side. Through your inebriation, you don’t realise the way your thighs have parted in the process, the detached skirt in your hand doing little to cover you where it is laying sopping wet on the brick.  

“You’re being almost as clumsy as—” You’re also so busy trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach and find your bearings you also don’t notice the way Seokjin’s eyes move unwittingly down your form, falling to your thigh at eye-level. “...Namjoon.”

You blink, eyes finally focusing but heartbeat still thrumming in your ears.

“I don’t know if I will ever be that clumsy,” you manage to say, as comprehensible as possible. Seokjin’s hands leave your waist as you stumble to your feet, wringing out your skirt before attempting to button the drenched garment back up above your hips. 

“Hey!”

At Namjoon’s outcry, you grin and bring your hand up in a wave. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you drunkenly promise, completely forgetting that in a few days, you’ll be out of this town and out of their lives once more. “Goodnight, you two.”

They return the sentiment, and you grab a towel from one of the poolside chairs, wrapping it around yourself and making your way back in. You miss the way that their eyes follow you as you leave their sight and reenter the warmth and light of your home.

x - x - x - x

The night has drawn to a close, and the two men have long since climbed from the pool and dried off with the fluffy towels your mother so generously laid out for them before she got too tispy. A sharp look from their own mothers reminded them earlier that there are still plates to clear and things to tidy, so despite being guests they do their best amongst the alcohol-induced fog clouding their minds to help clean up the aftermath of Lisa’s engagement party. 

As they do so, the same thing is true for both of them: there is a lot on their minds.

Seokjin had to turn to Namjoon earlier to confirm what he’d seen, and when he saw the man in question already looking at him with wide eyes, he knew he hadn’t just drunkenly imagined it. They both saw it, the glimpse of a strikingly familiar picture peeking from the inside of your thigh. They’d seen that very same tattoo in the very same place just a few nights ago, only last time the owner had remained a masked mystery. Now, they’d glimpsed the same image on the body of their childhood friend, the girl they’d both fallen in love with and subsequently drifted apart over only years ago because they were young and jealous and stupid. But, things are different now; they’re now only two of those things, and after they made up over a year ago their friendship is stronger than ever, in… more ways than one.

But despite how much has changed over the years, there is still one thing that has remained constant; and that is their feelings for you.

Truthfully, after not seeing you for so long, they had started to think perhaps they were finally getting over you. Impossible as it had seemed, considering how smitten they were. A cold realisation washed over them the second they saw you again, though, that those feelings hadn’t disappeared like they had suspected, but simply remained dormant. Seeing you at the diner and finally getting to catch up after being apart so long, missing you so much, had pretty much cemented that. When they’d returned to their hotel room after, they didn’t need to say a word and only shared a look to know they had both come to the same conclusion.

They were both irrevocably, pathetically, undoubtedly still in love with you, even after all these years. 

Then had come the show.

It was the reason they’d returned to this town, technically. An important friend of theirs had invited them both to celebrate the success of their latest record and talk about future opportunities; the location happened to be a club currently hosting a highly regarded burlesque set. They’d felt the second the final masked performer had come on stage that there was something odd, something special about her. She had used their song, on her thigh had been a tattoo that tickled something in the back of their minds, and there was something in the way she moved that had been so jarringly familiar, but neither had been able to pin where they had seen her before.

Until tonight, that is.

It hadn’t been an intentional reveal on your part, but there on your thigh had been the exact same tattoo they’d glimpsed in the club, and they’d known the second they saw it that it wasn’t a common design. At first, on the night, Seokjin thought that it might have struck them because it was drawn similarly to how you always used to doodle moons on all of your schoolbooks, and now it all made sense. 

The only thing left to consider is, what do they do now that they know?

“Oh, my boys— my precious, helpful, lovely boys!”

The two men turn in tandem, easily catching sight of your mother as she stumbles her way over to them. They were in the process of moving some of the plates to the kitchen before they heard her drunken cooing, and Seokjin finds himself thanking the heavens they’d put them down quickly because in the next second your mother is throwing her arms around them and they’re being yanked down to her height from the sheer strength of her grip.

“I missed you two, we all missed you two,” she blubbers, hugging them close like she’s worried they might slip away into the night the second she loosens her hold. A second shy of suffocating them, she finally releases her grip, and they straighten with warm faces. Namjoon knows without even having to check that he’s got a real goofy grin on his mug right now. 

“We missed you too,” Seokjin says, and he means it. Your family and Namjoon’s family are both pretty much his own at this point, and he’d found himself missing every single member while he was away. Each time he returned home, he was sure to visit the other two houses at the end of the cul-de-sac, though the times he’d been able to actually make his way back to his home town were unfortunately few and far between. The same is the case for Namjoon, as he knows, except likely a bit worse since he knows Namjoon has always been a real Mummy’s boy.

“But I doubt it was as much as we missed you!” Your mother argues, and it makes both men smile. The next few words to escape her mouth knock the expression straight off their faces, though.  “y/n especially. Oh, I remember she was so heartbroken when you three started growing apart. I think part of the reason she left was to get away from it. The way she used to talk about you boys…” Her gaze slips to the side, eyes slightly hazy in recollection. “I thought for sure that she was going to end up marrying one of you.”

They don’t even get a good second to unpack that, before the haze leaves your mother’s eyes and she is giggling, leaning forward with a cheeky glint in her eyes that they know for sure they’ve seen in your own. She brings her hand up to shield her mouth as she whispers in a voice that is not at all as quiet as she likely thinks it is, “It’s a bit improper, but I think she used to like both of you.”

Namjoon chokes on his own spit, and Seokjin’s mouth falls slack. “What?”

Your mother merely giggles, leaning back and spinning on her heel. “Thank you so much for your help, boys, but you ought to be on your way! Your mothers are about to head home and neither of them are walking in a very straight line.”

She halts, turning over her shoulder to shoot them a wide grin. “I’m glad you two came. Thank you.”

And then she is gone, and a blanket of silence falls over the kitchen. Seokjin and Namjoon turn their heads, locking gazes. 

Well, at least now they know what to do.

x — x — x

 You swear there is something odd in the air of the club this evening. 

It’s something subtle, and none of the other girls seem to have noticed it; they continue as always, tittering away in the dressing rooms and giggling amongst themselves when one of them makes a joke that probably shouldn’t be repeated outside the room. It’s the last night you will be performing here, and also the last night you will be staying. You were planning on making a quick visit home tomorrow morning to say farewell to your parents and congratulate your sister once more, before being on your way. You hadn’t decided yet whether you were going to go out of your way to track down Seokjin and Namjoon to say goodbye to them as well, but the idea of it… well, it sets your belly alight with nerves. You have no idea what you would say, and you know — you know— in your gut that doing it would revive the elephant in the room that you’ve all been ignoring up until now. 

But if you don’t, then you’ll be doing the exact same thing you did last time, and this time around you don’t know if you’ll get their forgiveness, let alone deserve it. 

By this point in the evening, you’ve already slipped into your costume and powdered your face. Since you wear a mask while on stage, you don’t really need to apply any heavy makeup around your brows and eyes; you usually settle for accentuating them naturally. 

Mina has disappeared since you last saw her, which is odd since she usually lingers to talk your ear off about any handsome faces she might spy in the crowd as the room beyond the stage begins to fill. You’d started to look for her earlier, seeking a distraction from the depressing inner monologue you have running, but hadn’t managed to find her. This means that for the past half hour or so you’ve been left to your own devices, fiddling with different parts of your dress and costume like a child twiddling their thumbs in the principal’s office. Part of that time, you spend trying to ignore the events of last night and any feelings that may have resurfaced as a result of your return to this town. For the rest of it, you attempt to think about what you’re going to do tomorrow when the rapidly-approaching hour comes when you have to leave again. God, where on earth did Mina get off to? You’re going insane here.

Oddly enough, it’s her that finds you a few minutes before the show is set to start. By this point, it’s a wonder you haven’t torn your hair out of it’s meticulous styling.

“Where did you pop off to?” you ask her before she even has a chance to say hello. She raises her brows, laughing at your rapid questioning. 

“Big boss wanted me for something,” she supplies, cocking her hip and resting a hand there. “Actually, I was asked to pass on a message to you.”

The confusion must be evident on your face, because Mina is quick to wave her hand. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad— though it is a bit odd. He just asked me to tell you to meet him in one of the private rooms in the VVIP section. I think it was the very last one…?”

That is odd, considering she’d apparently just come from meeting him. Private shows aren’t something you do, so you can’t think of a reason why the big boss would ask you to meet him there. 

“Huh, ok. So soon before the show…?” you ask, just to be sure. You don’t have your mask on you right now, so you need to calculate how long it’s going to take you to return and get it. Mina shrugs, nodding. 

“I suppose so. Don’t worry,” she smiles, something indecipherable yet oddly devious entering her gaze. “You won’t be there long enough to mess anything up. The show will go on, Miss Luna.”

You could almost swear there is something hidden in her words, but don’t have the time or the thought to dwell on it. Instead you return her smile and turn to be on your way; the VVIP rooms are on the other side of the establishment, and you don’t want to keep the big boss waiting. You’d only met him once, the owner of this club, and he didn’t strike you as anything in particular. The only thing you’d thought to note is that he smoked perhaps a few too many cigars, because his office was almost always filled with curling, coiling smoke that leaked into the hall  each time you moved past. But he was quite mild-mannered and polite as far as men in this business go, so you’re not particularly concerned for your wellbeing as you make your way to meet him.

It takes a little longer than anticipated, since you ran into one of your co-performers and they cornered you for help with their outfit, but finally you’re arriving in the second-floor wing that houses the VVIP rooms. Instantly, it’s evident where you are. The carpet is a little more plush, the wallpaper a little more maintained, and the hall decorated a little nicer than the rest of the place. Spotting the room on the end, you make your way down there and knock on the door thrice before grasping the handle and easing it open.

“Mr. Leigh? What did you want to t—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat before it even has a chance to reach the tip of your tongue, feet freezing mid-step as your eyes fall upon the occupants of the room. For once, you don’t have any sort of instinct that kicks in to save you; you simply stand and stare with wide eyes.

“Took you long enough, bubs.” Seokjin straightens from where he had been leaning back against the plush crimson leather of the circular lounge. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

A myriad of thoughts suddenly flood the blank space in your brain, all in contention with each other. Oh no, they’ve seen you— no, you have a mask, they don’t know who you are— no, you don’t have your mask—

Dressed in your performing attire and standing before Seokjin and Namjoon, in one of the VVIP rooms in the club where they attended your show, you aren’t a faceless dancer. You’re y/n, and it feels like they can see every single bit of you there is to see.

You don’t even know where to begin.

“I…” You attempt to say something, anything, but your tongue has suddenly turned to lead in a pact with your stomach, sinking down and refusing to dance for your words.

It takes you a moment to realise as you watch them straighten, but neither of them look surprised. It leads you to believe that somehow they figured it out on their own, though you have no idea how. You don’t really have the presence of mind to ask them right now, either. In fact, it could even be argued that you’re almost panicking.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon speaks up, offering you a smile that holds neither judgement nor disdain. “We wanted to catch you before you inevitably skipped town without saying goodbye.”

That stung, just as much as the guilt that struck you for the truth of his words. You’d been contemplating it, leaning towards it even, but suddenly you feel you have to defend yourself. 

“I hadn’t decided that yet,” you say quietly. You let the door fall shut behind you, silently acquiescing to the unspoken demand weighing heavy in the air.

“Don’t lie.”

Your eyes shoot even wider, if possible, at the sound of Seokjin of all people snapping at you. His tone was sharp, and you half expect him to look furious, but when your eyes flick to his face it gives nothing away. When he continues in the next second, though, you see it in the depths of his eyes. Hurt.

“We used to tell each other everything, back then.” It could have been a trick of your mind, but you swear you heard his voice break slightly. “I don’t want that to change. So no lies tonight, y/n. We’re going to talk as adults, openly and honestly.”

For reasons beyond you, something about the promise woven through his tone makes you nervous. A tremor fights to shudder its way down your spine; for a moment, you feel akin to a small, cornered forest animal, even though they are the ones sitting against a wall and you are in the open. You don’t know what to say. 

Namjoon steps in, saving you from fumbling for a response as he always seems to do. “You don’t have to stand there, ready to bolt, you know. You can come sit down.”

You shake your head, suddenly recalling your commitments outside this room and feeling relief flood you at the realisation that you have an excuse to remove yourself from this situation you’d tried so hard to avoid. “I can’t. I have to go p—”

“We already talked it over with your boss, he was happy to take you out of the performance tonight. It’s okay, the others know too.”

You deflate, looking at Namjoon with a sinking feeling in your stomach. He doesn’t hold your attention all that long, though, before the sound of Seokjin’s voice brings your gaze to him once more.

“Why did you leave? Without even saying goodbye, or telling us where you went?” You feel rooted to the spot, pinned first by the weight of Seokjin’s gaze and then his words as they slam into you, unfiltered. 

“Hyung.” You think you hear Namjoon murmur softly, giving the man next to him a pointed look. Seokjin is unphased, looking at you expectantly, “Be honest.”

It’s just as panic begins to seep into the bottom of your lungs that anger sparks and sets it alight, transmuting it to something red and hot in your chest. 

“You want me to be honest?” you ask, heat beginning to colour your voice and sharpen the tip of your tongue. “I left because of you— both of you. I don’t know if something happened between you or if I just wasn’t enough, or you felt I was holding you back, but you drew away and you left me. You both left me before I ever left you.”

You see it the second your words enter the air like a whip, the hurt and guilt slipping across their features. Anger bubbles in your throat, stings your eyes, and urges you to let loose everything else rising to the tip of your tongue, “I left because I couldn’t handle the pain of my two best friends slowly easing themselves from my life, like— like I was old news. Like I no longer had a place in that shiny, brand new world they’d stepped into.”

More rushes to escape, feelings kept bottled up tight for three years suddenly flooding forth with the force of a tidal wave, but you bite it down, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath that rattles through your chest. When you’re sure you have a firmer grasp on your emotions, you allow yourself to speak once more. “If an apology is what you want, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. I’m sorry for my part in hurting you. But you… the two of you hurt me, too. You meant the world to me and when you pulled away you made me feel like nothing.”

Your eyes remain closed, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you will yourself not to cry; silence sinks over the room, only broken as your ears adjust to the thin buzz of electricity thrumming through the walls. One moment, another-- you try and focus on breathing in, and breathing out.

“Something did happen between us, you know. We fought over you.”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto Namjoon. He stands, dusting his legs as he straightens and adjusts his jacket. Slowly, like he’s worried he will spook you, he begins to step closer. “I’m sorry, y/n. We never meant to hurt you, and didn’t realise the way our immaturity was hurting you, too. You took up such a big part of our lives, and after you left it was painfully empty… when we saw you again this week, it was the first time we’d felt whole in years.”

Stunned, you’re rooted to the spot and can only watch as he comes close enough to touch, hands reaching for your own; faintly, you register the sound of Seokjin getting up from the couch as well. When he reaches your side, you risk a glance to his face and are surprised by the soft, remorseful expression resting upon his handsome features. 

“I’m sorry, bubs, for hurting you.” He lifts a hand, the warmth of his palm cupping your cheek. “You are irreplaceable to us, and we will always want you as a part of our lives. No one meant as much to us as you did then, and no one means as much to us as you do now. The two of you are my world, and I know the same goes for Joon.”

There’s something different hiding in the depths of his tone that makes your heart patter faster against the confines of your chest, something in the way they share a look so full of something warm that your own cheeks heat in response. Both of them… with each other, too? 

 “Why are you saying this?” Now, you meant to tack on. Why is he saying this now?

Namjoon’s eyes are warm as they meet your own. “Because we should have said it three years ago. Plus… we got a tip from an anonymous source that our feelings aren’t as unrequited as we once thought.” 

You don’t even need to wonder who it was that could have exposed such a thing; your mother had been mysteriously avoidant of your gaze this morning, almost knocking a few things off the bench in the extent of her effort to evade meeting your eyes.

“If nothing else, please just tell us before you go,” Seokjin implores, voice a low murmur. “Whether it was true then, or....”

You have a feeling you know what he was going to say: or even now. You’d known it the second you glimpsed them back in this town that those feelings you’d harboured for years and years weren’t ever going away. Even seeing them a handful of times has made your heart ache with the revival of your love and the magnitude at which it had bloomed once more in the tender soil of your being. The words rush to the tip of your tongue, but even now when the two objects of your affection have all but confessed to you, fear barrs them from leaving your mouth. Because it’s not appropriate, a voice murmurs it’s familiar tune, It’s so unlikely— what if you are just reading too much into it and are mistaken?

Honesty, Seokjin had requested. You take a deep breath before admitting the words that will seal your fate, for better or for worse.

“I did love you, then,” you say, catching it as they both seem to tense. “I should have known better than to think those feelings would just go away.”

It takes a moment, but soon both men are erupting into bright grins. In his glee, Namjoon folds you into his arms, smacking a soft kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and finally your lips— the suddenness of the action brings a gasp to your lips, but you’re definitely not going to complain. Especially not when the way his mouth moves against yours lights something bright deep within you. 

You don’t get to enjoy the sensations for longer than a moment before Seokjin’s voice is parting the air, a completely different tone underlying his words than what you expect from seeing his stupid grin earlier.

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t think you’re off the hook just yet, little miss. “ You meet his gaze over Namjoon’s shoulder and a shudder shoots down your spine at the look in his eyes. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for, wouldn’t you say?” 

x - x 

Barely ten minutes and a private car ride filled with scandalous touches and even more scandalous noises later, you’re being pressed against the wall in the bedroom of the penthouse suite in the most expensive hotel your town has to offer. Namjoon’s mouth is on yours with a kiss so impassioned that it pulls the air from your lungs and the strength from your knees; you don’t even realise that the lights hadn’t already been on when you entered and it was Jin responsible for illuminating your path into the suite.

A part of you expects some internal resistance — it had been three years since you’d last seen them, before this week — but instead you’re simply overwhelmed with how right it feels. Soft, fluttery warmth like sun rays on a winter’s morning fills you up to the brim, the feeling so foreign you’re worried your heart might actually burst. 

Namjoon’s hands come to your hips, pressing them to the wall before sliding up to the dip of your waist. He isn’t overly bold in the way he moves his mouth against yours, but it makes a whine build in your chest nonetheless. A part of you disagrees with it, and when you recall that you’re still here dressed in the costume that usually gives you the power over men, you push back and turn the two of you around. 

When his own back meets the wall, the softest gasp escapes Namjoon’s mouth and you swallow it down, your hands coming to cup his jaw. You take the lead in the kiss and he doesn’t put up a fight, grip tightening on your sides as he holds you closer. 

“Ah-ah, bubs.”

An unwitting squeak escapes you as two large hands find purchase on your waist and you’re pulled apart from the man panting against the wall. You blink and before you know it Seokjin has you falling onto something so plush and soft you know immediately it’s a bed. Your eyes are quick to find Seokjin’s, and the raven-haired male shoots you a stern look that is only contradicted by the heady mixture of affection and lust in his gaze.

“You don’t get to call the shots tonight,” he informs you simply, striding closer to where you’re laying on the bed and tugging on the string that holds your silken gown together. It’s designed to come undone, and so it’s no surprise that at the lightest pull the silk is sliding off your body, revealing the outfit you’d paraded on the stage before them barely a few nights ago. Faintly, you register the bed dipping behind you, but your attention is otherwise occupied when Seokjin reaches for the bedside table and retrieves something long and black. 

“Her wrists?” Namjoon asks, unknowingly answering the question you had forming in your head. Seokjin nods, tossing the tie  to him. Your gown is slipped from your shoulders completely, sheer petticoat ruffling as you’re scooted backwards until you feel the firmness of Namjoon’s chest against your back and Seokjin is sliding between your legs, in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Do you know what you did to us when we saw you that night?” Seokjin asks, voice smooth as honey. It’s a struggle to remain focused on his words when Namjoon brings your hands together in front of you where you’re propped against him, beginning to bind them a little too expertly with the tie Seokjin had passed him. Your heart beats a little faster, thighs trembling as heady anticipation whirls within you. “What you do to us?”

“Just seeing you was already dangerous enough,” Namjoon murmurs, husky tone brushing the shell of your ear. “But you danced to our song, the song we wrote for you. It’s like you knew what it would do to us…”

It makes something swell in your chest, the confirmation that they had written that song for you. You catch something fond flick through Seokjin’s gaze before he tuts, shaking his head. He pushes your now-tied hands up and over your head, back until you feel the side of your thumbs grazing the back of Namjoon’s neck. Lips brush your neck, eliciting a shiver that Seokjin eagerly drinks in. Long, deft fingers work to undo the top part of your corset, the cushioned bandeau, and slip it from your form. You can visibly see it as his eyes darken, drinking in the sheer bralette barely supporting your breasts. You also know the second he glimpses the tassels pressed beneath, because his teeth sink into his lip and he takes in a sharp breath. 

Namjoon’s wandering hands come to trace the underside of your chest, breath catching in your throat when he takes their weight into his hold and kneads. Warmth shoots to your core, the hints of pleasure curling your toes. You feel breathless as they work in easy tandem, Seokjin slipping your petticoat over your legs and Namjoon removing your bralette. You shiver once your chest is bare, not from the cold but from the intensity and the weight of their gazes as you feel them fall upon you. 

“Leave her corset,” Seokjin instructs, flicking one of your tassels and eliciting a yelp. He settles back further between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs; his gazes falls upon the tattoo on the inside of your leg and the corner of his lips curls up. 

The plush of his lips presses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, the sensation tingling along your nerves. He doesn’t comment on the picture, but when his mouth touches where it is inked into your skin you feel your heart skip a beat nonetheless. 

Your mind is pulled from the sensation of fingers slipping beneath the edge of your panties when Namjoon’s fingers play with the tassels attached to your nipples, tugging and pulling and eliciting all sorts of heady sensations that make your thighs shake. “Joon,” you breathe, something else resting on the tip of your tongue only to be replaced with a whine when Namjoon pulls a little harder, soft open-mouthed kisses pressed to the sensitive column of your neck.

It’s like all of your nerves are alight at once, each touch and brush of their skin against yours heightened and making your heart race and your breath come a little quicker. Seokijn quickly slips your panties off, but leaves the pantyhose and garter belt. His eyes drag a trail of heat up your body, halting where Namjoon has begun to suck marks onto your neck like an artist decorating a canvas. For a moment he is mesmerised, and you can’t help the words that slip from your lips.

“You like what you see?” You ask, curving your back ever so slightly to emphasise your position. Seokjin pins you with an unreadable look, jaw ticking for a moment. 

“Very much so,” he answers, pulling away from you for a moment. He reaches behind him, retrieving something you hadn’t even noticed before now, and when you realise what it is he has in his hand you feel your stomach simultaneously drop and flip in excitement. His eyes meet yours for a moment, an unspoken question whether what he is about to do is okay, and had it been anyone else you know you would have refused, but you trust him. You trust them. You offer him a small nod and you receive the smallest smile in return before he is bringing the camera up to his eye and lining up his shot. 

Flash. Click. The camera isn’t as bulky as you’re used to, and you figure it must be one of the newer models you are far too poor to afford. One picture seems to be enough for him for now, but you know as he places it well to the side that it won’t be the only appearance it makes tonight. 

“Just in case you decide to fly the coop on us again,” he says, a sly look on his face. You scoff, knowing that he’s joking, and hold up your hands, still bound. 

“Like this? Not likely.”

He chuckles, and you feel Namjoon’s chest rumble with a soft laugh against your back as well. The lighthearted moment is over as quick as it arrives as Seokjin settles back between your legs and hardly waits for you to orient yourself before dipping his head down and delivering a broad swipe of his tongue up your slit.

“F— Jin!” you yelp at the sudden shock of pleasure, wriggling in Namjoon’s arms slightly; he nips at your skin in light reprimand, and Seokjin lifts his head only for a moment to scold you with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

“Careful now, bubs,” he cautions, delivering a small kitten lick to your clit between utterances. “We might have the penthouse but there are still people below us.”

Surprisingly— or perhaps unsurprisingly, when taking the rest of your life and profession into account — the idea of being heard has the opposite effect on you than one might expect. You bite your lip, tipping your head back as Namjoon’s fingers begin to play with you once more and Seokjin begins to bury his face between your legs in earnest. 

It gives you a bit of whiplash, when you think about it; you don’t think you ever would have expected to end up here, in this situation. Crushes or no crushes, you hadn’t even expected to see them again let alone become the meat in a famous musician sandwich. 

It’s almost shameful how quickly the heat and pressure builds within you, Namjoon managing to tug the tassels off completely to roll your flushed buds between his fingers. The noises that sound from Seokjin’s ministrations between your legs are so downright lewd you can feel your face flush with heat, your thighs trembling either side of his head. You attempt to keep your own moans and whines in until Seokjin delivers a smack to your thigh and sends you a warning look. 

Just when you think you might be about to reach your peak, Seokjin stops, pulling back and licking your cream from his lips. The look you send him must be devastated, because he looks absolutely smug. 

“Now, this isn’t just about you,” Seokjin says, carding a hand through his hair before he finishes undoing his shirt and slips it from his form. Your breath catches at the sight of his sculpted torso, and the ink that decorates it in pretty splotches of imagery. You feel so ridiculously naughty, finding the tattoos on him as attractive as you do, and you’re aware of the irony but you just can’t help it. Seokjin could manage to make a potato sack look good. “Hasn’t Joonie been good? Been making you feel so good, with nothing in return? I think we should pay him back.”

It’s all the warning you get before you’re flipped over, braced on your elbows and knees. There is rustling before something plush is slipped beneath you, and Seokjin lowers you down between Namjoon’s legs with the pillow propping your hips up for him to continue where he left off.

Dazed from the sudden shift and beginning to lose yourself to the feeling as Seokjin returns his mouth to your soaked centre, you tilt to meet Namjoon’s dark gaze and offer him a brief smile. You can’t deny, the angle you’re viewing him from is nice, especially as he wrangles his shirt off and you catch glimpses of firm abs and chest. Namjoon, too, has decorated his skin, and it’s somewhat ridiculous how viscerally you’re reacting to it but you really think you might be about to drool. 

The pleasure quickly beginning to build in you once more from Seokjin’s plush lips and agile tongue leaves you no room for pleasantries, “Can I suck you off, Joonie?”

You hear his breath catch before he tips his head back and lets out a soft groan. “Do you even have to ask?”

His response only fuels your eagerness, mouth beginning to feel empty when your face is so close to his crotch you can feel the heat of his body. Considering the state of your hands, Namjoon makes quick work of his belt and slacks for you, shimmying them down with his briefs just enough to let his member spring free, almost completely hard at this point. 

“Holy shoot, Joon,” you curse, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and lust. God, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone as much as you want these two men.  Namjoon shoots you a cheeky, if somewhat dazed, smile that makes his dimples pop out.

“It’s not just me you have to worry about.”

Well that’s a condemning statement if you ever did hear one, considering how you’re hoping this night will go. One of the more open and liberal girls that worked the show with you had once said “god gave me two holes for a reason, girls!” and right now you find you couldn’t agree more. 

You’re sick of your mouth being empty, you decide, and so you forego further foreplay and simply reach for his cock, taking the length into your hands and promptly enveloping his tip in the heat of your mouth.

“Fuck!” Namjoon swears loudly, thighs tensing against your shoulders. The yelp that escapes you as Seokjin smacks your ass melts into a moan that elicits a throaty noise from Namjoon, as well. 

You press and drag your tongue along the underside of his length, gradually working your mouth lower and lower until your nose is brushing the dark patch of curls across his pubic bone, a surprisingly pleasant mixture of musk melding with his cologne and brushing your senses . Even without the pleasure flooding your nerves from Seokjin’s tongue and the way he latches his lips around your clit, the deep, throaty noises tumbling from Namjoon’s mouth are reward enough. Since your hands are bound, your mouth has to do most of the work; when you sink down enough that his tip bumps the back of your throat, you do your best to fight your gag reflex from kicking in fully. 

Namjoon swears once more, just barely stopping himself before it gets too reminiscent of a sailor’s vocabulary. The sensation of your throat constricting around the head of his member makes his hips twitch and buck up ever so slightly, his hands winding into the hair at the nape of your neck. Struggling to keep on task through the haze in your mind, you do your best to build up a rhythm that has Namjoon’s abdomen trembling from the effort of keeping his hips still.

In tandem, the two of you seem to be rapidly approaching your highs— unfortunately for you, that same attention to detail that makes Jin’s ministrations so mind-numbingly good is what alerts him to that fact. Right when you feel yourself tense up in the prelude to your orgasm, Seokjin rips his mouth away, the bed shifting behind you. “Not yet, bubs.”

You can’t help the whine that sounds from your throat, the vibrations making Namjoon jerk.

“Fuck, I’m—”

Flash. Click. 

Another whine, different in tone this time, escapes you at the knowledge that Seokjin has added another filthy memory to his collection. 

“Joonie, you better not cum until I say so. y/n, off.”

Namjoons nails scratch lightly against your scalp, almost making your eyes roll back as he whines lowly in protest. You know you should listen and do as Seokjin says, but you can’t help but push a little, taking your sweet time as you pull your mouth slowly from Namjoon’s length, sucking all the while. The noises that tumble from Namjoon’s mouth as a result are incriminating enough, and even though you knew Seokjin wasn’t going to let it slide it still comes as a surprise when there is a sharp, painful smack against the globe of your ass. It’s hard enough and loud enough that your back arches slightly, mouth leaving Namjoon with a pop so you’re free to cry out. 

“Jin!”

Seokjin’s hand is cool against the smarting flesh of your behind as he rubs soothingly over it, raising an eyebrow as you meet his gaze over your shoulder. “I told you off, bubs. Let’s not make me repeat myself.”

Somewhat petulant despite the giddy butterflies in the pit of your stomach, you allow him to grab you by the hips and yank you back with a pout, breathless with anticipation when you feel his fingers drag over the dips and curves of your body as though mapping them out. He makes you sit up, your back against his chest as he explores your front, drinking in each gasp and whine as he pinches and tugs your nipples and rolls them between the pads of his fingers. Down, down, down he goes— when his finger drags along your slit and slips over your swollen clit you cry out, unable to help the unwitting buck of your hips. 

“After all the effort I went to to clean you up, you’ve gone and made a mess again,” Seokjin murmurs, pillowy lips brushing the edge of your ear. You quiver in his hold as he rolls a lazy circle around your bud, thighs threatening to close around his hand. You’re suddenly aware of how empty you feel, surprised that you’ve almost orgasmed twice without even being penetrated. 

You try and cant your hips up, not above whining and begging at this point— if he denies you your high one more time you just might go insane. “Please, Jin, please—”

Namjoon, who had taken a moment to recover after almost blowing his load earlier, shifts forward on the bed to join the two of you. His lips find your neck, your jaw, until they finally meet your lips once more and he swallows your sinful noises down. 

“What, you want more? You want my fingers? Look at you. You want to be filled so badly you’re willing to rock against anything with a pulse...”

Heat flushes up your neck to your cheeks, Namjoon’s kiss muffling your whine; you hadn’t thought you would be one to fancy this sort of thing, but if the wetness gushing forth at his words is anything to go by then apparently you do. 

Namjoon parts from your lips, waiting until your eyes focus on him so that he can hold your gaze. “Baby girl,” he murmurs, voice rough. His hand slips down to join Seokjin’s, finger dipping ever so slightly into your slit. The true meaning of his question isn’t lost on you.  “Who do you want?”

You feel almost unhinged with how much raw, restless desire is coursing through you right now— you couldn’t have stopped your answer even if you’d wanted to. “Both… both of you…”

There is a moment of silence following your response, but you don’t have time to wonder whether you said the wrong thing. In the next second Seokjin is swearing lowly under his breath, pressing his lips to your throat to hide his groan.

“Joonie, bedside table. You’ll have to prepare her.”

You’ve never seen Namjoon move as fast as he did the second Seokjin spoke, flying from the bed; he’s back within seconds after retrieving something from the drawers to the side, placing them on the covers. A small rectangular tin and a slim bottle. 

When he sits, waiting eagerly with his cock still flushed and hard and bobbing from the movement, Seokjin turns you around in an abridged version of the way you were before. Taking note of the uncomfortable angle of your arms, he undoes the tie, but doesn’t discard it after slipping it from the reddened skin of your wrists.

With your ass now pointed in Namjoon’s direction, it isn’t long before his hands find purchase and your most intimate area is revealed to him.

“Fuck,” he swears, “You’re so wet, baby. We might not even need the extra help, hyung.”

“Use it just in case,” Seokjin instructs, before turning his attention to you. “Now, if you want to cum later I think you should earn it now, hm?”

Your hands were already moving towards his belt and fly before he’d started talking, but his words renew your vigour. When you free Seokjin’s crotch from the confines of his slacks and briefs, you quickly understand just what Namjoon meant earlier. Namjoon has length, but Seokjin is thick. You wrap your hands around him and can’t help but marvel at his size— you’re a little ashamed of how excited it makes you.

“Ah!” Your plans to engulf Seokjin’s cock in the heat of your mouth are interrupted by a sensation at your rear. You wiggle slightly, unable to help it. “That’s cold!”

Namjoon places a featherlight kiss to your cheek, thick, slippery finger beginning to ease into your hole now that it is sufficiently lubricated. Suddenly aware that your attention is in the wrong place, you do your best to hurry back to what you were doing before you earn yourself another smack. 

“Perfect, bubs.” The groan that rumbles from Seokjin’s throat in praise is so raspy and low that it makes a shiver roll down your spine. As teasingly as you dare, you’re suckling around the flushed head of his cock, feeling it twitch and throb in your hands in response. It’s already a tight fit in your mouth, you can feel your thighs quaking in anticipation as you imagine what it would feel like filling you up. The thought takes you by surprise.

Since when did you start thinking like such a wanton whore?!

Well, you suppose, there is no time like the present. 

Seokjin’s hand threads through your hair, his hips rocking ever so slightly; you watch the way the muscles in his abdomen undulate at the movement and fight to keep your saliva in your mouth as you begin to bob your head down his length. Considering his girth, it’s hard to keep your teeth tucked behind your lips, but you somehow manage; when the time comes that he reaches your throat you’re in a better condition than you were earlier for it, but it’s still a bit of a shock to the system.

“Oh my god,” Seokjin’s thighs quake for the slightest second against you. “Fuck. No wonder Joonie almost blew his load. Look at you. You do this often, huh? Look how well you swallow my cock…”

You moan around him, his words and the oddly pleasant sensation of Namjoon working his fingers in and out of your asshole melding into a pool of heat in your abdomen.  Your eyes flutter closed as you try to focus on making Seokjin feel good, and you’re only distracted by a muted flash behind your eyelids.

Click.

Another shot saved. You take Seokjin further into your mouth, trying to go as far back as you can without gagging. He doesn’t seem to mind the way your throat constricts around his length though, if the noises escaping his plush lips where they part are anything to go by. Namjoon gradually adds one finger after another, making sure you’re accustomed to the stretch at least a little before the next joins. By the time he has squeezed in three fingers and scissored them a few times, you find yourself shaking a bit from the sensations. It’s odd, different to what you’re used to, but oh even with the light burn that accompanies each finger it still feels so good. 

You’re so focused on the sensations that you don’t even realise the attention you’ve been giving Seokjin has strayed, lips sucking a little harder and your hand stroking a little tighter. The salty taste of precum coats your tongue and you have half a mind to be ashamed of the way it makes you long for more. It proves to be a little too much for Seokjin at once, though. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling you gently off of him as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Not yet, bubs,” he says, voice rough. His eyes are like magnetic pools as they draw you into their depths, their hold only broken when Namjoon slips a final finger in and you shut your eyes on instinct, mouth dropping open at the sensation. 

“Are you ready, baby?” 

Namjoon’s voice makes your stomach flip, his free hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. You find yourself nodding before you even have the thought to do so, and with that Namjoon shifts on the bed behind you. Seokjin helps you move backwards, your eyes trained on his length somewhat longingly. There is the sound of something tearing softly behind you and you find yourself thankful that they took the initiative and you don’t have to ask them about protection.

You’re moved so that you’re straddling Namjoon’s hips with your back to him, still facing Seokjin. The two of them have since discarded their slacks and briefs  and are now presenting themselves in all their naked glory. Namjoon mutters a tender warning, informing you it might burn a bit, and you’ve heard of that but aren’t about to turn tail when you also know it’s going to feel so good after. You feel his tip press against your ass, alarmingly bigger than his fingers, and Seokjin helps ease you down slowly, inch by inch, with a firm grasp on your hips. 

True to the warning you’d received, it does burn; Namjoon had made sure there was more than enough lubrication for an easy glide, though, and by the time he has seated himself fully in you, you’re making noises you don’t think you ever have before. The line between heady pleasure and light pain is so blurred that you’re worried you might have fried your nerves at some point tonight. 

“Oh—” you take in a shuddering breath, shifting your hips ever so slightly and moaning in tandem with the man beneath you. “Joon…”

“Ride him,” Seokjin instructs, hands leaving your hips to reach for his camera once more. “Let’s make him feel good, hm?”

Who are you to say no? 

You pride yourself on having a lot of strength in your limbs, thighs especially, but still they tremble as you roll your hips up until just the tip of Namjoon’s cock remains in you, and then ease back onto him again. It takes a second before you realise the low moan you hear is coming from you, mind so addled with pleasure at this point you almost feel like you’re floating. Bracing yourself on your thighs, you do your best to set a rhythm and maintain it, ignoring the fatigue of your muscles and focusing on how good it feels and the noises tumbling from the man beneath you. 

When there is a sly touch against your swollen clit, you cry out loudly— Namjoon almost shouts at the way you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to hold you in place for a moment. You look to Seokjin with wide eyes, panting slightly.

“Didn’t you wanna cum so badly, earlier?” he queries, fingers slipping down to slide through the slick mess around your entrance. You moan as he easily sinks two fingers in, pumping lightly. “Don’t stop, fuck yourself on my fingers, bubs.”

It feels so good you think you might tear up; obediently, you resume the pace you set earlier, now riding both Namjoon’s length and Seokjin’s digits. Each time you sink down he curls them, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this out before your legs become too akin to  jelly to support you.

The answer is: not much longer. Seokjin quickly grows tired of it when your movements slow, thighs trembling from the effort. With a hand to your stomach he pushes you back, shifting your legs so they’re folded with your feet flat against the covers. You scramble for purchase, Namjoon quickly supporting you from behind. 

Seokjin tuts, muttering playfully about having to do everything himself, and it’s all the warning you get before he adds another digit and begins to finger your sopping entrance so hard and good that for a moment your vision goes white.

“S-Seokjin!” you drop your head back, nails sinking into the bedding as he begins to curl his fingers into that delicious spot inside of you with each pump. You had been slowly but steadily climbing back up to the precipice of your orgasm earlier, but now you’re heading there at breakneck speed. Before you know it the coil of pressure is snapping inside you and you’re shaking, pleasure numbing your limbs and making you whine.

By the time your high fades and you tune back in to the moment, you quickly become aware of two things— one, that you’ve somehow managed to coat Seokjin’s whole arm in your fluids, and two, that Namjoon has gone so tense and still beneath you that you think you might have almost killed him.

“Good girl,” Seokjin praises, sucking your cream off the tip of his fingers before wiping the remaining excess on your thigh so he can reach for his own rubber. “Do you need me to wait another moment?”

Assessing your current state, you find yourself shaking your head. You might have thought you would be too sensitive to continue, but Namjoon is still fully seated in your ass and now your pussy feels too empty for you to bear. Seokjin is only too happy to fill that void. 

Nestled between your legs, when he lines his cock up at your entrance and begins to slide in, you all but lose the ability to think. You clench unintentionally from the sensation of being filled so completely, making both men groan and Seokjin halt in his movements. He waits until you relax again before continuing his motion. 

When both men are fully sheathed inside you, you think this really might be what bliss is. Soft, panting whines and moans tumble freely from your throat as Seokjin pushes your thighs to your chest and begins to set a mind-numbing pace. It’s borderline brutal, the way he slams into you and splits you open so hard and good; each time his hips hit home you feel your whole body jostle.

“You can move, Joonie,” Seokjin somehow manages to articulate, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and dampen the strands falling over it. You don’t know how he can talk, because you know if you tried at this moment you’d likely end up biting off your tongue. 

You feel Namjoon shake his head, hair brushing the space between your shoulder blades. “‘m close,” he mumbles in explanation, a short moan following his words. “Wanna cum together.”

It’s such a sweet desire in the midst of such a lewd situation that you almost get whiplash between the swelling of your heart and the pleasurable ache filling your insides. You feel that he will get his wish soon, because despite your recent high you’re already well on your way to reaching it again— Seokjin’s hips have begun to stutter, too, and you know he isn’t far behind. 

It all reaches its peak when Seokjin slips his hand down, following the angle of your hip bone to your core and rolling your bud with his thumb. It proves to be too much for you, because in the next moment you’re letting out a loud train of expletives and clenching tightly around them as pleasure floods your system once more, mind absolutely blank. The tightness of your heat around them is their undoing and barely a moment after you reach your high they follow suit, the sounds tumbling from them borderline sinful against your ears. 

It takes a bit longer for you to come back to earth, this time. By the time you do, Namjoon is winding his arms around your waist and rolling to the side, taking you and Seokjin with him. You let out a noise of surprise that curls into a laugh, hands gripping his arms as you hit the bed; both men are still inside you, and while you secretly wish it could stay that way for a bit longer, you know you should probably clean up. 

“No,” Namjoon says before you even go to move, a pout in his tone as he buries his face in the back of your neck. Seokjin nestles closer, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. “Stay, just a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous request, especially considering the way your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy after the events of the night. For them, too, you can hear the way their breathing has already begun to even out. You couldn’t be mad if you tried, though, because just being here in their arms feels so right that you don’t ever want to feel anything else. 

“I guess we can nap…” you say, sounding tired enough that it elicits a chuckle from Seokjin. You let your eyes close, nestling your cheek against the top of Seokjin’s head and enjoying the light scent of his shampoo and cologne. You let out one last warning before you let yourself fall into the abyss, though. Just so they know who’s boss.

“If I see those photos anywhere near my house, Seokjin, it won’t just be me getting disowned.”

The laughter that tumbles forth in response just adds to the warmth flooding your being, and you let yourself relax, contented and truly happy for the first time in three years. 

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtan smut #rm smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts oneshot #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #seokjin x reader #bts 1950s au #1950s au #musician au #burlesque au #childhood friends au #f2l #bts f2l #bts poly #poly au #namjoon x reader x seokjin #my work #light angst #fluff #smut #hoooooooo boy #i feel like im forgetting tags but oh well #rockabilly au #bts rockabilly au

[bukojuiice]

You got questions, I got answers tonight, babe.

ೃ pairing: (pro hero! katsuki bakugo x pro hero! fem reader)

ೃ  warnings: nsfw (18+)

ೃ genre: smut

ೃ word count: 2,139 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

  ೃ  shoto’s valentines fic → izuku’s valentines fic  → virtual valentines hcs 

ೃ  please reblog, reply or leave like if you enjoyed! it means a lot! c:

ೃ song inspo: love by dean ft. syd

ೃ you and the bakusquad drag bakugo to a short vacation after such an intense week of hero work, much to his annoyance. however, his stress and pent up energy was more than you expected, so you knew exactly how to release all his frustrations.

After an intense first week of Pro Hero activities, you were given a 5 day rest period. The Bakusquad had a wonderful idea of going on a short vacation to Okinawa before you guys have to face reality again.

You practically dragged your boyfriend, Bakugo to come along as he had second thoughts and didn’t want to ruin his so called “villain streak” by taking a well-deserved rest and relaxation when he could just continue fighting off villains.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, and Sero were so excited for this trip that they could not shut up about it. In turn, Katsuki was more irritated than usual as you take the plane ride there. He was forced to go on this trip after all.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You had arrived late in afternoon and the first thing that you guys do as soon as you arrive at the hotel was dropping the bags in your respective hotel rooms. You and Bakugo were in one room while everyone else had separate rooms entirely to themselves.

Before you could even take a full look at the room you were staying in, your pink-haired friend came knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)-chan!” Mina spoke from behind the door, her gleeful voice ever so echoing. “We’ll meet you two at the swimming pool lounge okay? We’ll be ordering food already!”

“Alright! We’ll see you later Mina-chan!” You shout back, and as soon as Mina heard your words of confirmation, you could hear her footsteps as she walks away.

Bakugo continues to rummage through his things, cursing under his breath.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask him sweetly, poking his cheek. “Look, Katsuki-kun… you need to rest. It’s been an intense week, even the Hero Commission wanted us to-“

“Yea. Yea. I get it. Let’s go to the lounge.” He says harshly. He leaves the door open as you follow suit.

“That was… cold.” You blink, trying to process what your boyfriend had just said.

The two of you arrive at the lounge area however the rest of the Bakusquad was nowhere to be seen. Bakugo approaches a waiter and begins to order whilst you decided to go around the area to look for your other friends.

You were minding your own business when a weird and bad-intentioned man begins to approach you. You didn’t pay him any attention at first since you were occupied with looking for your friends, but the weirdo was persistent.

“A pretty girl like you alone in a resort like this?” He coos, trying to catch your attention. “I must be dreaming.”

“Piss off.” You snarled before he could even touch your arm, you quickly run back to Katsuki, as the weirdo loses sight of you. You slowly pace back to Bakugo who had an annoyed expression on his face. When you arrive at the area where he was standing, he grabs your hand and takes you to the elevator.

He clicks on the button that led to your floor and swipes the card key to your room, he comes to a sudden stop when you enter your dark hotel room, and he looks down at your hand in his like he’d forgotten he’d been holding it.

You pull Katsuki closer, twisting your hand around to take his more firmly.

His strong fingers fit perfectly between yours, and you know he can feel it too by the way he tightens his grip. His other hand settles on your waist, holding you against him, so close you can practically feel his heart beating.

“Did you really have to pull me out of the lounge area like that?” You pout seductively.

“Tch. (Y/N)….” He says your name in his low voice that sounds like an “I want you,” but you need to hear his actual words. You can see he’s so used to trying to brush things off that it’s an instinct, but he fights against it.

“Because I couldn’t stand to see an asshole try to make a move on you while I was at the other side of the area, waiting for the food. Who the hell gave him permission to even be within a few meters of you?”

His voice is irritated and strained. Your heart races under the intensity of his gaze, all his unspoken desire just beneath the surface.

  “It’s okay Katsuki-kun. You saw how I brushed him off… What did you take me back here for?”

He moves suddenly, backing you against the wall. You gasp, and then he’s right there, pinning you to the surface, hands on either side of your head.

As you shift, you hit the light switch, and the room is illuminated, revealing the bed. Katsuki goes still as he sees it.

“Of fucking course. Of course Mina would book one bed instead of two.”

His voice is tight, barely restrained. As if he wants to release an intense surging energy inside him. Your body is attuned to his tension. He’s coiled so tight, you feel it radiating off of him.

“Katsuki. Answer me. What did you take me back here for?”

His eyes drop to your lips. You feel his breath skimming against them.

“The way that fucking sleezeball loser looked at you… I couldn’t help it. You’re everything. And I want you more than anything.” Your stomach swoops at his intensity. He’s finally giving you the honesty you’ve been asking for but your conscience chimes in for a second.

“Katsuki…”

He brushes his thumb against your lips, and it’s like a bolt of electricity races through you, leaving you tingling for him.

His stare becomes more and more intense, as if he was craving for something.

“(Y/N), tell me. Right here, right now, what do you want?”

“It’s you, Katsuki. I want you.”

He sucks in a breath then crashes his mouth to yours. You both let out moans as he pushes you harder against the door and you pull him closer.

He kisses you hard and you melt at the feel of his lips and tongue, the sounds of your gasps and needy moans filling the quiet hotel room.

“Fuck. I’ll never ever get enough of this. Every time I kiss you, I get more desperate for the next one.” His throaty groan makes your stomach swoop again, and you tangle your fingers into his spiky hair.

You wink at him, your eyes giving off the same passion and love in his. “Then don’t stop.”

He brushes his lips against yours. It feels so light, yet the desire and the lust behind it is so powerful you can’t help but not resist.

“(Y/N)…”

A shiver runs through you as his mouth covers yours. Everything narrows to the feeling of his kiss, slow and intense like he’s taking his time tasting you.

His hands slide down to your sides to hold your hips, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

As your desire grows, you try to deepen the kiss to match the rate of your racing heart, but he draws back as it starts to get intense.

His eyes smolder, intense and teasing at the same time.

He nips gently at your ear and you arch against him. His hands slide up to grip your waist, pulling you tight to his body while still pushing you back against the door.

“(Y/N)… say my name again…”

You crash your lips to his again, feeling and pouring all your desire and impatience into the kiss. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the door above your head, his show of power making you giddy. You arch against him, and he sucks in a harsh breath, fingers digging into your wrists with delicious pleasure.

Katsuki’s eyes darken, and he captures your mouth with a desperate kiss, tongue sliding against yours, leaving you breathless. You tip your head back against the door as he runs his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking with every inch of his love.

He grabs your hips and pulls you off the door, steering you to the center of the room. You throw your arms around him and speak with your lips pressed onto his. You moan as he kisses down your neck, gasping as his teeth scrape against your skin and he soothes the spot with his tongue.

“(Y/N)…” He says demandingly. “I need you. Right now.”

He takes a step back and starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, but you still his hand with your own.

“Sit back and relax Suki-kun. Let me do it.”

He bites his lip at the term of endearment, or maybe at the thought of you peeling off his clothes.

You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth, and feel him shiver. His chest rises and falls as you continue to slowly unbutton his dress shirt, grinning wolfishly as you toss it to the floor.

“(Y/N)…” there’s an impatient growl in his voice. His hands flex at his sides, and you know he’s dying to touch you, to rip your clothes off.

“Shh. Your patience will be rewarded.”

You press your palm to the center of his chest, then drag it downwards over the ridges of his abs, following the path of his well-toned abs. He rolls his hips forward as you undo the clasp of his belt, and he catches your wrist in an iron tight grip.

“I can’t wait any longer.”

The hunger in his voice makes your brain feel like it stopped for a second, and before you realize it, he’s undressing you.

“Ah. Yes. I will never get tired of how impatient you are.” You shake your head yet feel nothing but arousal from the way he looks at you as he continues.

“I can’t help myself when you’re so irresistible,” He shrugs then smirks.

You help him undress you, and soon your clothes are lying in a heap on the floor. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You both moan at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, the heat emanating from the both of you.

Your stomach swoops as he spins the two of you around, backing toward the bed. He falls down onto the mattress and pulls you down on top of him.  He laughs, his voice husky at your look of surprise, bringing his hands to your waist to steady you as you lift yourself up to look down at him.

Still laughing a little, you lean down to kiss him, and it quickly grows heated as the intensity between the two of you spikes.

He’s still in his pants and you make quick work of the belt and zipper. He lifts his hips up to pull them off and throws them aside. 

You press your hand against his cock over his underwear, and he bucks against you, head thrown back.

“Ah…”

You feel the heat of his desire through the fabric, but what you want is right beneath.

 You close your teeth around the waistband and tug them down. He groans, lifting his hips to help you get them off. Once you cast his underwear aside, you wrap your lips around his member and suck briefly, a teasing touch that has him arching higher off the bed.

Before you could even process what had just happened, he throws a leg over you and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top and your legs are parted around his hips.

You call out his name as he roughly removes your underwear and creeps between your legs to tease his fingers against you, sending bolts of pleasure racing through all parts of your body.

“K-Katsuki…”

His mouth is hot against your neck as he speaks in a rush, hips rolling against yours.

“Make this one last the w-whole night,” you whisper in between breaths.

Lust flashes in his eyes and he growls deep, slowing the movement of his fingers against you.

You gasp as you feel him push into you, taking one of your hands and lacing his fingers with yours.

He sets a tantalizingly slow pace, making you groan loudly at the purposeful way he thrusts into you.

You grip onto his muscular shoulders, giving yourself over to the exquisite feeling as he bites back several deep groans of his own. He ducks his head to kiss your breasts, then begins to suck your nipples, sending shivers through your body as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you.

He stills suddenly, and you groan in a mix of pleasure and frustration, lifting your hips to search for more.

“You want this to last the whole night, huh? I’m going to give you what you want.”

You throw your head back as he starts moving again, your moans filling the room as he teases you toward that bliss, as you lose all sense of time.

_______

“(Y/N)! BAKUBRO!” You hear Kaminari knock on the door playfully. “Were you guys THAT exhausted that you did nothing but sleep yesterday!? We didn’t see you guys by the pool! Is something wrong? Are you guys sick!?”

You were cuddling with Katsuki after such an intense but amazing night, still wearing nothing, the blankets and comforters being the only ones shielding you from anything. 

“W-we’re fine Kaminari-kun.” You say groggily, Bakugo’s strong arms still wrapped around you, giving you all the warmth and comfort you need. “W-we’ll be down in an h-hour.” 

“Ok then! See you!” Kaminari leaves as soon as he arrives. You sigh softly and turn to your explosive boyfriend who was still sound asleep, you rest your head on his chest as you too, drift back to dreamland, excited for what else this vacation has in store for you.

-Fin. 

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha #bnha #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x y/n

[theoriginalladya]

Dinosaur Brain

I have the most amazing friends, I swear!

The following ficlet evolved out of conversations about Rhys Shepard and Grunt and dinosaurs ... and then it had to have some commissioned ART, too!  Fabulous art by @thepixelagora​ who somehow managed to take my incoherent ramblings about this and turn it into the absolutely most perfect picture of events!!!!  Thank you so much for lending me your talents!!  

There is more to this story, but it wasn’t quite working how I wanted, so the rest will come later.  In the meantime, have the madness that started it all!!!

The story can also be found on AO3 here.

~~~

Rhys drops into an empty seat and starts eating immediately, his focus less on the food and more on the datapad in his hand. Across from him, a chair squeaks and shadows flicker in his peripheral vision.  Still, he pays little heed to the disruption until…

“You going all dinosaur brain?”

He would prefer to flat out ignore the question, but there are times that’s worse than responding to it.  Rhys doesn’t bother to look up from the pad.  “Not this again.”

Kaidan’s chuckle of amusement drifts across the table. “What?”

“You know what.”

Kaidan leans over and stabs a piece of Rhys’ meal, retreating quickly.  He chews with a thoughtful look in his eye, then swallows.  “Tell me honestly, when have you never been thinking about them?”

“What’s a dinosaur?”

The table wobbles as Grunt slams his tray down and sits next to Rhys.  This time, it’s Kaidan who is taken aback and Rhys whose interest perks up.  “You want to know what dinosaurs are?”

“Here we go,” Kaidan mutters, rolling his eyes and reaching for his coffee.

Rhys ignores him and turns to face Grunt. “O’Keer never imprinted them on you?”

Grunt shakes his massive head back and forth. “What are they?”

Rhys peeks over at Kaidan, his blue eyes sparkling with delight.  “Translated from the Latin, the word means ‘terrible lizard,’” he explains.  “They are creatures that lived millions of years ago on Earth.”  He grabs his datapad, pointedly ignoring the sputter of choked laughter from Kaidan, and scrolls to the end of the device before passing it over to Grunt.  “This is a Triceratops.  About eight meters long and three meters tall.  They are known for having three horns on their head; one long one above each eye and a smaller one over its nose, as well as a large frill made out of bone.”

Grunt examines the picture on the datapad then glances back over at Rhys.  “Looks like a mighty warrior,” he concludes with a sage nod.

Rhys grins.  “Actually, they weren’t the fighters.  Not unless they were attacked, of course.” He takes back the datapad and sets it aside.  “The real fighters were the Velociraptors and Tyrannosaurus Rex.”

“You know,” Kaidan muses as he sits back in his seat, “I’m going to tell Wrex you’re calling him a tyrant again.”

“Oh, shut up!” Rhys hisses over at him.  He spends the next several minutes explaining about the two different dinosaurs to Grunt before he reaches into his pocket and nabs the Deinonychus claw he always carries with him.  “This is from a much smaller dinosaur, similar to the Velociraptor, called Deinonychus.  I found this on our family’s ranch when I was a kid.”  

Grunt takes the claw and squints at it, holding it up to the light and tilting his head.  “Doesn’t look very dangerous.”

Rhys chuckles.  Pushing his chair back, he stands and lifts a hand to about chest level, just above his elbow.  “They were only this tall when adults,” he explains.  “A smaller version of the Velociraptor, if you will, but older.  They were also very bird-like.”

“You know, Shepard,” Garrus comments from down the table, “if you keep making references like that, I’m going to start taking it personally.”

Kaidan almost spits out his coffee.  Rhys just grins as he retakes his seat.  

Grunt, however, stares at the datapad.  “So, what did you do with them?”

Kaidan starts to laugh uncontrollably.  Rhys kicks his leg beneath the table.  “We didn’t do anything to them.  They died out over time, long before humans were around.  We’ve spent centuries searching for their bones, fossilized in the earth.”  

The krogan sets the datapad down.  “Too bad.  I would have liked to go up against one of them.”

 ~

 A week later, while on duty in the CIC with his attention focused on planets, minerals, and potential prothean ruins, Grunt comes thundering his way through. “Shepard!”

Caught in the middle of running a scan, Rhys cannot give the krogan his full attention, and calls back over his shoulder, “Yes?”

Grunt makes some sort of disgruntled sound. “Shepard, what’s a ‘shark?’”

With his fingers flying over the haptic keyboard, Rhys’ reply comes automatically.  “Water dinosaur.”  A heartbeat passes, and he thinks about what he said before turning around to find the krogan standing there, a piece of paper in his hand.  It is an image of a Great White shark.

Kaidan is just exiting the cockpit and happens by during the conversation.  Giving Rhys a bemused look, he replies, “Really?”

Rhys shrugs back at him, but Grunt grins, a spark of delight in his eyes, and turns back toward the lift, chuckling in his usual, deep, rumbly manner.  It’s quite adorable, even if it does leave both men scratching their heads.

 ~

 Late in the Collector mission

Stops at the Citadel are opportunities Rhys never ignores.  This time around, however, he isn’t tracking down prothean specialists at the university or the archives, but shopping.  He returns to the Normandy a few hours before required, not surprised to find the CIC nearly empty as he walks through, bags in hand.  What does surprise him, however, is when the lift doors open and Kaidan steps out.  The other man sizes up the current situation and his hand shoots back out to hold the doors open for Rhys.  “What are those?” he asks, nodding at the bags Rhys carries.

Hopping inside, Rhys shrugs.  “Books.”  

Kaidan chuckles.  “Obviously.”  He reaches into a bag and tugs one free.

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Rhys clarifies.  “On dinosaurs.”

The switch from amusement to… well, whatever the look in his eyes is now – half bemusement, half irritation? – is instantaneous.  Kaidan drops the book back into the bag without looking at it and slams his hand on the buttons.  “You need a fucking lab, I swear.”

Rhys chuckles.  “I tried, but Mordin won’t share.”  He’s the first one through the doors when the lift stops outside of Kaidan’s cabin.  The new arrangement works out better than expected, at least until this topic comes up in discussion.  “Besides, these aren’t for me.”

“No?”  Kaidan swipes his hand over the door’s interface.  “Who?”

“Grunt.”

Almost as if he’s listening in to their conversation, a soft, “Hehehehehe,” whispers through the walls of the ship as they enter the room.  

 ~

 2186, Citadel, during the Reaper War

While Kaidan heads off to do Spectre things, Rhys makes his way to Huerta Memorial Hospital.  After the incident on Mars and his time spent there, the desire to visit isn’t exactly thrumming inside of him, but Grunt is now a patient there, and it’s more important to check on how the krogan is doing.  Wrex’s assurances that Grunt is fine aside, Rhys decides to check in on him anyway, just to be sure.  Kaidan promises to meet up with him as soon as his responsibilities are taken care of, hopefully in time to visit the krogan as well.  

Entering the critical care ward, Rhys notices not much has changed in the weeks since his departure.  In many ways, it reminds him of the rest of the Presidium at the moment; hiding the true nature of what is happening in the Galaxy outside of the Serpent Nebula behind common, everyday things like Blasto movies, home redecoration conventions, and the latest varren races.  Nothing like sticking their collective heads in the sand.

Rhys enters to find Grunt sitting up in bed.  There are makings of a few scars – two across his face, another on his upper left arm, and one more across the broad expanse of his chest – but he appears greatly improved since receiving his injuries on Utukku.  As Rhys enters, Grunt slowly turns his bandaged head in his direction.  His voice is on the weak side, but there is an urgency to it that confuses Rhys at first.  “Shepard.”

Rhys takes that as permission to enter, removing his cowboy hat in the process.  “Hey, Grunt. How’re you doing?”

Grunt ignores the question.  “Shepard, what’s a kakliosaur?”

Startled, it takes Rhys a minute to digest the full question.  In the space between, he pulls over a chair and takes a seat.  “It’s… a krogan dinosaur, I guess,” he replies after a time. “Remember the Triceratops? Akin to that, I guess you could say.”

An added spark of life brightens the krogan’s blue eyes.  “Krogan had dinosaurs?”

Rhys chuckles but nods.  “I would point out that krogan are dinosaurs, but yeah. They had creatures very similar to Earth’s dinosaurs.”

Lying back, Grunt’s eyes close, but he manages a small laugh as he drifts back off to sleep.  “Hehehehehe.”  Rhys takes his leave a few minutes later.

After catching up with one another, Rhys and Kaidan reboard the Normandy.  Halfway through the CIC, Rhys announces, “We have a mission.”

They’re just passing Traynor’s station and she hands Kaidan several datapads.  Absently, he replies, “I know.”

Rhys sighs.  “A new one, I mean.”

That, apparently, is enough to catch the man’s attention, and he glances up.  “What?”

Using his chin to point to the galaxy map, Rhys continues, “We need to go to the Phoenix System.  It’s… important.”

Kaidan frowns.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

A grin slips across Rhys’ face.  He can’t help it.  “We are going dinosaur hunting.  Krogan dinosaur hunting, to be specific.”

The blank look in Kaidan’s eyes as he blinks owlishly at him makes it clear he has no idea what Rhys is talking about.  Either that or he thinks Rhys has lost his mind. Maybe both.  “Check your messages.”

There is a hint of apprehension in his steps as Kaidan walks over to his terminal and retrieves them.  “Shit!”

Rhys tips his hat just a bit and turns toward the elevator.  “See? Told you.  Anyway, let me know when we get there.  I know the director of the museum.”

He’s just stepped onto the lift and pressed the button for the cabin when Kaidan calls over, “Have I mentioned you’re a menace?”

Rhys’ grin widens and he winks at him.  “Not this week…”

#Dinosaur Brain #ladya writes #mshenko #Rhys Shepard #Kaidan Alenko #Grunt #dinosaurs #OTP: The Music Lives On #Mass Effect #Cowboy Shepard #canon divergent #thepixelagora #Dinosaurs and Grunt #match made in heaven

[n0-eyedtaissa]

“Did you steal that?” JJ and Clem

To be a Pogue meant that you had to be good at thinking on your feet. It meant that even when all plans didn't pan out, you used anything and everything you had left in you to reevaluate and to adapt. Being a Pogue meant that you had to have something akin to cockroach mentality — even in the face of nuclear disaster (or any form of adversity, really), you had the survival instincts to keep pushing through with the plan.

The thing was, however, more often than not the Pogues were coming up with the plan on the fly and not thinking through obstacles and possible setbacks.

Like today.

None of the Pogues anticipated that the HMS would be out of commission after sitting in front of the ghost of the chateau for so long. They needed a boat, desperately, and it wasn't as if JJ could go ask his dad for the keys to the Phantom again...not after what happened to John B. and Sarah. No one knew it but JJ still carried a lot of guilt and felt like he was partially to blame for what happened in the storm. It was his plan, his dad's shabby cigarette boat. He should’ve known that an open boat wouldn't be strong enough to beat the storm, yet it was the only plan he could come up with. JJ didn't think it through and now his best friend since the third great was dead, drowned with the Kook Princess turned half Pogue, Sarah Cameron. 

“If we're gonna get there we need a boat and we need it now” Pope wipes the sweat from his brow as he mentally goes back to the drawing board, trying to think of a way that the four of them could remain unseen while still moving in the direction that they needed to. 

“No what we need is a plan” Kiara rolls her eyes, trying the choke on the HMS Pogue one more time just to see if the old girl had any life left in her. 

JJ scoffs. “Okay here’s the plan, Kie: We need a boat!” He peels off his favorite red hat and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. 

Clementine, who had been quiet for awhile (as she was the only one who was actually thinking through the beginning stages of a real plan) has a lightbulb moment and she realizes, she has a boat. Well, it’s not hers, and it definitely wasn't hers to use or to borrow, but there was a boat that she could get her hands on easily. 

“Okay new plan, all of you guys are banned from making plans” Clementine speaks up, making the rest of the Pogues turns towards her with their eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Come again?” Pope asks, quirking up his eyebrow. “If you have an idea, Clem, let’s hear it because I’m fresh out of good ideas.” 

“What about my plan?” JJ pouts 

“You especially are banned from making plans!” Clem laughs. “Look, I can get us a boat. It’s not mine, but I know where the spare key is. If this is gonna work we don’t have a lot of time” She kicks at the metal base of the HMS with the toe of her sun bleached high-tops. “And if my plan doesn’t work...then we go to Plan B” She looks over at JJ, who had pulled a joint out of nowhere and decided to light up. 

Pope grabs the tightly-rolled paper from him and tosses it aside. “Keep the signals clear”

The three of them put their heads together and speak in hushed voices as Clementine lays out each step of the plan. 

“First, Pope I need you to drop me off back at my house. That’s where I can get the boat keys. You guys go straight to the docks, I’ll meet you there but I’m gonna have to take my bike and keep my head down so my dad doesn’t see me. The Flea’s tied off to the dock but we’ll only have a few hours before anyone realizes that it’s gone. We go from the docks, through the marsh, and we’ll be out of here. That’s the plan”

Both Pope and Kiara nod along and head back towards Heyward’s rickety old truck that was parked under the overgrowth around the untouched chateau. 

“Your dad’s got two boats, Clem?” JJ asks, hopping into the bed of the pickup truck. “What are you, a Kook in Pogue’s clothing?” 

Clementine would usually stop and make a comment to further fuel JJ’s fire but they didn't have much time and arguing wasn’t a part of the plan. She rolls her eyes and sits in the middle seat between Pope and Kiara, trying not to notice the tension between the two of them. The ride back to the Adams household is short enough, only made quicker when everyone peer pressures Pope into speeding despite his perpetual fears of his father’s precious truck overheating. He skids the truck into the dirt driveway and Kiara rushes to let Clementine out of the truck. 

“Meet me at the docks in twenty minutes. That should give me enough time to find the key and get back to you guys so we can snag the boat. But I’m telling you now, if anyone finds out that I’m stealing the keys, I’m cooked. So discretion is of the utmost importance right now, okay?” Clementine looks straight at JJ, feeling pretty confident that if anything went wrong it would probably be his doing.

“You don’t gotta worry about me, Clem, discretion is my middle name!” JJ waves a noncommittal hand and dismisses her concerns as he slides into the old truck next to Kie. 

Clementine rolls her eyes again and ducks her head into the window of the truck to better address Pope, the holder of the brain cell most times. “Meet me there in twenty minutes, no more no less. I’ll have the keys.” She turns on her heels and runs up the driveway, pulling a ceramic pot from the front porch and grabbing the front door key that she had taped there only a few weeks before. She hears the truck tires skid over the gravel and knows that now shit just got real. 

No one was ever home at this time, which was helpful, because Clementine was running from room to room looking anything other than discreet. She walks over to her dad’s roll top desk, pulling out the middle drawer and rooting through the pencils, paperclips, loose fishing lures, and other miscellaneous office supplies until she found what she was looking for: the spare key to Gat’s trailer that was parked in the side yard. She takes a mental picture of everything rightful place and hopes that she remembers it later when it mattered. She walks through the laundry room and opens the door, walking down the two concrete steps and stopping in front of Gat’s shabby little trailer. 

Liam Gatwin was old enough that he probably could’ve afforded his own apartment if he wanted one but he didn't. He preferred the moving, on-the-go lifestyle that came with fishing and the switch of seasons. All he had to do was hitch his little trailer to the back of a truck and he could take home with him wherever he went.  Clementine grabs the door latch and pulls. The door pops open easily, it wasn’t even locked. Oh. She puts the spare trailer key in her pocket and looks over her shoulder carefully before stepping inside. 

Immediately she's overtaken by the smell of stale beer and smoke, too much cheap cologne to hide the gross, manly smell of dirty laundry and the too-wet, briny smell that came with working on a fishing boat every day. Clementine had never been inside, but she knew that Kimber had. She wonders how her sister dealt with the pinup centerfold posters of the half-naked women, the greasy pizza boxes littering the small, crowded counter. She can’t help but wonder what of Kimber’s stuff was still here in his trailer, hiding among everything else, but she didn’t have the time to snoop around and look. Clementine was on a mission. 

There's a rack above her head that’s crowded with hats and other small items but Clementine swears she can see the silver gleam of a keyring in the midst of it all. She’s too short to be able to reach it on her own so she hikes herself up onto the cracked laminate counter, stopping in her tracks as a slew of beer and soda cans rattle and roll onto the dusty floor. She jumps to grab at what she hopes is the right key and drops it into the front pocket of her overalls. Clementine closes the trailer door behind her, but not without taking note of something she swears that she’s seen before: dangling from one of the cabinet knobs is a small, silver ring, tied to an old boot string. It’s a small silver band, much too slender for Gat’s finger, with a small purple stone embedded into it. There’s a fleur de lis engraved into one side of the ring, the number 17 on the other. Suddenly the pieces come together and she realizes that its Kimber’s class ring, the one that she wore every day of her senior year of high school and most if not all days after that. 

Without thinking much of it, Clementine grabs the ring and takes it with her as she head back to the front yard, retrieving her beach cruiser from where she’d thrown it down earlier. 

Patting her front pocket to double-check that she hadn’t somehow miraculously lost the boat key and the mysterious silver ring, Clementine sighs with relief and slings one of her legs over the bike seat, kicking off and pedaling as fast as she could. It’s a quick ride to the dock, a ride that was only made easier by the big downhill slope that helped Clem pick up speed as she made her way up the road from the Cut and towards the docks. She spots the Pogues waiting for her and comes skidding to a stop in front of them. 

“Made it with five minutes to spare!” Pope calls out to her, looking rather impressed. 

Clementine dismounts her bike and takes a second to catch her breath, hunching over to put her hands on her knees. “Yeah I would’ve said gimme fifteen but I didn't wanna get too cocky” She wheezes. 

JJ laughs, opening the truck hatch for Clementine to be able to climb in. He grabs her bike frame and pulls it into the truck bed with the two of them, making it look effortless. Clementine scoffs at him but sits down in the bed of the truck, getting ready to regroup with her friends and go over the next phase of the plan. 

“So...Did you get it?” Pope asks hesitantly, as if he was wondering about the reason why Clementine came back so fast and whether or not it meant that she was able to score the keys to the getaway boat. 

Clementine pulls the keys out of the front pocket of her overalls and tosses them over to Pope. Kiara gives her a slow clap, clearly impressed at her new friend’s ability to deliver on her part of the plan. It wasn’t that Kie (or any of the Pogues for that matter) doubted Clementine, it was more like they were comforted by the fact that she could keep up with how wild things could get around the island. 

“I must say, Clem, I’m impressed with how fast you’ve dedicated yourself to the Pogue life” JJ smirks over at her.

“Thank you” She laughs breathlessly. “I’m really susceptible to peer pressure” Clementine jokes, shrugging. 

“That’s better for us probably” Kiara laughs, only half-serious. 

“Definitely better” Pope agrees. 

The four of them get out of the truck and try to make their way down the docks as discreetly as possible as they each split up to find out where the Flea was docked. It was a small little boat, smaller than the HMS at least, and that was already pretty small. Clementine steps down into the boat and gets her started as JJ ties off, and everyone gets in. 

“Keep your head on a swivel until we hit the marsh, cause if we see the Caprice, I’m absolutely cooked” The blood drains from Clementine’s face as she thinks about it but she keeps going forward. 

JJ notices the sudden drop in her enthusiasm and gets curious. “Did you steal that? Did we just help you steal a boat?” 

Kiara looks over at him judgmentally. “As if any of us haven’t stolen a boat before” She looks over at Clem, shielding her eyes. “Clem’s a real Pogue now” 

Clementine’s too busy looking around and keeping an eye out for the Vita Caprice, the boat that both her dad and Gat worked on, so she doesn’t actually hear the compliment. Beforehand, everyone joked that Clementine’s status as a Pogue was only on a trial-run basis. Sure, it was in part because Kiara, Pope, and JJ were all grieving the loss of their friends and didn’t quite have the room (or the want) to make new friends, but Clementine had felt like she had to work twice as hard to make the Pogues like her at first. But she was a Real Pogue now, and that mattered to her. 

They finally make their way into the marsh and Clementine feels like she can breathe again. She doesn’t really know where she’s going though, so she relinquishes the captain’s duties to Pope, who had an impeccable sense of direction once he’d familiarized himself with a place. Everyone seems to loosed up a little, knowing that there would be some time before they could get to the Lighthouse, the place that was in one of the many polaroid pictures sent ominously to Clementine at her new address in the Outer Banks. She had a gut feeling that it was Kimber, calling out to her somehow, leaving a message or a clue there like she often did. Maybe that’s why Clementine didn't feel bad about stealing Gat’s boat. Because she was looking for a message from Kimber, and because she still thought that Gat was the reason that her sister had never come home in the first place. 

“Yo, who’s boat even is this?” Kiara asks, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Clementine’s face scrunches up as she thinks about how to breech the subject. “Uh....its Gat’s” Kiara and Pope didn't know much about Liam Gatwin and his history with Kimber and the family so they don’t react in the same way that JJ does. His eye blow wide, having heard a handful of Clementine’s rants about how suspicious Gat was, how he was the one who picked Kimber up the last time that Clementine ever saw her. 

“Crazy Gat?!” JJ questions whipping around to sit facing Clementine. “Your missing sister’s ex-boyfriend? He’s like the number one suspect here and we’re stealing shit from him?” JJ shakes his head adamantly and everyone can tell that he was gearing up to go on one of his rants about some shit that no one else but him would know about.

“I never called him a suspect!” Clementine argues, her voice going tight and up an octave as she tries to defend herself although she  really couldn’t argue with JJ. She never explicitly called Gat a suspect or a person of interest in Kimber’s missing person case, but she also didn’t not call him a suspect, either. 

“C’mon Clem, that’s textbook suspicious! You’re the last person to see your sister get into this dude’s truck, she doesn’t come home, and then all of a sudden here’s there to help your family thorough the whole process, only to come out the nice guy and your dad’s right hand man?” JJ raises an eyebrow at Clementine as he lays out the ‘facts’ for her. “Like, watch a podcast, Clem, this shit happens all the time and everywhere!”

“How do you watch a podcast, J, most of them are just audio” Kiara butts in with a snarky comment in order to diffuse the situation, but it didn't work. Clementine suddenly feels like Kimber’s class ring is burning a hole in her pocket so she pulls it out, dangling it out in front of herself.

“I guess this would be a good time to mention that I found my sister’s class ring in his trailer when I broke in to find the boat key...” Clementine gulps, passing the ring over to Pope to get a look at it first before handing it over to Kiara. 

JJ jumps, an exasperated look on his face. “Clem, there’s so many things that were wrong with what you just said that I don’t even know where to start...” He makes a fist and bangs it against the metal side of the little tin-can boat. “When we get back we’re going to have to listen to some people talk about some murders, alright, this is research”

Clementine rolls her eyes and flips JJ off but she can’t deny the sinking feeling in her stomach.

#i got very carried away #clementine x jj #obx oc: clementine adams #fic: don’t you forget about me #jj maybank x oc #pogues x oc #the pogues #pope heyward x oc #kiara carrera x oc

[fairestwriting]

title: a treasure hunt of sorts

word count: 2696

summary: Malleus had been gifting Ellis gems, recently, so many that they were piling up and he wouldn't know what to do with them even if he actually understood the meaning behind the gift. After some "careful consideration", he decides to give something back.

commissioned by @nymphgrotto​ , also available on ao3 here ! tysm for the commission, i hope you enjoy it!

my guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested

Everything in the Ramshackle dorm building creaks, floorboards and doors and ceiling threatening to collapse in a way that Ellis somehow had just grown used to. Door shut behind him, he walks noisy steps towards the lounge, leaving the beautiful night outside, and placing a red gem the size of his palm on the coffee table.

Another one. The fifth one he’d gotten this week, and they were only halfway through it.

The gems gather on top of the surface like freshly picked fruits, full of color and life and almost glaring at him in their little shiny pile. He slides the blazer off, tossing it somewhere — Grim was asleep at this point, it’s fine if he wasn’t being the best influence — and lets himself collapse on the plush stuffing of the couch.

The gems were a gift from Malleus Draconia — A name that strikes fear into many students’ hearts, for reasons Ellis just couldn’t see. They had met by chance outside Ramshackle, Malleus was taking a nightly stroll and they just ended up chatting for a reason or another. He found out bits and pieces of information every time they saw each other. That he liked abandoned buildings and the night sky, that he was very knowledgeable about gargoyles and owned a tamagotchi, then his name that he had been refusing to actually tell. They hit it off and became friends. Malleus was a person Ellis liked to be around.

And a person he had an exponentially growing crush on, he admits, but just to himself for now. He sighs again, head in his hands. His crush, putting a different precious gem in his hand every night. It should have been a dream scenario, but he just doesn’t get it. The way Malleus does it is so unaffected, they couldn’t be heartfelt gifts at all. It looked like he was lending him money.

Maybe that’s what’s happening, he thinks tiredly, looking around the inside of the building. He had been cleaning up for most of the semester, it managed to look decent now, if only a little like somewhere a grandmother would live, but that was cozy in its own way. The outside was still screwed up, though, so maybe Malleus trying to help him with repairs? Ellis stares at the pile of gems, they stare back. With the amount all of them were worth, they were probably enough to cover all the costs needed to polish Ramshackle’s outside, so maybe…

...he really didn’t want his crush, a guy so lofty and admirable, to think he just couldn’t do something like that by himself, though. The very thought of it makes him uneasy.

He sighs. Maybe he should talk it out with someone, he was burning up his brain cells just thinking by himself like this. He scrolls through names in his contact list before stopping on Cater’s. Cater had mentioned talking to Malleus before, right? And he didn’t seem scared. Plus he may have been aware of Ellis’ crush, even half so — Though that’s sort of embarrassing, it’s not like he’d been trying to hide.

But it’s okay, the phone makes its dialing noise. “Hey, Cater?”

“Ellis! Hi hi.” Cater chimes from the other side of the line. Ellis could hear ruffling even through the phone, maybe he just moved around on his bed. “What’s up!”

“Malleus.” Ellis starts, leaning back against the couch. Thank god it was so comfy, right. “Has he ever brought you, um… gems and stuff? Like really expensive looking things?”

There’s silence.

“Uh, no?” Cater responds mid a confused laugh. “...why are you asking that? We don’t really talk.”

“I don’t know.” Ellis admits, shaking his head in defeat. “He’s been giving me gems all week and I don’t get it. I thought maybe you knew something since you’ve talked to him...once? That’s more than most people here, anyways.”

Cater hums, a short pause. “Well, I really can’t tell what that means.”

Another sigh, another feeling of defeat. Ellis sinks on the couch.

“Ugh. Do you think he feels bad about the state of the dorm or something? I like gifts as much as everyone else, but…” He sighs. “I just wanna know what’s going on in his head.”

“Y’know, they’re still gems, I don’t get why you’re complaining. And you’re so curious about him too.”

“I just wanna know.” He huffs, face feeling hot. “I feel bad I’m not giving him anything back, is all. Gifts are nice but this is too much.”

“Ehh, you wanna one up Malleus?” He asks, voice incredulous. Do I wanna do that? Ellis finds himself wondering. Is that what this is about?

“I mean, I might as well try, right.” He says. He thinks of it as a joke, but it might not really be one. Looking up to Malleus all the time felt… kind of lame, sometimes, Ellis wanted him to look up to him too. His heart feels heavy thinking about it — But he does.

“Okay, that’s just crazy.” Cater laughs from the other side of the line, mixing with the ruffling sound again.

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe.” He laughs back, but, again, he’s actually thinking about it. He can’t help but think about it. What if he actually impressed Malleus this time? He wonders how he’d look.

They say their goodbyes after more idle chatter and Ellis has his flushed cheeks on his hands, pulling his knees closer to his body. He’s tried doing something impressive before, though it usually just ends up going humorously wrong… but, but, maybe this time it’d work. He stares at the gems on the coffee table. These could be the clue he needed.

A wide-eyed Malleus comes to mind. If things went like that, maybe the messages he’d been wanting to send with all the casual affection would get through. Even if Malleus didn’t like him back — That was a scary thought, but he knew it wouldn’t ruin their friendship, Malleus wasn’t like anyone else — he’d been wanting to tell him in a way where he could actually understand, visualize how deep his feelings had been running. This seemed like the perfect chance.

He dreams of emeralds in a treasure room that night.

. . .

He knew that this, at least, was something Malleus would like — Ellis can’t help but giggle in excitement while he drags him around the woods, clutching at his hand, hearing the crunching of leaves under their shoes and the subtle howling of the wind.

“So, tonight,” He introduces, voice chimy and full of energy. Malleus is standing right behind him in his towering glory. His stare is mostly blank, but Ellis somewhat knows how to decode it, and he can see a glint of curiosity there. They stop in front of an assortment of rocks that made up something looking like a gate. “I was thinking we could go looking for gems in this little cave? I heard from some guys that it has a lot of interesting stuff inside!”

Some guys was a chain of information that started with Rook, who had been doing god knows what in the cave, but what mattered now is that Ellis would go there, and he would find something that would blow Malleus away.

“A cave,” Malleus repeats, blinking. His long hair sways with the wind, lime green glow emitted from his eyes — He did things to his heart, honestly, even just being there — as he looks at Ellis with amusement. “Is that… a common outing for your culture, Child of Man?”

“I mean, not really? But I like collecting things.” He says, a bit sheepish as they begin to walk inside. It’s dark, but that’s an issue easily solved by flicking his flashlight on. “And I thought you might like this.”

Malleus chuckles, and that does more to his heart than him just standing here. “I see,” He says, the amusement visible. Ellis can’t help the excited smile beginning to show up on his face. This was it. “I do think it could be interesting.”

“Yeah!” He chimes. Shining the light forwards, he inspects the path in front of them as they walk further away from the entrance — It was safe, right? A lot of people seemed to have been there, plus it wasn’t exactly hard to move inside, the ground wasn’t as rocky as the walls “I heard they have gems deeper inside? Uh, it might be a little creepy for a bit, though.”

Malleus hums. The glow of his eyes shows up more at every step they take towards the inner parts of the cave, shrouded in darkness. Looks magical, Ellis’ brain unhelpfully reminds him, majestic, beautiful.

(He needed to get that confession out already, and yet…)

“I’m not displeased with this place, though.” Malleus’ voice makes a light echo. “It reminds me of home in a way.”

“Home? Like in the Valley of Thorns?” He asks, wincing when he steps against what seemed to be a tree branch, cracking it into two. How do things like that end up here, anyway?

“It’s a very rocky scenery. Tall mountains and thorn bushes, dark almost all year long.” Malleus explains. “I remember seeing it through my room’s window.”

“You know, that’s kind of cool in a way, I’ve never been somewhere like that.” He comments, thumb resting over the flashlight’s switch. He feels fidgety trying to visualize the Valley of Thorns in his mind, then briefly entertaining the thought of actually being there, with him too… “Is the palace all dark too?”

“Darkness is associated with royalty, so naturally it is.” He speaks. There’s a hint of nostalgia in his voice, almost. It’s strangely warm thinking of a smaller Malleus walking around a big, imposing dark castle, and still making all those sweet childhood memories there. It’s a testament to Malleus himself, maybe. The contrast between the imposing exterior and the softer interior. “It's tall, built in black bricks a long time ago, surrounded by thorn bushes…”

“You should bring me there one day.” Ellis suggests. His voice comes out sweet, it always does — And he hopes Malleus can notice why, he wants him to. But he doesn’t expect it at this point.

(Because if there’s one thing about Malleus’ he’s learned, it’s that genius or not, everything just flew right over his head, and flirting with him was a battle you lost before you even started fighting.)

“Perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad idea at all.” Malleus says mid a chuckle, and his heart flutters. Oh to have a tour around Malleus’ hometown. Maybe there wasn’t much more to see at the place than thorn bushes, but Ellis thought about it insistently anyways. The things that made it unique, and the things about it that Malleus carried over. It’s insistent curiosity and his equally insistent crushing.

He glances forward as he smiles, recalling what he’d been told about the cave. They should be getting to the part with the cool rocks (Cater’s words, not his, maybe not even Cater’s either, since he got that from Ace who got it from someone else… you know how it is) now, Ellis is excited. He’s read up a little bit on gems before doing this. Surely Malleus would be caught off guard by that too, if he was interested in them, then they could choose one to bring home, and it’d be like jewelry shopping, kind of, maybe…

But jewelry stores don’t have swarms of bats in it, and caves do — And in they come, screechy noises and motion blur, and Ellis wasn’t thinking about the presence of bats at all, so he completely flips out, jumping in shock with a yelp and dropping the flashlight.

Dropping himself, actually, tripping on a damned rock and almost falling on top of Malleus as he hears the crack of his light falling, rolling somewhere he couldn’t see.

“Careful, Child of Man—”

Ellis blinks, looking around to try and find that light, but it’s nowhere to be seen — Not that he could see anything, the place was shrouded in darkness now — and his breath quickens with panic, damn it this wasn’t what…

“The flashlight?” Ellis asks, voice frantic. “Damn it, I can’t see it, I…”

Malleus’ eyes are still glowing green.

“I’m guessing you can’t see in the dark?”

“No?” He sputters. What, now he could see in the dark too? Malleus’ abilities are usually interesting to hear about, but now… “Ugh, the flashlight…”

“It’s not anywhere near us.” He informs unhelpfully. “Fallen from a drop. Perhaps I should guide us back.”

He sighs, heavy and tired. Great, there went his plans, everything down the drain again. Usually he could just laugh something like this off, but…

Maybe he had higher hopes for tonight.

“Yeah, I guess.” Ellis mumbles. “Sorry, in the end we couldn’t really do anything cool.”

“We still have time for a stroll near the woods, don’t we?” He can’t see Malleus’ face, exactly, just the outline of his eyes dotting the black dye, but with the way they move he guesses he may have tilted his head. “And I’ve actually enjoyed visiting this cave, short as our outing was.”

“...yeah, b-but I wanted to impress you.” His face feels hot, mostly with shame, the stutter comes with the blurting out of the words. He hates being upset like this, and yet— “You’re always the one doing cool things, disappearing in thin air and leaving fireflies behind, bringing me all that stuff… I wanted to do it too, I guess, especially with you bringing me all those gems for reasons I still don’t know why. I wanted you to… l-like me more, I guess, because I really like you.”

Too many words. He feels his core burn, but they’d been spinning around in his mind for so long now, at some point it was meant to come out. At least, even if Malleus hated that, he wouldn’t…

“Child of Man,” He speaks, voice clear and blank after a pause. There it comes, Ellis thinks dejectedly, though he doesn’t know exactly what bad thing he’s expecting. “Ellis.”

But that’s his name. His agape mouth closes. Was it that bad? One might worry his heartbeat would start echoing into the empty cave.

“...I believe there may have been a misunderstanding here.”

He shakes his head, heart twisting. “N-No, it’s okay, I get that you don’t…”

“Are you not aware of dragon courting traditions?”

Ellis feels his heart both drop the ground and soar at the same time.

“...the gifting of gems. I’d been trying to tell you about… how I feel, I suppose, for a while.” He says, and his voice sounds different. Quieter. Guilty? Ellis can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but he wonders if Malleus is blushing.

And the image of it in his mind makes him want to look away, even as he can’t.

“There’s been a misunderstanding after all.” Malleus sighs. Yeah, his voice is different. Airy, light, something to it that has Ellis’ face burning. “If you’ve been thinking you could make me like you any more than I already do.”

It feels like an impossible dream to have something like this happen, in this damn cave of all places too, but the smile makes its way into his lips and doesn’t leave, lopsided or not. The laughter starts bubbling up. And on his first snicker, he has Malleus’ confusion too.

“Are you laughing at my confession?” He asks when the snickers turn into a full on laugh, one that has him wiping tears off his eyes with his sleeves.

“G-God, no way, I’m just laughing ‘cause we’re both so stupid…” Ellis shakes his head. Who would have known, huh. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. Then we can go for that walk you wanted. I think it’d be nice.”

“As you wish, then.” He replies, and Ellis feels his hand on his, warmth spreading across him. It’s really a dream— “Would that mean we are… dating, now?”

Oh to see the great Malleus asking him all these dorky questions. “Maybe. Let’s get out of here first.”

The light from the entrance shines back onto them soon.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x oc #twst oc #malleus draconia #lis writing #commissions tag

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

[the-mad-starker]

Starker Smut: Helping Uncle Tony

Thank you to @petercherryparker for giving me my first commission! It means so much to me that you were willing to give it a try and for being patient with me since I haven't done this before either 😅

Summary: 

Uncle Tony somehow fucked up his hands and has them both in casts.

Peter volunteers to help then he helps.

Notes: uncle/nephew incest, handjob, frottage, come swallowing, anal sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, ambiguous age for Peter, first time

WC: 9139

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

"Boss, Mrs. Parker and your nephew are requesting entrance."

Tony pauses in his rambling speech. Dictating. He's dictating the lines of code for his next project while he lounges in the lab. On the screen, Friday completes the last line before she automatically switches to the security camera on the first floor.

His sister, Mary Parker, is waiting impatiently and there, a familiar mop of curly brown hair… His nephew. Peter.

"What time is it again?" Tony mutters but he's already getting up.

It's a bit difficult because he can't use his hands. Both hands are stuck in bright red casts and are covered from his knuckles all the way down to his elbow.

He hates them but he's not letting them stop him from working on his tech.

"Think I can beat them to the penthouse?" Tony says when he gets into his private elevator.

Peter did text earlier that day with a message saying they were coming over from Queens. He's been so caught up getting this program done that time just slipped through his fingers.

"Probability just reached 0%," Friday informs him and he finds out why when the doors ding open.

"Tony!" His sister is already waiting for him in the penthouse and judging by the look on her face, she knows exactly where Tony's been.

She rounds up on him, scarier than his assistant and his board of directors. "You're supposed to be resting," she sighs with exasperation.

"Yeah, you know that's unlikely," Tony says without missing a beat. "It's my hands that broke–" he wiggles his immobilized arms at her for emphasis, "–not my brain. You know I can't just stop."

In response, Mary softens but she tries to hide it by clearing her throat.

"I know and that's why–" she turns back towards her son and tugs him forward, "I'm lending you this one to help you."

"Hi, Uncle Tony," Peter says shyly from her side. He gives a little wave but doesn't really look Tony in the eye.

"Hey there, champ," Tony says, distracted, before he turns back to Mary. "You know I can't do that to him, Mare. It's summer break, he should be– I dunno, going to Jones beach or hanging out with his friends. All that fun stuff."

Mary's lips thin in that way which means she's about to start arguing but surprisingly, Peter interrupts.

"Actually– I'm the one that bugged mom about helping…" Peter says as he steps closer.

Tomy's gaze switches to him and his brows scrunch in confusion. Peter's cheeks take on a pink hue when their eyes meet, a peculiar reaction that Tony's gotten used to. His nephew's always been a sweet but shy kid.

"Pete, I really appreciate it, but you don't gotta be stuck with me when you should be having fun," Tony reiterates but the boy stubbornly shakes his head.

Peter's curls bounce in that cute little way that makes Tony want to pet them. His expression mirrors Tony's, brows scrunching adorably in the middle and honey brown eyes going all soft and pleading.

"It'll be fun!" Peter says firmly and what gets to Tony is that he actually sounds genuine. "I always have fun when I'm with you, Uncle Tony… And I get to see all the cool stuff you're working on… Maybe even help you make some stuff?"

The last bit is said with those puppy eyes turned up to max efficiency and Tony's resolve crumbles. He could never say no to his one and only favorite nephew. Mary knows it, too, because there's a smug little grin on her face.

"See, there you go, Tony," she says. She pats Peter's shoulder fondly. "How long did the doctors say your cast has to stay on?"

"A couple weeks…" Tony says in defeat. "But I should be fine if Pete just wants to stay a week…"

"Mom can drop off more of my clothes on Sunday," Peter says, excitement pitching his voice higher. He bounces the duffle bag in his hand to show the older man. "I brought some clothes already. Toothbrush, too, so you don't gotta worry, Uncle Tony."

Looking at his nephew's puppy dog eyes, of course, Tony can't refuse. Besides, his nephew is right. They always have fun when they're together and ever since the Parkers moved to Queens, they just haven't had as much time. He has missed his nephew even when work keeps him busy.

"Alright, you got me, kid," Tony says, "we'll try it out for a week, okay?"

"A week," Peter agrees but somehow, Tony feels as though he's the one humoring Tony instead of the other way around.

"Brat," Tony says fondly.

Mary sticks around for a few minutes more but she eventually decides to head out. Before doing so, she pulls Peter aside for some last minute words.

Tony tries not to eavesdrop but considering he's right there, it can't be helped.

"I want you to remember what we talked about in the car," she says seriously. "I know you and Tony like to mess around in the lab and do all your sciency stuff but Uncle Tony's recovering, okay, Pete?"

"I know, mom," Peter says dutifully. "Even if we're having fun, I need to help Uncle Tony and make sure he doesn't do anything to hurt his hands."

"That's right, sweetie," Mary smiles, "and you know your Uncle Tony. He's always jumping ahead of things so I need you to really be on top of things. We want Uncle Tony to get better and that won't happen if he doesn't let it heal properly. I need you to be his hands until his gets better."

"I can do that, mom," Peter promises sincerely, "I'll watch him like a hawk and he won't even lift a finger while I'm here."

"That's really sweet but–" Tony has to interrupt.

"No buts!" Both Mary and Peter cut in. Tony ends up pouting at them but he really can't refute anything Mary says.

When she's finally gone, Tony looks at Peter and smiles awkwardly.

"Just you and me, kiddo," he says to break the silence.

"You and me," Peter smiles brightly then perks up like an eager puppy. "Wanna show me what you were working on before mom and I got here…?"

And just like that, the awkwardness vanishes.

Tony grins and makes a grand gesture towards the elevator.

"Let me show you to my lair…"

---

They settle into a routine and truthfully, Tony's having the best time of his life.

It starts off slow because even if he's the one that needs help, he feels bad asking for the simplest things. Peter takes his job seriously though and has a keen eye for when Tony's itching to do something.

Peter takes over all the things Tony would struggle to do and he does it so effortlessly with no complaint. It leaves the older man feeling a tiny bit embarrassed at his dependency but he's grateful.

It becomes easier to just let Peter handle everything and soon, Tony relaxes into their routines.

His nephew is a god-send. He has all of the Stark smarts and none of the bullshit that Howard hammered into Tony's head since he was young.

This means that Tony can ramble on and on about his work and Peter keeps up astonishingly well. He listens with wide eyes, lips parted as though Tony was speaking prophecies. Even better, the kid throws back ideas, suggestions that make Tony's mind whirl with fantastic possibilities. It's surreal, it's wonderful, it's just how they are.

Tony and Peter.

"I really should be paying you," Tony groans when the boy digs his thumbs into a stiff muscle.

Peter has some magical hands and somehow, he just seems to know where to press on Tony's back. He kneads the tension right out of the older man's shoulders and Tony has to slump on the desk so he doesn't tip over out of pure ecstasy.

"Not taking your money, Uncle Tony," Peter sounds exasperated but there's a fondness to it that softens the bite.

"You're basically babysitting me," Tony still tries to convince him. "How about $800 a day? Dunno what the going rate for babysitters is but I'll throw in a bonus cause you're my cute little nephew."

Tony knows Peter won't take it so he's just rambling for fun.

Peter, though, goes quiet and his hands pause in their motions. His arms come around from behind and his chin settles on Tony's shoulder.

Hugs are nice and it isn't the first time Peter's helped himself to one. The older man doesn't think much of it, only squirms cause Peter's breath tickles his neck.

"I'm just happy being here with you, Uncle Tony," Peter tells him honestly. "I really missed being able to just walk a couple of blocks and hang out."

Warmth blossoms in his belly and if it was anyone else, Tony would've pulled back emotionally and physically. But Peter has always been like this, always loved hugs and affection. Once again, he has Stark blood but he's better.

Tony would usually pat the boy's hand but with the casts, he's more likely to be reprimanded. So instead, he slowly turns and Peter moves with him so that they're embracing. Even then, Peter's careful with the casts and makes sure not to brush against them.

"I missed you too, kiddo," Tony admits. "I'll make sure we have more hang out days when my hands are good, okay?"

"I'd like that," Peter mumbles into his shoulder.

Peter's mom drops off more clothes. She's satisfied that Tony is doing better, even smiling more frequently. Peter glows with pride beside him.

A day shy of being together for a week and Tony wakes up tangled in his sheets, body sleep-warm and cruising from pleasant dreams.

"Morning!" Peter cheers as he walks in carrying breakfast on a tray.

Tony's mind is still all fuzzy without his morning coffee so he just lays there and hums in acknowledgment. The bed dips under Peter's weight and the silence is so unusual that Tony peaks an eye open.

The boy's bottom lip is caught between his teeth while his cheeks are flaming red.

"Kid?" Tony's voice is rough from sleep. It startles Peter and those honey brown eyes shoot back up to his face.

The blush doesn't recede though.

"Um… Do you… need help, Uncle Tony…?" Peter mumbles, edging closer so that his knee presses against Tony's blanketed thigh.

"Help…?" Tony echoed. "Help with what–"

Peter's eyes dip down and this time, Tony follows him.

"Oh," Tony groans, aghast.

He's sporting some serious morning wood. And well, it's to be expected if he really thinks about it. Before his accident, Tony was a heavy believer in self-love. One can even say he's a serial masturbator, but he just… hasn't been able to do anything about it with his hands out of commission.

Sometime during the night, his dick must've slipped through the slit in his boxers so the only thing keeping him decent is the thin blanket over his lap.

"Just– ah, fuck. Just ignore it," Tony says, embarrassed.

He can't even hide it under a pillow or turn over. Both require the use of his hands which… Not possible.

"That can't be comfortable…" Peter still mumbles, completely ignoring Tony's instructions. "It looks really… big. And uncomfortable. Does it hurt…?"

"Not as much as my pride," Tony grumbles. "Can't you just… I don't know, put a pillow on my lap? It'll go away if we both ignore it."

It's an embarrassing situation and Tony's barely holding it together. He's been caught in all sorts of scandals but never one so personal as this. If it's embarrassing for him, it's probably worse for his poor nephew.

He expects Peter to listen to him, to save himself from this awkward mess and just leave him to his breakfast.

What he doesn't expect is to feel Peter's curious hand on his cock.

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flying open in disbelief.

He's not mistaken.

Peter is leaning over him, one hand gently gripping the base of his covered cock.

"Kid… What are you doing…?"

Tony fights against the need to thrust into his nephew's hand. His cock doesn't care who it is that's helping him out, it just cares that it's getting some love.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter breathes out as he looks at Tony with wide but determined eyes. "Mom said to make sure you're comfortable… If I do it like this… I'll make it go down faster, right...?"

His hand on Tony's cock starts to move. It steals away the words Tony wants to say as his hips twitch towards the source of friction. This shouldn't be happening, he shouldn't be feeling so good from Peter touching him...

"That's–" The older man tries to stop this but his words stutter and fail. "You shouldn't, Pete...!"

"Am I doing it wrong…? Am I making it worse?" Peter's lips tremble into a frown. It looks so wrong on his nephew's sweet face that Tony shakes his head, unwilling, even then, to upset the boy.

"Feels good..." Tony tries to stifle the moan working up his throat. It comes out as breathless gasps instead while his legs shift restlessly in the bed. "But you shouldn't…"

The frown melts away to reveal a sweet, happy smile.

Peter looks so determined, eyes focused where his hand is moving up and down over Tony's hard length. He's doing it so gently that it makes Tony's body crave for more, for a firmer grip.

"I don't mind doing it, Uncle Tony," he says while stroking Tony's cock. "I know it can hurt… And you're already going through a lot. I love you, Uncle Tony, and I want you to feel good."

What can Tony say in the face of such sweet words? Even if he wanted to, he couldn't bear to stop him now.

"Let me take care of you, Uncle Tony," Peter says. "Oh– let me…"

Tony groans in defeat when Peter pulls the blanket down. There's no hiding it now.

His cock stands proudly between his legs, fully erect from Peter's ministrations. It's flushed a rosy hue, prominent veins up and down the length… A thick mushroom tip that's darker in color than the rest of the length.

"Pete…" Tony says, helpless but so turned on when Peter resumes his duties.

His hand wraps around Tony's cock again, no hesitation, and Tony tries to stifle a moan that works up his throat. This is not the right response but it feels so good… Just the sight of Peter's hand wrapped around him sends arousal skittering up and down his spine. It looks so obscene, too. His nephew's finger can't even fully encompass the girth of his cock.

"Like this, Uncle Tony…?" Peter asks as he starts to stroke again. His thumb swipes over Tony's leaking cockhead and his hips jerk from the sensation.

All rational flies out the window.

"Ah– T-tighter…" Tony gasps.

The desire for release rises to the forefront so embarrassingly quick that the older man bites down on his lip to ask for more.

Peter complies with such sweet obedience that Tony moans and then oh– it's heaven. His nephew is clumsy and a bit awkward in his attempt but it smoothes out into something beautiful when Tony's hips start chasing after his hand.

His eyes are mere slits as he throws his head back. His hips jerk desperately into the sweet grip milking his cock. He doesn't think about what he's doing even when Peter continues to make soft encouraging comments.

It should freak Tony out but he's caught off guard. The loss of the use of his hands has affected him more deeply than he anticipated. The pleasure sings through him after just a week of not being able to do this and he craves it with a ferocious hunger that scares him with its intensity.

Just a week and Tony's hips are thrusting into his nephew's touch. His cock is leaking. He swears that his cock is so hard for Peter and that he's never been as hard for anyone else. Peter, his sweet innocent nephew, is the one making him feel so good, it's sinful.

Peter… He shouldn't be doing this to Peter but the boy's so focused on his task. The pink in his cheeks is so alluring… And how has Tony never noticed the shape of his lips? Or how it looks so soft and inviting, parted the way it is. Tony could easily slip a thumb right between and what would Peter do…?

Tony could just imagine the shock in Peter's pretty brown doe eyes and then the way they'd slowly drift closed. The pleasure of a new discovery would make his nephew's features slacken. Would he suck on Tony's fingers? Would he moan for his uncle…?

The older man hisses when Peter squeezes him just right, bringing him right to the edge. Tony struggles to cling on. It's so wrong, so wrong… His precum is dripping all over the boy's fingers, but Peter's not stopping.

"Uncle Tony… Is this okay? Does it feel good?"

Peter has such good intentions even while doing such a dirty act.

"Pete– Pete, I'm gonna…" Tony groans out the words but his eyes slip shut in defeat.

"Oh!" Peter knows what's coming but his little nephew surprises him again in the most delightful way.

An even sweeter heat envelops his cock. Just the tip but this new sensation is warm and wet. Tony can recognize that type of heat anywhere and he loses it. Peter's mouth is on his cock.

His eyes fly open and he's treated to the sight of his nephew's pink lips suckling on his cockhead. Peter looks up at him with wide eyes and his hand still makes sloppy, aborted jerks in an attempt to maintain his rhythm.

Such a good boy...

Any semblance of control completely deteriorates and Tony comes with a shocked groan. His cock pulses, balls drawing in tight, as he shoots into his nephew's mouth.

It happens so quickly and his muscles tighten with the intensity of his orgasm. Peter tries to take it all, every single load that Tony sends pulsing into his mouth.

It's too much for him. Tony sees it when the rush of cum gets too much. Peter's eyes widen even more and he pulls back coughing with his uncle's cum dripping down the corner of his lips.

He goes back down like the champ he is though and tries to take the rest of Tony's cum. He gets a load shot across his face for his efforts and the image will be forever seared into Tony's mind. Peter looks so beautiful with Tony's cum on his face that the older man can't find it in himself to even feel guilty.

He does feel bad, though, when Peter's face crumples in dismay.

"Oh, God, I-I'm sorry, Uncle Tony." His bottom lip even trembles. His distress is genuine and Tony's barely catching his breath. "I was trying not to get it everywhere… I thought I could do it but I made a mess. I'm sorry– Let me go get some paper towels and I'll clean it all up."

Not having the use of his hands is such an inconvenience. He can't even stop the kid from running off but he tries.

"Peter," Tony says firmly enough that the boy pays attention. His tone softens when the boy hesitates. "Pete. Just wait a minute, okay. Just– C'mere. Lie down next to me, okay?"

Peter does as he's told. He must be feeling even worse than he says because he scoots in close and curls up against Tony's side. The reality of the situation becomes an urgent need to discuss what just happened but Tony's mouth has gone dry.

"I'm sorry…" Peter whispers in the silence and Tony's heart aches.

"Hey, hey," Tony tries to soothe him. He can't turn onto his side so instead, he says, "Look at me, kid."

Once those brown eyes are back on him, Tony takes in a deep breath. He refuses to do anything that would make his Petey cry or feel bad. God forbid he do anything like that, his nephew's too good to him.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Pete," Tony says gently. "You really helped me out, okay? And– ah… Was that your… first time doing something like that…?"

Peter flushes and his lips press into a displeased line.

"Was it obvious…?" Peter mumbles, looking away.

To Tony, it had been but he's not gonna say that.

"Only cause I've been around," Tony says offhandedly. "But there's nothing to be sorry about, Pete. If anything, I'm sorry that I wasn't in better control."

"You were fine, Uncle Tony!" Peter protests, "And besides, you shouldn't be doing anything strenuous so really, I should be the one to, um, take care of all of that."

Tony wants to argue, of course, especially given the circumstance but he knows he's unlikely to win. And maybe… maybe, he doesn't want to win in this one.

So instead, he hums in acknowledgment.

Peter's hand creeps up his chest as the boy curls against his side.

"Did it feel good though…?" he asks quietly, hopefully. "I can do it better next time."

Next time… Tony's mind latches onto the words and even worse, his traitorous body floods with excitement.

"It was amazing, kid," Tony confesses. He turns just enough to kiss the top of Peter's head. "You did good, sweetheart… So good…"

That sweet smile that Tony has come to love so much spreads across his nephew's face. Peter practically glows with pleasure, a pleased little smile on his face. Tony practically melts in the face of it.

"You know, in things like things, I'd really want to return the favor if that's something you want, too," Tony says then before Peter can protest, he adds, "I can do other stuff that won't hurt my hands."

The boy looks perplexed for a moment but then his face brightens as he considers the proposal. There's something he wants and Tony would give him anything and everything.

"Kiss…?" Peter asks softly. "Can we do that…?"

The question surprises the older man. Peter has just given him one of the most mind-blowing orgasms Tony has ever had and his sweet boy is asking for a kiss…

"Of course, angel," Tony replies easily.

When he goes to lean down for a kiss, he can't help smiling at how Peter's eyes drift closed and his lips make the slightest little pucker.

Their lips touch, a gentle and chaste kiss but when he pulls away, Peter's eyes open and there's a quiet wonder in them.

"Wow…" Peter breathes. "Again? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony chuckles in response but instead of answering, he just presses in for another kiss and another and another… Until they're both lost in one another.

 ---

Because of what happened, there are drastic changes but some things also stay the same.

Tony tries to be the good, responsible adult he's always worked to be but Peter won't let things go back to how they were.

"Helping" his Uncle Tony feel good becomes an imperative task to the boy.

Tony protests at first. He feels like he has to put an end to it but little by little, those objections become half-hearted attempts that fade into drawn out moans of appreciation.

Whenever he looks down at Peter between his legs, he thinks, 'fuck, I'm going to hell…' but then another thought kicks in. It may be very much worth it when he has his angel of a nephew sucking him off. Those pretty pink lips… They feel so soft and warm and perfect on his cock…

The moment his resolve broke entirely is the first time he guides Peter into getting off. He can't stand the thought of being the only person feeling good. It's even worse when the boy would squirm on his knees, shyly pressing the heel of his hand against his own little problem.

Nope, Tony isn't having it.

Peter's cute little face is flaming red and Tony knows that he badly wants to flee to the bathroom to take care of himself.

"C'mere, kid," Tony breathes.

Peter shuffles closer and then gasps when Tony slots his leg between his. Tony's knee bumps against the boy's hand, pushing it against his covered erection.

"When my hands heal up," Tony starts to say, "I'm gonna make you feel so good, Pete. Gonna touch your pretty little cock and make you come for me."

The boy whimpers, a soft, pleading sound, but his wide eyes flutter in pleasure. His mouth trembles, a clear indication of how Tony's words affect him.

"But for now…" Tony nudges his leg closer and in response, Peter's hip jerks forward. "Move your hand, Pete… Let me feel it."

"Uncle Tony… That's…" His sweet innocent nephew has had Tony's cock in his mouth on multiple occasions but he still can't say such dirty things. It makes Tony feel so bad that he wants to dirty him up.

"It'll feel good, angel," Tony promises him, "for both of us. I'll make me feel really good to know you're getting something outta this, too."

Peter's eyelids flutter as he considers it. It doesn't take him long to decide either.his nephew is a good kid but the promise of pleasure convinces him.

"Should I take it out?" Peter asks hesitatingly. The very tips of his ears turn bright red, an adorable reaction.

The possibility crosses his mind, an image of Peter creaming his pants if he chooses not to take it out.

Tony's mouth goes dry.

"If you want to," Tony encourages instead of outright saying yes like he wants to. "Don't want you to chafe against your jeans or anything."

The boy bites down on his bottom lip before nodding thoughtfully.

"It's not as big as yours," Peter says as though warning Tony. It's cute that he even thinks that that would matter to Tony.

Regardless, Peter unbuckles his belt and tugs his jeans down though he has to wiggle a little to get them down his thighs.

Tony gets a glimpse of the tent his boxers make before he tugs those down too. His hand shyly covers his erection, glimpse of pink flesh between his fingers before he reveals himself.

"Oh, you're perfect, sweetheart," Tony promises.

Peter's cock is indeed smaller than Tony's but it fits his boy well. It's just as dainty as the rest of his body, perfectly proportionate to the more slender build he has.

His nephew blushes adorably as he circles the girth of his cock with his hand. He gives half-hearted strokes as though unsure of what to do now that they've reached this point.

Tony gladly takes the reins.

"I want you to press close to my leg," Tony instructs gently, "Just like before, Pete. Since I can't do it for you… Just listen to my voice, alright, angel?"

The blush on his cheeks may as well be a permanent fixture. Tony hopes Peter never loses this endearing quality, so shy and eager for his uncle's touch.

Peter leans closer, his hands resting on Tony's leg.

"Ah…" the soft exhale gives away the moment Peter's cock comes in contact with Tony's leg. Besides that, the older man feels it, hard and so hot even though his pants.

"Move for me, baby," Tony tells him. "Just like earlier… You can rub against me, I don't mind…"

His leg muscles flex as he nudges his leg closer.

"O-okay, I'll try…" Peter mumbles, peeking at his uncle with darkening eyes.

His hips start to move. At first, the movements are barely noticeable. Even when Tony feels that hard outline brush against him, it's still so faint. He lets Peter take his time though, just watching the boy slowly lose his inhibition.

"Mm…" that first soft moan is a victory to the older man even when Peter tries to clamp his mouth shut.

Their eyes meet and the boy shudders, dark, thick lashes threatening to cut their connection. Peter holds on though they tremble. His mouth looks soft, lips parted around an O of pleasure.

"That's it, baby…" Tony encourages the boy when his hips start to move. "Feels good rubbing against me, right? Even if I can't touch you… Can't jerk you off, you like me seeing you like this…"

"I… I do…" His nephew answers in a soft whisper as though it's a secret between them. "It feels… feels good…"

His hips start to really move and Tony can feel his nephew's cockhead grazing up and down his leg. Peter's still too shy.

"Good, sweetheart… That's good…" Tony doesn't push. "Wanna make my best boy feel so good…"

More pleasure causes the boy's expression to slacken but his grip on Tony's leg tightens. It isn't long before he starts to lean against his uncle.

Tony then takes the opportunity to press forward.

"O-Oh!" The cry of pleasure that Peter makes and the harsh jerk of his hip is worth Tony playing dirty.

He expects Peter to pull away but perhaps his nephew has been wanting this much longer than he initially knew. Once Peter feels that delicious friction against his cock, it's like his hips glue themselves to Tony's leg.

It's all there on his face, naked and exposed. Pleasure and need.

He presses in tight, his cock a firm solid line of heat against the older man.

"There you go…" Tony almost coos to the boy. "That feels better, doesn't it, Pete?"

His own cock starts to thicken in his pants again. He's amazed by how quickly he's recovered. That's the effect Peter had on him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter whimpers softly. There's a desperate edge there as he clings to Tony's knee. The older man recognizes it well.

"Go on, baby," Tony encourages hungrily, "Keep going, keep rubbing against me… Wanna make you feel good too, Pete."

Peter can't seem to keep his eyes open so they're squeezed shut. His pretty mouth, though, is parted, letting out the breathless little moans that have Tony's ears straining for each one.

His hips jump in desperate jerks as he chases after his pleasure and Tony's voice guides him along the way.

Tony knows the moment Peter's right at the edge. His nephew's face is flushed, sweat-damp curls sticking to the sides of his face. Honey brown eyes look at him through barely there slits.

The older man just wants to eat him up, especially when Peter starts to say his name in that breathless needy tone.

"Uncle T-Tony… Uncle Tonyy… 'm gonna…" Peter mewls. His brows are scrunched up in the middle, mouth trembling.

Tony wants to sink his hands in Peter's hair and just haul him for a kiss. He can't though– such a shame.

"A-ah…" Peter comes with a soft cry, eyes squeezed shut, and body shuddering violently.

There's a rush of warmth when his cum spurts messily over Tony's leg but the older man just continues to murmur soft praises about how beautiful Peter looks, how gorgeous and good his sweet nephew is.

Peter shudders one more time, his cheek pressed against Tony's knee. Tony hears the boy's harsh breathing but ends up sucking in sharply when Peter's hand slides up and between his legs.

His fingertips bump against Tony's half-hard cock upon finding out his uncle's predicament, Peter looks up at him with pink cheeks. His eyes are at half-mast, the most enticing bedroom eyes that Tony's ever seen.

It kills him that Peter's probably unaware of just what it does to him.

"Uncle Tony…" Peter murmurs as he nuzzles against any part of his uncle he can reach. "You're hard again…"

Tony swallows, Adam's apple bobbing.

"Yeah…" he doesn't deny it, "Watching you, Pete… God, you don't even know what you do to me, do you…?"

A sweet smile pulls at Peter's lips and his touch grows firmer as he runs his fingers over Tony's swelling length.

"I'm just me, Uncle Tony…" he says like he thinks Tony's just being nice. "Want me to help you again…?"

"I'm not gonna say no…" Tony chuckles then leans back when Peter shuffles closer.

Getting hard so soon after having Peter's mouth is something that hasn't happened before. But then again, he hasn't had his sexy nephew rubbing against him before either.

Peter's mouth closes around his cock and Tony groans at the feeling of his tongue swirling around his cockhead. He leans back and watches, enjoying the sight of his nephew's pretty lips stretched around his cock.

That tiny nagging thought that this was wrong has all but disappeared. Peter's gaze locks with his own as he seeks approval and Tony gives it happily.

"Good boy… Such a good boy…" Tony sighs.

He'll find more ways to return the favor.

 ---

Week two edging into week three.

They've just returned from his doctor's and Dr. Cho has declared that his hands are healing up nicely. She says it with surprise as though she had expected Tony to come in with a sheepish grin, hands banged up and in worse condition than she left it.

Of course, Tony attributes the progress to his blushing nephew and she nods in understanding. He introduces his nephew to her as his amazing little helper. Peter blushes at the praise but Tony can tell he's happy about it. He listens even more closely to Dr. Cho's advice and tips for recovery than Tony does.

It's progress but she also says that it may take a few more weeks. Tony reassures her that he's in good hands.

When they get back to the penthouse, Peter disappears into the guest room that he's claimed his own when he first arrived. He barely uses it now, preferring to stay in Tony's bed, but most of his stuff is still there.

There's a report waiting for Tony in his email so he lets the boy be.

Around dinner time, he seeks him out to find out what Peter's craving for.

The door to Peter's room is cracked open but Tony still doesn't want to just walk in and possibly startle the boy.

"Pete?" He calls out. "I'm feeling for some burgers, what do you think…?"

He nudges the door open and his jaw almost drops.

"Uncle Tony–" Peter's face is flushed in that adorable pink shade that Tony's come to love and this time, yeah– it's appropriate.

His nephew is shirtless and bent over the side of the bed, those sinfully tight jeans of his pooled around his ankles. He's reaching back awkwardly and Tony follows the length of his arm down… down… where the boy has two fingers nudging into his little hole.

"Am I interrupting?" Tony asks dryly. He shuts the door behind him even though they're the only ones in the penthouse.

"Um, no," Peter mumbles shyly as he straightens up, "I was kinda hoping you'd come in sooner actually."

"Were you now…" Tony says as he walks towards him. It feels like there's a hook pulling him closer and he's unable to resist.

He takes in his nephew's lean form, eyes going from top to bottom and making a show of it. Peter's gotten bolder and more daring in the time they've spent together so if he's inviting his uncle to take a look at him, Tony will.

The older man has come to know Peter's body almost as well as his own. Even then, Peter still takes his breath away every time, especially when he's like this.

His nephew is just the perfect twink. He has a slender build with just enough muscle on his arms and legs that it hints at strength. Not to mention his skin, paler than Tony's, just takes on such pretty color when he's aroused.

Tony watches as the flush deepens when Peter sees him looking. It crawls down his neck, sweeps across his collar bones, and makes it midway down his chest where his pink nipples stand peaked.

His half-hard cock bobs in the air between soft thighs and Tony's mouth waters with the need to suck on it just to hear the boy cry.

"I looked up how to do this…" Peter admits coyly, calling Tony's attention, "But I was thinking that maybe you can help? Please, Uncle Tony?"

Tony's ready to jump right in but there's a hunch tickling the back of his mind.

"What brought this on?" He decides to ask.

His nephew gives him that sweet smile that Tony knows he can't resist.

"I, ah, just figured you'd like this better?" Peter says. "I know I've gotten better with my mouth… But this would be better, right?"

"Oh, sweetie," Tony murmurs. "You don't gotta do that for me."

Peter's sweet smile turns into a pout. He kicks his jeans off in a blatant disregard for them and then completely naked, he presses in close to his uncle.

"But I want to," Peter says stubbornly. "Wanted to make you feel even better, Uncle Tony. And since Dr. Cho said your hands are doing better, I thought maybe we could celebrate…?"

Those sneaky, greedy hands of his rest against Tony's chest then start to slide down. It's done in such a teasing manner that Tony wonders where his sweet, innocent nephew learned such a thing. It tugs at all of Tony's desires, his nephew's familiar touch eliciting such a keen response.

"I heard it could feel really good…" Peter murmurs. His face tips up, lips just begging to be kissed. "Can't you show me, Uncle Tony?"

"Fuck, kid…" Tony gasps when Peter starts to touch his cock. "Didn't need much convincing before, don't think I need it now either but I like it when you try."

The bright smile Peter gives him says he knows just how hard Tony finds it to say no to him. In this case, it was never even a possibility.

"Wanna show me what you were trying so far?" Tony prompts even when he lightly presses Peter's hand down harder on his cock.

Just as expected, Peter's hand slips away when Tony shows the slightest inclination to use his hands. The kid's concern for him is too much sometimes even when it has Tony feeling so warm from the inside.

"I can do that," Peter says. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to Tony's lips before turning back to the bed.

Just like before, he positions himself so he's bent over. Tony gets the perfect view, his nephew's bare back presented to him with its adorable scatter of freckles. And further down, past his slim waist, a perfect peach just begging to be grabbed and squeezed.

He has to swallow the lump in his throat when the boy reaches back and pulls his cheeks apart to reveal a glistening pink hole.

"Christ, kid…" Tony breathes, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you're trying to give me a heart attack."

"Uncle Tony…" Peter protests and wiggles in place.

Tony only groans at that and comes closer. He wants to touch his nephew so badly… He has to force himself not to reach out and just do it.

"What were you using?" he says to distract himself.

"I, uh, took some of the vegetable oil when I first tried…" Peter admits, shyly, "But, um, this time, I took one of the lubricant bottles you had in the nightstand? I hope you don't mind…"

Tony wants to shake his head at the vegetable oil comment but he's glad Peter isn't using it anymore. He only wants the best for Peter and he wants the kid to feel good too. Subpar tools, even if they work, just aren't good enough for his boy.

"Not at all," Tony says reassuringly, "it's better, isn't it?"

"Yeah, definitely better," Peter agrees breathlessly. One hand inches closer to his glistening hole. "Wanna see, Uncle Tony?"

His cock wants him to do more than just observe but Tony knows that waiting is worth it, especially if he gets to see Peter playing with himself.

He licks his lips.

"Yeah, baby, show me what you were doing…" Tony says. His voice drops to a low, intimate murmur.

His nephew, excited and so eager to please, squirms in place. Maybe even rubs his hard cock against the bedsheets.

"The stuff I read said to go slow," Peter says as he starts to nudge a finger in. "Go slow and use lots of lube."

Tony hums in agreement as his nephew starts to dip his finger in and out. He watches hungrily as that single finger pushes in smoothly. The boy's tight little rim clamps down, basically clinging to the small intrusion before Peter slips it back out. It's the worst kind of tease, watching his beautiful boy's body begging to be filled.

"One finger feels okay… Two is…" Peter cuts off with a hitched gasp as he adds another.

"Tight…?" Tony suggests.

"Mm… ah… y-yeah…" his nephew groans.

Tony comes even closer and lays a hand on Peter's trembling flank.

"Uncle Tony–"

"Shh," Tony soothes the boy, "Just touching you, kid, not gonna try to press hard or anything."

Peter's skin is warm beneath his fingertips, but he longs to feel the jump of muscles under his palms. Later, he tells himself.

The boy settles down, grudgingly accepting that Tony is being careful. Maybe part of it is that he wants his uncle to touch him as much as Tony wants to.

"Breathe, sweetheart," Tony instructs, "Breathe and relax… Bear down when you push in and it'll help."

The boy obeys beautifully, those slim fingers nudging in slowly when he inhales. A soft whimper escapes him when he does it.

"Don't rush it," Tony gently tells him. "You gotta work for it, Pete. Get your hole used to being stretched like this."

He knows what it's like being an overeager teen, knows that there's been a hunger in his nephew every time he's handled Tony's cock. How long Peter's wanted him, perhaps Tony will never know.

"That's it, kid," Tony encourages when Peter's body relaxes, melting into the bed. "You're gonna have to put another one… Gotta stretch yourself good for my cock. Your fingers are so small compared to what you want… You do want my cock in you, don't you, Pete?"

The boy shudders and whimpers, wrist flexing and fingers pumping faster at Tony's words.

"I do, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans, "Want you to put it in me…"

Tony caresses the boy's side soothingly, still light enough that Peter doesn't protest. Not only that, but the boy actually arches into his touch with a soft moan.

"I will," Tony promises, "as long as you're ready for me."

His cock throbs in his pants and he's tempted to ask Peter to help him out of them. But his nephew looks so caught up in the moment, eyes squeezed shut in concentration as he works himself loose for Tony.

Tony sneaks a hand to the band of his sweatpants and nudges it down. He hasn't bothered to wear underwear since Peter's been so greedy for his cock so his sweatpants are the only obstacle.

"One more finger, baby," Tony says soothingly, "One more then–" he presses his cock, blood warm and so hard, against the boy's ass and Peter's eyes fly open at the touch.

"Oh–!" He leans up to get a look and his eyes lock on the older man's cock.

Tony, himself, loves the view. His cock is ready, swollen to an intimidating size with prominent veins decorating the length. His cockhead, a deeper color than the rest of him, is already damp at the slit.

With Peter's eyes on him, Tony nudges his cock forward toward the boy's fingers stretching his hole apart. The cockhead bumps against them and his breath hitches in his throat.

"Oh, God…" Tony hears Peter moan.

Those slim fingers retract, leaving Peter's pink hole to close around nothing. It looks so desperate, lubed up and ready to be fucked but not quite yet.

Even so, Tony takes the opportunity to rub his cock right there, his sensitive tip brushing against Peter's equally sensitive hole. The boy shudders and he even rocks back, trying to get his uncle's cock to slip into him.

But Tony makes sure that besides teasing them both, his cock doesn't press in.

"One more, kid," Tony reminds him. He reaches over and nudges the lube towards Peter. "Add more, too. You'll need a lot more if you want my cock inside you."

A soft whine is all Tony gets but Peter hastily obeys because he knows Tony's won't continue if he doesn't. The cap is popped off and more lube is added to the boy's wet fingers. It's probably more than he actually needs but Tony isn't going to call him out on it.

"Good boy…" Tony murmurs when Peter returns to the task.

He presses three fingers to that soft little hole. The excess lube drips down and Tony catches it with the tip of his cock. While Peter starts to finger himself, Tony lightly spreads the excess lube along his length. He wants to be ready for the boy, too.

His breathing is harsh but Peter's is even more evident. The boy is moaning, eyes watching his uncle while he gets used to the stretch.

He has three fingers nudged in now. The skin around his hole is rosy and wet as he works his fingers in and out slowly. Soft, sloppy sounds combine with his moans and Tony decides to add to it.

"See, I knew you could take it, baby," Tony praises him, "Three fingers… Almost ready for me..."

"'m ready… So ready, Uncle Tony," Peter swears, cheeks red and hips rocking.

His fingers push in deeper, past the second knuckle, and his entire body shudders. He's trying so hard to show Tony that he can take it.

"I know, baby… I know," Tony murmurs softly. "Take em out, Pete. Gonna put my cock inside now."

A soft exhale then a soft moan as Peter extracts his fingers. "Ah…"

The pink little hole, worked open to accommodate his cock, slowly closes but in those few seconds, Tony can imagine what his nephew would look like with a gape. He just wants the use of his hands so that he can spread the boy apart with his thumbs and just tease him there with his cock until neither of them can take it anymore.

"God, Pete… The things you do to me…" Tony groans when he presses his cock right against that wet hungry hole. "Wanna just… do really bad things to you, Pete… Wanna fuck this tight hole of yours until you're loose and dripping with me… Wanna make you mine..."

The boy whines and rocks against him. This time, Tony doesn't pull away. He groans when he feels the inviting heat of Peter's hole slowly opening around his glans. So warm and tight…

"You can, Uncle Tony," Peter pants, "if you want to… I want it too, please…"

Tony breathes in harshly then slowly starts to sink in.

Despite Peter's efforts, the sheer size of Tony's cock is still so much to take for someone as inexperienced as his nephew. Peter gasps and his hand clenches in the sheets, hips instinctively pulling away from the penetration.

It's still just the tip but Tony pauses anyway.

"Keep going…?" Tony gives Peter the option to tap out but the boy shakes his head adamantly. Those endearing brown curls bounce as he rejects the very idea.

"N-No!" Peter's voice shakes and his entire body trembles. "I-It's a lot…"

More deep breaths but Tony could see the boy trying to relax.

Tony leans down so his chest presses lightly against Peter's back. Gently, he slips a hand around the boy's hip and between his legs.

He finds Peter's hard cock and gently rubs it, up and down, with his fingers. The cast makes the movement clumsy and it takes away from Tony feeling the warm, heavy weight but it does the job.

Peter whines and grows restless beneath him, body tight with growing pleasure but also softer and more welcoming.

"More, Uncle Tony…" Peter groans. He reaches back, tries to spread himself open with one hand for the older man.

It's too tempting to resist… Tony nips the boy's shoulder before he straightens himself. His hands aren't healed enough to carry the weight of his body and he's not chancing the possibility that they have to stop because he hurt himself again.

His cock sinks in slowly. Inch by inch, he works his erection into the boy's body with short, gentle thrusts. He has to, for his sake and Peter's.

The boy is so tight around him and everything about it is too much… It's not just the sensation either, though the heat and pressure around him are enough to leave him breathless.

It's the fact that it's Peter. It's his nephew that's making him feel good. The boy's moans are what's making Tony unravel, those soft whimpers and the eager, almost desperate way that his body silently begs for more.

When he gets that last inch inside, they're both panting with exertion. Peter's knuckles are white where they're curled in his sheets but everything else about him is full of color.

The tips of his ears are red, his lips, a trembling pink, and his shoulders… Down to where that pink little hole, stretched so tightly around his cock.. That, too, is such a rosy color and Tony's barely even put it to use...

Tony runs a hand down the boy's trembling back and Peter melts into the touch.

"Too much, sweetheart?" Tony asks. His voice is strained, his entire body is struggling not to just fall into instinct.

"'m okay," Peter whimpers, "m okay…"

Despite saying so, Tony gives him as much time to adjust as he can. It's only when the boy becomes restless once more that Tony starts to move.

When he does, he intentionally seeks out that sweet spot in Peter's body.

One of the reasons why he hates not being able to touch Peter is because he couldn't stimulate that spot inside him. He couldn't show Peter all those sensitive areas that could have pleasure bursting like fireworks.

He intends to do that now.

Every push in and every pull out threatens his control but he grits his teeth and bears it. Peter moves with him, clumsy and unrefined, just trying to fall into the rhythm that Tony sets. Tony guides him into it with a hand lightly set on his hip.

His fingers itch to press down but Tony focuses on his initial task.

Peter is just so receptive, so eager for this… He moans and cries out with every thrust but Tony knows when he finds his sweet spot. With his hips angled just right, Peter's entire body jolts when Tony's cock brushes right there where he needs it.

"Mm!" The boy cries out. His hips push back harshly, chasing after that shock of pleasure.

"There it is…" Tony groans and aims for it again and again. "Found your sweet spot, Pete."

"U-Uncle Tony…!" Peter cries out. More words try to come out but all he can manage is a jumble of moans and whimpers.

The moans that come out of the boy are on a whole other level. They're high pitched with shock and it melts into drawn out whines even as he pushes back desperately.

Tony gives it to him just like he wants, just like they both want. Their bodies fall into a perfect rhythm, Peter pushing back while Tony fucks forward.

Pleasure is shared between them in a continuous loop, strengthening with each pass. It's not sustainable though and Tony feels it the moment Peter comes from being fucked.

That tight, warm space he's made for himself in Peter's body just clenches down so viciously that Tony's thrusting aborts. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries not to blow his load right then and there.

"Oh– oh, fuck, Pete…" Tony grunts. "You coming, baby…? Fuck–"

Peter whimpers beneath him and when Tony's hand slips between his legs, he finds wetness on the sheets and dripping down his thighs.

"You, too–" Peter groans once he's regained speech, body clenching down and massaging Tony's cock. "Please, Uncle Tony… Want you to finish, too…"

Tony hissed but he starts up again with harsh thrusts that have his hips slapping against Peter's ass. He isn't going to last long, especially now that he knows Peter's already come.

Sweat drips down from his hairline and the older man grunts in exertion. Peter just lays there, his entire body willing and accepting every thrust.

And then, just like before, he reaches back and spreads his cheeks apart for his uncle. Tony gets the perfect view of his cock stretching that pink hole apart…

"Come in me, Uncle Tony," Peter begs softly. "Please, Uncle Tony, wanna feel it… Wanna feel you come inside…"

"Pete– Oh, fuck, Pete…!" It's enough to push Tony over the edge.

He buries his cock right to the root and his balls press tight as he starts to unload inside his sweet, begging nephew.

He groans in completion and it's accompanied by Peter's soft whimpers as he's being filled. The pleasure overwhelms him and it's so good that it almost hurts.

He doesn't know if it's intentional or not, but Peter's tight walls milking his cock becomes too much. He's too sensitive in the aftermath.

Tony pulls out with a hiss then groans when his cum comes spilling out and drips down in thick trails.

Immediately, Peter's fingers are there, so curious and tracing over his used hole and Tony's cum seeping out of it. The look in his eyes is full of wonder and somehow, still so hungry when he looks at Tony.

And God help him, Tony can't resist him. Doesn't even want to.

He's still panting and coming down from his high when he says, "C'mere, sweetheart."

Peter goes eagerly, arms wrapping around Tony's body and face tipped up with a pleased smile.

"Was that good, Uncle Tony?" Peter asks sweetly. There isn't even a hint of insecurity in his voice, he knows his uncle so well now.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter's waist, pulling him close and kissing those irresistible lips.

"The best, Pete, the best," Tony tells him. "You always take such good care of me…"

The boy nuzzles close, so affectionate, so perfect.

"Always will, Uncle Tony," Peter promises and Tony knows he means it.

There's no stopping what they have now.

#starker #starkercest #madstarker writes #coffee for mads #nff #uncle tony

[kpop---scenarios]

One Of The Good Ones

Pairing: Kim Jaejoong x Reader 

Warning: Fluff 

Word Count: 2k 

Commissioned by: @jaejoongs-nipple-piercing​

"It turns out it was the burning of debris that sparked the now large flame, in which now has gotten out of control. It is responsible for the beginning of the fires that are now spreading across a few acres. The once small fire caught onto dry grass it was burning next to, it began to quickly double in size. Firefighters are working hard to put out the flames." 

The TV switches off. You turn around and see Jaejoong with a sympathetic look on his face and the remote in his hand. He knew you shouldn't have been watching that. Hell, you knew it too but you can't help it. You need to know things, even if it does spark your anxiety. 

"Baby." He starts, giving you the look. "That is on the outskirts of town. It's nowhere near us, so try not to worry about it, okay? Everything is fine." He says. He knows you'll still panic about it. There is absolutely no going back on it now.

"You're right, I know but I can't control my anxiety." You pout. 

"I know love." He smiles. 

Over the next few days, you could feel your anxiety building as you watch the news that's been talking about how dry Oregon was. You knew it was dry, but you weren't aware of how bad it actually was. Every day you went outside, you hoped that it would rain but like always, the sky was blue and cloudless. 

"I don't like this." You sigh, leaning over to snuggle into Jaejoong. "I have such a bad feeling about this weather." 

"Don't worry, my love. Everything will be okay. Let's not worry unless there is actually something to worry about, okay?" Jaejoong whispers, placing a soothing and much-needed kiss on top of your head. 

"I'll try." You sigh. "It's just hard to relax, knowing what this drought can bring. Fires terrify me." 

"I know baby. But look." Jaejoong says, pointing to the TV. "They're calling for rain tomorrow. Be optimistic." He smiles. 

When you woke up in the morning, you looked outside, desperately hoping to see a great sky and a downpouring of rain. Hell, you'd even welcome a thunderstorm if the sky was so pleased. But when you pulled back that curtain, you were instantly disappointed, seeing the bright blue sky, the sun shining and a record high temperature for today. 

A few days later you came home from work, your anxiety still high and not a cloud in sight. You were exhausted. You unlocked your front door, your eyes heavy, your feet dragging. You slipped off your heels at the front door, dropped your purse as you shuffled to the kitchen. 

"Babe?" Jaejoong calls out. 

"Here." You sigh, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. 

"Ah." He says, taking the wine from your hand. "I've got a surprise for you." He smiles, placing the bottle down and grabbing your hand. He pulls you out of the kitchen, through the living room, heading right for the bathroom. 

He opens the door, and you see it. Rose petals scattered around the tub and inside, candles surround the tub and on the counters, bubbles in your already run bath, along with a nice big glass of alcohol waiting for you. 

He helps you undress, holding your hand as you climb into the bath, melting into the warm water, your sore muscles finally loosening up. 

"What would I do without you?" You sigh, sinking deeper into the tub. 

"I don't know, probably suffer." He laughs, winking at you before he pours you a glass of wine, handing you the large, full glass. 

"Thank you." You pout, taking a large sip of the bitter beverage. 

"Anytime babe." He smiles. "Do you want to talk?" He asks. 

"I just can't shake it." You sigh, sinking into the tub a little more. 

"Anxiety?" He asks. 

You nod your head. "I just know something bad is coming. I hate not knowing what exactly or how to prepare for it." You sigh. 

"Come find me when you're done in here. I have something to show you." He smiles, leaving the bathroom to let you unwind in peace.

He truly was the best.

You really did try to enjoy your bath, but your brain won't shut off long enough to let you enjoy it. You needed to know what he had to show you, and you needed to know now. 

You climbed out of the tub, grabbing your robe and speed walking to the living room where Jaejoong was sitting on the couch, Flipping through the channels. 

"Done already?" He chuckles. 

"I need to know." You pout, which makes him laugh harder. 

"Follow me." He says, walking towards your shared bedroom. He lays on his belly, pulling out a large black duffle bag. "This." He pauses, patting the bag. "Is my emergency bag, Well, our emergency bag." 

He looks at you as you feel the tears well in your eyes. "I know your anxiety about fires, earthquakes, or whatever unpredictable natural disaster is bad, so I'm hoping this might help ease it a little." He smiles. 

"What's all in it?" You sniffle. 

"Clothes for you and I for a week. Cash, copies of important documents, important photos. There are water and non-perishable snacks in the car. We're set baby, just in case." 

Right then the tears pour from your eyes. How did you get so lucky to be with someone so caring? He seemed to always know just the right way to ease your fears, you truly were the luckiest. 

** 

"Due to unusually strong winds, the fires have begun to spread, making their way across fields and heading into the cities. Firefighters are working diligently on containing the blaze and in trying to put it out. Please keep updated on the situation. This is your 1 o'clock update." 

You click off the sound to the tv, your hands shaking as you pull out your phone, calling Jaejoong. 

"Hi baby." He answers, calmly. 

"They're coming into the city Jae." You whisper.

"Take a breath baby. Give me a second." He says. You can slightly hear his voice muffled as you chew on your nails, something you did when your anxiety was getting the best of you. 

"Baby?" He asks.

"Yeah." You respond, your eyes watching the videos the new channel was playing of the fires. 

"I'm on my way, okay?" 

"You can't.. you have to work." You whisper. 

"You are more important. I know your anxiety baby, I'm on my way." He says. "I'll be home in 10 minutes." 

**

Over the next few days, Jaejoong stayed home with you, doing what he could to try and ease your fears but it wasn't easy. As the fires rapidly spread, your anxieties seemingly got worse. Your biggest fear of having to evacuate and leave your house and all your items was not something you wanted to have to do. 

Yes they were all material and could easily be replaced but it was the fear. The fear of leaving and not knowing whether or not you were even going to have somewhere to come back to. 

That night you and Jaejoong went to bed with your go bag ready, just in case you needed to leave in the middle of the night.

When you woke in the morning, the two of you sat on the couch, watching the news, watching the fires burn all the houses, shops and farms. You watched as you saw your neighborhood flash across the screen, telling you to prepare to evacuate, that if they cannot contain the flames, one of your worst fears is going to come true. 

You burst into tears, the fear was just too much. Jaejoong pulls you into his arms, cradling you as you whimper into his chest. 

"Shh, love. Shh." He tries to sooth you. "Whatever comes, we will deal with. As long as we're both healthy and together, we can overcome anything." 

You try to take a few deep breaths through the tears, trying to compose yourself. "I know.. it's just so scary." You whisper. 

"I know but we can do this. We will come out stronger than ever." He soothes. 

For hours, you lay in his arms, waiting for the knock on the door telling you to leave, but it never comes. You had fallen asleep on Jaejoong who had eventually softly woken you up, whispering that the firefighters had contained the fire. 

"We're safe now." He whispers, as you doze off again with a smile on your face. 

**

A few months later, everything in the past had just seemed like a very bad dream. You and Jaejoong were as strong as ever, and you hadn't ever been so happy. 

"It was all very cliché." You laugh, looking over at Jaejoong. You were at a dinner party with some old and new friends who had asked how the two of you met all those years ago. It was one of your favorite stories to tell. You loved to reminisce about the day you met the man you were planning on spending your life with. 

"I got into the cab and he slid in at the same time on the other side." You smile. "We both laughed and offered it to each other. Then he asked me where I was going and it just so happened that we were headed near each other. So we both took the cab to the middle point between our destinations." You say. 

"I asked for her number before she walked away. I was wanting to take her out that night." He laughs, shaking his head, embarrassed. "But she rejected me for that night. She gave me her number and told me to call her the next day because she needed to think about it." He laughs. 

You put your head in your hands and shake your head as you remember the encounter like it was yesterday. 

"You really had to think about it?" A woman laughs, looking at Jaejoong. 

"He was a stranger! I couldn't just say yes, he might have wanted to just kidnap me." You laugh, along with everyone else. 

"You two are adorable." Someone huffs." So how long have you been together?"  

"Together for 6 years." You say, with a smile, looking over at Jaejoong who was now rolling his eyes, with a smirk on his face. 

"Any plans to get married?" Someone asks. 

"You'll have to ask him, he's the one who's gotta do the proposing. I'm always ready." You say, patting his back. 

"I plead the fifth." He jokes. "I will, sometime. That's all I can say for now." Jaejoong smiles. "If there's one thing I know in this life though, it's that there is no one i would rather face my fears with, than this woman right here." He finishes, leaning over to kiss your head, placing his hand on your knee and squeezing.

That was a signal from him, one that the two of you had come up with some time ago to tell each other you 'I love you' without saying it in so many words. 

Jaejoong made your heart skip a beat, even though the two of you had been together for so long. Sometimes relationships can fizzle out, the spark dies or people lose interest but neither of you had. You both only had eyes for each other. Yes you may have little arguments sometimes, but he was never one to go to bed angry, or without a kiss. He will never leave the house without telling you he loves you at least once, or telling you how important you are to him. He was always there through your tough times, your fears and anxiety and never once does he complain. Instead,d he does whatever he can to soothe you and calm you down. You never knew men like him existed, but they do and you were so lucky you managed to get one of the good ones. 

#tvxq #jaejoong #kim jaejoong #fluff #tvxq fluff #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

[ethelphantom]

Like You Could Be Family

And I’m back with new soulmate AUs. This is my Maribat Secret Santa contribution to @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry​. I hope you like it even though it seems my brain took some liberties with the instructions. There shouldn’t be anything you specifically said you didn’t want, though. I think. So yeah. I hope you like it. (It’s Timari, by the way). There’s also a piece of art of one of the scenes that I ended up doing bc I’ve got absolutely no self-control at the end so don’t miss it!

Ao3 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf? I swear I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home— hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.”

Marinette stared at her wrist. Of all the things she was expecting to read on her skin once she turned 18, she wasn’t— it really was not, well, whatever the hell this was.

She massaged her temples, trying to make sense of the sentence her soulmate would say to her as the first thing after today. She could not believe that she would actually have to see someone modeling on the cheese shelf in a grocery store judging by how it all sounded like.

Yeah… What if she just didn’t go on her trip to the States with Uncle Jagged like she had meant to? After all, the sentence was in English — in all likeliness, she was going to meet her soulmate there. Marinette most certainly was not ready.

Then again, fate had a funny way of making things happen anyway, so it wasn’t like she could just avoid it. Besides, she did want to meet her soulmate, so maybe she just should resign to her fate and go regardless of how much she was not waiting for it to happen.

So. Everyone got to see the first words their soulmate would say to them after their 18th birthday, and as it was, it was Marinette’s 18th birthday. She had earlier that day heard from Uncle Jagged that he was going to take her with him to the States to go around the country and to perhaps meet new people that might want to commission her or possibly sponsor her. It was very sweet of him and Marinette really did want to go with him — after all, she was finally able to travel since there was no longer a threat of akumas because Gabriel Agreste had been arrested; He could just rot in prison for all she cared because of how he had treated Adrien and for endangering the entire City of Lights for so very long — but she really was not ready to meet her soulmate, not so soon.

Especially not if this was how she was supposed to meet them instead of a peaceful, not so strange situation.

But, as all things always went with Uncle Jagged, she gave into him and told her parents she would be gone for the summer at least. Maybe longer, since if she got enough commission work or someone to sponsor her, there was a chance she’s stay. Then there was the fact she might meet her soulmate, which also meant there was a chance she’d stay with them.

Really, she just didn’t know if she would even come home after this or if she’d start a new home there, but she told her parents that too. Her maman and papa just smiled at her and embraced her, telling her that it was fine, that they would support her no matter what. She just needed to tell them where she was going to live so they could visit.

And as she had guessed (and hoped), they were there too on the day she left, stood in front of the aeroport and told her their goodbyes and shed a few tears. They wanted to wait with her for her uncle. After all, she would be travelling with him and Aunt Penny. And Fang, obviously. One must never forget Fang. Oh, yes, she couldn’t leave Adrien out either — Uncle Jagged had insister he come with them since he was her best friend, his aunt had given the go-ahead when they asked after hearing Marinette was going as well, and he really didn’t have a family outside the Graham de Vanilys and Dupain-Chengs.

Her parents hugged her and told her she would always be welcome home, as was Adrien, and that they loved her more than anything. Marinette smiled back and told them she was going to miss them. Then they — along with his aunt Amilie — made sure they hugged Adrien as well and told him he was like the son they never had (well, Amilie did not say that) and that they all loved him, too. Marinette was glad, seeing he now had a family as well.

That’s how their journey began.

Adrien was, as one might have guessed, excited about the trip. He hadn’t gotten out much in the years before this and now he was actually free from his father — no, just Gabriel; That man did not deserve the title of a father — and allowed to actually travel with his best friend and his idol. There was no Gabriel to stop him from actually living. He too had received a soulmark (“I doubt he would. So, your best friend is the soulmate of mine, huh? Wait… that’s weird, I could’ve almost sworn— It’s you??”) a year earlier, on his eighteenth birthday, and as that too was in English, there was  good chance they’d both meet their soulmates on the trip. The average age for meeting one’s soulmate tended to be between ages 10 and 23, after all.

Thank god both of them had oddly specific things on their wrists; it would make recognising their soulmates a whole lot easier.

They ended up visiting many beautiful cities (New York City, Los Angeles, Charlestown, Metropolis, Salt Lake City, St Louis and Portland) before Jagged decided he wanted to show his niece and her best friend his home city. Adrien was excited. Marinette was a little excited, but knowing Jagged, also suspicious. Penny tried her best to convince him out of it, but no. That did not help.

(If you asked Marinette, it was because she was weak when it came to Jagged being actually excited about something, and since it wasn’t messing with any actual schedules, she ended up giving in to him.)

And just like that, they were headed to Gotham.

“Listen up kiddos! I managed to contact my friend whose oldest kids I used to take to different places to have fun whenever I could, and he says he’s got room for us all! How does that sound like to you?” he asked, basically bouncing on the balls of his feet as they were on their way towards the aeroport. He had switched to French to make it easier for them to talk about it — it was a big decision to make, after all. On one hand, that person was Uncle Jagged’s friend, and to both Marinette and Adrien that meant it was unlikely they were going to run into another Gabriel Agreste. On the other hand, in reality they knew nothing about him and all those years spent as superheroes had taught them to be cautious of anything new. New could always be good, but the problem was, new could also mean a bunch of evil butterflies attacking the city, possessing people and torturing absolutely everyone in the city for years.

“Well, Chaton, it’s your call. I’m going to trust Uncle Jagged not to have chosen a serial killer to take us in—” Adrien snorted at that, “—but you’re the one who’s gone though more shittiness from rich people than I have, so yeah. I’m making this your choice. Please don’t feel pressured to say yes.”

Adrien looked thoughtful for a second before nodding. “Yes. I want this. I want to see new people that could maybe prove me wrong about what rich people are like.”

Marinette grinned. “That’s the spirit! Though, Chaton, I have to say, you are a rich person, Jagged is a rich person, Kagami is a rich person. I think you’ve got rich and not horrible people around you as well, and all of them also happen to be close with you. But yeah, I think I get what you mean.”

Adrien punched her in the shoulder lightly, grinning back at her. Marinette almost had to cover her eyes because it looked like he was brighter than the sunshine itself as he beamed.

Jagged seemed ecstatic to find out they wanted to try meeting his friend and spend time with said friend’s children. Penny rolled her eyes fondly at her husbands enthusiasm and excitement, but went along. After all, someone needed to make sure all of them got there alive.

Once they arrived at Gotham, Marinette was surprised to find the first thing they did was not going to whoever Uncle Jagged had said was his friend but to go to a grocery store.

To buy the ingredients to the favourite food of the mysterious friend was apparently the reason why. Marinette hoped the friend’s taste was better than Jagged’s, she could not handle another week of weird smelling, suspicious foods that Jagged wanted (thank heavens for Penny and the fact she had made ordering edible food an art of mastery.)

Marinette sighed, resigning to her fate. She snatched the shopping list from her uncle’s hands and dragged Adrien along before anyone could protest. “Alright, so we gotta get all of this… Could you please go find the vegetables? And actually the rice, too. I’ll text you which vegetables are needed in just a second, okay?”

Upon receiving a positive answer as Adrien nodded and walked off, Marinette went to search for the meat. It turned out to be a task more difficult than she would have liked to admit — the store was rather big and she didn’t even know where to start.

Finally she found her way to the milk products, proud of herself since usually milk products were placed somewhere near the meat. It wasn’t good enough just yet, though, so once she noticed a small group of guys goofing around (This is what it means boys will be boys, she thought, not when they don’t leave a girl alone even after she tells them no). She was just about to ask them if they knew where the meat was when she saw one of them walk to one of the shelves and lie down, propping one leg up as he posed himself to look like he was…

Modeling.

God, did Marinette wish this was not was she thought it was.

Marinette sighed and walked closer to them, watching as one of the shorter ones in the group groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf?” he asked. Marinette’s eyes widened but she walked even closer, not sure if she really had heard right. She needed to know whether she’d heard him right. “I swear, I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home—” The man turned around and looked Marinette up and down before putting a smile on his face. Then he walked to her and spoke as though what he was saying was completely normal and not weird at all. “Hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.”

The man still lying on the shelf laughed. “You’re right about that, Timmers. Blalck hair and blue eyes, fits the picture. We gotta keep Bruce from adopting her somehow. You don’t happen to have a tragic backstory, kid?”

Marinette was still staring at them in shock, mouth hanging slightly open before she took a quick glance at her wrist. Indeed. She had heard right. Then she looked at the man who had first spoken to her and, summoning willpower and confidence she didn’t even know she had right now, spoke up. “I don’t think disowning him is even necessary to make him my brother, and it seems there’s a chance we might become family regardless of whether this Bruce adopts me or not,” she blurted out, grimacing at her strong accent. She knew she spoke better and with cleared English, but the shock of meeting her soulmate had her relapse to the accent of her natice tongue.

All of the laughter quieted down as though cut off and their smiles fell, all four of them now looking at her like they had seen a ghost. The first to recover was a guy a little taller than her with auburn hair and — were those eyes yellow? — whose smile was probably brighter than what she’d ever seen on Adrien , and well. Adrien was the literal sunshine personified. She had barely even managed to blink before he was standing in front of her, having shoved her soulmate away.

“It’s great to meet you, miss! We were wondering already when we’d get to meet you, if he’d try to hide you from us or if he’d let us meet you right away,” he said laughing and winked. “Turns out, we got to meet you at the same time as he did! I’m Bart!”

With a light tilt of her head, Marinette smiled back at him. “Marinette, it’s lovely to meet you as well.”

The man still lying on the shelf was the second to collect himself (the other two guys who weren’t her soulmate seemed to recover as soon as he got up, but both of them stayed silent). He stood up (god he was tall, she didn’t deserve this. Marinette seriously wished the rest of the family would not be as tall so she wouldn’t need to look up to be able to talk to them easily — she had enough of that with Adrien) and was in front of her with a few graceful strides. He too greeted her with a smile on his face.

“Name’s Richard, though I have to say, please do not call me that. Especially family should call me Dick. And, since you’re apparently the soulmate of Timmy here, welcome to the family. I’m his oldest big brother, and that scowling kid (“I’m not a kid, Grayson!”) over there is our little brother, Damian. There are a whole lot more of us though, but you’ll meet them later (“Not if I can help it she won’t”). Actually. You don’t happen to be free tonight, do you? We’re having dinner with the whole family for a change today, it’d be great to have you there as well.”

“You are aware Father invited his old friend and his companions to the manor today, aren’t you, Grayson?” the scowling kid — Damian, wasn’t he? — asked from behind them, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, yes, but I strongly doubt Bruce would mind at all if we invited Timmy’s soulmate over as well. His freaking soulmate, Damian. It’s more likely that he will be happy we did so.”

“Er, I’m sorry, but my uncle wants me to be with him, his wife and my best friend today,” Marinette said, hopefully cutting off whatever argument was starting to form between the two. She was still standing in the same place, not completely sure how to act. She had never thought there would be this many people who were important in her soulmate’s life near at once. It was overwhelming — after all, it meant she had to manage to make a good first impression right away.

The last of them, the one who had yet to speak, was still staring at her, though now he no longer looked like he was shocked to see her. No, now he was scowling, glaring, looking like he was examining her. Marinette took a step away from him and closer to her soulmate unconsciously, her eyes never leaving him. Yet another thing years of fighting villains had taught her: do not let your guard down near people that looked even the slightest bit threatening — which this guy definitely look like.

She really wished she didn't need to be alone here.

“Maribug! What are you standing around for?”

Thank heavens for Adrien and his timing.

Adrien threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned forwards a little, whispering “I’m sorry it took so long to get here, my hearing and smell aren’t as good when in this form. Did they try to do anything to you?” in French.

She found it sweet that once he’d understood why flirting with her so much was not okay, he’d researched sexual harassment thoroughtly and now was quick to act and make sure she was okay if things ever looked like there was even the slightest chance someone was harassing her, just like she did with him and his fangirls (especially Lila.) Dear god did she love her best friend.

“No, there’s no problem. Thanks Chaton”, she replied, shaking her head. Adrien squeezed her lightly before he let go, now apparently having a staredown with the kind of scary guy. Marinette let out a quiet laugh before tugging him by the hand to look the other way, to her soulmate. “Adrien, I’d like you to meet my soulmate,” she said, easily switching back to English. That seemed to finally shake him — she recalled Dick calling him Timmy and Timmers, so his name was probably Tim — out of his trance. He shook his head and stretched his hand out to Adrien.

“Hi. I think I might’ve seen you before somewhere. I’m Tim, her soulmate,” he said, smiling at the two of them.

“I’m Adrien, her best friend. You better take good care of her.”

“Adrien!”

Tim just laughed. “It’s fine, I suppose mine will try to have that conversation with you later as well. I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier either. Like said, I’m Tim Drake, it’s wonderful to meet you. I love your outfit, is it an MDC?”

Okay, wow. He recognised her outfit as an MDC — which, of course, was her own brand so it just meant she’d made her clothes herself, but it wasn’t like she had made her identity public information yet anyway. This guy was a keeper. “Ah, yes, it is! How did you know?”

Now that he had made it clear he knew who MDC was, she started examining his outfit for anything familiar — of, wait, his shirt. She’d made it as a commission as few years back. She was also pretty sure that the hoodie Bart was sporting was from her autumn line based on superheroes from last year.

Adrien shot her a knowing look and a smirk which had her want to just flip him off before he turned to look at Bart who was making his way to Adrien.

“The signature on the hem kind of revealed it,” Tim replied.

Marinette arched an eyebrow. “But it’s almost invisible. It couldn't be that easy.”

“I know how to look for details. I love MDC by the way, I have a few of her designs as well.”

“I noticed. The shirt is hers, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! I commissioned it from her a while… back…” Tim’s voice trailed off. “...how exactly did you realise it was hers? I know for a fact the signature is hidden and on the flip side, so that cannot be it.”

It seemed Adrien had been listening to their conversation instead of talking with Bart as it didn’t take him even a second to chime in. “Yeah, that’s because she made it. Oh, and I might look familiar because I tend to model most of MDC’s — Marinette’s — designs for men for her website. If you like MDC and are that familiar with her work, that’s probably were you’d know me.”

“Well, there goes that secret. Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, better known as MDC. I’m glad to hear you like my designs.”

“Wait. Timmers, you got MDC as your soulmate? That is so unfair,” Dick said, leaning against Tim’s shoulder.

Tim didn’t even grace that with a reply. He was — once again — staring at Marinette, his mouth hanging open. It was a miracle he’d even managed to shove Dick away. Marinette just smiled sheepishly and shrugged, letting her gaze wander to the side and the suddenly very interesting floor.

The man who still had said nothing walked to them, placed a finger under Tim’s chin and closed it. “He’s just a big fan — as is a big portion of their family, apparently — couldn’t stop talking about how ‘amazing it was that MDC accepted his commission’ at all for weeks at the time. Hi, I’m Conner, also one of his best friends. You better treat him well, or…”

“Yeah, that’s enough, Kon, let’s not threaten her too much so she won’t run away. I think he’d probably like to keep her,” Dick snorted. “You can give her the shovel talk once they start dating — if they start dating, that is.”

Marinette didn’ t know what to say, so she just kept silent and smiled, instead opting to listen to Adrien talking with Bart next to her. It helped her ground a little, knowing her best friend was right there with her.

“Nah, sure I love her, but just platonically. She’s my best friend, like a sister to me, so he doesn’t need to worry about me coming in between them. Well, unless he hurts her, that is.”

In front of her, Conner stopped talking with Dick and turned to look at the two. Tim did the same. Marinette soon understood why, as well.

“I doubt he would,” Bart replied, an obvious smile echoing in his voice. “So, your best friend is the soulmate of mine, huh?” Marinette’s smile fell and she turned to look at her best friend, who seemed to recognise the far too familiar words coming out of Bart’s mouth as well. Bart was looking at his wrist, now mumbling. “Wait… that’s weird, I could’ve almost sworn—” Then his gaze snapped to Adrien. “It’s you??”

“Oh mon dieu.”

“Oh mon dieu vraiment.”

With a quick glance, it seemed that everyone was now looking at Adrien and Bart. There was a smile growing on both their faces, though it was there far faster on Bart’s definitely. Grinning, Adrien turned to Marinette.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and started speaking in rapid-fire French. Understandable, it was much easier to both of them to deal with feelings in. “I cannot believe this! We both got to meet our soulmates on this trip, almost at the same time, and in Gotham of all places! I swear this was the last place I would have expected to find them at and I am so happy about this and just look at him he’s so adorable and precious I can’t even! I have known him for all of three minutes but I already love him. Oh my god, Jagged is not going to believe this—”

“Oh my god, Uncle Jagged. And I forgot the meat. We have to hurry, we can’t let him and Penny and his friend wait for us too long. Please tell me you didn’t forget anything I asked you to find.” Thankfully, Adrien shook his head.

Of course she had forgotten something. Now, it meant that she was starting to panic. “I am so very sorry, but I forgot that I was supposed to find ingredients for my uncle and I have to go now. I’m so sorry. We’ll still be in Gotham for some time, maybe I’ll run into you later again? Bye!” And with that, she dragged Adrien with her, leaving both her and Adrien’s soulmates behind. Adrien just waved to them before running beside her.

She left them behind having completely forgotten about asking for any means to contact any of them.

This she, obviously, only realised when she was in the car with Uncle Jagged, Aunt Penny and Adrien, already on their way to Jagged’s friend.

“I cannot believe I forgot to ask for his number or anything. I had to clear my inbox a while back, too, so it’s going to take me ages to find even his email address,” she moaned and buried her face in her hands. Adrien just patted her head, trying to comfort her. Yeah, that’s right, she had dragged Adrien away from his soulmate as well. That made her even worse.

“Wait, who are you talking about, kid? Whose number did you forget to ask? A potential new client?” Jagged asked, confused about what his niece was on about.

Marinette lifted her head for a moment to answer him. There were tear streaks on her face, she realised, when the air was a little too cool at only some places on her cheeks and hands. “No, my soulmate’s. I finally met him but then I realised I was late and Adrien met his soulmate as well but I just dragged him away too and oh god I’m such a horrible friend.” Then she let her head fall into her hands again.

“You met your soulmates? In Gotham?” Jagged gasped. “I’m so happy you met them here.”

“Jagged, you do realise this is Gotham, one of the most crime-ridden cities in the world, right?”

“But Penny, I’m sure these kiddos’ soulmates aren’t bad! They are so pure, not even fate would be so cruel! Anyway, kid, you should have stayed with him or asked him to join us! There’s nothing as rock and roll as meeting your soulmate! I would have been fine with waiting for you so you could get his number.”

“His brother actually asked me to come over to his place and have a dinner with his family. I said no because I was supposed to come with you to your friend’s place.”

“You should’ve said yes, Mari! I could have told Bruce you weren’t able to come ‘cuz you met your soulmate and he would’ve been okay with it!”

“What’s done is done, Uncle Jagged. Can we forget about this now? I want to wallow in self-pity.”

Adrien just shook his head and took her hands to his. “No, and you’re not a bad friend, Buginette. I know how you get like when things start becoming hectic, but one, I’m already used to it, and two, maybe we’ll see him again. He lives here and he told you his name, didn’t he? And you told him yours? You can probably try to find him tomorrow. I’m sure you will. And, once you find him, I’ll get to mine as well because he said they were best friends. There’s really nothing to worry about, Mari.”

“You’re way too good for me. I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do. Now take this tissue, dry your face and we can go inside.”

Oh. They’d already arrived at the manor Jagged’s friend lived in. Marinette took the tissue Adrien handed her, wiped the tears off her face and then stepped out of the car, Adrien following right behind her. There was a man with a white streak in his otherwise black hair waiting at the door, a cigar in his hands.

“Hi Jagged. B said you were coming soon. Get in. It’s a little chaotic right now, babybird apparently met his soulmate and then lost her just about immediately, so he also invited his friends over,” the man said, drawing a breath out of his cigar. It seemed he recognised Jagged immediately, which was probably a good sign.

“Seems like we’er not the only ones with soulmate problems today,” Adrien whispered to her. Marinette just nodded. While she wasn’t one to take joy in others’ problems, she was kind of a little glad to hear that they weren’t the only ones who had to suffer with them right now.

“Well, hello Jay-lad, you’re alive again!” Jagged exclaimed as though being alive again was totally normal and squeezed the man. What the hell. When Marinette looked at Penny, hoping for some sort of an explanation for this, she just shrugged. “Great to see you’ve grown into a big boy now. These are Marinette and Adrien, my niece and her best friend. Oh, and Penny, my wife.”

“Oh give it a rest, won’t you, I wasn’t actually that small back then either. Where’s Fang?”

“Left him in my brother’s care.”

“The one that works at Arkham?”

“That one. He said he’s gonna take him with him to work today.”

“Great, let’s hope he bites Joker’s head or at least hand off. But yeah, good to see you’ve gotten yourself a family now so you don’t need to borrow me or Dick to have children anymore. Now, get in, it’s not too warm a night.” Once Adrien and Marinette got near him, he nodded as greeting. “I’m Jason, B’s second son and the kid Jagged used to borrow every now and then when he wanted to take a kid to concerts or the amusement park or somethin’.”

Adrien snorted next to Marinette who just chuckled. “Sounds like something Uncle Jagged would totally do. He basically adopted me as his niece after I designed him an atrocious pair of glasses,” Marinette laughed. “And Adrien got in because his father is an ass, and my family has joint custody of him with his aunt, which then led to Jagged wanting to take him with us as well.”

“Of course he did. Only Jagged and B would, I swear. Only them.”

They followed Jason inside (Jagged had already taken the liberty to just march in like he owned the place and announce he was back in Gotham, dragging Penny with him), marvelling at how gorgeous and beautiful everything looked. Even Adrien, who had grown up in a similar house, did, perhaps because while this manor was as big (if not far bigger) and just about as decorated as the Agreste Mansion had been, this was also warm and felt like home, like someone actually lived there instead of just… occupying the space. It was amazing.

A broad-shouldered man walked to them to welcome them in. It was probably B (Bruce? Marinette was pretty sure that was what Jagged had called him), based on how Jason greeted him, punching him lightly in the shoulder while he just ruffled Jason’s hair.

“It’s wonderful to meet the family Jagged speaks so fondly of finally. I’m Bruce Wayne. Come inside, I’d like you two to meet my children,” he said, smiling warmly at the two of them. Adrien was a little wary, but followed him anyway, never leaving Marinette’s side and his hand in hers. It wasn’t surprising and Marinette didn’t judge him for it — after all, as far as Adrien was aware, this man could be just like Gabriel (even if by all likelihood he wasn’t).

Jason snorted behind them. “He speaks of his children like there are only a handful of us instead of like, a million, like there in reality are. He’s a serial adopter, I swear. Be careful or he adopts the both of you — Blondie Locks sounds like he has a tragic backstory, and you have at the very least the blue eyes and black hair.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, somewhat ready to meet new people. But, once they actually got to the living room, they weren’t met with a bunch of unfamiliar faces, no. Instead, Marinette immediately recognised four of them, one of which was her soulmate.

How else. Fate had a funny way of doing things, making sure you couldn't avoid your soulmate.

Not that she wasn’t glad about it for this once.

Bart looked up and basically appeared next to Adrien — how fast was he anyway? — who then immediately hugged him. Well. If Bart was here and he was indeed every bit the precious sunshine he seemed to be and Adrien claimed he was, Marinette could safely leave Adrien to him. She squeezed Adrien’s hand once more before making her way towards Tim who met her halfway.

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry, I kind of tend to get stuck in my head when things start to get hectic and forgot to ask you for your contact information,” she chuckled, tilting her head.

Tim just smiled at her, arching an eyebrow. “Well, we got to meet this soon anyway, so I think I can forgive you that this once.”

“Hey!”

He just laughed at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, you told me you were MDC — I would have been able to get in contact with you rather easily,” he reminded her.

Oh yeah. That too.

“It’s wonderful to meet you again, Tim. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Marinette. I’m glad I got to meet you, soulmate.”

Marinette opened her arms slightly, and once Tim nodded and she got the go-ahead, she hugged him tight. Glancing at her wrist and the odd words written on it, the corners of her lips quirked upwards.

Perhaps, perhaps it wasn’t that bad to have “Dick, are you seriously trying to model on the cheese shelf? I swear I’m going to disown you as soon as we get home— hey, miss, do you want a new embarrassing brother? You look like you could actually be family anyway.” written on her body permanently.

After all, those words led her to the young man called Tim she could already tell was a wonderful person, and later on, Marinette couldn't have been happier to call him her beloved soulmate.

(click for better quality)

_____

@kris-pines04​ @thethirdwheelfriend​ @daminett4life​

#Timari #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #timinette #tim x marinette #tim drake #maribat secret santa #Bartadrien #Bart Allen #Kon-el #conner kent #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dick grayson #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml x dc #dc #fanfiction #fanfic #ethel's writing

[darlingandmreames]

A Thousand Ways to Say It

(also on ao3)

Prompt: Love Languages (a bit of a loose take on it, but my brain latched onto Arthur telling Eames he loved him in ways other than outright saying it and just Ran With It, so here we are)

Summary: Arthur loved Eames. He knew that, and he tried to tell him in his own way. Just never in so many words. Or 5 times Arthur didn’t quite say “I love you”, and 1 time he didn’t need to

@arthureamesmonth

Arthur reloaded his clip and got off four shots before the incoming fire forced him to duck back down behind cover. They would've been fine, the mark's subconscious was only partially militarized so stealth would've been effective enough for them to do the job without any major resistance, but then the other extractor had managed to run directly into the mark. That'd been more than enough to alert his sub-security, and now they were stuck facing a load of gunfire on what should've been an easy job.

“This is why I hate working with amateurs." 

Arthur nodded, glancing over at Eames. He had a few cuts, likely from flying glass, but thankfully seemed otherwise fine. "Issue is when you don't find out they're an amateur until after you start the job."

Eames let out a clipped laugh. "True." He raised up briefly, taking out two projections before dropping back down again. "Any idea where our lovely colleague is?"

"Probably dead."

Eames nodded. "You have any sort of plan? Because all I've got currently is 'try not to get shot'."

Arthur looked at his watch. Just over 15 minutes. That was more than enough time to get the information if they could get the mark's projections off their backs at least a little. Which, given the current state of things, was a pretty big if. He peered around the corner of the bench they were currently hiding behind. "How do you feel about our chances of making it to that hallway over there without getting shot?"

Eames followed his gaze, ducking back down just in time to avoid a bullet. "Questionable, but if we lay down enough covering fire we might be able to make it."

"I'll provide cover as we run." Arthur held a hand up to cut off the objection he knew was coming, flinching as a ricochet sent bits of stone flying in his face. "You're the dreamer. If I die it'll just be a little inconvenient. If you die the dream collapses and the job's fucked." He paused, taking advantage of the lull in incoming fire to take out another projection. "Once we get into the hallway and have more cover we'll split up. The projections will follow you while I find the safe and finish the job." 

Eames grimaced. "I'm not a particular fan of this plan."

"Me neither. You ready?"

Eames nodded again, crouching. "On your go."

Arthur gripped his gun, body tense, and waited for another lull. It was slowing…slowing… "Now!"

He stuck close to Eames' back, providing a general round of fire as they started running. He switched to more focused bursts as the projections took cover, targeting whatever figure he saw first. Cover fire was only useful as long as he had ammo after all, no point in wasting it. The distance between where they'd been taking cover and where the hallway started was thankfully relatively short, and the return fire had only just started up in earnest when they reached it. Arthur turned and ran normally as soon as he was out of line of fire, keeping pace beside Eames as they ran down the hallway.

He stopped at the first intersection they came to, looking around the corner carefully in case it was being patrolled. The hallway was empty though, the only sounds coming from behind them. He turned to Eames, reloading. "You good to distract the projections?"

"Course."

"Eames." Eames had already started off down and hallway when Arthur called after him. He turned to look at him, confused. "Be careful."

Eames gave him a small smile, expression softening slightly. "You too."

Arthur nodded and turned, setting off down the other side of the hallway. "See you in 15 minutes."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur was already in bed by the time Eames got back to the hotel. He had been for a while. It'd been a long couple of days, waking up early and staying late to finish up his research, and it was starting to catch up to him. He could normally stay up until the early hours of the morning with no issue, but now it was barely 10pm and he was already having trouble keeping his eyes open. 

Eames opened the door and slipped in quietly, looking at Arthur with surprise. "Figured you'd be asleep by the time I got in." 

"Almost, but not quite." Arthur stretched out under the covers, trying to stifle a yawn. "Productive evening?"

"Very. Business dinners are always a great context to observe someone in." Eames took his jacket off and dug through his bag. "Guy's your average run of the mill slimy businessman. I could probably forge him in my sleep."

"Hm, we do work with quite a few of those, don't we?"

Eames grinned at him. "Practically our bread and butter."

Arthur went back to scrolling mindlessly through his phone as Eames disappeared into the bathroom. He'd spent the past hour half-heartedly reading through the news as he tried to stay awake, and that seemed like a good way to continue occupying his time until Eames had finished getting ready for bed.

"You heading into the workshop tomorrow?" Eames' voice drifted out of the bathroom over the sound of the sink.

 "No, I was thinking of working in a cafe somewhere." He shrugged. "We're in Rome, I might as well take advantage of the quality espresso."

"You," Eames wandered back out, drying his face with a hand towel, "don't need espresso. You're sleep deprived enough as it is, you don't need to add more caffeine to the mix."

"I'll get a good night's sleep tonight, it'll be fine." Arthur sighed. "And I'll try not to drink more than four shots tomorrow. Sound fair?"

"I suppose." Eames pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, turning the lamp off as he did so. "Mind if I join you?"

Arthur smiled and moved closer. "You're just trying to make sure I don't overdo it on the espresso."

Eames laughed. "Maybe." He shifted, making space for Arthur as he nestled against his side. "Can't I just enjoy your company though?" Arthur hummed happily as he curled against Eames, not even bothering to reply. He could already feel sleep pulling at him as Eames' arm settled around his shoulders. Eames laughed again quietly, pulling him close. "You really are tired, aren't you?"

"Mm, a bit."

"Why did you stay up? You could've just gone to bed." 

Arthur gave a small shrug as he started to drift off. "I sleep better next to you."

I love you.

XXX

“You’re okay.” Arthur brushed Eames’ hair back from his forehead, his other hand rubbing gentle circles on Eames’ back as he threw up. “You’re alright.”

Eames rarely got sick. He might get the occasional cold or bout of food poisoning if he wasn’t careful, but that was usually it. When he did get sick, though, it was bad. The sort of bad that knocked him out and put him out of commission for a week or two straight. Or, in this case, had him bent over the toilet throwing up for hours at a time for the third day in a row. They were supposed to be working a job right now, a quick and easy one extracting information from an old man on behalf of his estranged son, but Eames had come down with whatever the fuck he’d gotten on the the second day and that had put a quick end to their involvement. Well, to Eames’ involvement technically. But someone had to help take care of him until he was a bit more recovered because Arthur learned rather quickly that Eames would do a terrible job of it if left to his own devices. 

Arthur filled a cup up with water and handed it to Eames once he seemed to have gotten through this round of throwing up. “Try and drink at least a little. Otherwise you’re going to get dehydrated.”

“‘M not going to be able to keep it down.”

“I know.” He crouched behind Eames, going back to rubbing his back gently. “But you should try to drink a bit anyways.” Eames managed to get half of it down before setting the cup of the floor and resting his head against his arm. Arthur moved the cup up onto the counter. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again soon?”

“Don’t think so, no.”

“Why don’t we head back to the bed then? That’ll be more comfortable than the bathroom floor.” Arthur helped Eames up slowly. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and his skin pale and clammy. Arthur remembered the first time he’d seen Eames properly sick; he’d been shocked by the change and had briefly and irrationally wondered if he was maybe dying. He’d gotten more used to the sight, as uncommon as it was, over the years, but he still felt a stab of concern each time. 

Eames was curled against Arthur’s side as soon as they were back in bed, face pressed against Arthur’s t-shirt. That was the other thing he'd learned: when Eames was sick, wearing anything he actually liked was inadvisable at best and downright stupid at worst. So until Eames was more recovered it would be sweatpants and cheap t-shirts that he didn't have to worry about keeping clean and could just throw out when they invariably got something gross on them. Arthur could still feel the slight heat of Eames’ fever through the cloth, but it was far better than it had been the past few days. Hopefully it would break for good sometime this evening. He looked down as Eames muttered something, his voice too muffled to actually make out what he was saying. “Come again?”

He tilted his face up slightly. “Said you’re going to get sick too after this.”

“Maybe. I’ll be fine though.” Arthur ran his hand through Eames’ hair. He was, to be fair, absolutely right. There was almost no way he was getting out of this without catching whatever it was Eames had. When he got sick though it was usually far milder. He'd feel like shit for a few days, but nothing like what Eames was going through. “I don’t get sick like you do.”

“Still. You don’t have to stay.” Eames started to sit up unsteadily. “‘M fine.”

Arthur sighed. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not going anywhere. Now lay back down." Eames was back against him almost immediately, arms around his waist. Arthur laughed quietly and went back to running his fingers through Eames' hair. Eames was quite affectionate to begin with, and when he got sick he was almost downright clingy. It was sweet, honestly. "Someone has to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself." Eames' voice was muffled again, but at least a bit more understandable.

"Not when you're sick, you can't." 

"You had to drop the job though."

Arthur settled back against the pillows. "Well, it's not like either of us really needed the money. And it wasn't a particularly exciting one, so I doubt we're missing much." He was about to say something else when he felt Eames tense. Arthur gripped his shoulders and pushed him up; he knew all too well what that meant. "No no no no do not throw up in the bed."

It was close, but Eames managed to make it back to the bathroom in time. Arthur crouched behind him, rubbing Eames' back gently as his shoulders shook. He moved back and sat against the tile wall after a few minutes when Eames seemed to have finished throwing up, shifting so that Eames could lay between his legs, head resting on Arthur's chest. "Maybe it's best if we just stay in here for a bit."

Eames groaned, gripping his shirt tightly. "Sorry for making you do this."

"Don't be. I'm certainly not sorry for being here." Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames' shoulders, holding him close. "Let me take care of you."

I love you.

XXX

The fourth drink was, as were most things with Eames, both a wonderful and terrible idea. Arthur hadn't planned on getting drunk, in fact he'd planned on specifically not doing that, but Eames had asked if he wanted a second drink with a smile that had made it clear he was hoping the answer would be yes, and Arthur had never been very good at saying no to that smile. Two drinks turned into three and eventually into four and at some point Arthur had ended up back at Eames’ place, settled quite happily on his lap, the world warm and blurry around him. He wasn’t exactly sure when or how that had happened, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He leaned his head back against Eames’ shoulder. “If I’m hungover tomorrow I’m absolutely blaming you.”

“All I did was ask if you wanted another drink.” Arthur could see Eames grinning out of the corner of his eye. “You could’ve said no.”

“Not when you’re asking, I can’t.”

“Really?” Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, holding him close. Arthur moved with him easily. “I had no idea I had such an effect on you.”

Arthur laughed. “Yes you did.”

“Well, okay. I maybe had some idea.”

Arthur hummed contentedly in response, settling back against Eames’ chest. It was wonderful laying here like this. He knew he’d regret those extra drinks in the morning when he’d almost definitely wake up with at least a mild hangover and have to go back to working on the job, but right now he couldn’t think of anything better than sitting with Eames' arms around him, curled against him. Eames chuckled, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, you know that?”

Arthur tried to cut off the giggle he could feel building up in his chest, but was only partially successful. “I’m not cute.”

“You get a couple of drinks in you and you start blushing and giggling and invariably end up on my lap like some sort of intoxicated cat. You,” Eames kissed his temple, “are an adorable drunk and you absolutely can’t convince me otherwise.”

“And what about you?” Arthur looked up. He tried to fix Eames with a serious glare but based on Eames’ grin he seemed to have failed. “You’re just as drunk as I am.”

“That’s true.” Eames raised an eyebrow. "You saying you think I'm also cute when I'm drunk?"

"No." Arthur frowned. That hadn't been what he'd been trying to say but, to be fair, he wasn't entirely sure what he had been trying to say. He searched for some sort of comeback. "You're always cute. Not just when you're drunk."

Eames stared at him for a moment, surprised, before laughing and pulling Arthur in close. "Shit, you really are drunk."

"Hm, maybe. You're still cute though." He slipped his hand into Eames', train of thought derailing slightly as Eames squeezed his hand back. "You have…you have this smile. It's not your normal one, you know, the polite one you use when you're trying to be nice or friendly. Your real one. The one you use when you're happy or something made you really laugh. Or sometimes you just look at me and suddenly that smile is there for no reason. Your entire face lights up and you…" He shrugged. He knew there were probably better words he was trying to find, but none of them seemed to be coming. "You're cute."

Eames ran his thumb over the back of Arthur's hand, tracing small circles. "Apparently you're a sentimental drunk too." His tone was teasing but even through the haze of alcohol Arthur could hear the fondness behind it.

"Shut up," he giggled. 

"Never." Eames shifted and Arthur slid off his lap slightly and onto the couch beside him, draping his arm across Eames' stomach and nestling against his side. Eames kissed his forehead. "You're a cute, sappy, sentimental drunk and I refuse to ever let you forget it."

"I can't stand you, you know that?" Arthur buried his face against Eames' shirt as Eames laughed. It truly was wonderful laying here like this. It struck Arthur as Eames ran his fingers through his hair that he would be perfectly content to lay here in Eames' arms for the rest of his life. "Can't stand you in the least."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur had some strong opinions about Toronto's downtown architecture, most of them rather negative, but he'd always liked the train station. It was a classic building, with it's high, arched ceiling and wide open atrium, and Arthur may have gotten his start in extraction with strange and paradoxical architecture but he still appreciated a well made classic when he saw it.

He hated it now though. Being at the train station meant morning had come already and it was time for him and Eames to part ways. Again. Three days together after almost four months apart hadn't been nearly enough, but it was all they'd been able to manage. He leaned against Eames, trying to savour the feeling as best he could. 

"Don't look so sad."

Arthur looked down, trying to hide his expression. He both loved and hated how easily Eames could read him. "I'm not sad."

"Yes you are." Eames chuckled and tilted his chin up. "You get sad every time we do this."

"I just don't like goodbyes, that's all." Arthur kept his gaze down, not looking at Eames. It felt childish but if Arthur looked at him he'd see the soft expression he knew was on Eames' face, and that would just make it worse. "I've never liked them."

"It's just a couple of weeks. A month at the most." Eames' hand was against his face and Arthur leaned into the touch, trying to commit the feeling to memory. "We've had longer goodbyes before."

"I know." Arthur reached out and adjusted Eames' collar, frowning slightly. Anything to occupy his attention. "Doesn't make it easier though." His hands drifted slowly down to Eames' waist, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. Finally Arthur looked up and met Eames' gaze. His chest hurt slightly as he saw Eames' expression; it was just as soft and gentle as he'd imagined. "I'll miss you."

Eames grinned at him. "Careful, or I might start to think you actually care about me."

Arthur frowned again. "Careful, or I might decide I don't." 

"Empty threats, that's all you have." Eames' expression softened again, and he ran his thumb over Arthur's cheekbone. "I'll miss you too, darling. I always do." He looked up as an announcement echoed over the loudspeaker. "Well, I think that's you."

"Yeah, it is." Arthur looked back down, fingers still playing absentmindedly with the edge of Eames' jacket. He knew he needed to go, but he couldn't quite bring himself to pull away. Part of him was tempted not to. To stay here, miss his train, forget the job he was supposed to start tomorrow. To not say goodbye. Not again. He was tired of that, tired of weeks, of months, apart. But that was their life. Maybe it wouldn’t be one day- he hoped it wouldn’t be one day- but for now it was. After a moment he sighed. "Be safe?"

"Always." Eames kissed his cheek before pulling away. "I'll see you around, love."

"Yeah." Arthur gave him a small smile that he knew was laced with sadness. "See you around."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur was pissed.

Well, not really. He was worried. Eames had been gone for over an hour. Which wouldn’t be concerning under normal circumstances, but it most certainly fucking was when they had people trying to kill them. They’d been laying low in a safehouse Eames had used in Amsterdam previously for the past few days without any issues, but the client who’d put the hit out in the first place had deep pockets and access to resources. Arthur doubted three days was enough for things to be even remotely safe again.

They’d needed food though. There hadn’t been much in the safehouse when they’d gotten there, and it hadn’t been long before they’d worked through most of what was there. Arthur had tried to insist on going but Eames had pointed out that his Dutch was better and they needed to attract as little attention as possible right now. Arthur had begrudgingly agreed; he knew Eames was right, but that hadn’t done anything to calm the discomfort in his chest as Eames had closed the door to the rundown apartment behind him or tamp down on the restlessness that had made him start pacing back and forth in the small space as the minutes ticked by.

By the time an hour had passed Arthur was well and properly anxious. There was a store nearby, it shouldn’t have taken Eames this long to pick up enough food to last them another few days. Unless something had gone wrong. Unless he’d been made. Been captured. Been killed. Their client had a reputation and Arthur had met men like him before, men who were vengeful and violent and cruel; he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he got his hands on Eames. Couldn’t think about it. His mind wouldn’t leave it alone though, running through the possibilities. Of how Eames might’ve been killed. Of what might happen to him if they had taken him alive.

So Arthur wasn’t angry. Not really. But anger was easier than the worry and anxiety that was gnawing at him so he focused on that instead, letting it build until he could almost ignore the growing fear that something had happened. Not quite, but almost. 

He stopped in his tracks, hand dropping to his gun as the door lock turned, tense and alert. He relaxed as he caught a glimpse of god awful but familiar paisley though, and a moment later Eames was in the apartment closing and locking the door behind him. “Well, we won’t be eating great, but we should be-”

The relief didn't last long, anger flaring in Arthur's chest. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

Eames blinked, clearly surprised by Arthur’s tone. It was admittedly a little harsher than he’d intended, but not by much. He gave Arthur a confused look. “I went to the store, darling. Thought we’d already discussed that.”

“The store is three blocks away. You’ve been gone over an hour!” Arthur tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t quite seem to manage to get a full one. “It shouldn’t have taken that long!”

“The line at the store was long and then I thought I might’ve had a tail so I-”

“A tail?!” Arthur wasn’t quite yelling, raised voices attracted attention and they very much did not need that right now, but it was getting harder to control his volume. “How careless were you?!”

Eames set the bags he was carrying on the floor with a frown. “Arthur, calm down, I wasn’t-”

“No, I’m not going to fucking calm down.” It was harder to take a breath now and he knew he was getting louder despite his best efforts to stay at a normal speaking volume. “You could’ve been killed, Eames, you can’t be this careless! You can’t…”

“Arthur.” Eames’ voice was quiet but firm as he took Arthur’s hands. “It’s alright. I’m alright. Just breathe.”

Arthur gripped Eames’ hands, trying to take a deep breath again. The anger drained out of him as quickly as it had flared up, leaving him feeling shaky and unsteady. “I just…you were gone for so long and I…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Eames pulled him into a hug and Arthur leaned into the touch gratefully. “I didn’t mean to worry you."

Breathing was a little easier with Eames' arms around him, the pressure grounding him. Still a bit shaky, but easier. "I kept thinking something had happened." He relaxed slightly, the solid feeling of Eames against him helping dissipate some of the anxiety in his chest. "Sorry I got…worked up. I just…I worry sometimes. About you."

"It's alright." Eames pulled back just enough to kiss Arthur's cheek. "I love you too."

Arthur blinked at the words, surprised, before smiling slightly. He'd known how he felt for a while, but he'd never said it out loud. He hadn't known how. Leave it to Eames to figure it out anyways though. He buried his face in the crook of Eames' neck, a gentle warmth replacing some of his worry. "Am I really that easy to read?"

Eames laughed quietly. "Absolutely."

“I do, you know.” Arthur pulled back and looked at Eames with a serious expression. “Love you. I mean it.”

"I know, darling. I've known for a while.” Eames kissed him gently. “And I mean it when I say I love you too.” He smiled. "Now what do you say we eat something? Like I said, it won't be the best meal ever, but it'll be better than the stale crackers we've been eating the past few days."

Arthur smiled back. The anxiety in his chest hadn’t fully disappeared, but it was far better now, and Arthur knew it would be gone soon enough. It was alright. Eames was alright. "Sounds good to me."

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