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thattiredtypewriter · 13 days

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Rat Problem

(This is my first short story I've written in a long while so apologies for any grammatical errors, I had the brain worms to start being creative again)

“Starting log. Probably not the smartest thing I could do with my time but I’ve picked up worse habits from my old job. So long as I don’t record anything important I won’t be breaking any taboos, won’t have anyone I don’t want knocking on the office door. Anyways I’m recording this and leaving this here in case things got way over my head. If you’re from the office just leave this job ain’t worth it, if you’re the person that killed me congratulations and enjoy your fancy new toys. I’m not explaining how they work to you. Anyways this is Grettir, signing off.”

With a click she sets the recorder on the chair in the entrance, idly chewing on the matchstick in her mouth. With a deep breath and a low sigh she began stepping through the hallway, heavy boot steps echoing through the hall alongside the faint sounds of a saxophone. She knew to enjoy this moment, the brief calm before the storm. Her dirty olive colored coat swaying behind her and brushing up against the large object braced on her back. If one wasn’t paying attention enough they could assume that it was the case to a cello or some other large instrument. Dirt, dried blood, and burn marks could be seen across her gray suit pants and shirt. Her grayish blue hair had been tied back into a long ponytail, dusty blue eyes glancing to the door in front of her.

Grettir’s footsteps had finally been drowned out by the jazz echoing out from the other side of the door. She repeated the instructions to herself as she stopped at the door. “Take a left from the back exit, through the backstage entrance, and make your way to the man beside the closet.” Pushing her way through the double doors she followed her instructions, a few idle glances landed on her but no one made an effort to stop her. A few feathers with an evening to burn through couldn’t care less about some band member who came in late. Oh if only they knew. The dressing rooms were mostly empty, all the band members were already on stage performing for the evening. The only people here were Grettir and a man propped up against a set of drawers next to a door tapping his foot in time with the music. She stepped up to the door and the man placed a hand on the door handle as if to block her and cleared his throat.

“Clearance?”

His tone was direct but aggressive, he was a tall man with a neatly cut suit. His black hair slicked back. He looked down at Grettir with a look of annoyance, he clearly wasn’t expecting this sudden disturbance.

She pulled a paper from her coat pocket and held it out to him. “This enough clearance?”

He unfolded the paper and scanned through it before unlocking and opening the door with an annoyed grumble. The door opened into an elevator, she stepped through and the man followed her in making sure to close the door behind them. There were two buttons on the elevator, one labeled E and the other labeled B. Below the buttons was a small black square. The man pulled out a badge and placed it against the black bar, waiting for a click before pressing the button labeled B.

The trip down was long and quiet, Grettir didn’t mind the quiet but it was clearly starting to annoy the man even more. He pats around in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, taking one out and holding it out to Grettir. She looks down and pushes his hand away.

“Sorry I don’t smoke.”

“Care to give me a light?” He looked at the matchstick she had in her mouth.

“Nah, this is the only one I got. I’m sure you can light it yourself like a big boy.”

With another grumble he pulls out a lighter. “You a part of the new band?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you play?”

“Drums.”

He shoots a confused look at the thing on her back. “Weird case for some drums.”

“What about it?”

“Don’t you usually keep drums in a box?”

“Yeah.”

Grettir’s short answers were eating away at the man’s patience, making this long elevator trip feel even longer. Grettir simply wanted to ride out this silence in peace and the man finally seemed to get that.

The sounds of the elevator took her back. Going down deeper and deeper, putting on her old uniform, picking up her clipboard and recorder before walking through the halls. She would pass by so many faces both familiar and new before reaching her department, reluctantly ready to meet the same old group of people she had grown so accustomed to. She’d do her work and then head back to her assigned room where she would repeat that process. Her moment of recollection was cut short by the quick crackle of a walkie talkie from the gentleman next to her.

“Alright the band’s all ready, go ahead and lock up and make your way down here.”

“The band’s ready? But I got the drummer right here?”

“The drummer? Look it's probably just some feather trying to sneak in. Shoo them away and-”

Whatever was left of the response was swiftly cut off by the loud crack of Grettir’s club connecting with the man’s head. He was on the floor in an instant, blood beginning to pool beneath him. A low sigh escaped the woman as she reached for the object on her back and took it out, unfolding the tower shield as she readied herself. With a light ding the elevator finally reached its stop, the set of doors sliding open. A new voice chimed in, another man.

“That was fast, guess they just decided it wasn’t worth it?”

His response was met by the sudden impact of Grettir’s shield pressing him tight against the wall, he strained against the shield but Grettir wasn’t budging. “This place got a map?”

“What? I- who are you?” Another quick shove dazed the man for a moment.

“Map. Does this place have a map?”

“Alright alright, you want me to draw it out for you or what?”

With an annoyed click of her tongue she backed off, she had her answer. The poor man only had a brief moment to recover before he met a similar fate to his friend in the elevator, her club cracking against the side of his head and his limp body slumping to the floor. She probably could have had the man draw her a map or forced him to be a guide but she knew from experience that was both a bad idea and unreliable. People forget things under stress or lead her around in circles to waste time for their friends to show up. After all it was the first thing she taught new fixers at her office; the enemy will do just about anything to get back an advantage, don’t give them that chance. With the heavy sounds of boots she walked down the halls of the underground facility, unlike the halls above these were much more cramped. Enough room for someone to walk by you but nothing more than that. She was used to it and preferred this type of environment for her jobs. Gave her an excuse to work alone.

As she made her way through the twists and turns of the facility she found herself occasionally scraping her club against the metal walls. It was a simple weapon, a smooth handle with a bit of cloth wrapped around it and at the top the club was lined with several bumps. It was small but in close spaces like this that was an advantage, less chances for her to hit the walls. For members of the Trench Office small weapons like this were practically mandatory, some of the more confident fixers would take larger weapons but most of them didn’t last long. With most jobs being taken alone you didn’t have anyone to cover your back in case your weapon got caught on the wall or even worse you had no room to pull the thing out. It’s like she always told new fixers that got lucky enough to accompany her “small things like this are easy to conceal and let you turn small spaces like this into your advantage.” Though she was sure she could count the amount of times she told someone that on one hand.

After following a couple arrows she turned the corner and was met with three more well dressed people gathered around some double doors, they were talking about something to each other but Grettir had tuned it out. Small talk usually wasn’t too important to whatever job she was doing. One of the three noticed the woman with the tower shield casually approaching them.

“Did you get lost girly?”

No response.

“You hear me? You ain’t supposed to be down here.”

She stopped, still no response.

The person angrily stepped towards Grettir, cracking his knuckles. “I said you’re not-”

Grettir didn’t let him finish, quickly stepping forward and jamming the tip of the club into his stomach before bringing it down on the back of their head as they doubled over in pain.

Snapping out of their confusion the other two stepped into action, one pulling out a machete while the other spoke into their walkie. “We have trouble, someone managed to get in here. Might need to send some folks over to help.”

The other person rushed her, stepping over the crumpled body of their comrade and attempting to bring the machete down on her. She took a step back and held her shield forward letting the blade bounce off of the hard metal shield. With her new found opening she rushed forward, slamming the tower shield against the person and knocking them off balance. Before they had a chance to regain their balance Grettir’s club had already connected with the person’s jaw, knocking them into the wall. As the second guard's body slid onto the ground Grettir walked towards the third.

“They’re not coming.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“No one’s coming to help you.”

Despite the blood stains across her body her tone was very casual, like it was simple small talk between herself and someone at a bar.

“You had the advantage here, you just fumbled it. Besides with halls like these not like they could send that many people to help.”

She looked down at the other two bodies, using her foot to open up their jackets and give them a quick look. “Got a key for this door?”

“What?”

“This door here.” She tapped the door with her club causing the person to flinch. “Got a key for it?”

“How did you-”

“Key?” She didn’t even give them a chance to ask their question, cutting them off.

“No, we were about to-”

All the guard heard was an annoyed grumble from Grettir before she swiftly struck them across the head with her club. “For how fast they took over the place you’d think they’d have a better handle on things, they really did just take over the first place that was mostly unprotected. Probably didn’t pay for any sort of office to protect them.”

She propped up her shield against the nearby wall and placed the tip of the club against the lock of the door. Grettir shielded her eyes and looked away as a small click was heard followed by the sound of metal piercing through metal. Another click and a quick moment later a small blast came out from the end of her club, pushing the door open with force. This was the other specialty of many Trench Office fixers, small combustion devices built within most of their weapons which could be used for both combat or breaching purposes. Most weren’t capable of producing continuous flames, but heated metal and the occasional sparks that the weapons generated could easily cause a chain reaction of fire in small spaces like this.

Grabbing her shield, Grettir stepped through the now unlocked door. The room was dark, a couple of desks with paper scattered around on them and some bookshelves placed along the walls. She walked up to one of the desks, parsing through the stray documents until she found what she needed to find. A file with some loose papers barely hanging out of it. Her face twisted into that of annoyance as she saw the logo on the file, if it were up to her she would just walk away now and tell the person that the file was gone but they were paying a good amount of money for this job and her office needed it. Stowing the file away in a compartment on her shield she turned to leave. Maybe it was the brief moment of distaste from seeing the file she was sent to retrieve or the small amount of overconfidence she had from taking out the previous guards but she wasn’t prepared for the sudden sharp pain she felt walking out of the door as someone’s fist connected with her head. In a daze she stumbled back a bit to try and get a clear view of her attacker. All she could make out was a robust figure as they tried to say something to her, probably something along the lines of “who sent you?” or “what office are you from?” Questions she had heard plenty of times before. She felt around her lip where she was punched and noticed the matchstick she had kept in her mouth must have been knocked out by the punch.

“Dammit.” She mumbled to herself, standing up a bit more straight before trying to rush down the man. She tried a quick overhead swing to the skull but this person was ready, lifting an arm so it took the brunt of the hit before he responded back with a swift left hook to her gut. In her fuzzy state she wasn’t going to be fast enough to try and stop this man’s blows, this was a losing fight and she needed a way to turn the tide. With a step forward she tried to drive the top of the club into the person’s stomach only for him to catch it with his right hand. Clicking the button on the handle the spike hidden in her club shot out, skewering through the man’s hand. She wedged the shield between the two and gave him a hard shove with all her weight, blood splashing against her and her shield as the weapon was dislodged from his hand. Taking this moment she ran off where she had originally come from, the person’s voice echoing through halls as he shouted. “She’s here! Cut her off at the elevator!” Turns out she was wrong about them sending help.

The good thing was that the blow from earlier hadn’t messed with her memory, the bad news was that she had a few new roadblocks in her way. She was hoping this would be a relatively quiet job but it’s never that easy, guess this will just be another mess she’ll have to clean up. Some well aimed thwacks with her club dealt with most of the people in her way and the ones that put up more of a fight became well aware of how heated metal felt. Her shield took most of the attacks aimed at her, some managed to get some lucky hits in but a few cuts and bruises were never enough to put her out of commission. Retracing her steps she knew she was just about to hit the home stretch, one last corner and it was a straight dash to the elevator. With the heavy sound of boots hitting the floor and another loud thwack of her club clearing away another goon she turned the corner. “Shit.” The man from earlier had made it ahead of her, bloodied hand wrapped tightly in his jacket while the other brandished a blade. He was positioned dead center in the hallway and Grettir could hear more people quickly approaching behind her, an extended one on one fight was a death sentence and the man knew it. There was only one idea she had and she hoped it would work.

Bracing her full weight behind her shield she charged forwards, gritting her teeth as she set herself on a straightforward course through the man in front of her. The man did his best to push back against her charge but he was losing ground, slowly getting pushed towards the elevator. Just as it looked like he was finally about to completely stop Grettir the sound of something piercing through metal could be heard followed by a click. A loud blast rang through both of their ears as Grettir’s club expelled its heat pushing him away with a rush of heat and flames. Once she had gained the upper hand she charged forward once more, making her way into the elevator and pinning him against the wall with her shield. One final swing with her club ended the man. She quickly pressed the button and watched as the doors behind her closed and she could feel the elevator slowly rising.

Slumped against the wall she slid down, letting go of her shield and letting it rest against the wall next her. She gave a cursory glance at the two corpses next to her before looking to her shield, a hole could be seen where her spike had pierced through. The area around it glowing with heat as it cooled off. A simple fix but one her companion wasn’t going to be too happy about. She rummaged around in her coat pocket and pulled out a book of matches, reaching to pull a match out only to find none left. “You really had to get that cheap shot at me, did you?” A few more deep breaths and she pulled herself up, folding up her shield and placing it on her back. Her club had cooled down enough that she could stow it away safely. The rest of the ride up was silent once more, another quiet moment alone with her thoughts. Grettir’s eyes closed for a moment, her chest slowly rising and falling with each steady breath. She once again found her mind drifting, thoughts going back to that moment. She could hear the sounds of panic once more, dimmed hallways flanking her, her radio crackling with the frantic conversations of several people. The noises steadily growing louder and louder until finally she shouted. “Shut up for a damn second and let me breathe!”

Silence once more.

As her eyes opened she finally noticed that the elevator was lit with the light of the backstage. That same silence hung in the air as she noticed the concerned eyes of several musicians. She pulled herself up and sighed. “You had a bit of a rat problem, consider it dealt with.” Swiping the badge from one of the bodies she sent the elevator back down as she stepped out, crushing it beneath her boot so that no one could think of using it to go back down. “If you have any complaints feel free to send them to the Trench Office, I’m sure they’ll love to hear them.” A statement she has uttered many times. Her footsteps echoed through the quiet backstage, the concerned gazes carefully watching her. She didn’t seem to pay them any mind, it was something she was used to by now. The rest of the walk home was as uneventful as things could get in the city, boots crunching in the snow as she walked towards her office tucked away in District 25. She pulled out her tape recorder once more.

“Starting log. Grettir once again speaking. The job’s done, got your damn file. Take them and leave the rest of the payment wherever you want and if I see you step into my office again I’ll make sure it’s the last office you’ll ever step in. I’m not doing your damn dirty work again.”

With one last click she walked off into the night, closing up her jacket as the snow fell on her shoulders.

#project moon #project moon oc #limbus company #short story #creative writing

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dcbbw · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday 5.24.23

Hi, tumblrs! It’s still Wednesday where I am, and I have two WIPs to share. It’s two new ideas that somehow cut the line and demanded I write something out.

One was supposed to be my submission for #WorldWhiskeyDay, although it may be better suited for Halloween; not Fingers … I had the idea, but no cohesive thoughts have made an appearance yet. Although knowing me, this will probably post Halloween 2024.

The other is yet another take on the Applewood scandal. This is what, my third or fourth one?

And just to put us all on the same page and keep my brain on track, top priorities during writing time over the holiday weekend are: NYC AU, Waiting Room, and these two stories. The MC lunch ask is still floating around in my head as well and thoughts on a companion piece to Cocktail.

Anyways, excerpts are below the cut. As usual, everything is in a rough draft and final, published version may differ. Hope you like it!

Middle of Nowhere (tentative tile)

Song Inspo: Death Letter, Johnny Farmer, Organized Noize

The house sits on a bluff in the middle of nowhere overlooking a large, lazy river, as it has for the past century and a half. It’s almost picturesque, gleaming white clapboard covered with blue sky and bathed in early spring sunlight. Freshly mown grass is interspersed with wildflowers; pussy willows surround the bases of moss-covered trees.

The house has no postal address; it sits on Highway 62 East at Marker 129, in the unincorporated hamlet of Tannerton, equidistant between two bigger towns; not larger … bigger. Fifteen miles to the east is Potter’s Farm where residents and visitors enjoy the movie theater, gourmet Chinese food, a public library, and shopping at big box stores. Fifteen miles to the west is Easton, home to blue collar businesses, public parks and a hiking trail, and long stretches of road filled with fast-food chains, pizzerias, an ice-cream parlor, and a combination barber shop/hair salon.

The house sits empty as it has for the past five years; rumor, legend, and lore say the domicile is haunted, the land it sits on the site of brutal and unnecessary massacres. History tells of previous occupants who met grisly ends, or simply vanished as if the house’s walls and floorboards had swallowed them alive. There is no way to separate fact from fiction. Tannerton’s population is zero; the once-bustling waterway town is no more, save for the house.

Any eyewitnesses to the horrors of the house are the disappeared.

Except for two.

The realtor stands on the front of the house’s wraparound porch, her blue eyes taking in the slow-rolling waves of the Acheron River. In Greek mythology, the River of Acheron was known as the River of Woe and was one of five rivers that led to Hell. As far as the woman knew, no one in this godforsaken corner of the world is aware of that interesting tidbit.

But she is. Her husband is, as he should. He named the river.

She is adjusting the long sleeves of her beige linen dress when her husband joins her on the veranda.

“Is everything ready?” she asks as she turns to face him. The realtor is an older woman, but her face gives no indication of that. Her skin is smooth and unlined even devoid of cosmetics, her sapphire-blue eyes clear and alert, her mouth a cupid’s bow with pale-pink tinted lips.

Her glossy brown hair is still long and wavy, but silver liberally threads her tresses. Her hands are liver-spotted and knotty with veins; her fingers are gnarled, the brittle nails yellowed with age. She tells anyone foolish enough to ask she suffers from arthritis.

“Is everything ready?” she asks, her tone distant as if her thoughts are otherwise occupied.

The man nods stiffly. He is tall and trim; like his wife, his appearance is youthful despite his graying hair. Unlike his wife, his hands and fingers were neither aged nor disfigured.

“It is. They’ll be arriving soon, it may be best to set out the refreshments.”

She nods absently as she scans the front yard. The setting is charming, inviting. A frisson of excited energy courses through her body at the thought of selling the house. There’s a buyer; a younger couple looking to escape the three C’s of a growing city: crime, clubs, congestion. Today is the final walkthrough. The house has sat empty too long; the whiskey untouched even longer.

Annabelle Beaumont walks around her husband to pull the screen door open. “Come, Barthelemy; we have to make sure the Walkers feel right at home when they arrive.”

Come on, come on, come on home

Scandal

Song Inspo: Delusional World Champion, Jean Dawson

Tariq Keriakos stared in puzzlement between his room door and Bastien Lykel, who stood in front of it barring the minor noble’s entry.

“There was a flood?” Tariq repeated stupidly.

The head of the King’s Guard nodded affirmatively. “A pipe burst while the hunt was going on. None of your belongings were harmed; maintenance noticed it almost immediately, but at the moment your quarters are without water.”

“Just my room?”

“Yes, m’Lord. The damage was contained in a timely manner, but we are awaiting parts to arrive. To avoid further inconvenience, another room has been secured for you. It’s Room 4 South.”

“South wing? Isn’t that where the suitors are housed?” Tariq questioned while Bastien pressed a key into his palm.

The sentry was briefly taken aback; the housing arrangement for the visitors at Applewood wasn’t a secret per se, but it wasn’t common knowledge. Bastien quickly recovered.

“It is; given that this is the last night, and all rooms have private baths, I do not foresee an issue.”

Tariq exhaled a long breath. The time at Applewood had been exhausting, this day more than usual. Between Lady Penelope passing him letters from Lady Riley, the horse ride to and from the Ruins, and now his room unavailable to him, Tariq was pretty much done.

“Fine. But my clothing? My toiletries?”

“Already moved and set up in your new quarters,” Bastien assured him.

With a resigned nod, Tariq made his way from the east wing, thinking only of a hot shower and a long sleep.

In the south wing, Riley Brooks, the suitor from America, sat at the vanity in her room re-thinking and possibly regretting every life choice that led to her being in Cordonia.

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @queenjilian @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @yourfavaquarius111 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @walkerdrakewalker @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #even more wips #trr/trh au fanfiction #writer on tumblr #one day I will finish all the wips #then what will I do

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deepspacedukat · 1 year

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Recenter

I was in a very introspective mood, and while I was asking myself some very important questions, I felt an intense desire to untangle some thoughts via a character. Obviously this doesn’t reflect my situation, but this is how I felt S’Talon might handle similar questions. I didn’t even intend to write anything cohesive or post-worthy, but I didn’t want to just delete this. May as well toss it into the void that is tumblr dot com. In my mind, this is pre-Raptor’s Descent Enjoy!

S’Talon belongs to @bigblissandlove1 - thank you so much, friend, for allowing me to use your pretty Romulan Captain Mans to ramble like this! 💖

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

S’Talon (OC)

[A/N: I was in a mood. S’Talon decided to pop in and exist in my brain for a while.]

Warnings: None, unless introspection and discussions of artistic processes bothers you.

~*~

As S’Talon stared at the blank canvas before him, he almost felt as though it was staring back at him. The last mission he’d returned from had been difficult, and it left him feeling exponentially more introspective and reserved than he normally did. Everything felt just a little bit more up in the air...less tethered than it had before, and he found himself wondering why.

He hadn’t felt this unsettled in decades. His first mission with the Tal Shiar had been so filled with excitement and action that when it ended, he was left with a detached, floating sort of feeling. It was as if the adrenaline pumped its way through his system, leaving behind a gaping void where his sense of direction and purpose had once been.

He’d taken several weeks after that first mission to recompose himself - to ask some difficult questions and face the honest answers to those questions head on. Where did he want his life to take him? What sort of a person did he see himself becoming? How much should he allow his position in the Tal to change him? He hadn’t wanted to lose who he was...to give up his art entirely in favor of espionage.

But art had no place in his future, at least not officially. He had a family name to live up to. He had a reputation to uphold, duties to perform, and expectations to fulfill. As much as he felt as though the Elements guided his hands when he was creating, he knew that he had to do something meaningful for Romulan society. The Tal Shiar’s work was dangerous, but entirely vital.

So...why did he feel like this? Why did he feel so empty after decades of exemplary service? Why was there a hollow in the pit of his stomach after so many successful missions? Why this mission in particular?

And why was the vibrancy of his paints suddenly so offensive to him?

Oh, the paints themselves hadn’t changed, but with the gray mood he was in, the reds and yellows and greens all seemed so...garish. He thought that painting something warm and light might lift his mood, but all the colors had done for him as he’d pulled out the tubes was make him irritable.

Downing a glass of kali-fal, the Riov swept the tubes of paint back into the box he stored them in and switched tactics altogether.

What material brought him the most comfort? What felt like a natural extension of his being?

Charcoal. The expressive lines and smudges were as seductive to him now as they had been when he first smeared it across a page. Paradoxically, the lightness of the stick in his hand grounded him better than anything else in the universe. Whenever he was stuck on a particular question, charcoal held an answer.

Securing his largest pad of paper to his easel in place of the canvas, S’Talon allowed himself to work in large strokes, swiping vine charcoal over the paper in slow, delicate movements to create blobs of gray. Taking a deep breath as he began to smooth out the edges, he began to feel the tension bleed out of him.

This he understood. There was no question of why he loved charcoal. He had no need to ask himself how to create a particular effect with this medium, because he’d used it so much that it was second-nature. He’d filled dozens of sketchbooks with nothing but pencil and charcoal. He’d stained many white garments and linens with the residue left on his fingers after losing himself within his sketches. Hell, he’d even walked into a meeting with Koval unaware that there was a smudge of the stuff across his cheek.

Glancing out the window at the rain pattering gently down across the horizon, S’Talon breathed deeply, forcing his mind to turn itself off to everything else but the paper in front of him. He would allow his subconscious to stew over his questions and problems while he created some sort of organized chaos with his charcoal. He’d need a clean shirt after this session. He always did when he was in one of these heavy moods, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was letting his materials take him away from himself for a little while.

Pouring himself a second glass of kali-fal, S’Talon shifted on his stool as he evaluated his progress, not even noticing the dark gray smudges left on his glass.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @horta-in-charge @toebeans-mcgee

#deepspacedukat fic #Riov S'Talon of Romulus

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hunkjodiefoster · 1 year

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Tears In The Rain

Chapter 1: Interlinked

Characters: Chiren, Alita, Joi (Blade Runner 2049)

Fandom(s): Alita Battle Angel x Blade Runner 2049 crossover/Alita sequel (Robert please get on this)

Summary: After the events of Alita: Battle Angel, Chiren wakes up with some memories of what had previously happened to her. A friend from the past helps her become human again. She's greeted with a new companion. Joi. Things happen from there...

Warnings: lots of angst, Joi and Chiren being flirty, Alita being a boss, robot/cyborg stuff, and fluff if you squint.

A/n: I don't know how I came up with this concept but I love both Blade runner films and Alita (& the fandom) so much.

Chapter 1: Interlinked

First feeling: None. Second feeling: Feeling, yes. Within cells interlinked. Within cells interlinked, Within cells interlinked.

Chiren felt everything come together in her body, her new one, within her cells interlinked, within her cells interlinked, within her cells interlinked.

She woke up on a bed of sorts, in an empty room, a bright light above her head blasting into her eyes. Struggling to tilt her head to her left side there’s a large window that covered the whole wall from floor to ceiling. What is that? Making out blurry images becoming clear now. It was a gray sky, raining out, pouring, sad for her thought. Successfully she got up, as she noticed she wasn’t wearing any clothing feeling weary. This wasn’t any place, this was her home. Her bed, her window, her kitchen, yada yada yada.

There was a chair next to the bed with some lower-class clothes; a sweater, boots, cargo pants, and a fleece-lined trench coat. Far from what she’s used to normally wearing. As she finished putting them on a small folded-up piece of paper slowly fell to the floor from within the coat. Chiren undid the paper, written inside was lettering;

“It’s what I could find. If you want, Joi will tell you a lot, she will go where you please. I’m sorry, for everything…” -A

Chiren knew who this was who wrote it. ‘Joi?’ the former doctor thought the woman hadn’t seemed to notice that she was thinking out loud. A hologram of a woman appeared standing in front of her, smiling.

“Can I help you Dr. Chiren?” If this was Joi she was definitely kind and polite toward her.

“You’re Joi?” Chiren questioned.

“Yes.”

“Joi. Do you know who wrote this?” Chiren pointed out the slip she held.

“I only assume you know” Joi’s grin became sublime

“It was Alita, wasn’t it? Why am I here? How am I here? I feel different. The last thing I remember was being locked in a box with just my eyes and brain for days” Chiren’s face grew in longing, this was the first time in a while that she felt grief.

“Yes, it was Alita. She went searching for you for a bit, she felt bad about leaving you and retrieved you from Nova. This is your new body, although you still look the same your insides are all synthetic, including your programming. You’re the first human hybrid that I know, and that’s a good thing” Joi stated in a favorable tone.

Chiren raised for her forehead, where the mark of Zalem used to be, was gone, nothing there. She was dismayed and not at the same time. A face of remorse and regret came upon her, with memories of what had been done coming into view.

Visions now made her soon realize that Alita is just who her daughter was before she passed and that she may be Chiren’s only reason to become whole again.

Joi spoke up to break the silence “Dr. Chiren…with your mark removed you’re finally able to feel what most want to feel, like a real human being. Now that you’re back together with your new human hybrid body your lifespan is infinite, you have all the time in the world, so what will you do?”

Chiren thought for a good minute and soon answered; “First thing; Just call me Chiren, second; I’m going to find Alita and I know you know where she is…what year is it?”

Joi was weirdly confused by the last part but smiled for her anyway “Of course, I can do that. Chiren it is then…Chiren…it’s 2584, I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve told you sooner”

“Oh god…I- it's been so long- I have to find her, otherwise I don’t know why I’m supposed to be here…do you know anything else?” Chiren asked.

“Yes actually. Your next sign is in the kitchen.”

“Alright, leaving me hints eh?” She went into her kitchen and saw a letter on top of the microwave, she opened it, seeing what was in there was a piece of paper written with “Joi is quite nice, isn’t she? I hope you’ll bond a relationship with her, as she will follow you anywhere, I programmed her to be accessible outside anywhere too. I hope that is helpful. Meet me at the bar or whatever you usually go to, I promise I’ll be there.” -A

“Hmmm, well I guess let’s get there then”

“Get where?” Joi asked.

“The bar.” That was all she said. Joi decided to go ahead and follow Chiren to the rooftop, they both got into her abandoned Peugeot spinner, it was practically not starting but they eventually got it started in the cold dense rain. “Alita said she’ll be there. And I trust her. How'd you get my car?- Nevermind”

Joi nodded, looking out the window she traced her finger where the raindrops were running across the window, the look on her face was curious, almost acting as if she’d never seen rain before. The corner of Chiren’s eye caught this, it just being a little moment, it’s the little things that matter to her as she remembered. Chiren turned her head to her, setting the car on autopilot as they made their way to the place.

“What are you doing?” Eyeing the innocent one. “Have you not experienced rain before?”

Joi turned and smiled back at her. “I know about rain. It’s programmed in my system, I just haven’t seen or touched it before. I am only a couple of days old too..”

Chiren nodded and let out a grunt in response. “Hmm” Turning her eyes back to the outside weather. Joi’s gaze lowered, about to speak but hesitant at first.

“What was it like…being in there for so long”

Chiren quickly got emotional inside about the question. She started playing with her hands, then rubbed her eyes. “It was horrible. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel…anything, all you could do was blink and watch time pass by. Made me want to just get killed already but I knew it was my punishment, then the rest of my body was sent to the yard. Then everything went black, I don’t know what happened after that”

Joi felt bad about it, and even though she had nothing to do with her punishment, she has sympathy for her nevertheless. “I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like…”

The former doctor met her gaze with the android and let out a sigh, trying to ignore her demons and instead wondering about what she can do. “Thank you…do you feel anything physically?” She asked.

“Physically no. I can only feel things through my database”

Chiren placed her rather attractive hand on the armrest. Keeping eye contact with Joi. “Try feeling this” Saying that as she indicated her hand to Joi “Try. Try as hard as you can to feel touch” Again Joi gave the raven-haired woman innocent eyes along with her fading confusion, proceeding to do the task. Joi was mesmerized by her, she knew she may not be able to physically feel things, but she does have feelings for others, as she was programmed to. She finally moved her hand, right onto hers, Joi focused as much as she could, but unfortunately, it went right through.

“I can’t do it…I know it's leather and plastic but I cannot feel it as what people call it.”

“Hey, that’s okay, I can work something out for you alright? Did the shops around here stay the same?"

***

The two arrived at their destination. The building was a part of a large warehouse complex that seemed to stay the same, just more filthy and worn, the walls covered in dirt and grim. Definitely shady. It used to be at least a bit cleaner than this. Everything changed now, including her own appearance, going from looking like a rich snob to the lower class even though her good-sized penthouse is high up there. Again, just appearance. Chiren reached into her coat to scratch herself. Hey, she felt that. It felt good. While doing so, she looked at the note again. 'This better be true' she thought to herself, folding the paper away.

Chiren motioned for Joi to follow her. Joi faded from the inside of the vehicle, reappearing outside the car and standing up. The slightly taller woman looked up into the sky, letting the water hit her face. Knowing she could feel again, relieved her. Looking back at Joi she saw her doing the same. Instead, the water droplets fell through her hologram. The recovering woman saw this and sadness swooned upon her again, knowing she was a real person, neither was she really. Did it all not matter? No. She had a real mind and heart, she is a real human being. Yeah. Real to her anyway.

"Come on, let's go inside."

And so they did, finally realizing they were getting soaked. Running inside now remembering oh hey it's pouring out.

Opening the door inside they are greeted with the smell of sweat and smoke and with the sight of dirty gray walls and a table to sit at.

"Well, this place went to shit."

Chiren raised one eyebrow with a fuzzy feeling still clouding her mind. She looked over the several booths, her eyes locking on jet-black hair, walking in that direction and her conscience is revealed. Playing with her hands and staring in awe Alita stood up from her seat. Both had stunned almost blank expressions on their faces looking at each other. Alita didn't know what to do other than break the silence.

"Chiren…..I-"

"How am I here?" She almost said it like a statement. Confused. Almost blessed with rage and tranquility at the same time.

"I searched for your box for days tracking you, I fought them because I left you there and Ido- I found you after losing your location before, I eventually found you…after so long, I brought you to Ido's and replicated your old body luckily he taught me how to do that at least, transferred you to your place, and set up Joi for you. I couldn't meet you there because there's a gang after me. I'm sorry I didn't want to leave you there all alone I had to stop-"

"What about Ido? I take it I missed the funeral. Ya know I actually loved him and my….. daughter… I was kept in that box forever waiting for something or anything to happen, I was in a jar for years! Thank zalem I went into hibernation 2 days in luckily but still. I have no one. Before too. Now anyone remotely close is dead except for you. You're the closest thing to me ever having a daughter again…"

Chiren let herself down, everyone in the bar wouldn't stop looking. She eventually sat down and let out a quiet sigh. Alita across from her did the same. Joi looked at the both of them reading their faces, noticing the disdain in Chiren’s voice when she mentioned her dead daughter she lost so long ago. Alita knows she has every right to despise Ido for it, still made her angry about what happened so long ago. Ido has been gone forever. Chiren will never get to tell him how sorry she is, how she regretted causing everything to fall apart after her child’s passing, She could’ve done more when she had the time. Why didn’t she? Gosh, she was a wreck through and through but no she wants to do what’s right. To both of them. Joi sat next to the grieving woman.

“You say people are after you? How’d this happen?”

Alita’s big eyes widened. “Yes…long story short I stole Joi here, from them…”

“How much was she?

“A lot. I’m also struggling to get back an adapter for her. It would make her a solid and not just a hologram.”

Joi gave a look on her face that shined with hope and desire. Wanting to be able to live as the closest to being something real. The program went to put her hand on the much older woman’s thigh. When they both looked down at the same time Chiren felt sullen for her, only a hologram's touch. Knowing Joi just wanted some reassurance for herself, Chiren gave her a slight nod before rubbing her thumb on the translucent humanoid even though neither of their nerves had a trigger in their systems or brains if you will. Showing her some compassion as well. Loving care. Was this a sign of love? Compassion? It was the first time neither of them have felt warmness, for Chiren that was a long time.

Alita tried to not think of it that much even though it was pretty obvious that was a kind move on Chiren’s part.

“If we somehow get the adapter from them, Joi can do a lot more than set appliances to make dinner and schedule appointments for you.”

Chiren thought for a good second or so. “What’s your living situation?” She asked. Thinking up a plan for all of this.

“I’m still living at Ido’s place. Although it has been rotting, literally, water damage and hail damage were caused by the big storm we had a few years back.

The woman across from her raised an eyebrow again. “I’m not an expert but I sure know it’s very unsafe to live in a place with mold that bad. The air. Is it affecting you?”

The super android fidgeted with their hands. Chiren didn’t know that anxiety happened in andriods like this. She knew that they could have anxiety but not till a level where physical stumulation happened. “I’m only doing some light coughing. But other than that I am fine.”

“That’s not good for you. I know you’re different but it can still mess up your internals. I want you to move in with me. If you’re fine with it that is but you’re not living in a suitable environment and I would prefer if you…do that.”

“Okay, when do we start?”

“Joi turn off so we can make room for Alita here in the car.”

***

Chiren had the spinner do an auto-pilot landing on the street. “I take it you’ll probably have a few items you want to bring with right?”

“Yeah I do. I’ll be a few.”

#ao3:melaniecavillmybeloved #battle angel alita #alita movie #alita sequel #alita battle angel #alita #chiren #chiren alita battle angel #jennifer connelly #rose salazar #ana de #joi blade runner 2049 #blade runner 2049 #fanfic #alita battle angel fic

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merpthealmighty · 1 year

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Was writing a connor fic, my bad this is late

Oogly Boogly, @outlandishscenarios !! I was your secret Santa all along mwuhahahah

Happy new year, haha (im very sorry)

Beforehand; they are separate. Oh, and you smuggled them in your home.

Walmart was a wonderful place. Especially as the holidays were in full swing, and the formidable climb of high quality clothes, it was a haven of cheap thrills and a retreat for both the poor and the wealthy. A cultural center in the whole of America built on an infrastructure meant to appeal to the primitive brain, complete with just the right setup to convince us into purchasing more products- to the advertisements to persuade our subconscious minds. But all this had led to this one pivotal moment.

You hadn't thought that much of Walmart before the moment you met eyes with the Sun and Moon themed pajamas. You were just going to be in and out that day- collecting some necessities and some not, but something glittery and yellow had caught your eye and something itched inside of you to walk over to it like a magnet. And oh, were you happy about it.

You had bought the massively oversized pajamas with him specifically in mind. Bright yellow and orange in color- a fuzzy mess of sequins you knew would make an absolute mess of your washing machine; but it was far that worth it to watch him bounce from one leg to the other in surprise and elation at the gift. Just to hear the tinkling lilt of grateful happiness spilling from his voice box was a gift enough. You had known him long enough to know the differences in pitch he held in his voice- there was a clear change from real happiness, and the happiness he was programmed to portray.

“Oh, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you Y/N!” His long arms cocooned around your midriff tightly, swinging you around in dizzying circles. You wished you could get out the few syllables needed to respond in affirmative- if food didn't threaten to chase your words.

Moon was more moody, to keep it in one word. He enjoyed the things he was related to- the moon and stars and galaxy. He would idly chatter about how he admired the constellations that glittered in the sky, so firmly put in their respective spaces for generations on end, yet strung in one of the most empty and inhabitable places we know.

He enjoyed lounging in a pair of simple gray sweatpants, paired with an untucked and oversized black tee with painted splatters across it with soft airbrushing of cool toned colors to simulate the look of a pulsing galaxy. He didn't accept the gift with the same excitement as Sun did- but instead disappeared behind a corner quietly as Sun was given his comfy clothes, and in a haste put it on, stepping back into the conversation with the clothes situated neatly on his body like nothing happened at all. It was his own way of saying 'Thank you'.

“It’s snowing pretty hard outside.” He remarked, reassuming his seat on the couch bordering the window of your living room, with the utmost casualty. Edgy boy.

It was a goal far beforehand- from the very first time you found out who the daycare attendants really were behind all the paint and glitter glue and angst, to bring as much light to their life as they would allow you. Seeing firsthand how deeply they could not only feel- but scar- made you want to shower them with as much love and compassion as you possibly could.

Naturally, you smuggle two lanky animatronics out of their respective positions, and into your home. You had backup, of course. As long as you did not damage the animatronics or take them permanently, the software and repair manager, (who, frankly, might be some kind of drug dealer) gave you the green light.

Much to your delight, you discovered each one of their interests one by one.

Moon enjoyed scrapbooking. Just doing little things with his hands- gluing bits of paper together and the satisfying intricacies of stationary and ink. He enjoyed finding little pretty things, whether it be petite flowers pressed between the pages of a book for a long while- or the jumbled clippings of magazines he collected here and there. Oddly enough- you hadn't caught him accumulating most of the things he scrapbooked, they just… appeared. But the way his red eyes flickered thoughtfully as he placed pictures and film- slick with glue, carefully onto pages. Almost like he was a surgeon, he treated scrapbooking with frightening accuracy.

Sun, on the other hand, liked plants and flowers. The daycare had no windows, so your little modest house tucked away in a quiet neighborhood was one of the best places he could have been taken. You had purchased a few brightly-colored perennials from the local market earlier on in the year, and helped him plant them in the backyard during the summer.

Summer had since then come and gone, leaving nothing but blankets of snow and shorter days with a reliant chill. It was a wonderful season in terms of snuggling and warm drinks and anything related to affection and warmth, but snowstorms proved to be a great opponent in your quest to cater to your lanky robot boys. Just one nasty storm could knock down your dainty power grid, and ruin all your plans for the day. But Zeus be damned, you'd make the best out of any situation.

Is what you said in your head, but when your light did dim out while your freshly brewed coffee that just began to trickle out of the espresso machine to come to an abrupt halt; you didn't have a damn of what to do.

Zues probably heard you.

A barrage of desperately muffled curses(in order to not trigger sun) jumped freely from your mouth as both the daycare animatronics looked inquisitively at all the lights and lamps now suddenly dark in your living room.

“Hm. But the lights were just all on? Do you also have to shut the lights off to conserve energy?” Sun questioned with a tilt to his head, as you were able to see the red glowing of Moon’s eyes behind him, partially closed and exhausted. He didn't bother to say much, just a low vibrato of a sigh, of irritation or just robot fatigue, you weren't sure.

“Good God! I really can't have anything, can I? Ha, of course the fuckin-”

“Language, sunshine.”

“FREAKING!” Instantaneously, you corrected yourself. It had been so long dealing with these boys that things like Sundrop’s censorship was almost expected every time you let out a swear.

“-Power would go out. How wonderful.” Blindly, you felt yourself tumble through your house to try and find the flashlight you knew you had in a drawer in your credenza, but doing anything frustrated will only turn out to be a hot mess with you.

“Where IS that flashlight?!” Your fingers and arms spread stiffly in front of you to navigate your own house; but you felt a lurch in your stomach as you ankle caught the leg of a couch or a table or a chair- a fall so sudden no noise could escape you- just blown eyes wide in desperation to see and avoid any possible threat. But there was nothing. Just darkness.

But Moon was oh, so familiar with the dark.

He hugged the part of you that was closest to where he was seated, hand snaking around your waist and rib cage, much like the supportive arm a parent would thrust out in case of a sudden brake while driving.

When you look behind you back to where his face is- the half-mast look in his eyes was no longer there. Red LEDs were wide and alert, this time around.

He sighed- but it sounded far more similar to a growl in his voice box “Be careful.” His faceplate was dipped slightly into the crook of your neck- as she had to pull your body towards his slightly heavier body to negate the force of the fall. “And slow down. Stop panicking.” You huffed a laugh, not really humorous at all, and clutched his hand that rested firmly on your stomach.

“Thanks… ‘preciate it, Moonie.”

He only replies with another grunt, Though this one a little softer.

“Jus’ tell me where it's at. I'll get it.”

You felt a tinge flustered, only able to watch his eyes wander down the hallway as you gave vague directions towards where you thought the nearest flashlight was, and when you finally did, his cool metal hand cupped the bottom of yours; his other hand placing the small bit of plastic in your hand.

“M’ sitting back down.” His regards were sent through a slight wave of his hand as he wandered back towards the couch. If he wasn't so close, you'd have been beside yourself in embarrassment.

“Robot boys and their subtle little acts of affection…” You stood and fiddled with the strap attached to the flashlight until the tingling heat subsided from your cheeks.

You flicked the light into the on position, finally lighting ip your carpeted floor. A few ideas of the priorities rooted in your mind as you made your way to the kitchen once again.

Sticking the flashlight in your teeth and rooting through overhead cabinets in your kitchen, you yanked out a coffee percolator from the very back of the shelving. It was heavy and old, something you probably pulled from a thrift or antique shop out of pure curiosity. Couldn't have cost much. Brushing away a mile of dust from it and blindly grabbing a bag of ground coffee- you prepared it as you could faintly remember. Coffee in the little basket-looking thing- water in the bigger container.

Flicking a match to light and twisting the knob to your oven, you lit a front eye on fire. Placing the percolator over the oven, you finally spit the flashlight from in between your teeth out and waited for what seemed like an adequate amount of time for the coffee to accumulate.

"Sunshine?" Slightly high-pitched and kindly, Sun's voice perked up behind you.

"What'cha doing?" Out of the corner of you eye, you dimly saw the outline of a hand rested on the countertop next to your hip. He was right behind you.

"I'm making coffee on the stove since the powers out." You responded simply, placing the light back in your mouth.

"Well, I can do that, sunshine." He tugged lightly at the dangling strap, looking at you with slightly less bright LED eyes as Moons, watching as it fell from your lips.

"How sweet of you!" You traded him an equally soft smile, as his rays spun a little in recognition of the praise.

Your blind grab for mugs resulted in a few mis-matched ones, different in size and color but fine enough for your purposes. The dark and rich liquid spilled from the nozzle into each cup, and you fixed them how you thought they each would like it. Sun’s- milky and overly sweet, closer to creamer than actual coffee you’d assume. And moons, pitch black with only a tad of sugar.

You felt a little bad that they couldn't drink any of it per se, but Sun explained how he liked the way the steam came out of the mug. Moon just enjoyed the feeling of being included. And with his help, you located your hoard of wool blankets in the linen closet to wrap you all in comfortably finding a few scented candles you had never bothered to use and lit them for the dim lighting.

You found a dimpled spot on your couch a little next to Moondrop, and spread the blanket over the length of your arm to cover you both. Sunny boy followed keenly behind, holding his own blanked and finding a nook at the other side of you to properly get comfortable in. All three of you were tied together mostly by one blanket, but with the knots of throws and piled if pillows, one couldn't really tell.

You noticed moon was decently cool to the touch. Like the hand that had caressed you earlier, the metal connecting his limbs were smooth and cold. Not a wet cold that made you shiver, but beneath the heat of the blankets, all you wanted to do was lean closer to him. Like the cooler side of the pillow on a summer night.

But Sundrop was a whole different animal. You thirsted after every drink of warmth he produced. Sun’s fans were like white noise, rested against his chest, a more sustained and softer version of rainfall. Of course he had silicone padding for the safety of the kids- but an extra warm body? Fans whirring inside of him like the gentlest of air conditioners?

You had to fight the sand underneath your eyes to stay in the moment.

But you stayed sandwiched, peppering little kisses on their faceplate every so often, and drawing little reassuring shapes on whatever you could reach with the soft pads of your fingers. Goodness, with the candles and the warmth you were encased in, you weren't sure how long you were going to last. You might as well leave with something, you thought, before you conked out cold on both of them.

Sundrops soft eyes with a graceful light spilling from them.

And Moon with his red, passionate half mast gaze.

"You're both so pretty." You tucked yourself further into the blanket, sleep fogging your brain intensely with the certainty of death.

What was there ever really to worry about?

You fell asleep without an answer.

Ew! I hate it. This is my first time writing fluff, actually haha. Horror and smut are more down my alley, but it was really interesting to try to write something new. Genuinely apologizing to @outlandishsenarios. Happy Christma-Hannu-Kwanza-nothingatall!

Just now kinda realizing I focused on moon alot. Welp! Its here now

#DCASS #dcass2022 #ofc i didnt stay up to write this #lol #the writer has a perfecly good sleeping schedule #with ideal time management skills #sorry 4 spelling mistakes #was half asleep writing this #not sure if im awake or not writing this #goodnight

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mishwanders · 1 year

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What's your reason for fanfiction writing? Why do you produce works for this genre? What pushes you into writing, that made you not only a reader, but also a writer in fanfiction community/fandom?

I love your writing/portraying skills in mold monster scenes in Our Moral Decay. Keep writing/producing, I'm proud of you for your labour; the way you put your love, excitement, interest and imagination in the way you produce something, making/design ocs, talking about ocs, even in the images you make for your fics you put on the description section 💐

Thank you so much! Seeing this in my box made my heart grow three times larger and I’M SCREAMING OVER HERE ABOUT IT!!! Y’all really don’t know how much it means to hear it because I do try my hardest on them and put a lot of effort to the stuff I write and try to make things as easy as possible for people to navigate and with quality content and characters. In collusion to this part: THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU! 💕

Okay now for the rest of the explanations. This is gonna be a long one - so grab yourself a drink lol. Ima put my ramblings under the cut so I don’t take up the timeline.

My reasons? Truly I find a lot of enjoyment in it. I’ve always loved to write and share the ideas and thoughts that are constantly in my head. Sometimes I use it as a tool to cope with things that I’ve experienced in my life, it being easier for me to handle and explain it and convey my feelings through fiction sometimes than just coming right out and saying it at times. But it also helps me a lot because I can write these characters and treat them with the kindness and, in an extension, feels like I’m extending that kindness to myself - especially when I’m writing disabled characters or those with trauma involved. But more often than not, my reason for it has just been my brain seeing an empty space and going “but what if?”

For why with the genre? It’s funny you bring up genre because I feel like a kind of touch on a few that I would have never if it weren’t for people wanting that in fic (like romance), but I like the way I’ve kind of meshed things together to make something of my own. Growing up I read a lot to escape being in my broken body, and my primary reading material was a lot of southern gothic, horror (like goosebumps, Frank Pretti, Ted Dekker, etc), fantasy, classic gothics, and the Bible. So it was a pretty odd mixture to say the least. I feel like I’ve done a decent job of blending elements of each into it - so much so that I’ve gotten compliments on the blend saying I remind them of A24 or it’s as if the reader is really there in the story, or like I’m telling you as if I physically experienced it myself. Which in part, I have, but that’s getting off topic lol.

The thing that will always continue to push me to write is the fact that my brain cannot stop when it comes to finding the gray areas in things. Resident Evil is my brains perfect little play place because it has a lot of story but it also has a lot of loose ends that my brain loves to latch onto and pick at with a stick or put it under a microscope and analyze it to the end. It’s mainly why I like writing longer stories too because I can explore what my brain is picking away at versus in one shots - I talk a lot as you can tell, it’s hard to keep my thoughts contained to one thing sometimes lol.

I used to write for other fandoms a long time ago as a kid, but once my parents found out, my ability to write that stuff was taken from me, and I had to read fanfic in secret from them and really anyone else. It wasn’t until this past year that I took a leap of faith and joined a discord with other resident evil fans. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be writing now. They continually push me to be my best and we all pick at each others brains a lot and talk about the stories and ocs, so it’s been fun because I have a support group behind me that pushes me to do my best.

I also love to read others fics because I just like seeing other peoples ideas! Everyone is different and everyone has a different style, so I like to see what’s going on in their heads revolving around our favorite characters and settings. I’m always blown away by the quality that other fanfic writers put into their work and it’s just amazing to see imo!

Just, fanfics are so varied, have so many peoples experiences and ideas within them. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out here like this, because everyone leaves a piece of themselves in their writing, and everyone has an opinion on it. I’ve been grateful to have a lot of amazing people follow me, a lot who are nice and kind to me. I just love being in a space that is accepting and willing to come together of our favorite characters and such and geek out over it. It’s been a community that I’ve searched for, for a very long time. I’m happy to have found that here 💕

#mish rambles #I told you it was a lot lol #but yeah my open letter to why I do what I do

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luveurmilk · 1 year

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Synopsis: Eleanor starts her new life with no memories and is trapped behind four gray walls with a group of twenty boys. When she explores the place with her new friends Alby, Minho, and Newt a mysterious note with a weird mantra is found and it triggers something in her brain she can’t explain. With nothing but time, Eleanor and her friends choose to survive, fight, and live until they can find a way out of their new home with hopes of gaining their memories along the way.

Chapter One: A Family Formed.

My name is Eleanor and I am alone.

If she had a diary, that would be her first entry. That sentence was the only thing running through her mind, aside from fear, as she took in her new life around her. Not too long ago, in the middle of a vast courtyard, she was brought here with a group of twenty boys who all shared one common memory. Their name. Some were crying, some were running, and some were mulling around the cracked stone and vine covered walls.

When she spotted a few boys near a tree, silent and resigned, a pang of an emotion she couldn’t quite grasp filled her chest. A memory, almost, that was dancing around her brain and so close she could taste it. But as soon as the emotion came, it went. Leaving her empty and full of sadness and fear all over again. She stood up from the trees she was leaned against and brushed off the dirt from her pants and made her way over. They seemed to be the only level headed ones here, for now, and they may have some answers.

“I know just as much as you, so stop asking questions.” The one sitting down snapped with a little tremble in his voice. They were scared and clueless; but the more Eleanor looked around, the more she realized that whoever had sent them here had given them the means to survive. There was a barn and pens already filled with animals; there was a running water system and crops were beginning to sprout. There was a concrete building with a large iron door and, on the other side of the box they had arrived in, what looked to be like a house. Not near enough to house twenty or so people, but still shelter. There was a kitchen and by the kitchen she could see someone rummaging through and unloading boxes of what looked to be cooking ware and ingredients that their crops hadn’t produced yet.

She cleared her throat and shoved her hands into her pockets before rocking back on her heels. “I think.. I think we should at least introduce ourselves. Maybe that will make things less scary?” She suggested, voice soft and wavering. Relief washed over her when they agreed and they each took turns telling their names.

“I’m Alby. The snappy one had said after finally raising his head from where it was tucked in his knees.

“Name’s Newt.” The blonde one spoke, this time with an accent she couldn't place. He looked equally as frightened with distant eyes and white skin.

“Minho.” The more muscular one said. Tears were brimming his eyes and she wondered if he was feeling the same familiar and warm fuzzy feeling she was getting the more they spoke.

“I’m Eleanor.” She said quietly, offering a light, warm smile to the three of them. “And apparently, the only girl in this stinkin’ place.” She added on as a lighthearted joke, but it was the truth. There wasn’t another girl in sight. Maybe it was some fluke in their kidnapper’s plan. Maybe there was an entire girl group and somehow they messed up and sent her with the boys and vice versa. Either way, she felt safe with these three boys, and if they allowed it, she would stick with them until they could find a way out of this place.

“Do you think we should try and figure this place out?” The blonde boy, Newt, piped up as he took one more glance around their new home. Home. Did she have a home before this? Did she have a mom or dad, well, she had to have a mom and dad to be here, but did she live with them? Did they know she was missing and being held captive in a strange place with a bunch of boys? A flash in her mind, a memory, was there one second and gone the next. A faceless blonde woman and muffled words standing in front of her. She tried to take in what was in the background but it seemed like it was just a white room. Was that her mother?

“We can tomorrow.. We just.. Maybe we can just take a walk around for a bit?” Alby suggested as he was standing on his feet and dusting the dirt off of his jeans. That was another thing that she was noticing; that their clothing was almost all the same. A mix of blues, browns, and beiges with a pair of jeans. There were no patterns to their shirts except some had buttons and some didn’t.

They all gave a voice of agreement and started walking along the walls, looking at the already structured buildings, listening to the sounds of the animals that someone was already tending to, and watching as the boys slowly started to come around and explore. There seemed to be a breeze coming from somewhere and the more she thought about it, there wasn't a sun in the sky despite it being daylight. Minho had found a rock and was kicking it along with their journey until they stopped in front of the building that looked like a janky house.

“Should we go in?” Alby asked the group; hand twitching as if he wanted to reach up and twist the knob to see what was inside. “Absolutely. Maybe there’s a clue as to why we’re here in there.” Minho had shoved the rock he was kicking to the side in favor of their newest fascination, annoyance peeking through in his voice and through the look on his face as if to say, Why else would we be exploring? Alby shoots him a look and places his hand on the cool metal before opening it with a shaky turn.

Inside was empty, but large. You could practically smell the new wallpaper and fresh wood; like somebody had finished building it a few days prior to their arrival. There was a long hallway that led to a big, open room that was lit up by the light on the ceiling. From what she could see, there were a few other rooms located inside the little home. Newt let out a low, sarcastic laugh as they moved inward. “How lovely, we have a home. I suppose our furniture will come later?” She chose to ignore it and pressed forward and so did the rest of them. The foyer was big enough that they could spread out and have a bit of breathing room, but she wandered down the hall behind Alby.

“Uh.. You said your name was Eleanor, right?” Alby said, drawing the attention of Newt, Minho, and herself. His tone was full of suspicion as his gaze remained locked on the door he was currently standing at before dragging his eye away to look at her; face drawn into an unreadable expression. She felt her stomach knot and she gave a nod as she, and the other two boys in the room, moved towards where Alby was. On the door was a rectangle piece of wood that had been sanded and polished, and in the middle, her name was carved.

“I don’t… I don’t understand..” Eleanor spoke up when all eyes were on her; hands starting to tremble as the knots in her stomach grew into angry cramps of anxiety. Alby steps aside as she moves forward and twists the knob to the door, opening it with a creak as they all hold their breaths in anticipation of what could be on the other side.

It was empty.

The room was empty.

The walls had the same patterned wallpaper as the other rooms and a measly light hung from the ceiling, glowing and barely illuminating anything due to it being day time. “What’s this?” Newt asked as he bent over and picked up a folded piece of paper; fingers opening it with a slight tremble before he started reading aloud to the group who was all now gathered together around him.

Everything that’s happening, is happening for a reason.

Remember: WICKED is good.

Eleanor doesn’t know what happened. One minute she was listening to Newt read the words on the paper and the next a sharp, breath taking pain was piercing her skull. She could faintly hear Newt, Minho, and Alby calling her name as she fell to her knees; the strength of the pain so grand it caused her knees to collapse and give way on her.

The blonde, faceless woman was clouding her fading vision, muttering the same words that were inked onto the note left for them.

WICKED is good. WICKED is good. WICKED is good. WICKED is good. WICKED is good.

The voice finally fades out and leaves her standing in a dark room. Eleanor figures at this point that sharp pain in her head must’ve killed her and she's in some kind of purgatory state, or that whoever took her memories took her ability to dream too. “Hello?” She shouts out with her arms flailing up in the air and then dropping back down dramatically at her sides. Her body turns and looks for any sign of life and then..

A bubble. Bright and shining. A memory.

She rushes towards it like a moth to a flame; hand reaching out to touch it and gain some sort of normality to her new life. Anything to remember why she was here, how she got here, or even, who put her here.

Almost, almost.. Her hand brushes the ball of light and it burns; searing her hand and causing her to let out a gasp before her eyes fly open. She registers muttering and scrambling, voices around her and a softness under her that she didn't remember sinking into before she blacked out.

“She’s awake! Get Minho and Alby!” Newt says to no one in particular and turns his focus back to her as one of the boys’ footsteps scramble out of the room. He’s giving her a light smile that brings more comfort than anything. “Gave us a right scare, you know that? Passed out on us and everything.” Confusion must’ve come across her face because Newt kept speaking. “After we read the note you kinda.. grabbed your head and fell to the ground. We found this room with a bed and brought you here and hoped you’d wake up.” Alby and Minho are at Eleanor’s side the next second with Minho shoving a metal tin full of cool water towards her as Alby helps her sit up from the bed. “How long was I out?” She croaks out, voice raw and dry from lack of hydration since God knows when and entirely grateful for the cool liquid coating her throat.

“About two hours. We thought you might have died.” That statement earns Minho a smack to the back of his head from Alby and the noise he makes had the room erupting in a light fit of giggles. “The main thing is that you’re awake and you seem to be fine.” She shares a smile with Alby as he says it, nodding in agreement before downing the rest of the water.

“While I was out.. I did have this.. Weird dream thing..” Eleanor says and it grabs the attention of the boys piled in the room. Each one leaning forward in hopes of a glimpse of their lives before. “Everything was dark and there was this floating ball of light so I went to it. When I touched it, it burned my hand. That’s why I woke up. I think it was a memory and whoever put us here doesn't want us to remember a thing.” The room was silent after she finished, maybe because nobody knew what to say. They were trapped here with no way out; held hostage by tall gray walls and green vinery.

“Maybe we’re the last people on Earth and this is all that's left!” A boy from the back says, voice shaky and still full of fear. Everyone erupted in their own small conversations; filling the room with anxiety filled words that they were all going to die in here and rot away to their captor's delight. “I don’t think we’re the last people on Earth. I think this is some kidnapper’s sadistic torture. I guarantee we’re being watched somehow!” Minho pipes up and that seems to be everyone’s general agreement.

“Either way,” Alby begins, calming the voices in the room that have gotten louder in their own conversations, “whoever or whatever put us here has given us the means to survive. We have water, electricity, animals, and crops. Plus the note we found. You’ve all seen it. I don’t know who WICKED is and if they really are good.. All I know is now we need to adapt and make the most of it. We can either cry and be a big baby and die or live long enough to get out of here.”

Alby’s words seemed to hit each one of them in the heart, filling them with warmth and better hope for tomorrow. Newt pats Alby on the back with a wide grin, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” After that, they all went around the room and introduced themselves as they stayed crammed into that one room. This was their home now and this was their new family.

————————————

Everyone felt a lot calmer when late afternoon came and they all settled at the tables that had been set up near the kitchen. A boy named Siggy had piped up and said he'd like to try his hand at cooking for them and a few other boys volunteered to help. An hour later the smell of cooked beef and spices were filling the air and the area filled with crying and sobs for help that morning were now occupied by talking and bonding. Eleanor sat with Minho, Newt, and Alby as well as two other boys: Nick and George. Like them, they seemed to click the moment they found one another.

Nick was talking with his hands about things he could remember: airplanes, television, busy city streets. The more he listed the more they agreed that the only thing they couldn’t remember was their lives before coming up in the box. They knew what the animals in the pens were and they knew each vegetable that was planted in the ground. They could remember basic math and science, pieces of literature. Yet, no matter how much they talked about the things they knew, nothing sparked a memory in their mind. They just knew one solid thing: their name.

George was in the middle of describing a book he remembers reading when Siggy announced that dinner was done and plates were passed out; full of piping hot beef stew and a hearty serving of mashed potatoes served with cold water. They all dug when the aroma of the food reminded them of just how hungry they were; groans of satisfaction sounding across the tables and forks clattering against glass plates. “Siggy, my man, you have a calling.” Newt, with a mouth full of mashed potatoes, said when the cook sat with them with his own plate of food. The table laughed, agreeing, but too busy to talk due to eating.

Later, when their stomachs were full, Minho had a brilliant idea of trying to climb the vines. “I’m just saying.. Look how thick these puppies are! Maybe we can reach the top and see what’s out there!” He was tugging the greenery and hanging off of a few vines to see if they could hold his weight and they did. “Minho, I think whoever put us here is smarter than that.” Eleanor had a smile on her face as she gently tried to prevent her friend from being the first one to break a bone, but it fell on deaf ears when Nick encouraged him. “We’ll never know if we don’t try!” Was expressed matter of factly by Minho and the boys then joined Nick in joyful chants of, “Climb! Climb! Climb!”

So Minho did. His hands grasped onto one of the thicker vines and he began to scale the wall five feet, then ten. The cheers never stopped coming, and even though Eleanor didn’t think it was possible, she and Newt gave each other a shrug before chiming in and encouraging their friend with wide smiles on their faces.

It was a moment of freedom and elation. A distraction and sense of hope that they were all longing for. Minho wasn’t successful but he didn’t stop trying a new vine until his strength and stamina ran out. They gave him pats on the back for his efforts and pushed a cup of water into his hand. “Maybe I was a bodybuilder before I was put here.” He flexed his muscles and everyone laughed; now sitting on the ground beside the wall. Dusk was now upon them, the sky dimming and still no actual sign of sun to set. The sky was growing dark and what appeared to be stars were starting to twinkle in the west where the sun wasn't shining.

“Hey guys! Look what we found!” A boy named Gally was running up to them with something rolled up in his hands. “Adam found a bunch of them in the boxes of supplies. They’re sleeping bags!” His voice was full of excitement and the entire group rushed to where the boxes were, each one picking out a bag to call their own. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep in the building there? You have a room all to yourself.” Alby asked with a red sleeping bag clutched in his hands. Eleanor shook her head and gave her new friends a smile. “No, not tonight. I think we should all stick together.” That seemed to make the three of them happy as they set off to find a spot to sleep for the night; tucked away near the building and beneath the tree lining.

Sleep found them easy. Their minds exhausted from the start of their new life and bodies exhausted from exploring. Eleanor drifted off between Minho and Newt as her dreamland was filled with a faceless blonde woman and the words WICKED is good flooding in her ears.

A/N: We're starting from The Fever Code, my friends! Most of the beginning will follow the books and some of it will follow the movies. The chapters will get longer and I have no set time on when I will update just yet. Feedback is welcomed, but please be kind. Happy reading!

* Can be found on Wattpad, AO3, and Quotev.*

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senor-plume · 2 years

Text

Drugs

Playing some Lazy desire music As the centipedes in my legs Crawl around Chewing on the meat And keeping me At high alert In this swanky sickened domicile

So…with the insects inside of me I feel clammy and cold Shaking a bit from The lack of medicine In the cupboard …Down my throat Or in my veins …Nothing up my nose Nor up my smooth ass

If it wasn't for the fine tunes I truly believe I would Raise the tattered rope up From the ceiling And Have done with it …Calling it a day

So, I swallow pesticides In hopes of ending this Infestation And perhaps a nice side effect Will go down And I'll get slightly High …Something to enhance the ditties That I play From the plastic box That is housed on the shelf About three feet away from my fingers

And in the end This will be a day That will come back to me Often And leave it imprints In my buried brain That will not be Reminisced romantically

I play The Fixx For the hell of it As my bong remains Empty And no powder around …No needles …No bottles …No sex even Just me alone Dealing with this anxiety attack Sober

I can…and I do Light a Camel up And exhale the blue smoke Up high Which scatters like a gang bang siren Around the ceiling fan Which is keeping me So very cool On this November afternoon

It is happening

It is going down

And the song comes to its Conclusion And now only a New Wave echo Reaches my waxy ears And parades down my neck Through my spine And deep into my legs Which is my only hope For A touch of normalcy On this crazy day

Life is over

My beard is scratchy And in need of some dye To ink out the grays As I suffer alone On McDonald Avenue Second floor Binghamton, NY With my xylophone ribs Cracked out And in need of a medicine …A pill of some sort That can make me feel Whole Again As I stare directly at the screen And watch as the words Pollute my field of vision

And not a drop of poetry Can save me now No Carver or Bukowski To fill up my empty spaces As the sickness continues on Without my approval Deep inside of me As willow trees sway Like drunkards Outside of my windy window In need of massive canes To hold them Upright and steady

I lay down on the couch Swearing to myself As I withdraw from my dependence In agony But still mighty beautiful No matter what I feel like

I can always make a mirror Look good No Matter What As I file my fingers through my Greasy hair In just a robe And slippers With no newspaper to piddle on Or a pipe to fill up

Domestic monstrosity Today Alone And feeling it hard and heavy As the beasts inside of me Continue on Slicing up my innards And spitting it out Causing my lungs To fill with a funky water And I cough up Chunks of Lord only knows Into my shaking hands That were just days ago Filled with Persian breasts

It is funny how Things change so quickly When you are not looking

So, here we have the man Down for the count And wishing for the doorbell to ring Like an ambulance …To save me From this creation Deep inside of me

I just want to sleep

Yeah, I just want to sleep now So I close my Black and white eyes And let Bette Davis Swim around Dressed in a bathing suit In a fantasy that may be the only thing That can save me now

From myself And from forces Uninvited Inside of me

Leave me be!

Let me go!

Freedom!

I cry out In the dark To no one But still just me And the cracked mirror Next to the sofa That is missing the straws and powders That could Save me now

…The only thing that could Ease my misery

Drugs

Damn right

Call me Mr. Pharmacy Among the empty shelves Of my addictions Tonight In need of a fix And a slap and tickle On my ass To let me know That I have been Reborn And tiny once again

It's really all I want As the blood gurgles Throughout my temple Leaving me cold On a warm afternoon When all I really need Is sleep To save my soft ass From the misery I created For myself These past few days

Addiction… What a laugh So I smile to myself And bring the blanket up to my Chinny chin chin And drift off Finally Leaving me to float Safely Though the misty dreams Of my insanity While they continue on Chewing As I slumber Away an hour or so On the sofa…on the pillow Out of my mind Again For yet One more day

#TUMBLR POETRY

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limen-lime · 2 years

Note

what is iris going to do for jack?

"Shoes off at the door," Iris called over her shoulder. Her voice echoed through the empty first floor as she stepped up from the entryway into the expansive main living area, the kitchen just beyond.

From beneath the kitchen sink, she removed her first-aid kit, which she always kept handy. Lavender and Hazel were accident-prone children, and Iris spent many summer days kissing skinned knees and stroking hair as she poured foaming iodine onto bleeding hands. The two boys who had been unceremoniously dumped into her front yard looked like they might need a little more than she could give. But she would do her best.

Tristan Emrys hopped onto the kitchen counter and removed his broken sunglasses with a sigh. "These were my favorite."

Jack Halley chose the more reasonable approach of collecting a chair from the dining room table before he sat down nearby. He was silent. His eyes were unfocused as he stared down at the tile floor of the Espinosa's new kitchen.

Iris was worried he might have a concussion and put a gentle hand beneath his chin to lift his head. She took a pen-light from the kit and flashed it in each eye just to be safe. When she was satisfied that he didn’t seem to have any apparent brain damage, she said, “I think you’ll live."

"He must have a hard head," Hazel grumbled and leaned her hip against the counter top, arms crossed over her chest.

"Hazel, will you find yourself in my makeup bag and bring it here?" Iris asked.

Tristan screwed up his dirt-smudged face in confusion.

Hazel huffed in annoyance, but she turned and stalked off in the direction of the boxes piled high next to the door anyway. Iris guessed what the boys could not know, that Hazel had really been frightened to see them crash like they did. To see Jack's eyes so wild with fright. Iris might have been an empath of sorts, but her daughter was the one who felt things like the ocean does, overflowing and often violent. She hid her fears behind a sea wall of minor aggressions, but Iris knew how fragile those breakers could be.

While lost in thoughts of sea salt and floods, Iris lifted Jack's hands to inspect them. "Some of these cuts might need stitches, but I should know better once I clean them up."

Jack's eyes kept trailing back to the kitchen window, which looked out on the forest beside the house. "I swear I saw something out there."

Iris nodded her head. "I know, but you seem to me like a very tired young man in need of some rest before we discuss what it is you saw. Hmm?"

Jack turned his gaze back to her. "You don't believe me either."

Anyone else who looked in Jack Halley's eyes would see the nameless color of them. Hints of green, gold, and gray. They would see half a dozen fitful nights of very little sleep. They might even catch a glimmer of the anger that had lived, burning inside of him long before loss brought his life to a bloody stand-still.

When Iris Espinosa gazed into them, it was like what happened when other witches peered into a bowl of dark liquid or an antique mirror poured from silver. She saw through the eyes into something deeper.

To Iris, eyes really were the window to the soul.

She saw Jack’s hopes in shades of summer green. Hope was usually a soft, glowing thing, a heart of white and a halo of whatever color the soul associated with the related emotions. They bobbed like fire flies through memories and future dreams. Jack was still boyish and rough-hewn - a series of stick and mud forts, late-night campfire stories, and the splash of cold water on bare shins. He hoped for simple, concrete things.

Iris’ heart instantly ached for him.

His fears stood high above in flickers of fiery gold. Burnished in fire so hot that Iris nearly lost hold of his chin. They gleamed a hammered-out sheen, armored dragon scales, a monumental serpent. It towered in the mind’s eye, all phantasm and claws. Jack tried to pull away as he felt the fear rise within him.

But that tumultuous gray sky swallowed the beast. Like clouds hiding away the sun behind their hands, they swept out over a wind-tossed sea, and the boy was lost among the gray. This was not hope or fear at all. It was something Iris knew well. Need, want, desperate, aching, empty. This boy was missing something, and he likely had been for a while. He didn’t even know what it was anymore, that thing to fill the void.

Iris drew back.

Jack stared. “What did you do to me?”

“I want you to tell me,” Iris said softly, “everything you remember about that night.”

Jack opened his mouth - whether to protest or explain, she was not certain - but she stopped him.

“Not now. You’ve had a long morning, and what we need to discuss is going to take a lot more than you’ve got to give right now. Do you understand?”

Jack almost shook his head before he realized that he did understand. “Ma’am,” he said politely - Martha raised him to always be polite if possible and especially to people who could unabashedly hold your gaze for as long as Iris could, “do you need some help moving in?”

Iris turned her gaze to her daughter next, who had just returned with herself, a bottle of witch hazel water (the plant she was named for). “Yes, I’d appreciate that. Wouldn’t you, honeybee?”

Hazel stared for a few moments longer than she thought she should. Their magic was very different, but she could still see when Iris had been working. Something like dreams hovered around her, a cloud of miracles. Magic bending over and around itself to grant Iris Espinosa what she wished.

“Sure,” Hazel said finally, “we’d love some help.”

Previous and Next

#chapter two #16

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mosscoveringitall · 4 months

Text

1/6/2024 or: Snow Days (Snow; Days)

It snowed tonight, for what meteorologists say was the first big snow in New York all year. I will never, ever prefer the warmth to the snow. This is the kind of statement that could get me introspective when I’m old and miserable, and too haggard and windswept to enjoy the cold, but I just don’t think that will be the case. I called my dad for an hour today, and listened to him talk about moving. My dad has not changed in all twenty-four years I have known him, and I’m fairly confident he hadn’t changed before then, either. If he can still love doing drugs, baseball cards, the Eagles, and sneaking around like a little kid, then I can prefer snow to sun, like I have my entire life.

I love the parts that nobody thinks are all that beautiful, too. I love the thorax of grays and blacks that fall over everyone, rejecting color in favor of a utilitarian boredom. I love the empty grey of the sky, void of all things, forever, the color of space beyond space, beyond darkness and time. I love the way people shudder underneath awnings, their shoulders arched into a permanent shrug. I love that nothing humans do to warm up helps. I love that our bodies feel the death all around us. I love that it electrifies my brain and stilts my words and makes me wistful and nostalgic. The universe is meant to be cold, and so cold comforts me.

My favorite days are snow days. Whenever it snows, I think about the last true snow day I had. I studied abroad in Seoul during the final fall I would spend as an undergraduate. I read a lot. I ate the same sandwich three times a week, maybe more. I drank in hushed bars on stilts. I ate in the same restaurant, every night, and smoked cigarettes and talked about Heidegger. I had never read Heidegger, but I was addicted, so I pretended and flourished in every drop of knowledge I was given. The second to last day I was in Seoul, I was visiting a museum. I had studied in this museum many, many times, because it was part of my thesis. I wrote about how this museum presented the past and the present in blurry ways. The more blur there was, the more people felt the past and the future made sense together – that was my argument. I wanted people to think the past and future were inseparable. That they were in love with one another. I still want this.

The museum had many great things, but the greatest thing was a woman. She gave me many points of advice, and tours, and words of encouragement. She spoke very little English, and I spoke very little Korean. She was kind, and patient, and wickedly good at her job. Her job was to put every object in a room in such a way that people thought the objects were meant to be there. They were supposed to tell a story; they were supposed to all be in love. She was very good at her job. She was so good that I wrote about how the museum made people think that the past and future were in love, because all the objects were in love. I was at the museum to thank her one last time. She gave me Christmas presents, even though I had none to give her. There were magnets, and boxes, and a calendar. I have all of these things, except the ones I gave away to very dear friends to show I had thought of them when I was away.

As I left the museum, it started to snow. It snowed with an urgency and blanketed all of Seoul. It fell in clumps on my hat, and the trees, and my eyes, so much and so quickly that I was powerless to escape it, and so I didn’t. I went Christmas shopping. I got a snack. I walked all the way home, my boots cushioned and popping the snowfall underfoot. I played Chet Baker’s album Chet Baker Sings, because it was nostalgic and snow makes me nostalgic. It was a lonely day in a lonely season in a country that had been lonely, and I loved it. I love being lonely because of Seoul, and I always will. Snowfall is probably the weather that is the least lonely, for each would-be raindrop is allowed double, triple, quadruple the time to exist perfectly and purely. Together, they whip and swoop and swirl, always tumbling down, forever down in any and all directions, even going up downwards.

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yuyamis · 7 months

Text

dishonesty

i feel like ive been dishonest with myself

i remember when i would pour my thoughts on these very same text box posts as a way to vent and to release my ramblings into the abyss that is already saturated with unimportant thoughts and people who feel like their words hold more weight than other's.

ive done myself a disservice -- quelling things that bother me or give me a lot of mental turmoil with pacifying myself by being a pushover and disguising that as the "grounding techniques" that modern day psychology created but truly i find it quite infantalizing. i think i can process feelings a lot more swiftly with just not giving a damn. but like, in a delicate way. like my delusion triumphs over the

i do not hold a lot of anger, but i do hold a lot of sadness, yearning, longing, and nostalgia:

i dont think i can look at the hudson river without reminding me of what it symbolized to me before. this will be for another story.

i dont think i can throw away with the old tumblr blogs because it will always mean something to me, something to laugh at, something to remember who i was before.

i look at those pictures of me -- oh god i looked so young. but somehow, i feel like im younger now. im not rushing to be where i am, and every moment i enjoy how new everything feels even if it was not new before. im cherishing. im taking my time. it's past cathartic. or maybe im always in a state of carthasis -- i dont know what is going on in my head biochemically.

i picture the activation of my brain's lobes being quite mellow, despite how i continuously fight to be the smartest person in the room. it has never worked out. i always pale in comparison by several hundred shades of gray to the brightest bulb. but i think i characterize myself with the primal fire of passion and heart. that is how i keep my light bright, even when everybody else has a much more sophisticated manner.

i think i mastered the art of the loudest person in the room being the smartest. i feel like i do have a lot of wit, charm, charisma. i definitely do not think it is enough to navigate around this world. i know im not smart, i wish i was lot more brilliant and i know that people have their own strengths. but quite simply put, the intelligent ones will always have a mark in history. the exceptional ones. i have yet to make the mark that i would like.

i think it may be pompous of me to reject compliments even if they are held in high regard by my peers. something about it just feels empty, im not satisfied.

i used to hate that i was not a sex symbol -- until i became a prize for several individuals. i used to hate that i was not at least a little bit intelligent -- until i felt that new england "academics" simply did not amaze me with their supposed wit and intelligence. they held their very own delusions, which i can respect, but not when their desires were to have my lips against theirs or my head between their legs or whatever kink they may have had.

but i think i want to understand what my own intelligence is. i like to think that i am socially intelligent, yet i sometimes feel like i am not engaged. i feel like my wit is guarded; scripted from what gets the best reaction out of people. perhaps that is where my intelligence lies. where laughs start. i am not a funny person but i like to make people smile and laugh. it makes me feel good, not that i deserve to know that people feel good around me. otherwise, it becomes self serving!

i think everytime i try to compliment myself, i find myself unsure of why these people feel like they want to be around me. is it for an act? are they trying to impress me?

i also think that it is quite narcissistic of me to believe that i am so different and unique from the cast of characters that i call my friends/acquaintances that i require a separate check list to meet the criteria of deserving their companionship.

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theom-capstoneprod · 2 years

Text

Informal Treatment/Film Outline

Character slides and runs in, off screen. Starts as a total black void and the hallway shows up as they pass. Thumping, then shadow, then Bdellism shows up. stops at the end of hallway.

title sequence.

Character is looking around wildly at a hallway intersection, trying to figure out where to go. Bdellism creeps up behind (hidden by shadow) and puts a hand on their shoulder. Eep! Bdellism appears behind them, bit of a parallax thing. Sounding like how a videogame talks (no human voice or distinguishable words) it says: “Hey, now! Don’t run away! We’ve only just begun.” Eurgh. fade away.

Speech bubble/box below a frame where images show up.

“Welcome back to the tour! [confetti]

Here at Bdellism Inc.—named for yours truly—we delight at hacking and slashing that human body of yours to collect your brain! [head, some slash fx, then brain floating out of a head with no top]

B. Inc has been a hub for creativity and productivity for as long as you can remember, filling up that wonderful liminal space that most folks never get to visit. Today’s your lucky day! [logo?]

Now here’s where it gets personal… [soft fuzzy gray nothing]

You may have noticed that while I have this beating heart, [thump thump] I don’t have a brain [empty head].

This is where YOU come in! [shaky cam view of character]

I’ve spent my electronic life searching for the perfect brain to use, and while I’ve amassed quite the collection, I haven’t found the glass slipper yet. [tons of brains pop up and cover screen like virus images]

You’re my next candidate. Congrats! [confetti around character on solid color background]”

Side by side view characters with speech bubbles in between, Bdellism on left and character on the right. “If you could please fill out this form, and then we can get moving!” [form pops up for viewer + a floating keyboard pops up for character] Character looks at keyboard, looks at Bdellism, and then looks back at keyboard and starts to type with a glare. The form is as follows:

Name: Nunya

Brain: Full of worms

Rate the tour so far: 1 star

Other thoughts: [keyboard smash]

Submitted. “Great!”

Bdellism and character move through the hallways. First is the office room, full of g3 macs and people plugged in. “This is where you’ll be staying after your brain is gone. Bowling on Wednesdays!” Next is the brain in vats room, where character gets distorted as they look through the glass at one. “This is my collection. Look at all the knowledge! Too bad you’ll never learn it.” Finally, the two are in a hallway with a fluorescent light above. Character lifts their leg as something skitters by. “Ahah!” Bdellism holds it in front of character, it’s a leech with a plug for a mouth. [squishes it] “You don’t need to worry about this”. Bdellism lowers hand and gestures towards a door with the other. “We’re here!”

Bdellism shows the character into an empty room, with just a G3 Mac and a simple chair. “Just sit in that chair and leave the rest to me.” Character sits down, looking vaguely nervous or uncomfortable. Bdellism is behind them. Shot of back of neck where wire is then plugged in. Eyes wide open.

Now the screen of the computer is shown. Looks like an older desktop, with the blue background and files all around. The Apple logo is a brain with a bite taken out of it. Bdellism clicks around at files, trying to find something. First is greenscreen’d Sylvester, who the cursor picks up and plops down. “Nope!” Next is some reviewbrah images of him holding bug / bug-like food. “Not quite!”. Next is a beating heart. “[thumbs up]”. Finally Bdellism clicks on something that loads— “That’s more like it!”— where it shows a brain mini game type thing, where it looks like a maze and there’s various landmarks.

[brain events - this bit still being figured out storywise. as mentioned above, it would be like an overhead view of a minigame with a brain-shaped maze/path ]

Character is unplugged and they slump forward. Then, the head is sliced open like an edheads mini game, and the brain is removed. Bdellism (whose head cord is kinda hanging) inspects it closely and intensely. “Eh, no luck. It was worth a try.” Pulls out a jar and tosses it in, then holograms it away. “Onto the next one!” And holograms away themself. The lights shut off in the room, leaving just the slumped body lit by the computer screen, until that shuts off as well. Moment and then to black.

Credits. Fun stuff around them. Etc etc etc blah blah blah.

0 notes

jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—pour up. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / fuckboy!taehyung + smut

⟶ words: 14,048 (idk how it’s literally just smut)

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.

⟶ warnings: mentions of drug/alcohol use, essentially pwp lol, threesome, double penetration, voyeurism, messy rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dry humping, manhandling, doggy style, riding (sort of?), fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), face riding, face fucking, deepthroating, breast play, slight begging (mostly oc making jungkook beg hehe), brief name calling, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog! also shout out to miss jlin @bratkook for being the sweetest and for liking this trashy fic of mine, and a happy early birthday present to @onherwings miss juno, the resident taekook lover!! 💛

also the accompanying song to this fic is pour up by dean!

There were times when you were sober where you were persistent about never being in a five foot radius of a frat boy, much less strip yourself of your dignity long enough to sleep with one.

Your appalling disgust and immense irritation of the male species that were frat boys kept you well in tune to your rule ━ until you’re far past the point of drunk and faded. Only then, when your bloodstream is laced with alcohol and your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud of smoke, you shrink into a shameless hypocrite and favour the appeal of a simple hook up. But you have needs too; it isn’t entirely your fault. Kim Taehyung offers you exactly that, with the promise to then act as if nothing happens the very next day so that the two of you can revert to despising one another out in public.

You act as if no one knows about your flings with ultimate frat boy Taehyung almost every weekend, as if they’re just as oblivious as you, but damn near the whole school knows and most certainly the rest of the boys in Beta Tau Sigma, or as Taehyung puts it, his brothers. It’s a useless cycle of bicker, avoid, drink, sex, and repeat, ever since you joined the school as a freshman and the sophomore boy took an interest in you. He’s charming in all the right ways and good looking but his smooth appeal was almost too good to be true and, past his “kind” smiles, you could make him out to be arrogant, vain, and cocky. Maybe you would have given him an actual chance had it not been for his snarkiness but all your brain could truly handle was his dick for a few hours a week.

Unsurprisingly, you always end up crashing at Beta Tau Sigma after one of their raging parties that results in your hook ups with Taehyung; surprisingly, Taehyung is miraculously into pillow talk post-sex and so he doesn’t entirely mind if you stay the night. But, by morning, when the alcohol has all but turned into a terrible hangover, he can hardly care less if you stay or not.

Usually, you wake up on your own, courtesy of past sober you setting an alarm on your phone to make sure you wake up earlier than all the other walkers of shame and anyone else in Beta Tau Sigma. Ideally, it was to help guarantee that no one would ever see you or judge you for stooping low enough to sleep with a fuckboy but you don’t know how well that’s working out for you anymore, if you’re being honest.

That’s why, early one fateful Sunday morning after a night of fun with Taehyung, you awaken with a start to the shrill Marimba tone that rips through the silence of the room and causes you to literally jump out of bed and crash onto the floor. You groan at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine and accompanies your groggy mind as your eyes flicker open only to be greeted with a blinding light that is the sun as it filters through the shut curtains. Littered on the ground are clothes, your clothes, beer bottles, red solo cups, discarded bed sheets, a singular condom wrapper (you thank your past selves for at least being sober enough to remember to use one), and your cell phone.

“Turn that shit off, for fuck sakes,” he grovels.

His hangover, and the early morning, makes his already deep voice even rougher, huskier, and you blame your disoriented mind for thinking he sounds even remotely sexy. He doesn’t bother to lift his head from his pillow or to find where you are in the room, the messy longer-than-usual curls of his hair flopping into his lashes as he flips onto his back. Other bodily remnants remain from the night before, from the mellowing ache between your legs left in the wake of his dick sufficiently railing you to the bite marks on his neck that you had so graciously bestowed him.

Now, you roll your eyes at him instead but dive for your phone nearby and tap the snooze button before it wakes the entire house and rouses the army of fuckboys from the dead.

“Good morning to you too,” You remark. “Is that better, princess?”

“Much.”

You push yourself to your feet and stretch, the stiff joints in your body popping and cracking, before searching for your clothes. You’re certain Taehyung has fallen back asleep as you dig around through the clutter to find your belongings but what else is new? It’s a routine the two of you have come to know well, and one that neither of you mind. You spot some sort of lacy material hidden underneath a few of Taehyung’s dirty laundry laying on the floor and reach for it thinking it’s yours. You’re only mildly disturbed to find that it isn’t yours at all ━ though you’re more concerned about the hygienic purposes of touching some other girl’s thong than you are about the blatant fact Taehyung sleeps with more girls than just you (a fact you swear you could care less for).

“Jesus Christ, your room is a disaster,” You scoff now.

“You could clean it,” Taehyung suggests sluggishly. Now, he’s awake, pretty and hooded eyes fluttering open to find you nearby. He props his hand behind his head to lift his gaze a little higher.

You snort, tossing the underwear away. “You never cease to━”

“Amaze you?”

“Repel me more than when I see the collection of thongs you have hidden in your room,” You correct. Fortunately, you spot your own underwear nearby and scoop it up, quickly slipping into them.

“Aw, baby, is that a bit of jealousy I hear?” Taehyung asks. He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark locks and shoots you a drowsy smirk. “You know you’re my one and only. I can always count on you when I want good head.”

“Please, flatter me some more, Tae,” You quip dryly.

As you hastily slide into your stiff shirt and jeans next and turn to face him, combing your fingers through your hair, Taehyung seems to take your words to heart and tries again. “You look like shit.”

You feign a voluntarily loud and overly dramatic moan. “Ugh, you really do know how to treat a girl━” Your cut off by a shameless snort from Taehyung before you continue on, “You know, you don’t exactly look the hottest right now either.”

“I beg to differ,” he replies nonchalantly. Technically, he isn’t lying, but you refuse to feed his ego any more.

“As if.”

“Funny,” he hums. “Could’ve sworn last night you were calling me hot when you were begging for my dick.”

You don’t bother to reply. Instead, you shake your head as you rub your tired face, uttering, “I need a coffee.”

“You could stay,” he offers. “I can make you one.”

“You don’t even know how to boil water,” You retort. “But thanks for the gesture. Try not to throw up on yourself today, okay?”

Taehyung mumbles something in response but then he’s already flipping over onto his side to fall back asleep again. You grab your bag from the floor and slip into your shoes before tiptoeing out of the room.

The Beta house is just as much a disaster as Taehyung’s room is and you find yourself stepping over more bottles, cups, empty pizza boxes, and hungover passed out people with phallic images doodled on their faces. The sun filters into the ever grand mansion and only illuminates the chaos the frat boys put it through. Everyone is thankfully still asleep as you head downstairs but, as you sneak past the kitchen, you notice two figures rummaging about, boisterous unabashed laughter filling the house that somehow hasn’t woken the others yet.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you with Park Jimin, both fellow Beta brothers, though Jungkook is in the same year as you. They, like most other Beta boys (and especially Taehyung), are well known on campus but Jungkook is perhaps even worse than Taehyung. Now, he’s adorned in only low hanging gray sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and the happy trail that threatens for your eyes to follow it. He holds a bowl of cereal close to him with the same arm decorated on every inch with tattoos, a snapback pushing his messy hair up and away from his forehead. The best part (and you mean that not at all) ━ or the worst ━ is the fact that he stands on a hoverboard, as if walking is too much for him to handle at nine in the morning. Jimin isn’t far off wearing the same attire, only his look is paired with the fuckboy-essential-starter-pack of socks and Adidas slides, and he’s at least actually using his legs to walk.

“Morning,” Jungkook smirks. “Time for the walk of shame?”

You have to retain a sigh. “I’m surprised you’re up, Jeon. I was sure you were gone past the point of saving last night.”

“A couple of shots do nothing for me,” Jungkook replies, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I was pretty much sober.”

At this, you sit back on your heels and look him once over skeptically. “You kept trying to hook up with me, called your dick Jungcock, threw up in one of the vases, and then passed out in the bathtub. I wouldn’t have exactly called you sober.”

The smirk remains on Jungkook’s face. If anything, he seems more so amused and it pisses you off. Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter and shakes his head.

“Always a pleasure seeing you, Y/N,” he greets. “Hey, are you coming to the party going down at Lambdas house after exams? It’s pretty exclusive but you and your friends are all invited by courtesy of us.”

“Ugh, I can’t even think about going to another party right now. How do you Beta whores do it?” You grovel. “Besides, why would we come if we know you’re going to be there?”

“‘Cause Tae’s going and you’re probably gonna wanna suck his dick,” Jungkook suggests snidely.

“I was gonna say the free booze,” Jimin offers instead. “Man, you know the Lambdas. They’re all rich pretentious sons of country club owners. They hardly throw parties but, when they do, you know it’s going to be wild. I wouldn’t miss it if I were you.”

“Well,” You say, “thanks for the invitation but we’ll see. Maybe if we have a pre-game where I can get drunk enough to handle your faces and the Lambda boys together.”

“I’ve always said you’re more fun when you’re drunk,” Jungkook hums pensively. Your eyes narrow into a glare and you’re fortunate Jimin is there to block your path from tackling Jungkook.

“Okay, whatever,” You grumble. “I’m out of here. I think if I stay here any longer, I’ll lose all my brain cells.”

Jimin chuckles but hardly seems bothered by your comment. He waves you off as he slips out of the kitchen to retreat into another room, leaving you alone with Jungkook.

“Can I get you anything before you go?” he asks. There’s a cheeky tone laced in his words that makes you blatantly aware he’s trying to suggest something more, like his dick.

“Absolutely not,” You wave him off. “See you around, Jungidiot.”

He grins and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Hey, maybe next Saturday you can think about blowing me instead of Tae, yeah?”

He’s met with you jamming your middle finger in his face and it only seems to entertain him further. As you march out of their home, slamming the door behind you, you have one discernable thought amongst your hangover and that is that you’ll definitely need to have that pre-game before you have the audacity to even see Jungkook, or any of the Beta boys for that matter, at the Lambdas.

That Saturday, you find yourself at the Lambdas house party.

So maybe you had sort of been lying when you said you weren’t so sure of going to it, but the thought was tempting enough and you aren’t one to pass up on a good party, especially when it’s after weeks of headaches and stressing over studying and exams.

Mid-terms come and go and when you finally finish writing your last paper, all you want to do is let loose and party and get dicked down by Taehyung. The Lambdas, despite their pretentious behaviour, looks to be very promising ━ but only after you down a few shots beforehand and have a beer while you’re getting ready. You’re not exactly as drunk or as tipsy as you would have prefered but it still gives you a nice enough buzz that makes you warm and lets the adrenaline pump in your veins and excites you even more for the party. The house you rent is off campus but it’s close to Beta’s and Taehyung offers to give you guys a lift to the Lambdas who are a fifteen minute walk away (but you know Taehyung will do anything to not walk anywhere his penny board can’t take him ━ and it’s not even Taehyung who is driving but his friend, Jin).

You can hear the party at Lambdas before you’re even there. The thump of bass coming from the house isn’t hard to miss, especially not with the way it seems to rattle the ground the closer you get. The house is crammed full to capacity and people have already begun to spill onto the lawn by the time you have arrived. A potent waft of alcohol and weed fill your senses and it is all you could really make out in the rambunctious party. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone what others are saying to you. Yet, you still found a way to have fun almost instantly, drifting away from the guys to party with your friends.

Most of the night is a blur and a haze of confusion but you can remember drinking and drinking some more until you’re sufficiently smashed. You can’t quite recall where you had lost your friends, though you suspect it was after the intense game of beer pong you were suckered into in which you were certain there were no winners or losers as it was just an excuse to drink even more. It’s nearing 1 a.m. when you finally bump into a familiar face, pulling you back from the unruly party and the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.

You’ve just slipped outside for some fresh air, perched on the front porch, when you notice Jimin is passed out on the lawn below. The other stragglers gathered outside barely take note of him but maybe that’s because he had chosen to faceplant in the shadows under the porch, tucked safely away from the rest of the party. Just before you can even think to walk over to him and make sure he’s still alive, the front door of the house swings wide open and a frenzied Taehyung bursts outside, shortly followed by an equally dumbfounded Jungkook.

“Where the fuck is he?” Taehyung hisses.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, disgruntled, “but leave it to him to run off and disappear.”

“Looking for someone?”

The two boys startle at your voice. They whirl around to find you taking a sip of the drink in your hand, as if only just noticing your presence. You hadn’t seen them since you parted ways a handful of hours ago in the party, though you’re fairly certain they’re just as smashed as you.

“Ah, babe!” Taehyung beams wolfishly. “What a pleasure seeing you out here. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen where Jimin went, would you?”

You nod in the direction of the sleeping boy down below. “He’s there. He’s passed out cold, though. What the hell did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook says. He grimaces as he hastily follows Taehyung down onto the lawn to stand near Jimin, and you in tow. “Jimin just likes to get out of hand. What should we do, Tae? We can’t just leave him here and Luna’s going to be pissed if she sees him like this.”

Taehyung stares down at Jimin miserably, thinking momentarily. “Well, Luna’s looking for him so we might as well drop him off at her dorm. He can deal with her when he’s sober.”

There’s a brief moment where you spot Jungkook seriously considering this though, as if leaving Jimin on the lawn of a frat house is a safer option than returning him to his girlfriend. Ultimately, he caves and you watch as Taehyung nudges Jimin awake (and by nudge, you mean he slaps the boy across the face) before pulling a very disoriented Jimin to his feet and slinging one of his arms over Taehyung’s neck.

“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Taehyung huffs. “Give me a hand, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods, stepping forward to take Jimin’s other arm and hook it around his own neck. The two boys seem to be struggling carrying most of Jimin’s body weight, though they’re carrying mostly dead weight as Jimin continues to drift in and out of consciousness.

Before they can leave you offer to help though you don’t know what you can really do so you suspect your inebriated mind just wanted to go with them for the hell of it. Luna’s place isn’t far. It’s a ten minute walk from Lambda’s, but in that ten minutes, none of you talk about anything of real importance except for chuckle and laugh about things that happened at the party.

Eventually you make it to Luna’s, who answers the door angrily after you knock on it as if you’ve disrupted her slumber and frowns when she sees Jimin’s current state. At least she has the decency to thank the three of you. When she shuts the door behind her, the three of you turn to look at one another, almost clueless.

“So, what now?” Taehyung asks. “Head back to the party?”

The thought of making the ten minute walk back to the party in your drunken mind seems like an eternity. That, mixed with the way your feet scream in agony from the heels you’re wearing, you begin to pout and shake your head.

“I can’t walk anymore,” You whine, words drunkenly slurring together. “I’d be fine just sitting here.”

Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he looks at you once over. “How drunk are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, how about we just go back to our place?” Taehyung asks. His arm slides around your waist then, tugging you close to his side. If one thing is for certain, the boy tends to get more handsy the more drunk he is, and you never seem to mind. “I’ve got a fresh bowl we can hit and we can drink there and just chill?”

You and Jungkook consider Taehyung’s offer fleetingly and, to you, it seems much more appealing.

“Sign me up,” You say. “The Lambdas were a bit too over the top for my liking. There’s only so much I can handle.”

Jungkook shrugs and nods in agreement. “Then I guess I’m going with you guys.”

The five minute walk to Beta is short and soon you’re inside the eerily empty house and climbing the steps to Taehyung’s room but not before the three of you raid their cabinets for any type of liquor. Eventually, you’re all lounging in Taehyung’s room, some type of music playing in the background as the three of you pass around a bottle of whisky and the bong Taehyung had promised he had, giggling at each other.

By 2 a.m., you are smashed and faded but blissfully so.

Taehyung and Jungkook are not too far off. It’s Taehyung who comes up with the idea to play strip poker, though with a twist. His version of the game includes: taking a shot anytime one of you loses a round along with either stripping an article of clothing or being allowed to pass it and get dared to do something else, though each person only has three passes.

Jungkook loses the first round, shedding only his jacket. Taehyung and you lose the second round; you decide to strip out of your own cardigan while Taehyung flicks off his hat. Jungkook and Taehyung lose the third round and both kick off their shoes. The game progresses slowly, with the three of you coming up with “clever” loopholes out of the rules, like stripping one sock one round and then another sock the next and all of you are too drunk to really protest. Eventually, the game winds up with Taehyung and Jungkook both in their pants and you still wearing both your shirt and jeans. Both the boys have used one of their passes and are still losing which, you will admit, boosts your confidence ever so slightly especially when you have such a nice view in front of you.

Both boys are toned, with certified gym rat Jungkook’s abs a bit more chiseled, and you know that sober you would cringe at how hard you seem to be drooling over them. Jungkook must notice because he shoots you a wink that has you squirming in your seat.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

“N-No,” You say shortly. “Shut up and go. It’s your turn.”

You end up losing that round, unfortunately, but you have no qualms with stripping out of your jeans and kicking them to the side. The next round, you lose again, except you decide to use one of your passes which has both boys groaning in defeat.

“Remember,” You coo, “play nice boys.”

The two exchange a look and you wait patiently, taking your shot of whisky in the meantime as Taehyung chides you on encouragingly with a cheeky, “Pour up, baby girl.”

You down the shot in one gulp, wincing as it burns down your throat, then chase it quickly with the drink you had stolen from their kitchen. A drowsy smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips as he takes another rip from the bong, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he hums insouciantly, “I’ve got your dare.”

There’s a split moment where he makes eye contact with you and pushes his hair out of his eyes.

“Come here and kiss me.”

Had you been sober, you might have rolled your eyes at his simple yet assertive dare but, instead, you can’t help but snicker as you lean across to him from your seat on the floor and pull him down for a not so graceful kiss. His whisky coated tongue instantly collides with yours in an open mouthed frenzy that’s full of teeth clashing and wet sounds but it’s hot, too hot, even as Taehyung pulls you closer to him with his hand grasping at your chin. You instinctively react, teeth nipping at his lower lip as you suck hard, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook sitting in the room.

A moan emits from you as your fingers thread through his hair. Jungkook is left to watch but his eyes stay locked on your figure and the way you cave so easily to Taehyung, the way your mouth moves against his. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your position on your hands and knees, or the way you arch your back in an attempt to get closer to Taehyung, and he certainly can’t seem to look away from the tempting curve of your ass jutting in his direction. All Jungkook suddenly wants is for you to be kissing him the same way you’re kissing Taehyung.

You’re only interrupted when he finds the nerve to clear his throat after a few moments. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just sit here. Do you guys want me to leave?”

He’s being sarcastic, of course, and when you and Taehyung part to look at the boy, he’s scowling. The two of you chuckle lightly but don’t respond, though you remember the game you’re still playing. Taehyung kisses you one last time before you settle back onto the floor, a sheepish giggle bubbling in your chest. Taehyung loses the next round and he decides to strip down into his underwear though he hasn’t lost yet (the goal is nudity and neither of your drunk selves have enough dignity left to give up before then).

The round after that, you lose again. You decide, once more, to use another one of your passes and the two boys pause, thinking of a dare for you as you take a shot (which, you have realized, only get harder to take as time passes).

“I have one,” Taehyung says at long last.

“Bro,” Jungkook groans, “if you just wanna fuck, let me know. I’ll leave. I don’t think I can sit here and watch you dare her to suck your face again.”

Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Easy there. I was just gonna suggest that you━” he points at you before nodding toward Jungkook, “give him a lap dance.”

“A what?” Jungkook’s jaw drops open, his eyes widening. “M-Me?”

You glance up at Taehyung, quirking an eyebrow. “Him?”

Taehyung erupts into another fit of laughter but he’s the only one who finds the situation hilarious because you and Jungkook continue to sit there, dumbfounded. When Taehyung calms himself down, he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been noticing?” he asks.

“Noticing what?”

“The way Jungkook keeps eye-fucking you,” Taehyung says simply.

Jungkook gaps. “The fuck? I haven’t.”

“Jungkook, you’re not exactly sly,” Taehyung says. “He’s been doing it the whole night, babe. It’s not the first time he’s done it, too. I just figured we could do him a little favour.”

Your turn to look up at Jungkook and purse your lips. He’s seated in Taehyung’s desk chair and has a frown painted on his face. It’s not like it comes as a surprise to you because he’s constantly trying to flirt with you even when you’re sober but his sudden flustered appearance puzzles you slightly. You’ll admit the idea is ludicrous, but Jungkook is undeniably hot, and grinding on his dick sounds more than wonderful to you in your current state. Either way, you stand to your feet.

“I’ll do it,” You say. “Why not?”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook yelps. “You will?”

“Yeah,” You flash him a pearly smirk. “What? Is confident Jungkookie finally shy?”

At the mention of the taunting nickname, he straightens up in his seat and scowls. “No. I’m just surprised you gave in so easily. You must really like me, huh?”

“Keep dreaming, Jeon,” You retort.

The music is still playing in the background as you slink towards Jungkook’s seated figure. Meanwhile, Taehyung is watching with an amused look on his face and sits back, clearly enjoying the view as he tells you that you have three minutes. As you approach Jungkook, he leans back in his seat and watches you with dark eyes. Jungkook’s eyes sweep over your figure, from the way you muse your hands through your messy hair, your tight tank top with one strap falling down your shoulder, your lacy and scantily clad underwear, and your smooth legs. He gulps at the sight and shifts in his seat.

As soon as you’re standing in front of him, you whirl around so that your back is to him and jutt your butt out just enough to catch his attention as you sway your hips to the music. Your hands ghost up your sides just faintly enough so that chills run down your spine and you lock eyes with Taehyung for a split second to see him grinning. You sit back on Jungkook’s lap and his breath hitches in his throat suddenly. He hates to admit how easily you’re driving him crazy and as soon as you are but he takes the time to enjoy the dance anyway, eyes staying trained on your ass as you grind against him in agonizingly slow circles and right against his dick nestled against his thigh. He can’t help it when a moan emits from him.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, raking his hands through his hair. You snicker at his reaction, craning your neck to look behind at him.

“Enjoying yourself, Kookie?”

“N-No,” he rasps. This is a lie, of course. “Turn around.”

His command only humours you but you don’t disobey. You get up for a second to spin around and face him before climbing back onto his lap, swinging one leg over his. Before you drop your hips completely on him, you’re rocking them back and forth against the thin air, your hands snaking around his neck. His hands suddenly find purchase on your waist and he yanks you down onto him with a sudden neediness that surprises you, though you don’t complain. You continue to grind against his lap and you can’t help your greedy self when your hands reach out to run up and down his toned chest. He shivers at your slightest touch, his jaw clenched, but he keeps his gaze focused on your eyes, as if challenging you for more. Behind you, Taehyung is taking another hit from the bong and laughs lightly at Jungkook’s reactions.

“Let him touch you,” Taehyung says.

You expect Jungkook to listen to Taehyung and reach out to grab onto you but he hesitates, his hands remaining at your hips. So, instead, you take his hands in yours and begin pulling them up, sliding them along your midriff and up to your chest. You don’t even flinch as you let him cup your boobs over your clothes and you watch him slyly as he gulps.

“Is this the first time you’ve actually touched a girl, Jungkook?” You quip. “You’re gawking at my boobs like it is. Not gonna wet yourself, hm?”

“Fuck off,” he growls, though there’s no malice in his voice.

Instead, he focuses his attention on your breasts and the weight of them in his palm. They’re soft and supple and he squeezes them firmly, jiggles the flesh as he fondles at you blatantly. He hates to admit it but he feels as if he’s going to combust at any second, repressing the sudden urge to tear off your shirt and burrow his head in your chest, your boobs in his mouth. He doesn’t know whether the soft moan that slips from your parted pink lips is intentional to mess with him or because you had been getting carried away yourself. Either way, Jungkook’s certain it’s the hottest thing he’s heard in a while, the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and he hates how his sudden erection forms, how embarrassing it must be. When you feel his hardened length start to poke at your thigh, you look down at him past your lashes and smirk.

“Are you hard already, Kookie?” You giggle.

Taehyung roars with laughter abruptly and the outburst only makes Jungkook redden.

“I━I━” he stammers helplessly.

You shake your head at him and then purposely press your hips a little more firmly against his, gripping at his shoulders now. You’re challenging him now too, and he doesn’t know what you have in mind but you’re wickedly set on making him cum in his pants before Taehyung stops you.

“Time’s up,” he says.

Jungkook almost groans out loud in frustration when you pull away and step off of his lap. He’s embarrassingly hard now but his drunk self doesn’t try very hard to hide it. Taehyung’s stare is settled on Jungkook as you walk back to your seat but, before you can even sit down, Taehyung is beckoning you over.

“Come here, babe,” he hums. You look at him curiously but move in his direction. “What do you say we help Jungkook with his problem, huh?”

“Help? How?” You question.

“Come sit,” Taehyung gestures to his thigh.

Jungkook watches with silent seething jealousy as you take a seat on Taehyung’s thigh and then he’s kissing you, pressing his lips against your neck. You react almost instantly, your head craning to allow him more access and your eyes clamp shut, your mouth hanging open in delight.

“Tae━” You mewl, tugging at his hair, as if to prompt him wordlessly about Jungkook’s presence. But when does it become too much? Every action seems to keep building and building, that you know where the night surely must be heading; that you crave it.

Taehyung’s tongue swirls at your neck, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin, before he peeks one eye open to look at Jungkook.

“Look at him,” Taehyung hums against you. “Look at how jealous he is right now. Look at how bad he wants to be me right now.”

You take a moment to register his words, your head spinning. You struggle to find Jungkook as Taehyung continues to ravish your neck. Jungkook’s stare is hard, his jaw clenched; his hands are balled into tight fists that let you see the bulging veins in his arms. Is he jealous? Angry?

Taehyung suddenly bites down onto your neck and you gasp in surprise, leaning against his chest. His nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt which he lifts and discards on the floor with ease. Next to come off is your bra. You don’t realize your torso is bare until a slight breeze hits your breasts and perks your nipples and Taehyung reaches up to cup the soft tissue in his large hands and Jungkook can’t look away because, fuck, touching you is all he really wants to do.

“Do you see him staring now?” Taehyung asks. “Do you see how desperate he is for you? Look at how bad he wants to touch you right now, baby girl. Will you let him?”

You’re still staring at Jungkook as Taehyung speaks and note how fast Jungkook’s demeanour has changed. He looks helpless, his erection more prominent in his straining jeans which he shamelessly palms at to feel some sort of relief.

“Better yet,” Taehyung hums, averting your attention back to him. He’s sliding one of his hands down your front and in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His digits come in contact with your clothed pussy and the sudden touch, light and feathery, makes you jump and gasp. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you had been until he touched you just then and the coil in your stomach only tightens with each passing second. “Will you let him play with you?”

It takes you a second to respond, though that isn’t because you’re struggling to decide. The thought entices you far more than you ever believed it could. Taehyung is suddenly rubbing his fingers against your clothed clit in so very slow circles that it suddenly has you tripping over your own thoughts. You’re biting hard onto your lower lip as you force yourself to nod hastily.

“Do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“Fuck, yes,” You whine. “Mmm, Tae━”

Taehyung shifts you in his lap so that your back is pressed against his chest, leaning all your weight against him. It’s hard to focus as one of his hands fondles one of your breasts while his other presses figure eights onto your clit. You’re on full display for Jungkook now, though his eyes fall to the wet spot that forms on your pretty little underwear as your arousal leaks from you.

“How badly do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.

“So badly,” You whimper.

This catches Jungkook’s attention and he leans forward in his seat. Taehyung smirks against you and then he’s moving, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs to hook around the waistband of your underwear. He gives it a quick tug and you fumble to lift your hips so he can pull the useless fabric down your legs. Once it pools at your feet, you kick it off to the side and then Taehyung’s hand returns between your thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he says.

You do as you’re told, pushing your thighs apart but then instinctively squeezing them shut when Taehyung continues to press his fingers against your clit. The sudden stimulation is too much for you and your face begins to heat up so Taehyung uses the chance to push your legs apart for you. He hitches one of your thighs over his own as if to anchor you in place and it works.

“Can you stay like that for me, baby?” Taehyung drawls. “Look at Jungkook for me.”

You nod, your throat dry as you lift your gaze to lock eyes once more with Jungkook. You find the boy gawking at your sex and you moan suddenly. His head snaps up to stare at you with a sudden blazing determination and lust in his eyes before they fall once more to your pussy, admiring the way it pulsates each time Taehyung swipes at your clit or tweaks at your nipples. But the best part? The best part is just how wet you are, your clear juices coating Taehyung’s fingers, spilling onto yours and Taehyung’s thighs with the passing seconds, and suddenly Jungkook is hungry for you. But what he doesn’t know is how you suddenly imagine Jungkook in Taehyung’s place, sat beneath you poised daintily on his lap, his fingers pressing against you.

You twist on top of Taehyung, your own hand reaching up to grasp at your other breast, pinching at the nipple tightly. A delighted moan fumbles from your lips. “Jungkook━ Fuck━”

“It’s nice, yeah?” Taehyung asks aloud to the other boy. “She’s pretty, hm?”

Jungkook nods eagerly and then groans. “She’s dripping. Fuck, it’s so hot.”

Your face burns at his words but you don’t have enough wits to think of a snarky retort like usual.

Taehyung chuckles. “Why don’t you come here then and touch her? Taste her? Is that okay, baby?”

When you realize Taehyung is asking you, you nod eagerly. “Shit, please━ Jungkook, wanna feel you━”

At your request, Jungkook practically tumbles out of his seat. As soon as he’s standing on his feet, the realization seems to hit him and he takes his time, walking to you slowly. His gaze sweeps over your exposed body and he licks his lips, his eyes suddenly darkening. Taehyung doesn’t stop touching you or marking your neck his even as Jungkook walks closer and it hits you in that moment what exactly you’re doing and who you’re with ━ and you fucking love it. Jungkook kneels down in front of you and Taehyung nods in encouragement.

“She’s impatient and feisty,” Taehyung informs. “But that makes her fun to tease.”

“I know how to pleasure a girl,” Jungkook quips.

“But you don’t know how to pleasure Y/N,” Taehyung replies. “You’re too cocky, Jungkookie, and she doesn’t like that. You need to take your time with her and you don’t do that often with girls, do you?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond but, judging by his face, you assume Taehyung is right.

“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks. He’s staring at your face now and only your face. His intense stare makes you squirm on Taehyung’s lap, and makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth.

“Touch me,” You rasp. “Touch me, please, Jungkook.”

God, how he loves hearing you moan his name. But the anticipation is killing you. You’ve felt Taehyung’s fingers plenty of time; you’ve never felt Jungkook’s, and the abrupt need seems to grow more intense with each passing second.

“You heard her, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says. He draws his hand away from your heat and kisses your neck softly. “Go on. Touch her. Be gentle, go slow.”

Jungkook is shaking with excitement ━ or maybe it’s just the weed and alcohol in his bloodstream ━ but he eyes you carefully, gnawing down on his lower lip. He reaches out at a tedious pace and hesitates, his fingers hovering over your core. Taehyung is watching with eager eyes whilst planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, neck, and jawline. Jungkook finally presses his fingers against your pussy and your reaction is immediate. You toss your head back against Taehyung’s shoulder and jutt your hips forward.

“Nnngh, fuck, Kook━” You whimper. “M-More━ Wanna feel more━”

Jungkook takes that as a good sign and follows after Taehyung, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. He feels just how wet you are, his fingers coating with your cum as they move with ease past your folds, and it’s enough to let the wave of glee wash over him again.

“See? Look how much she loves it already,” Taehyung says. “Keep going.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. As he rubs his fingers over your clit, his other hand comes up in a greedy fashion. He can’t stop himself from slipping a finger past your folds and it takes all you can not to moan out loud but you give up on the prospect of remaining quiet when it feels so good to have both boys on you.

“Let him know how you feel, baby,” Taehyung purs. “How he’s making you feel.”

You struggle to find your voice momentarily, too caught up with the lust and desire but then a cry of delight falls from your lips. “Fuck, ah, Jungkook! That feels s-so good━”

Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at you in pure disbelief.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he huffs. “I never thought you’d moan my name and now you’re so wet and tight and for me━”

“And me,” Taehyung admonishes offhandedly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply but that’s mostly because he’s suddenly fixated on curling his finger inside of you and watching your every reaction. Your hips jut forward and you cry out, panting at the blissful feeling but it isn’t enough. You need more, and you need more now. As if Taehyung can read your mind, he chimes in again, disrupting yours and Jungkook’s reverie.

“Why don’t you have a taste of her?” he asks. “You won’t regret it.”

Jungkook’s eyes light up and he watches as you nod eagerly, desperate pleas coming from your mouth. Jungkook lowers himself down between your thighs and you wait with bated breath before he’s licking a clean stripe against your folds with his flattened tongue. The sudden slippery warmth has your body writhing in pleasure.

“Jungkook━” You cry out. “Oh my god━”

Jungkook grins. Then he’s licking at you again, tasting your sweet succulence, and groans into your hot core.

“Shit,” Jungkook huffs. “You taste amazing.”

He nibbles down slightly on your clit without warning and tugs. You instantly jerk into his mouth, a strangled moan ripping from your throat that sounds something like a scold of his name and a desperate plea for more. “Jungkook!”

Taehyung snickers against your neck and you can feel Jungkook’s lips curl into a taunting smirk between your thighs. Jungkook’s finger still curls deep within you as his tongue returns to lapping at your clit and you can feel his nose brushing against you the deeper he burrows into you. Meanwhile, Taehyung is continuing to ravish your neck, his hands tweaking at your nipples. The onslaught of senses is so much for you that you nearly scream when Jungkook’s tongue dips into your heat so suddenly to accompany his finger. He laps at you hungrily and you gasp, your breath stuttering as your hands come down to tug hard in his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. It feels fantastic, too incredible for you to put into words, as you feel the wetness of his tongue lap at your walls and suddenly you’re aware of just how susceptible you are to both of the boys near you.

“Fuck, don’t stop, Jungkook,” You moan.

“Now who’s the needy one?” Jungkook coos against your cunt. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”

“P-Please━ Want it so badly, Kook━”

He smacks his lips against you, taking as much as he can of you into his mouth and sucking hard until all you hear are the lewd wet sounds of his tongue and finger working miracles against you. You’re clutching his hair so tight, pushing him closer into your heat but he doesn’t relent. One of his hands comes up to hold onto your waist, to push you firmly back onto Taehyung’s lap and closer into Jungkook’s mouth. You can feel Taehyung’s budding erection poking against your thigh and it’s enough to make you flustered once more.

In an attempt to help Taehyung, you find yourself grinding not only into Jungkook’s mouth but onto Taehyung’s lap, earning a growl into your neck. Taehyung’s free hand comes up to your chin which he grabs roughly. He forces you to look at him and then he’s smashing his lips onto yours in a heated fashion for an entirely ungraceful kiss. It’s needy and hot, completely open mouthed as your tongues mingle in the air and as Taehyung sucks on your lower lip. Yet you tear your gaze from Taehyung to look down at Jungkook as he buries himself further into your pussy, his nose nuzzling against your clit. You’re dripping by now and you can see your own juices smear onto his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you could ever imagine seeing. He doesn’t seem to care as it spills down his neck and suddenly the mere sight has you squirming again. You part from Taehyung’s mouth with a wet pop that rings in your ears and moan.

“Fuck━ nghn, I━I━ think I’m close,” You whimper.

“Fuuck, yes,” Jungkook growls against you.

“Let it go, baby,” Taehyung hums, nibbling at your ear. “Cum for him, for us.”

Jungkook’s pace quickens, pumping his finger faster in you and sucking at your clit until you have no more strength to hold off. Your hands fumble in his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer, and you hate how badly you want your sweet release already. It doesn’t help when Taehyung twists your body ever so slightly so that he can lean down to your breasts and catch one of your nipples between his teeth. His tongue swishes back and forth against the perked bud and you whimper again, the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening.

You’re so close now and Jungkook can hear it, can feel it, can taste it. You don’t have much longer after that before your orgasm is hitting you hard.

“I’m gonna━” You reach out to grasp at Jungkook’s hair, tugging at the roots. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

You cry out suddenly, the coil in your stomach springing apart. Jungkook moans into your pussy as you cum, pulsating around his tongue and finger and dripping into his mouth. You’re reduced to nothing but a whimpering, writhing mess against Taehyung as you buck back and forth into Jungkook’s mouth to ride out your high. Taehyung pulls apart from you to rub circles into your hips and the seemingly gentle move somehow soothes the intense wave of pleasure into something much sweeter. Fire burns at your core and flicks outward until your whole body is warm and numb and then you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, panting hard. Jungkook drinks up every last bit of you and you begin to cringe at the oversensitivity before you gain some of your wits again. You push his head away hastily and this time he relents.

“Did all your little happy wet dreams finally come true, Jeon?” You snicker languidly.

The boy sits back on his knees and looks up at you, locking gazes with yours. You can finally see his face, his tousled black hair, his swollen red lips, and chin, all of which are covered in your perfect sheen. He licks at his lips and wipes at his chin and neck where his tongue can’t reach and he does all of this without breaking eye contact with you. A small smirk forms on his face and suddenly you’re filled with an intense need for payback.

“Yeah, you act confident now but you seemed to enjoy it when you were riding my face,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, about to reply before he adds, “So, you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible,” You huff, pushing yourself off of Taehyung’s lap.

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Taehyung mewls behind you. “We still need you.”

“Oh, I know,” You quip. You reach down to grab onto Jungkook’s chin, forcing him to look up at you. “But it’s my turn, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. Jungkook, however, hardly looks bothered, though he seems a little taken aback by your sudden assertiveness when you begin pulling him up to his feet before pushing him back onto the bed. Taehyung scoots over so that the three of you can fit comfortably on his bed and then you’re moving, crawling over to Jungkook on your hands and knees.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Jungkook asks. “Because this is sexier than it is scary.”

You’re hovering over his crotch when he speaks, your greedy hands reaching forward to brush against his hard dick straining in his jeans. He nearly jolts in his seat at the sudden touch and you and Taehyung giggle again.

“Mmm, baby, teach him a lesson,” Taehyung hums. “Suck him off nice and slow but don’t let him cum.”

“Not unless he begs for it,” You say wickedly.

Taehyung stifles a chuckle. “I told you she’s feisty, Jungkookie.”

The younger boy is eyeing you carefully as you busy yourself by undoing the belt buckle on his jeans. He acts unimpressed, unfazed, as you unbutton his jeans and began sliding them off his legs, but you can see the needy and impatient glint in his eyes. Your eyes fall immediately to the ever present straining bulge in his boxers and you gulp in response, licking your lips. You can’t help yourself when you reach out to brush your fingers faintly along his length. He jolts in his seat and grits his teeth, shooting you a hard glare.

“Are you seriously going to tease me?” Jungkook grumbles. “We can skip all of that, y’know━”

“It’s payback, Jeon,” You hum, running your fingers down his dick and then back up again. “Where’s the fun in it if I skip all of the teasing?”

“You know,” Taehyung murmurs from beside you. He’s reclining back, watching you with intense eyes and is completely shameless about his prominent erection contained by his boxers. “I’m surprised the idiot hasn’t referred to his dick yet as Jungcock.”

You giggle, an all too innocent and sweet sound for the way you’re palming at Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook, who is apparently having a rather difficult time keeping up with his surroundings while your fingers continue to work against him, scoffs. His eyebrows knit together as he throws a beady glare at the older boy.

“You’re ruining the mood,” he grunts.

Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth, a smirk tugging at his luscious lips. “Of course. I digress.”

You turn your attention back to Jungkook who’s staring down at your hand with parted lips and a crease in his brows. Without warning, you grasp him through his boxers and he groans suddenly, bucking forward. The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you peel back the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his dick which springs out from it’s confines. He’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it.

“You’re staring again,” Jungkook hums when he notices you pause, your eyes wide. “Sure you don’t like what you see?”

You shake yourself from your daze and frown. “Shut up.”

The boy starts to chuckle at your flustered expression but yelps when you clasp your fingers around the base of his cock. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and excites you even more. You start pumping him slowly, guiding your hands up and down his length in careful and measured motions, wiping your thumb across his tip each time you reach it. Jungkook shudders in your touch, his teeth coming down to gnaw hard on his lower lip. His eyes are glued to your hands working against him, his face scrunching up in pure euphoria.

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts, his head lolling back. “Stop teasing me and go faster.”

You don’t listen. If anything, you slow your pace and it has him so frustrated that he lets an involuntary whimper escape him. He bucks into your clenched hand, practically begging for more but remains quiet, safe for his heavy panting.

“You heard her, Kook,” Taehyung says. “Beg for her.”

“There’s no way I’m begging,” Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth. “Never. I never have and never will.”

“Bullshit,” You scoff. You fondle at his balls with your other hand and he moans again. Your hand comes to a complete halt all of a sudden, interrupting Jungkook as he is about to speak. Before he can protest, you lean down and lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around him once to taste his saltiness. His hips rut forward into you but you pull back almost immediately and find Jungkook gaping. You meet his desperate eyes for a steady gaze. “Beg. Just once, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook’s stare wavers as you run your fingers along his tip, squeezing slightly. He tries to compose himself, to remain calm, but when you are relentless, he caves very easily. He only gives in when you kiss the base of his cock. And those eyes ━ fuck, the way your eyes turn so wide and already look so fucked out. How could he resist you?

“Fuck, fuck, okay,” he gasps. “I need more, baby, please. Ah, please━ You feel so fucking good.”

His needy pleas satisfy you and your lips curl into a devious grin. You lower yourself on him suddenly, licking a clean stripe up his length and he moans loudly. You enclose your mouth around his tip and suck, earning a small growl from him as he pushes his hips forward for more. In the next second, you sink your mouth down his length, taking as much of him as you can.

“Fuck!” he moans abruptly. “Ahh, shit, that feels amazing, baby.”

You hollow out your cheeks as you pull your head up and then back down, starting at an even pace that has him moaning and writhing beneath you. He feels much bigger in your mouth but you don’t mind even when he bucks himself into you unexpectedly and hits the back of your throat. The action makes you gag around him and, in return, he curses at the way it feels.

“K-Keep doing that,” he mumbles. “Please, fuck, just like that.”

His fingers thread in your hair and he pulls you down greedily on him but you don’t refuse.

��Can you do it, baby girl?” Taehyung questions. His hand finds his way on your back where he rubs gentle circles into your skin. “Can you take all of him in your mouth?”

You nod carefully around Jungkook’s hardened length.

“Good girl,” Taehyung smirks. “Go slow.”

You follow his orders, sinking gradually onto Jungkook until you feel the tip of him hitting the back of your throat. You gag once more but, instead of pulling back, you shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths in through your nose. In, out, in, out, and then you swallow. Jungkook’s reaction is sudden and intense. He bucks into your mouth unwillingly and moans even louder, his fingers clutching at your roots.

“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung hums and his sudden presence is comforting.

“A-Again,” Jungkook stammers. “Again, please━ holy shit, you feel amazing.”

You swallow again and then a third and each time you can feel yourself sinking lower onto him. Tears prickle at your eyes as your nose is suddenly pressed against his lower abdomen but his reactions are well worth it and so you continue.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung says, planting a chaste kiss against your shoulder. “You deserve some more attention, hm?”

His fingers slowly rub circles down your back, his lips following your arch and has you shivering beneath him, before stopping at the dip just above your ass. He’s kneeling behind you now, his fingers massaging into your thighs. You sigh against Jungkook when you feel Taehyung’s fingers continue their trek to your ass, rubbing you carefully. You, in response, push your hips back, waiting for more.

“You’re still so wet, baby,” Taehyung says. “I bet you’d come with one touch of my finger.”

With Jungkook buried hilt deep inside your mouth, you’re hardly prepared for when Taehyung slips his fingers underneath to your folds. It’s embarrassing to admit how right he is. You react instantly, moaning around Jungkook and jutting your hips back for more. The simple vibration has Jungkook groaning, his hips bucking forward. You hadn’t even been aware of just how wet you are before Taehyung pointed it out but then you can feel it, pulsing out of you and dripping down the top of your inner thighs.

“But you need more, don’t you?” Taehyung asks. “How about my cock? Will you let me fuck you, baby girl?”

You nod eagerly, the simple question exciting you even more. Taehyung chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the arch of your back.

“But you’ll have to be good and keep pleasuring Jungkook too, okay?” Taehyung says.

You hum in response and swallow around Jungkook as if to tell both boys that you have no plans on stopping. Jungkook twitches inside you and scrunches his eyes shut.

“Fuck, Taehyung,” he grumbles. “Hurry up. Any time you touch her, she swallows. It feels so good.”

Taehyung snickers but he takes his time. He runs his fingers up and down your folds until you’re moaning needily against Jungkook. You look over your shoulder to see Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his own hardened and pulsating erection, pumping himself a few times as he stares at you carefully. He positions himself behind you and takes the chance to run his tip and length along your folds. You whimper suddenly, hoping your desperate noises will spur him on.

“You want more, baby?” Taehyung asks.

You hum again, your voice muffled and hoarse.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Only because you’ve been so good.”

You have no time to brace yourself from the sudden impact of feelings. He doesn’t do much except for push himself into you, past your folds. It’s only just the tip and yet your heart jolts in your chest, the coil in your stomach tightens. It feels so good to finally have something of larger girth in you that you gap, simultaneously sinking down further onto Jungkook. The two boys grunt above you, both of them panting hard.

“You feel so good, baby,” Taehyung mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the dip of your lower back to guide you. He slowly, so very slowly, pushes himself into you, inch by inch, so you can feel the way he stretches you open, feel the way he buries into you. Your leaking arousal only proves to be of an advantage, letting him easily push into you without any trouble. Your fingers grip the bed sheets beneath you in an ironclad grip and you squeak when he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. You nearly gag around Jungkook again, who’s still panting and writhing above you, but the way Taehyung’s tongue marks patterns into your shoulder comforts you. You whine against Jungkook, pushing your hips back for more and the simplicity of your action has Taehyung’s breath hitching in his throat.

“So warm,” he grunts and then sighs against your back. “You always feel so amazing.”

He still hasn’t moved and you’re beginning to grow impatient, distraught over the feeling of him rock hard inside you but unmoving. You debate pulling apart from Jungkook to yell at Taehyung but you assume he can understand your haste judging by the way your body writhes beneath him, your fingers clench into fists. He pulls out in one languid movement, his breath stuttering, until only his tip is left before he pushes himself back in, equally as slow. He sets at a steady, easy pace that, at the very least, lets you grasp onto some sensible thoughts and pushes you to keep pleasing Jungkook. Jungkook can’t take it anymore; he starts rutting his hips up into your mouth with gritted teeth. It’s a hot, erotic mess of mingled moans and groans but you never want it to stop ━ in fact, you want more.

“You like that, baby?” Taehyung grunts.

You nod hurriedly, humming in response.

“Ah, fuck━” Taehyung groans. “Want it harder?”

You nod once more, this time eagerly. When Taehyung pulls back one more time, he slams himself back into you without any warning and you jerk forward, sinking down onto Jungkook. The younger boy moans, his head lolling back as his fingers twisting in your hair. You don’t expect Taehyung to do the same thing again, pull out slowly and then push himself back in with more force, but he does, and he repeats the action again and again until he abandons it for a whole new pace. Soon, he’s thrusting into you hard and fast but always making sure his hips reconnect with yours before pulling out so you can feel him practically in your throat.

“Like being fucked like this?” Taehyung asks. “You like being used like a little slut?”

His thrusts are relentless suddenly, jerking your body and back and forth until he’s fucking you in a way that has you sucking off Jungkook just right so that you hardly have to put in any effort. Although his hard thrusts feel amazing, each time you’re pushed forward, you sink further down onto Jungkook unwillingly and that, paired with the way Jungkook frantically fucks himself into your mouth, you nearly gag each time as he hits the back of your throat, drool pooling at your lips and dribbling down your chin. Tears prick at your eyes from the feeling and it’s too pleasing to quit, to pull away from Jungkook just yet. Jungkook’s staring down at you when he notices your scrunched up face. You’re surprised when his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing reassuringly into your cheekbone.

“You’re doing so━ ah, fuck━ so well, baby,” he rasps.

You can taste the saltiness of precum on the tip of your tongue and you wonder how close he is. You have no qualms in finishing him off then and there but soon the pleasure you’re receiving from Taehyung becomes too much. Soon, he’s hitting you at an angle that shakes something in you. You pull apart from Jungkook with a loud pop, saliva and cum coating his length and your lips, and a gasp wretches from your throat.

“Fuck!” You cry hoarsely. “Ah, T-Taehyung!”

You’re too weak to push yourself up and end up burying your head in Jungkook’s lower abdomen, feeling the heat consume you. You’re near numb, senseless, as you let Taehyung ravish your body, fuck you hard into the mattress and Jungkook. It’s a frantic build up, an intense wave of emotions that you seem to pass through, and you can hardly bring yourself to react. All you can hear is the sound of moaning and skin against skin and the heat seems to make its way up to your head, making you warm and fuzzy. Jungkook gently pulls at your face, lifting you up and bringing you to him so that he can smash his lips onto yours and all you can taste is bitter liquor, you, and him, but that doesn’t stop him from sucking on your lower lip even when you pull apart to moan and gasp.

“T-Tae,” You sob. “Fuck, Tae, I━I’m c━close━”

“Cum for me, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

You shake your head frantically at the sensitive sting between your legs still raw from your orgasm from Jungkook, shutting your eyes. Taehyung’s hands find their way onto your hips and he pulls you down his length until you’re balls deep and pauses. He lifts your hips and you can feel him twitch inside you that it even makes your own thighs tremble and shake. You’re sure you’ll collapse on him if he doesn’t hold onto you and he must realize this too because he grips your hips tight to continue thrusting into you. Soon you’re tumbling towards your high. Taehyung’s pumps are frantic, growing sloppy with each passing second, as he pushes you to yours and his high. The coil snaps in your stomach again and you’re in a moment of freefall where you’re stunned by the wave of pleasure. Then, Taehyung is bringing you back down to reality with his hard thrusts, the way he moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him pumping himself into you.

“Ah, T-Tae━” You whimper. “So good, fuck━”

His name falls from your lips in a repeated mantra. You crumble beneath him, collapsing entirely against Jungkook, who’s brushing your hair away from your face. You’re shaking with each touch, your walls pulsing around Taehyung and clenching hard. He moans and curses behind you and you know he must be close to his high because he, too, is fumbling for it. His thrusts are even more hasty and soon he’s reaching his climax. His moans increase in volume and his thrusts become sloppier until he finally pulls his cock from your walls and nearly collapses against your back.

With his hand clenched tightly around his shaft, he jerks himself off until he’s releasing onto your back in white hot spurts. He’s panting hard, sweat coating his forehead, but he takes the time to press chaste kisses along your back and shoulders as the two of you attempt to calm your shrill hearts. It’s silent in the room for a moment despite your panting breaths. Taehyung takes a moment to grab his discarded shirt and wipe at the mess he’s made before he collapses next to you at long last with a huff of air. You moan wearily, rolling off of Jungkook to lay on your back between the two.

“God, you’re amazing,” Taehyung sighs.

You giggle up at the boy and lean towards him to kiss. His fingers rake in your hair and a few silent seconds pass before you’re nearly back to an even breathing pace. That’s when you notice Jungkook, his hand gripped tightly around his still painfully hard dick.

“Jungkook,” You pur his name, catching his attention. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he quips.

“It’s your turn,” Taehyung points out. Jungkook glances at Taehyung and then down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“W-Well, I just thought━” Jungkook stammers. “I just thought you’ve had enough. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

“I call bullshit again,” You scoff.

“Baby girl,” Taehyung hums, “do you want Jungkookie to fuck you?”

You nod eagerly but Jungkook doesn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he’s hesitant. Taehyung’s eyeing him closely, curiously, before he gaps. He bursts out into a fit of chuckles, earning both yours and Jungkook’s attention.

“Shit, of course,” Taehyung grins. “He’s probably gonna let go the minute he’s in you. You’re close, hm?”

“Only because she’s already been down on me,” Jungkook grumbles.

“You know that’s not it,” Taehyung replies. “You’ve been wanting this forever.”

Jungkook’s eyes suddenly darken as he glares at the older boy. “Taehyung.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, turning to gawk at both.

“Jungkook has a little crush on you,” Taehyung smirks. “This is all he’s ever wanted. I bet he’ll bust a nut the second he fucks you and he’s embarrassed.”

You gasp as you turn to face Jungkook who looks entirely disgruntled but you’re more shocked about the fact that Jungkook likes you than anything else. Jungkook, notoriously arrogant fuckboy, who’s seemingly made it his mission to give you a headache every waking moment by trying to flirt with you. And maybe you’ve always sort of known it; maybe you’ve always sort of felt the same.

“That’s not true!” Jungkook protests. “I━I━ Well, Tae hardly finishes when he’s with another girl. He’s jacked off to the thought of you before, too━”

Taehyung starts. “Fuck off━”

You’re stuck between the bickering boys, staring up at both of them with a dumbfounded expression. Before either boy can strangle the other, you’re speaking up and interrupting them.

“I don’t mind,” You say. “I’m just… surprised.”

Both boys are silent now, aggravated probably, and you giggle. You reach up to rake your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and then look up at Jungkook, using your other hand to grab onto his chin once more and force him to face you.

“Come here, you idiot,” You drawl. “I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your dick.”

Jungkook seems taken aback but then his eyes are sweeping down your body and he writhes in his seat. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him down onto you to kiss. It’s passionate and rough but hot altogether as your lips smack against one anothers. Jungkook’s desperate situation seems to hit him again, especially when you snake one of your hands down to his length and wrap your fingers around him to jerk him off. He pulls apart from you, gulping.

“Fuck, okay, okay,” he gasps. “I need to be in you right now, please.”

You and Taehyung smirk as Jungkook shifts around on the bed to kneel between your legs. He pauses, glancing up at you once more and noting the way you bite your lower lip seductively, before finally pushing himself in. He goes slow, but not as gradual as Taehyung. You can still feel him stretching you open and he groans. He seems to slide the rest of the way in with a lewd squelch sound because of just how wet you are and then he’s buried balls deep, fitting so snug within you.

“Holy shit,” he whines. “You weren’t kidding, Tae. She feels amazing.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “What does she feel like? Let her know, Kookie.”

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut momentarily to focus. “Wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Warm, tight ━ fuck, so tight.”

He marvels at the feeling, wonders how you can still clench so tightly around him despite being stretched wide by Taehyung. He bows his head to rest in the crook of your neck and moans. His words are enough to spur on your own reaction and you whimper against him.

“Oh, fuck, Jungkook━”

The sensitivity you feel in your core met with his hard cock makes you cringe but simultaneously pleases you and you’re bucking your hips for more. He groans at the feeling, his hands flying down to grip your hips. He’s big, stretching you wide, but you feel anything but pain except for the sharp burning sensation as the intensity of your past orgasms start to hit you. He rolls his hips back and then thrusts into you so hard that you yelp and jerk back on the bed.

“Go easy on her, Jungkook,” Taehyung admonishes. “She’s not a doll.”

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sighs, nipping at your throat. “You just feel so good, Y/N.”

“I’m okay,” You reassure. You feel his length twitch within you and your head lolls back. “Fuck, I feel more than okay.”

“Can we try something?” Taehyung asks.

He receives two weak nods in response. Jungkook pauses, shifts the two of you until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips, his dick never once slipping from your core. The older boy grabs onto you and yanks you onto his hips.

“What do you say we give Y/N the pleasure she deserves?” he asks. He pushes his length past your folds and is rewarded by the sound of your moans as your jaw unhinges. “Think you can handle both of us, baby?”

“Fuck, yes,” You gasp.

Jungkook seems just as enticed by this. He’s careful as he pushes his cock into you and your reaction is explosive. With Taehyung already stretching you wide, you wonder how Jungkook will fit but it’s snug and perfect. You can feel him stretching you further, inch by glorious inch, and he hasn’t even begun moving when your walls clench around the two of them. Taehyung hisses in your ear and Jungkook pauses at once, sputtering for air, giving you time to adjust. When Jungkook pushes himself further into your cunt, rubbing against Taehyung’s cock and your own walls, you can’t help the delicious moan that falls from your lips.

“Oh my god,” You whimper. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good━”

It’s such a sticky, hot mess, and all you can hear is the sound of guttural moans and grunts. You jut your hips forward, a silent plea for something more. Jungkook’s hand grasps at your ass and then he’s pulling out. He growls suddenly, thrusting his hips forward and the sensation suddenly overwhelms you. As he picks up a pace that leaves you breathless, Taehyung slowly thrusts into you and the pleasure becomes too much. Your hands reach out to grab at anything, fingers digging eagerly into Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung’s sides.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook grunts. His face is scrunched in pleasure and concentration, his mouth hanging open.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung growls. “You like being stretched wide like this, huh? Such a good girl too. Fuck━”

He’s sweating, but so are you, and all you can hear is the sound of yours and the boys’ moans, the vulgar wet slap with each thrust Jungkook makes. It’s only amplified with each small leisurely thrust Taehyung makes into your throbbing pussy, his dick rubbing against Jungkook’s with each thrust. Your walls tighten around Jungkook and Taehyung as the seconds pass and you know you’re already close to your third orgasm of the night but you try to hold off despite the room spinning. All you can do is lay there for Jungkook to ravish and control, for Taehyung to enjoy, too caught up in the moment. Your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust Jungkook makes and his gaze seems fixated on your chest before flickering down to watch himself disappear inside you each time. Taehyung is raking his fingers through your hair, soothing you through your next climax and it’s close.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, panting hard. “I’m not gonna last.”

You push your hips forward as if to probe him on and he growls.

“No, shit, let me enjoy this, baby,” he whines. “Ah, so tight━”

He’s grumbling to himself, cursing under his breath and you smirk tiredly. Jungkook leans his head down to kiss at your chest, catching one of your nipples in his warm mouth. His tongue swishes back and forth over the perked bud and your chest arches into his face. Your fingers are clutching tight at his hair even as he obeys and adds more force with each thrust, slowly picking up his pace. His mouth widens and he sinks lower on your breast, humming against you in pleasure. Taehyung’s own pace quickens. It’s not as relentless as Jungkook’s but he makes sure to help aid you to your high, ramming his hips into yours until both their cocks slip into a seamless pattern. All you can focus on is the crude wetness, the way their dicks threaten to slip from your hold at how sloppy and wrecked your cunt becomes.

“Ah, yes,” You hiss. “Fuck, yes, yes━ So good, oh my god━ Right there━”

Your voice is cut off by a loud moan. You feel the familiar wave hit you once more and this time you hardly have any strength to fight it off or welcome it.

“I can’t━” You wail suddenly. “Fuck, I can’t━ I’m gonna cum━”

You’re fumbling for words to warn him that you’re close before you’re cuming around them. Their names wrench from your throat in no discernible pattern, accompanied by vulgar curses. Your body writhes between the two boys, your chest arching into his mouth, your legs tightening around Jungkook’s waist.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jungkook coos. “Come on, wanna feel you cream all over us━”

Stars form behind your eyelids and explode into galaxies as they swirl down your spine and to the tip of your toes, making them and your fingers curl in delight. Your vision grows blurry and tears stream down your face at the build up of pressure finally being released for the third time and you can’t help it when your mantra turns into delighted sobs and whimpers. You’re clenched so tight that Jungkook feels as if he hardly has any space to move and the confinement of his length has him gasping. He pulls apart from your breast to watch your scrunched up face with hooded eyes. He moans again, and desperately leans down to suck at your jawline.

You’re too spent to keep up with him or Taehyung as he helps you further to your high but you know Jungkook is close when his thrusts become messy, quick spurts. You gasp each time he thrusts up into you until he’s finally cuming.

“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna cum━ Gonna let us fill you up, baby?”

“Please, please, wanna feel it,” You mewl.

He slams his hips into yours and stills for a moment as he releases into you in one hot wave and emits a beautiful moan of your name. You’re panting hard even as he rides out both your highs with a few more incredibly sloppy pumps before he finally collapses against your chest. The two of you are struggling to catch your breaths, your heart beating in your ears.

The room is silent, blissful, and it takes you a few moments of basking in it before you’ve regained your breath. Your fingers rake in Jungkook’s soft and sweaty hair and you hum in content. His mouth presses a few open mouthed and hot kisses along your neck and jawline before connecting with your own mouth. This time, the kiss is chaste and you smile against his lips before he’s pulling out of you. You moan at the missing feeling of his warmth and the way his own cum leaks from your core, down Taehyung’s cock, and your own thighs.

But Taehyung isn’t done. He thrusts up into you to ride out his own high, pushing Jungkook’s release back into you. His pace is steady, deep, and all you can both do is moan and gasp for air.

“Fuck, Tae,” You rasp tiredly. “Cum for me, baby.”

The boy gasps for air, nearly fumbling behind you to reach his high. “Gonna make this pussy mine. Fuuck━”

When Taehyung finally reaches his own high, it’s in another sticky stream of hot cum, each fluid mingling with the other in a pitiful mess. He pulls his slackened length from you and you whimper at sudden the loss, core and legs aching. As you slide onto the bed between the two tired and breathless boys, Jungkook wipes at your glistening core with a shirt and you sigh in content.

“Why haven’t we done that before?” You gasp, earning a chuckle from both. Jungkook lets out a boisterous laugh and you flick his arm. “If you say anything dumb, we’re never having a round two.”

“Round two?” he asks, wriggling his brows. “You want this to happen again?”

You nod, though you can already start to feel yourself succumb to sleep as it creeps upon you. “What do you think, Tae?”

“I think,” The older boy hums, “that’s your best idea yet.”

Jungkook seems surprised, excited even, and you smile sleepily. Taehyung throws his arm over your waist and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping you in his arms as he slips off to sleep.

Before you fall asleep that night, you snake your arm up Jungkook’s chest and let your hand rest against his beating heart which you can still feel beating shrilly even long after your messy night together.

You awake to the familiar sound of your alarm.

It’s loud, annoying, and jolts you awake only to toss you into a haze of muddled confusion and an incredibly terrible hangover. Your head throbs and your body aches. Sunlight splashes in from the closed blinds and illuminates your face, making you squint.

“Turn that off, Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Taehyung snaps, his voice muffled and aggravated.

Your mind is too groggy to realize he’s sleeping next to you, too groggy to suddenly remember what happened the night before. Until, of course, you feel your limbs tangled with not only Taehyung’s but another’s. When you crane your neck to look, you see Jeon Jungkook splayed out beside you sleeping peacefully and you gasp.

The events of the night before suddenly flood your mind and everything is hazy up until your wild time with the two boys. Your muddled sober mind alerts your heart and suddenly it’s beating hard and fast in your chest as you register the situation. You’re used to waking up with a naked Taehyung by your side but never were you used to waking up next to a naked Taehyung and Jungkook.

Jungkook stirs in his sleep then and you curse silently, diving for your phone on the floor before realizing your drastic mistake. Your core is still tender and your legs feel so delicate, nearly caving in beneath you as you wobble precariously. Somehow, you manage to grab your phone and tap the snooze button hastily. Taehyung’s still half asleep on his side but Jungkook lays on his back and you’re surprised to see him looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” You hiss. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream?”

You gnaw on your lower lip and reach down blindly to grab the nearest article of clothing on the floor (one of Taehyung’s shirts) to toss over your bare body. To soothe your aching muscles, you resort to kneeling on the edge of the bed.

“It wasn’t,” Taehyung murmurs.

“Nice to know you think our dicks are dream worthy though,” Jungkook snorts. “So when’s our round two?”

Your promise from the night before dawns on you all too suddenly and, though you feign your usual annoyance for both boys, the potential prospect of another night with the two of them thrills you to no end.

“I━ I━” You stammer.

“Come back here, baby,” Taehyung muses. “It’s too early to be up right now. You can sleep a bit longer before you pretend you hate the both of us.”

Your eyes flicker down to your phone to check the time: 6 a.m. You can barely walk, let alone function this early in the morning, even without the added stress of your hangover, and sleep seems far too appealing to ignore. Maybe you can stay for a few more hours…

“Fine,” You grumble. You crawl back between them and wiggle around until you’re laying back on the bed. “But you’re making me that cup of coffee when I wake up, Taehyung.”

“Anything else, princess?” Taehyung grins.

“Maybe run me a bath too,” You wince as you settle back against the bed. “Everything hurts.”

“Will do,” Jungkook says. “Gotta do the most to make sure we get that second round. Now, come here━”

The boys snicker and, soon, the three of you have slipped back into a peaceful slumber.

You know that when you wake you’ll profusely deny that the night before and the morning after had ever happened; that you’ll never again find yourself in either Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s bed, much less with the both of them at the same time ━ but you find that you never really listen much to rules anyway.

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