#Dick: *incoherent screeching noises*

[xysidhequeen]

Dick: I'm older than you!

Danny, time traveller whose prove of existence dates back to ancient cave painting: ohh? prove it.

Dick can't prove shit and it's going to drive him insane that he can't. He can't find out Danny's real name, his family history, even if this kid has a diploma because Tucker scrubbed every trace of Danny off any electric device in the world. (And via blackmail and bribes used various ghosts to clear out any physical copies) Of course, if Danny wants that information made available again, Tucker can do that

But. What Dick can find is what Danny requested be left. Which is only things from hundreds, thousands of years ago. Mosaics of him in ancient temples. Busts of him carved by long dead famous sculptors. Hell, he's even now heard rumors there's ancient art of Danny on other planets! He's even mentioned in ancient texts!

And. What's even worse. Is occasionally Jason shows up or is mentioned too. But Dick can prove Jason was born 18 years ago dammit so it's the only clue he has that there is shenanigans afoot.

Danny Nightingale, gaslight gatekeep girlbossing his way through making Dick question everything. Because Dick knows Danny is fucking with him he just can't prove it.

Now a snippet as a present for the ask

💚

"Did he take a thermos with him? I saw a thermos before he Leroy Jenkins himself out of my window," Dick demanded, opening said window to poke his head out and look around. 

"That was a thermos, yes." Jason nodded as Dick, with a slight pout, closed the window, giving it one last suspicious glare, as if the window itself was the reason behind Danny's sudden supernatural departure, and turned back towards Jason.

[tooth-and-flesh]

𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑🍒 [smut]

(𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒂, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒖𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔. 𝑳𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒉𝒆/𝒊𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄)

𝑨𝒏𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

[mc] was just finishing up cleaning from being in the hot tub outside their house, their hair wrapped in a towel with another towel covering them from the collarbones down. water dripped from their skin and hair as they stepped into the bedroom.

now, [mc] had finished up early today- usually they'd come back at around 10pm. but, tonight they had come back at 8pm, since they had suddenly remembered that they had work to finish for the book they were currently studying and writing an essay on to get a better understanding of the topics in the book they were about to write.

it took them a good second to comprehend the scene in front of them. Licorice had his dinky little phone open to a picture he had taken of the two of them- they had recently had a night to themselves of relaxing in the hot tub, and they actually had a really fun time-

but, here it was, drooling over the photo as he mindlessly pleasured himself. his visible eye was droopy as he squished his thighs together, his dick twitching in his hand as he felt himself nearing his release.

suddenly, he paused and looked over to [mc], making direct eye contact with them before his hands flew away from his dick, ripping the sheets and comforter over his lap as he slapped his phone off of the bed, screeching a bit and retracting his head back into his cloak. he was completely naked other than the cloak, having been too lazy to take it off-

and oh, was that a treat to be greeted with. [mc] just watched him for a few moments, crossing their arms over their chest as they waited for him to control himself.

he finally peeked out from under the shield of his dreads, his visible eyebrow upturned in worry as he tried to read your face and figure out if they hated him now.

he was surprised to see that they were already crawling onto the bed, letting the towel drop from their hair as they rested their hand on the comforter.

Licorice stared in disbelief as they started to gently squeeze at that spot, his body feeling like it was on fire. does [mc] really want to touch him like that? they aren't disgusted with him??

a million thoughts ran through his head at once, feeling far away from the situation as they tugged down the comforter and sheets. his cock slowly lifted, fully hard still, with precum leaking from the slit on the head of his dick.

Licorice gripped at the sheets on either side of him tightly, completely malfunctioning as they slowly and softly traced their index finger over a prominent vain on the underside of his cock, making it twitch a bit.

he let out a loud gasp as he felt [mc] wrap their lips around the head of his cock, immediately hallowing out their cheeks as they sucked up all of the precum from him.

his left hand shakily moved to entangle itself in their hair, his legs spreading apart and shaking as they started to deepen the rapid sucking of his cock.

some drool leaked from their mouth, slowly dripping down his dick as they pushed their head down until it reached his pubes. its hips bucked instinctively as [mc] choked around it.

obviously, his dick wasn't that big, but it was still enough to start to feel the tip slip down their throat slightly.

[mc] was absolutely soaking wet at this point, and definitely not from the hot tub.

Licorice was drowning in pleasure, its head thrown back and the scars on its neck and torso clearly exposed as it shakily lifted its legs over their shoulders, its toes curling.

"[m-mc]!~" he squealed out, his lips parting to allow his mouth to open in a silent moan, starting to grip at their hair a bit more.

"i c-can't.. hhhold it~.." he whimpered down to them, drool dripping down his chin as he watched tears form in the corners of [mc]'s eyes, constantly slamming their lips all the way down to his balls and pounding the tip of his cock down their throat repeatedly.

"cu-aaH~! c-cumming! [mc] i-i'm cumminG!~" he cried out, pressing both palms to the back of their head as his legs lifted into the air, his toes curling and his legs shaking as cum spurted from his cock into the back of [mc]'s throat.

they choked down all of his cum, finding he was cumming a lot just from a bit of head.

[mc] slowly lifted up, wiping their mouth and pushing Licorice's legs back until he was pressed onto his back with his knees almost touching the mattress on either side of his head, his body feeling fuzzy from that intense orgasm.

"do you want to be in or out?~" [mc] purred, reaching down to rub their thumb over Licorice's chest firmly.

oh lord, is this really happening?

Licorice stuttered slightly. nothing like this has ever happened before, especially not with his biggest villain crush ever. but, because of that, he didn't feel he was completely ready.

"o-out.. is good.." he panted out, throwing his head back and squealing as he felt [mc]'s wet pussy slide against the underside of his cock.

they bit their lip as they slid his dick up and down the slit of their pussy, the tip sliding in a bit on accident from how wet they were.

Licorice took a moment to glance up at them, and was extremely happy it had looked up at that exact moment.

[mc]'s towel slowly slipped from their body, uncovering their breasts. they were teasing their own nipples between their right hand's index finger and middle finger, panting softly while rubbing their clit slowly against his dick.

he started to drool even more, feeling his own heartbeat in his dick as his eyes trailed down to your soaking clit. the wetness made it extremely easy to slide around, and some of it was dripping down your thighs.

Licorice was extremely proud to have made someone so attractive get so worked up over him, letting his legs spread so he was almost in the shape of a V.

"y-yes~ mph~... please [mc]~.. rrub it against m-me~ just like that~.. sso wet~" he whispered to himself incoherently, his eyes droopy as his dreads fell away from his eyes.

[mc] snapped their hips forwards before bringing their hand away from their tit, moving it down to place it on his chin gently.

"do you still want it out?.." they spoke quietly, tears forming in their own eyes from the overwhelming pressure building up. all they could think about was Licorice's soft, dripping dick sliding in and out of their pussy-

Licorice quickly shook its head, letting a pitiful moan escape its lips.

"n-no.. please.. i c-changed my mind- i want you.. i want you now.. please.."

that was all the convincing it took for [mc] to promptly reach down and grab his dick, giving it a slight squeeze before pushing themself down onto it.

Licorice squealed and tried to hide his face in the pillow under his head, shaking his head back and forth as he let out a loud moan.

"p-please! fffuHh~" he whimpered, his hips bucking. [mc] suddenly let out a lewd moan, spreading their legs.

"L-Licorice~ aHn~" they breathed out in a whine-y tone.

they instantly began to bounce themself up and down, letting out a lewd cry every time Licorice's cock pounded up into them.

"[m-mc]... w-wait.. i.. i'm g-gonna.. i'm gonna cum again.." he whispered breathlessly, looking up at them with pleading eyes. he had only lasted a few moments but- this overwhelming pressure was too much for him. his dick twitched inside of [mc], begging for a release.

[mc] promptly lifted themself off, giving Licorice a quick kiss before turning around.

only until they rested their clit against Licorice's lips did he actually understand what they were doing.

Licorice promptly began to lap at their wet pussy, making quiet slurping noises and sucking on every part his lips could touch.

they grinded down against his tongue as they felt it slip inside of them, starting to jack them off with a firm grip. he moaned up into their clit, sending vibrations through their body that made [mc] moan out Licorice's name.

the man below them look this as a sign he was doing good and swirled his tongue around inside of them, sucking and lapping at the wetness coating the inside of their pussy before moving further up your pussy to suck on your clit, shakily reaching his hands up to use his thumbs and spread the lips of [mc]'s pussy.

he firmly moved his tongue up and down, making their legs shake in pleasure and their hands freeze for a moment.

"L-Lic-ah~ pllease~.. your.. your tongue.." [mc] whispered, leaning down to suck the precum from Licorice's twitching dick.

Licorice bit his lip a bit before putting his whole mouth over their dripping clit, moving his jaw in a gentle eating motion as he flicked his tongue up and down.

he let out a loud moan against their clit as he felt them release into his mouth, his hips bucking up as he came once more into [mc]'s mouth.

after a long while of panting and whimpering, [mc] finally turned around to look at Licorice.

his eyes were a bit clouded over from how tired he was, panting like his life depended on it with his face covered in the wetness of [mc]'s clit.

[mc] reached up to put their thumb on his chin, slowly pulling his face closer before giving him a soft kiss on the forehead.

Licorice closed his eyes and squirmed closer to them, his legs feeling cottony from the intense orgasms.

"i.. i love you [mc].." he whispered into their ear, curling up and pressing himself against them.

[mc] nodded and gave him one last kiss on the forehead, fixing any tangle in its dreads from whipping its head around so much.

"i love you too, Lico.. get some rest now, lovely.." they mumbled, moving the hair from his face as he promptly shoved his face between their boobs, humming quietly to himself.

[mc] snorted before letting him relax there, only falling asleep after Licorice had done the same.

[kingkatsuki]

Jo, I can't stop thinking about your ass eating thirst.

Like, imagine the next time. He's feeling less hesitant about it, so when you tell him this time you want to eat him out from the back he's like "fine".

So you end up with him on all fours, dick dangling between his legs, completely hard and dripping precum on the sheets. While you just go to town on his ass. And at first he is just taking it easy, making small noises leaving and just enjoying himself. But as his orgasm builds up he can't hold back anymore. He's now face down and ass up, desperately pushing himself into you. Shamelessly grinding against your face, trying to get you to bury your tongue deeper into his hole. Groaning and moaning about how fuckin' good it feels as your spit dribbles down his taint and balls. And when you finally, finally decide to play with his balls? It's too much for him, and before you know it he is literally shaking as he comes hard, cum dripping directly onto the bed as you continue to lick the softened rim of his pulsating asshole.

ok, I'm done. It's out of my system. For now.

*incoherent screeching* oh my GOD. This literally the dream.

Acts like he doesn’t want it, but immediately assumes the position and becomes a moaning mess. Deliberately spreads his thighs wider so the sensitive tip of his cock drags against the sheets with each roll of his hips so he can give his neglected length some much needed friction. Can barely even hold himself up on all fours when he cums😫

[scarecrow-supremacy]

Arranged Love | Pt 4

Thank you to Mrs. Hatake for requesting this prompt to me!

In which: f!reader is interested in being in a fwb like relationship, but is forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only, Hatake Kakashi. Both (y/n) and Kakashi only agree to marry for the sake of convivence. (y/n) with her needs, and Kakashi with his wish to revive his clan.

AO3 Chapter

Lime/Smut warning 

*Lime, but the next chapter will probably be smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)*

Infinite things I could hate about you

The way you walk

The way you talk

The way you capture my mind

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick...

You counted the soft noises of the clock, knowing full well that your alarm clock was bound to go off at any moment now. You could have gotten up to start your day early, but you, quite frankly, lack the motivation to do so. Anyways, it was your day off. Being productive is highly overrated... You mentally uttered. Why get out of bed when you could cuddle with your plush lavender body-sized pillow all morning? You groaned, your actions making your further realize how friggen lonely you felt within. If only the pillow could have been a person...

You glared daggers at the rose gold engagement ring upon your finger. Technically, you really weren't lonely. Hell, there was a part of you that would have preferred to be alone again. Why him?! Annoyed thoughts swarmed your mind, keeping you from attaining proper relaxation. Of all people...Why him? You pulled your pillow closer to your chest, burying your face into the cool silken cover and squeezing it tightly. Why, why, why? Your mind paced. It wasn't that you were thinking about him, Hatake Kakashi, so much. It was how you thought about him that filled you up with despair.

New feelings...shining in a new light.

What is wrong with me?!

Your eyes traveled to your stomach, your diary still opened up to the page you were writing last night. The whole diary idea was Kurenai's, back when you were made jonin, around the age of 14. She knew you weren't the best with opening up to people. So to let out your pains, she had recommended writing about them. And in honesty, you were glad that you had decided to take her advice. Writing did make you feel better. Ranting out all of your troubles without any worries of being judged. As of these days, most of your entries were about Kakashi or how you wanted to relieve yourself. It's almost concerned you that you wrote about him so damn much. Just shove him aside!

"Urg!" Your groaned, gathering the willpower to get up from your blanket cocoon and take a nice and warm shower, "Sulking won't do any good..." With a sigh, you entered your kitchen, telling yourself that you'd shower after grabbing something to replenish your hunger. It was glaringly obvious that cooking wasn't your forte. In fact, you were absolutely horrendous at it. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you somehow managed to burn water while trying to boil it.  You, the woman dubbed Ibara-hime, the Thorn Princess, could not cook if your life depended on it.

After contemplating what you could make without burning your kitchen down, you simply made yourself a cup of your favorite herbal tea to energize your body. It wasn't much, but it helped wake you up.

Ding dong, the bell to your apartment rang. "Gimme a sec!" You called out the person, throwing on your flak jacket just for formalities. "Oh..." Your face fell, yet your stomach fluttered, "It's you–"

"Yeah, it's me," one Hatake Kakashi mocked the tone you had greeted him with, running his fingers through his silvery hair. You didn't want to think much of it, but his hair just looked so soft...

"What do ya want, Hatake?" You put your hands on your hips and pouted.

Kakashi groaned as he made himself welcome inside your quaint home, "I'm bored," He simply told you, plopping himself right in the middle of your couch. What a dick, you muttered, having to sit on a chair instead of the sofa. "Wahh..?" You whispered as Kakashi's eyes took in ever single bit of you. Your skin started to burn, although his gaze wasn't exactly giving off a positive vibe. "Stop eyeing me like that, Hatake." You mustered up the courage to spit out.

"Oi, it's not my fault," Kakashi sassed, "Take a look at what you're wearing, yariman." Slut, his deep and rich voice had called you.

Anger stirred up inside of you, along with embarrassment, causing your skin to feel as if it was on fire. You felt yourself get flustered as you looked down at your short skirt, which had rid up your legs, and lacy dark green bra that had been reveled by your unzipped vest. "O-oh!" You breathed, your hand going to zip up your flak jacket, yet was slapped away before you could. "What the hell, Hatake?" You flashed him a bewildered look.

Kakashi chuckled smugly, the smirk under his mask apparent, "Don't... I kinda like you dressed like this." He stated matter-of-factly.

"But you j-just," You stuttered out, "called me a..." you trailed off, averting you eyes. Urg, the audacity of this pervert, your inner self spoke. "Perverted idiot."

"Call me what you want," Kakashi grabbed your hand, "I'm your perverted idiot, forever." He laughed softly. Woah, he never acts like this...

"Did somebody drug you?" you sweat-dropped, unintentionally blurted out your thoughts, "You normally don't act like this."

Kakashi sent you a wary look, but you could tell he felt slightly hurt by your remark, "No..." he replied cautiously, "I just thought...it would be good to loosen up."

Your expression softened ever so slightly, "Oh..." the two of you sat in pin drop silence.

"You know," Kakashi ventured, "dark green is my favorite color."

"Hatake!" You yelped, instinctively covering your chest, "I'm going to take a shower!" You turned you back to your dreaded fiancé, stomping out of the room to go bathe.

"I might as well join you then," Kakashi shrugged, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

"I'm sorry what?!" you exclaimed

"I haven't showered yet today."

"Urg..!" He's drugged, I'm sure of it... you thought, finally giving in to Kakashi. "Kitanai yarō!"

 "Well," Kakashi tapped his foot, carefully placing his flak jacket upon the silken sheets of your bed, "aren't you going to strip down?" He asked as he started to remove the cloth bindings from his thigh and ankles.

"Y-yeah..." you flushed softly, "J-just gimme a second." You dashed off, tossing my clothes into your basket of dirty laundry and grabbing a towel to wrap around your bare body, "Okay..." you mumbled, peaking your head out from the bathroom. The tension in the room was heavy and hot, almost uncomfortable. It was...something you had never felt. Hence, you couldn't put your finger on a way properly to describe the situation. Yet heat rushed to your core, even the tiniest smidge of arousal turning on your mind. You felt like your every movement was being recorded in Kakashi's mind. His gaze digging into your soul like a kunai in delicate flesh. Like his– No, no, no, no! No pervy thoughts, (y/n)! Stay classy, you ordered your mind, preventing it from trailing off. We have a dignity, remember?

You hesitantly got into the shower, testing the waters for the proper temperature. "Ahhh," you moaned ever so slightly, the raining down of the water slipping down your body and rejuvenating your sores from the previous night's round of nightmares. "Oi..." Kakashi started to speak as he entered the shower from behind you, ending up grunting incoherently. You shook your head, sighing in disapproval whilst rubbing from body wash into your soft (s/t) skin. You felt a pair of hands brush past your hair, reaching for the hair conditioner, "Rose and sandalwood, eh? No wonder you smell like a garden and incense shop." Kakashi breathed down your neck.

You tried your best not to look back at him, your heart racing for reasons you tried to reject. Nope! We can't be falling for him! You let out a slight gasp as Kakashi's hands found their way to your hips, tracing the gracefully toned muscles of your stomach. "Kakashi...what are you doing?" You whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the running water.

"I read your diary," you could practically heard the smirk on Kakashi's face, "I think I can help you with your needs..." Kakashi licked the helix of your ear. A shudder went down your spine, a foreign though crossing your mind. Maybe, just maybe, we could make this work... your mind ventured. "Kami, I've been having some problems myself, big problems..." Kakashi told you, his voice velvety coffee as he nipped at your neck. His hardening length pressing against your round ass. You could feel your walls start to clench; you were surprised that your body was reacting to Kakashi's touch like this.

No disturbance could get in the way of this exhilarating moment, right?

"(Y/N)! RAIDŌ ASKED ME OUT! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!" The voice of Mitarashi Anko screeched, she wandered into your bathroom, "YESS!"

"Anko..." You cringed, clenching your fists, "W-wrong t-time..." You moaned as Kakashi's finger teased your clit.

"What?" Anko called out, "I can't hear you over the water. Could ya speak up."

Kakashi pumped faster, "You heard her, louder." His intentions directing towards your moans, blessed music to his ears.

You sucked your breath, "N-never m-mind, Anko!" You managed to force out, trying your absolute hardest to not moan.

"Wait...Is that..." Anko's voice trailed off, "Kakashi's mask, and his..."

"A-anko! Pl-pleas j-just..." you bit your tongue, "go. Ju-just tell me l-later!" You begged her, turning to look at Kakashi with pleading eyes. Not now, Kakashi, you tried to convey with your widened (e/c) eyes.

"OH HELL NO! SORRY!" Anko cried out, causing Kakashi to pull his fingers out of you with a let down sigh. The smoke of Anko's hasty teleportation jutsu lingering for a few moments.

The mood had officially been broken. Thanks a lot, Anko, you mentally swore. But holy hell, you were about to get laid. Shamefully, you looked at the floor as Kakashi rinsed our your hair. "I–" you tried to speak, yet your voice faltered as you took a moment to observe Kakashi's face.

"Are you still in for it?" Kakashi raised his eyebrow; his left eye lidded.

"Oh! Uh..." your heart suddenly fluttered, "Y-yeah." You told him shyly.

Kakashi flashed you a smirk, "How about we just dry off, then..." He winked at you.

Yep, I'm convinced he's drugged... There's no other explanation...

Infinite things I try to love about you

They way you walk

The way you talk

The way you capture my mind

[spaceskam]

Oh my god this is amazing, how about Victorious, number 2?

okay most prompts are gonna be saved for after Christmas, but I got excited because I like this prompt list I made and i want to force other people to look at it and it's 1:30am and I've lost my mind

Victorious #2: character A gets their wisdom teeth removed and it's a handful, everyone has to help

"If I spend one more moment alone with him, I am going to kill him."

As if on cue, Michael let out a whine so loud that they could hear it from where they were congregating on the front porch of the cabin. Kyle closed his eyes, clenching his jaw at the sound. Logically, he was the doctor and he was best equipped to handle an unruly patient.

However, Michael Guerin defied logic.

"Oh, c'mon, this is his first, like, human thing he had to deal with, you have to give him a break," Isobel told him, but she really, really didn't get it.

Michael's "wisdom teeth", as they were calling whatever those freakishly sharp bones growing out of the back of his mouth were, had been hellish to remove. Because of that, he was on some nice drugs that were supposed to keep him asleep until it stop hurting. Instead, he was awake and a mess.

"Kyle!" Michael screamed. Sort of. It was more of just a high pitched whine with no consonants that Kyle had begun to recognize as his name.

"Please, help," Kyle begged them. He had called Liz, Isobel, Max, and Maria all to come help him take care of the monster. Alex was not going to be called if they could help it. Kyle promised him that he could handle it and that he could work. Maybe he had regrets, but Alex did not need to know that.

"Okay, we can do this!" Liz said and he was more than a little thankful for her can-do attitude.

Liz marched right into the room and went to Michael who was laid out on the couch. They all followed, staring at the puffy-cheeked manchild. His face was swollen and miserable, bloody gauze bursting from his mouth along with his tongue that he'd given up control over awhile ago.

"I bet your bed would be more comfortable, Mikey," she said softly. His eyebrows furrowed and he whined, throwing his arms around haphazardly like it was supposed to mean something. Liz blinked and then looked to Kyle.

"See? He's a mess."

"Hush, he can hear you," Isobel hissed. She knelt beside him and ran a hand through his hand which only earned more whining and thrashing until he fell off the couch. Which, obviously, caused more screeching.

"Jesus," Max scoffed. He, Isobel, and Liz all moved to hoist Michael back on the couch who was crying now. "Is he crying because he's in pain?"

"Honestly?" Kyle sighed, "I have no fucking clue. This is the fifteenth time he's cried since I brought him home."

"Do you wanna go take a nap?" Maria cooed, "Or maybe have a cold smoothie? Something that'd feel nice?"

Michael mumbled out an incoherent, squeak-filled response that just made Maria frown. She put her hand to his forehead and Michael just whined again, swatting her away.

"If you couldn't tell, he's not really big on being touch right now," Kyle sighed, crossing his arms. He felt like a dick, but also this was impossible. He was tired of hearing whining and tired of Michael not even trying.

"Maybe we should cave and call Alex?" Max suggested. Everyone in the room said 'no', while Michael just whined really loudly and held out his arms for nothing in particular. Kyle frowned.

"I said we could handle this and we can," Kyle said, "I'm gonna go get an ice pack."

In the minute it took him to get an ice pack, wrap it in a wash cloth, and put it to Michael's cheek, Michael had become enraged. He screeched something inhuman, flailing around even worse and knocking the ice pack out of Kyle's hand. All the objects on the walls and even the furniture in the cabin began to quake with his irritable energy.

Kyle thought about enforcing that they not call Alex when something shattered and it became clear they needed to bring in the big guns.

"Fine. Call Alex."

The call of defeat didn't seem to surprise Alex who arrived much faster than he should've. Kyle assumed he was already on his way back.

"I told you I could help," he said without any animosity or mocking when he walked in. The five of them were standing a good distance away from the ticking time bomb that was Michael Guerin. That was what got them an eyeroll from Alex.

When he sat on the couch, Michael latched onto him. They watched him put his head in his lap and curl up, finally stopping the irritating noises and the angry flailing and the out of control telekinesis. Alex even ran his hand through his hair and nothing life threatening happened.

"Could you guys get him an ice pack? I bet that would help," Alex said with a smile.

Kyle just did as he said because apparently one Alex was better than five other people when it came to Michael Guerin.

[ofdivinegrace]

Out of Context Things Said In The Discord Server Part II

“All hail the brazen angel who broke Michael.” 'In the words of the Archangel Gabriel "Bite me".' “Chuck is the fish Pudge” “ok but lowkey 'enemy of creation' is a badass title” “-dabs in Scorpio-”  “-cries in Leo-”  “I’m a stop sign.” “I shall never know the truth of my signs.” “ I'm a libra idk what that means.” “ It explains why u are always blocked.” “angry tea sipping is an art form.” “Scuse u, my phone is a Lady.” “we need to have labels for them; Michaels red, blue, and yellow.” “-smacks friend with a newspaper.-  YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE ASLEEP.” “why is the server horny now?”  “tigger was my main bitch growing up” “i refuse to drink milk cause i don’t want my skeleton to become strong enough to leave my body.” “-incoherent hellish daddy issue screeching-” “they sing to him together;for double gay power.”  “i'm glad i can build my own canon with blackjack and hookers.” “ill swallow it whole don’t test me” “ -sssssssssssssssiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiipppppppppppp-” “-smacks with a broom-” “-hisses; climbs the fridge-” “Apparently I'm transcending my human form to become a tiger." “y’all ever? [screams into the abyss]” “ *sips red bull* ....sometimes.” “ i'm at school and A NAKED MAN APPEARED ON TUMBLR DOT COM.” “cleaning nasty cat butts is like peak cat parent task.” “ plot twist the GOD stands for Great Old Dragons” “Glib Overbearing Dad” “Grumpy Omnipresent Dick” “If you won't let me or try to stop me having fun, I'm taking all the toys with me" “#fuckcanon” “wow i've been messaged by 4 spam bots and got followed by 3 porn bots in the past 2 days like i love a functioning website.” “ -throws confetti for the free day-” “Celestial Pikachu” “strangers on tumblr say the darndest things” “ I will fight and kick ur teeth out then cry about whatever you said to me.” “ he only want to be insulting when he prays right now.” “Dear Lord; Fuck you. Amen. Easy” “-high pitched noises of alarm that only dogs can hear-” “icb this car has more furniture than my place.”  “ -puts him on his camel-” “ON HIS WHAT?” “Camel.”  “I said no bitch -turns to goo and slithers away-”  “ Who gonna smite me so I can get some goddamn rest” “ also theres a dick museum there so” “the one with a lot of dICKS FROM ALL SPECIES? I WANNA GO THERE” “ yeah and an occasional fucking volcano explosion.” “ I read ‘occasionally fucking a volcano’” “He was the original gross angel” “WAS?” “i can't believe tumblr made me read the words "shark apologists" with my own two eyes” “ not sure if kink or cannibalism.” “ -giggling over Poseidon HOOKING up with people.-” “HES LITERALLY LOADED UP WITH SO MUCH AMGER OK” “ amger is amor and anger combined.” “ mini army of michaels ready to Throw Down” “An archangel; having self care? IN THIS ECONOMY?” “Look I’m 300 years old I don’t know slang” “What’s his name?” “Precious Mcperfectface” “More like Nerd Mcnerdface.” “ Hit it till u dont feel it” “ cut it off and reattach it afterwards” “Creamy crimes sounds kinky” “ i don't have pale people problems, i have my-mom-had-nice-olive-skin-but-she-didn't-pass -those-particular-genetics-onto-me-i-only-got-the-dark hair problems” “ the amount of straighteners i burned through in my emo days” “ ...............how do you burn a straightner??” “Sold my soul to the dark lord” “It was so easy to sell your soul back then;Now they ask for your credit score like fucking hell” “ The historical data demands paranoia” “STARS STREAK ACROSS THE SKY IN THE SHAPE OF A MIDDLE FINGER” “ah, stars, the twitter characters of the celestials” “ THIS IS WHY GOD DOESN'T FUCKING LOVE YOU” “ he's build your own angel now :1 ikea version” “ he can't even carry his limbs to raphael for reattachment” “ STARVED OF AFFECTION AND FOOD” “LISTEN” “STARVED” “ and i've only stolen a gerber” “ i thought that read gerbil and i was like....” “ Wasn’t me I don’t even own a pair of eyes” “ what are you jack?" “you’re Jack?” “BRAINLINK” “Drunken moose antics”

[kiruuuuu]

Doc/Lion oneshot in which, instead of going for each other’s throat, they reach a little lower (and Lion gets more than he bargained for). (Rating E, explicit, ~3k words) - written for @big-r6s-fan! 💗 I will never tire of thanking you for commissioning me and allowing me to write this because it was super fun :) Find my commission info here!

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“Flament, a word.”

The tone of voice effortlessly conveys the blatant lie in Doc’s statement – what he really means to say is: The only thing keeping me from writing you a novel is lack of time. Lion narrowly avoids rolling his eyes in annoyance and obliges, throws Montagne a meaningful look which implies they’ll finish their rudely interrupted conversation later and trails after his other teammate. If he could’ve gotten away with it, he’d be dragging his feet just because the murderous glare Doc would send him never fails to be hilarious. He’s reasonably certain he knows what this is about and boy, is he not in the mood for this.

And of course Doc marches him into his office instead of just any room which would’ve served the same purpose. With his inflated ego, it’s no surprise he enjoys chewing people out in a place where he’s comfortable; Lion can’t even begin counting the occasions on which he ended up on this side of the mahogany desk, having his person and skills and ethics challenged by a man too naive to be in this line of work and who genuinely thought he could pull off that frankly ridiculous moustache for a few years of his life. Lion is almost sad it’s gone by now, it befitted Doc’s general absurdity.

It doesn’t matter. He’s secretly begun rebelling against the man’s authority in a satisfying way and now he puffs himself up whenever he comes face to face with the very desk which used to make his temper flare purely by existing, but by now has lost its sting. It was customary for him to view the solid piece of furniture as an unsurmountable obstacle rendering any proper communication between them impossible, yet his view has shifted. It’s converted. It’s working for him now.

“I will not stand for you endangering more innocent lives.” Doc’s French is clipped, efficient, yet more than a tool to be used – he has the same intonation and melody to his words as Lion’s parents, as Sophie, as former teachers.

“Then stop endangering your own”, he replies and wants nothing more than to stuff something down Doc’s throat to make him stop talking. His holier-than-thou attitude has always rubbed Lion the wrong way, created sparks of fury, hostility, and something… entirely different on occasion. There’s dust from the debris in Doc’s hair, making it whiter than it already is and Lion wants to bury his fingers in it and then pull sharply.

He needs to stop getting distracted.

“Stop interfering with my work”, Doc snaps and it’s wonderful how easily Lion can get under his skin. At this point, it’s almost a hobby for him to rile up his colleague. And while private hissy fits are a necessary-turned-amusing evil, they serve another purpose as well: providing excellent material for long, gratifying ‘self-care’ sessions in which he fantasises about what would’ve happened if instead of quoting a specific law to shut down Doc’s argument, he’d just crowded him against a wall, rumbled filth into his ear and showed him how unprofessional he really can be.

“Then stop interfering with mine.” He has to suppress a smirk at the frustration on Doc’s face and doesn’t mind in the least that he’s doing the grown-up version of ‘no you’.

“Pray tell, Flament, what exactly does your work entail then? Does it state anywhere you should prevent me from administering first aid to a wounded civilian? Hm?” His tone is cutting, sharp and sweet like a rose’s thorn, and he actually abandons his safe haven behind the desk to come down to Lion’s level – or rather lower. Because he is noticeably shorter and Lion gladly stands up straighter to emphasise this fact.

“Above all, my work entails keeping my colleagues safe, for example preventing an altruistic idiot from rushing head first into a potential ambush.”

Doc’s eyes narrow. Their faces are uncomfortably close together, a result of too many altercations in the past where both of them got scolded for raising their voice, so now they rely on dangerous hissing. His smell is making it hard to breathe because it’s earthy, mesmerising, distinct. Lion wonders how it’d feel to force him to his knees and have this defiant gaze directed up at him while his sharp tongue is used for something other than reprimanding him for - “Is that your way of saying you’re worried about me?”

Lion is halfway through formulating a reply in his head when his thoughts screech to a grinding halt. Nothing has changed, Doc’s posture is just as defensive as before, expression stony, intonation accusing, and yet the atmosphere has… tilted a little. Spilled into uncharted territory. Lion isn’t sure what to make of it. “I worry about all my colleagues”, he eventually responds neutrally.

“That doesn’t absolve you from jerking off at my desk. Repeatedly.”

Oh.

Well fuck.

He blinks owlishly, utterly speechless because how in the world is he ever going to recover. Doc knows. How does he know?

Sensing he’s not going to get a sensible response from Lion any time soon, Doc continues: “If you have a problem with me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

His mouth is faster than his brain because there’s no way he’d in his right mind shoot back: “Yeah, you can work out on my cock.”

Okay. Alright.

This is still salvageable. All he needs to do is to back off immediately, apologise for the inappropriate comment, not mention that Doc needs to stop wearing these blasted form-fitting shirts or else Lion will really end up doing a briefing with a raging hard-on in front of everyone, and then steer clear of Doc for the rest of his entire -

“Real mature, Flament, but I expected no less. I’m afraid you’re mistaken, though, as it would be the other way round.”

Once again, words elude him, this time out of indignation. The audacity. Lion has no doubt he’s the more experienced one, is taller and heavier, certainly more masculine and dominant, and Doc has the gall to imply… Shock slowly morphs into smug disbelief and he finds himself shaking his head at this bold claim. “You haven’t got the balls.”

And Doc grabs him by the collar and smashes their mouths together.

Lion just – he stops functioning for a few seconds until he realises that it’s Doc’s tongue prying his lips open so he parts them willingly with an involuntary moan he regrets the moment he utters it. His brain still refuses to acknowledge the whole situation, making it easy for Doc to overpower him, guide the messy kiss and shove his hands under Lion’s sweater and holy shit, is this really happening? The desk’s edge digs into the backs of his thighs and Doc’s teeth into his lower lip and it’s Lion who’s making these horribly embarrassing noises, isn’t it? Like a mixture of a dying whale and a prisoner of war about to be freed and this is not at all how he pictured this to go.

Despite the suddenness of it all, there’s a particular part of his body which has no trouble keeping up and draws even more attention to itself the moment Doc’s thumbs brush over Lion’s nipples and good heavens, he did not expect Doc to be such a fantastic kisser. Desperate to regain any sort of control, Lion tries to fight the onslaught by grabbing Doc’s hands, wrestling his tongue into submission and spinning them around – with an emphasis on tries. Because Doc chooses that second to push a thigh between Lion’s legs, presses it directly against his achingly hard erection in all the right ways and makes his brain short-circuit yet again. The gesture results in vague flailing on Lion’s part, a particularly vicious swipe of Doc’s merciless tongue which turns his joints into butter and some ungraceful bumbling of which Doc makes use by basically lifting him up and setting him down on his stupid desk.

Well, so much for that.

“If you want me to stop, now’s the time”, Doc murmurs against his mouth and curls his tongue around Lion’s in a way he didn’t think possible. His inner monologue has turned into no more than incoherent screaming because while this general situation is a wet dream come true, he’s conflicted about the details and yet the thought of stopping the other man doesn’t even enter his mind. When calloused fingertips twist his nipples, all he can produce is a throaty groan full of arousal and longing, and when his legs (the traitors) wrap around Doc’s to pull him closer, his opponent breaks the kiss to regard him with a disgustingly smug expression. “That’s what I thought”, he says and starts unbuttoning Lion’s trousers.

Why don’t you start lubing up my cock with your throat so the sliding in becomes easier, the monkey part of Lion’s brain provides helpfully, sends the signal to his mouth and witnesses in stark horror how he instead chokes out something very, very different: “Please, hurry up, I want you.” It seems his entire body has set out to betray him: his upper body gives in at the slightest push and lies flat on the largely empty surface he’s defiled in the past, his hands lie uselessly by his side instead of struggling, and his dick is magnificently hard. Painfully hard. So hard it’s continuously throbbing and will probably ejaculate as soon as Doc looks at it wrong.

“I noticed my hand lotion depleting unusually quickly and asked Meghan for a Black Eye when I couldn’t locate the source”, Doc informs him conversationally while ripping down Lion’s trousers with minimal resistance. And oh, that explains how he knew. And… also means that Doc saw him. Oh God. “Tell me, did you fantasise about me, Olivier?”

His cheeks are crimson. It’s impossible to provide an honest answer, not when Doc pulls his underwear down as if they’d done this a thousand times and throws his uncomfortably hard cock an appraising glance. “I”, Lion starts stupidly and then Doc’s mouth envelops him in wonderful tight heat, prompting him to thrust his hips up at the unexpected stimulation and the next thing he hears is a sharp snap.

Doc just slapped his ass as punishment.

It stings, but even worse is the realisation that Lion isn’t going to top anybody today. “You can’t do that!”, he gasps, appalled, yet the look he receives is unbothered.

“Watch me”, Doc says and does it again. This time, Lion moans at the sensation, can’t help himself, it’s just – he doesn’t even know what’s going on, only that he’s in too deep already, and he’s not only talking about Doc’s mouth and oh God, his tongue really can do what it promised earlier. A mere minute later, Lion is writhing on the cursed desk in agonising bliss, trying desperately not to come down Doc’s throat while producing so much noise it’s a miracle no one has checked on them yet. He’s so resigned to his fate that he at first doesn’t notice the warm hand creeping up his thigh and getting dangerously close to his crotch, up until the pad of a finger strokes over his entrance and absolutely no way.

“Don’t”, Lion pants and nearly knees Doc in the temple, “just – keep sucking, please, but not -”

Doc pulls off his dick with a wet pop and, unperturbed, conjures up a bottle of lube seemingly out of thin air. “Should’ve used this instead of the lotion”, he states. “Then you could’ve fingered yourself in preparation as well.”

“I don’t do that sort of thing”, Lion protests and yelps when Doc hoists his legs up, folds them in half and places Lion’s hands on his own calves. He’s much too overwhelmed to complain and so he simply holds his legs up, spread invitingly, and then there’s a slippery finger inside him.

He opens his mouth to object. The finger crooks in a way just as magical as Doc’s tongue earlier and a fierce wave of pleasure rolls through him. Lion closes his mouth again.

“I don’t believe it for a second”, Doc counters and adds a second one and good Lord, how is he doing this? Lion’s thoughts are running haywire and he’s ashamed to admit that at least half of them are focused on replacing those fingers with something else. “This looks like your natural habitat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He flinches when the digits withdraw and narrowly stops himself from substituting his own. It really does feel phenomenal.

“It means”, Doc replies while unzipping his own trousers, “that you’re a slut.”

Lion is stupefied. Did Doc just -

And before his brain even processes the insult, it shuts down completely because that’s definitely a dick pushing inside him, giving him the opportunity to adjust and then rubbing over all the right places. In utter disbelief, Lion stares down at himself and can’t fathom how he ended up here when by all means, he should’ve -

“Hold this too.” The hem of his sweater gets shoved between his teeth and he bites down automatically; his reward is warm palms stroking over his chest and fingertips finding his nipples yet again and he’s sizzling, he feels hot and weird and his skin prickles wherever Doc touches, and above all he never wants this to end. Especially when Doc starts thrusting. “Do you like this?”

Lion’s only answer is a muffled moan about an octave higher than he’d like. There’s something like fireworks going on and it almost drowns out Doc’s next words. Almost.

“You, Olivier, are a nasty little slut”, and Doc emphasises this with a particularly deep thrust, “and you deserve to be punished. Do you know why?”

He shakes his head, too preoccupied with the sight before him, the incredible feeling of becoming one with this man, something of which he’s been dreaming for a long, long time.

“But you do. Because it wasn’t just my desk, was it?” Panicked, Lion looks up and is met with a half amused, half heated gaze. Doc seems to be enjoying this at least as much as he is. “My underwear has gone missing a few times. So has my uniform. I know how you look at me.”

Oh shit. Lion’s face starts burning and it’s only partly the hard movements which rock his entire body. He must make for a shameful display: presenting himself, incapacitated of his own volition, whimpering and squirming on Doc’s magnificent cock. And he realises that he doesn’t even care – because it looks like Doc is having the time of his life, and that implies they’ll do this again.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well.” His voice is mesmerising and Lion notices himself giving in to the thrumming desire, relishing the sharp motions reaching deep and causing small explosions of need, of want, of delight. When a hand closes around his throbbing erection, he throws his head back and arches his back, feels fingernails dig into his ribs and scrape over a sensitive nipple, prompting an elated groan. “You’re sucking me in and gripping me so tightly.”

Lion wants it to last so badly, wants to hear Doc talk some more about all the depraved things he’s done because he hasn’t even mentioned half of it, can’t know the full extent, but as always, the universe is against him and gave Doc not only a gloriously talented tongue as well as a perfectly shaped dick, but also awarded him with skilled fingers who identify Lion’s weakspots in seconds and massage the ridge of his glans, torture him with long, slow strokes just like he would himself and that’s right, Doc knows exactly how he does it because he’s seen it, and this knowledge mercilessly shoves Lion off the edge without so much as a warning.

He comes with a series of moans, abs contracting marvellously and sending shocks of pleasure through him while Doc milks him, keeps jerking him in time with the almost violent spurts of come Lion unloads on his belly. Doc fucks him through it and creates white noise in Lion’s head with his thrusts, the stimulation flirting with discomfort but never really reaching it; and if it wasn’t for Doc’s own orgasm, Lion might’ve passed out cold with how hard the relief hits him. His rhythmic spasming must’ve been too much for Doc, causes him to climax while Lion is still tensing up and riding the last of his high and he looks beautiful. Doc tilts his head back with a satisfied groan, hips stuttering, and comes deep -

He – he’s actually coming inside, dick pulsing, eyes rolling back. And if Lion is honest, it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

The hem of his sweatshirt snaps back the moment he lets go and he rests his head on the uncomfortable and frankly ostentatious desk with a sigh, lowers his legs but refuses to let Doc go by wrapping them around him once again. The fight has left him, but so has the heat of the moment which has shifted into an odd uncertainty. He’s not sure what to do other than enjoy the gentle afterglow.

As if he’d read his mind, Doc bends down to him for a kiss which lasts much longer than Lion expected it to, and when they separate after a good while, they’re both smiling. “How about we think of an excuse as to why our conversation took this long while we get you cleaned up?”, he murmurs good-naturedly.

The warmth spreading in Lion’s chest easily replaces the insecurity he felt, and so he nods happily.

“Really, though. Don’t touch my stuff again.”

He almost laughs at Doc’s serious tone and decides to take a chance: “And what if I do?”

To this, Doc smirks and Lion didn’t even know he was capable of doing that, is actually glad he didn’t find out earlier because it apparently doubles his heart rate and steals his breath away.

“Then I’ll see you in my office, Flament”, he says and raises a meaningful brow.

[omgviolette12]

After Hours -Chapter 2   A Professor Loki fanfic

Previous chapter

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Warnings: Sexual content, Excessive swearing

Chapters: 2/?

Words: 1805

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101 @alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

___________

Never, in all twenty-four years of her life, did Evelyn ever think she would see the stoic and cold Professor Laufeyson in this manner.

He looked close to animalistic as he pounded into the female underneath him - his long raven hair dampened by sweat, his shirt open to reveal his chiseled form, and pants down just enough to release the cock currently nestled deep inside the mystery woman’s cunt.

Her professor was so concentrated on his task, that it took the screaming woman underneath him to alert him of Evelyn’s presence.

When he finally noticed her, Professor Laufeyson had gone sheet white, shock and terror written on his features.

Evelyn was frozen in place, eyes wide and mouth agape as she watched the two people in the room frantically try to cover their modesty.

The woman leapt off the desk in a panic, stooping down behind it to hide her nakedness. Her professor was busy buttoning his shirt with trembling hands after tucking his softening erection back inside his pants, having long discarded the paddle to the floor.

Evelyn’s eyes then looked down to the lemon cake that had spilled entirely outside its box, ruining a vast majority of the polished floor.

Without thinking, she dropped to the floor in a stupid attempt to shove the cake back inside the box, “Oh- oh my god, holy shit oh my god I’m so sorry, I- I just wanted to.. Holy shit..!”

Evidently, Evelyn was unable to think clearly in her frazzled state. In her attempt to salvage the cake, she only worsened the mess on the floor.

Although her ears were buzzing in a panic, she could still hear her professor’s breathless voice above her.

“What… What are you doing here… ?”

The only answer he received was incoherent babblings from a woman who was not in her right mind, “I-I- I don’t know I thought I heard my name - fuck this fucking cake! Holy fuck…”

Panic coursed through his veins as he felt himself raise his voice, “Just leave it. LEAVE!”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

Evelyn got up quickly, but with the mess on the floor, she slipped right back down face first with a crack.

He did not expect that. Before he could even attempt to help her, she scrambled up off the floor, cupping her nose as she ran out of his office. The cake on her flats gave her extra speed as she slipped and slid through the hallway, leaving behind a trail of cake as she raced to exit the building.

Evelyn did not stop running, tears blurring her vision as she ran all the way to her apartment. Perhaps due to adrenaline, what would have been a thirty-minute walk home only took ten minutes with the way she ran.

She didn’t even bother trying to find her keys, and instead started to bang on the door until her sister opened it for her.

When her sister finally swung it open, what greeted her was Evelyn covered head to toe in cake, with teary eyes and a bloody nose.

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

She did not answer her, and instead ran inside to bolt straight to her bedroom.

“Hey! Eve, what the hell? You high or some shit?”

Her sister was hot on her heels, following Evelyn as she threw herself haphazardly on the bed to hide underneath the blankets. “ Oh fuck, I wish. I’m dropping out. I’m so dropping out.”

Now, her sister became extremely concerned. “Hey hey hey… what’s goin’ on? Something up at school? Come on, you’re messin’ up the sheets…”

Evelyn pulled the covers roughly from her head to glare at her sister, “I don’t give a flying, ever living fuck about the sheets Candice. I’m ruined. Oh god, everything’s ruined.”

She then proceeded to curl into an even tighter ball, before crying hysterically. She couldn’t get the images of her professor having sex out of her head, in addition to the way she made a fool out of herself like Bobo the clown.

“Okay, okay… I’m sorry. But take a shower so you’re more comfy, okay? We can talk about it over tacos.”

At the mention of tacos, Evelyn peeked once more from underneath the covers, sniffling, “From the place down the street? With extra hot sauce?”

Candice laughed at the instant perkiness, “Yup, only on Taco Tuesdays. Now get up so we can eat.”

Evelyn begrudgingly listened to her sister’s advice, getting up from under the sheets to wash off the cake. It took some effort to detangle the cake from the mess of curls, and her nose stung as the water hit her face under the spray of the shower. With the way it bled, Evelyn hoped it wasn’t broken.

When she was finished, she quickly dressed in an oversized T-shirt and underwear, opting to go without shorts as she sulked her way to the kitchen.

Candice was busy heating up the tacos, and Evelyn sat down at the table to watch her with a blank expression. Even after the shower, she still felt like shit.

Eventually, a plate of steaming hot tacos was placed in front of her. But she couldn’t even work up the appetite for her favorite meal.

“So…” Candice blew on her taco before taking a big bite, “ Spill the tea. What the heck happened?”

Exhaling deeply, Evelyn tried not to cry as she spoke, “You..oh fuck…do you remember, uh…professor Laufeyson?”

“Mmm!” Candice made a noise of recognition, her mouth filled with food. She then spoke with her mouth still full, “The one with the sexy ass accent? And the cheekbones?”

Evelyn made a look of disgust at her sister’s open mouth before replying, “Yeah…him.”

“Oh shit… he is fine as hell. But continue.” Evelyn tried not to break down as she retold her story. But by the end, Candice was a screeching, laughing mess.

“Oh FUCK! Hahahaha! I’d drop the hell out too sis! Phew! You’re fuckin’ with me. Please tell me you’re just fucking with me,”

She was beginning to grow upset, but Candice didn’t care, “Did you see his dick? The hoe he was with?”

“You think I gave a fuck about looking at his dick Candice? And who he was banging the shit out of?”

Her sister gave her a look before she relented, “It’s huge, okay? There. And I don’t know who she was…”

Candice calmed down eventually, and when she did, her tone grew a bit more serious, “So..what’re you actually gonna do? It’s not like you can just drop being a TA..”

Evelyn looked down at her untouched plate, idly picking up a taco, “Yeah… and it’s too late in the semester to drop anything anyway. And I need the credits if I want to graduate on time…”

They both sat in silence, before Evelyn jumped up with renewed determination, “You know what? I’m just gonna confront him. Write a nice letter stating why I can’t be his TA anymore, then leave. Then I won’t see his face anymore. I..I won’t..”

At that point, Evelyn began to cry once more. “ I like him, you know? Fuck, I liked him. Now I can’t look him in the face anymore after this. Please don’t laugh Candice, I already feel like shit…”

“Hey… I’m not laughing at all.” Candice went around the table to pull her sister into an embrace, “ I don’t blame you. You can’t choose who the heart likes, okay? Confront him, then leave. You’ll forget about him eventually.”

“ Okay… I think I’ll skip the meeting tomorrow though. Way too soon.”

That’s what Evelyn told herself when she continued to skip classes for a week.

Whenever she thought about Professor Laufeyson, sordid images would replay in her mind, then she’d put off going to his office.

She was even afraid to check her email because just seeing his name on the subject line would trigger it. The look on his face. The way his hips moved as he thrusted, then she’d imagine it was her instead on his desk…

She was ashamed that her imagination even strayed in that direction. That she felt jealousy towards the woman that had the luck to get fucked on his desk.

And at the thought of that woman… something about her bothered Evelyn. She looked extremely familiar; chocolate brown skin, short curly hair… she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She was around her height as well -

Her sister’s sudden intrusion into her room interrupted her thoughts, “ Eve, you can’t put it off any longer! And you have to be on campus today anyway. Don’t you have midterm critiques?”

“Yeah yeah…I know. Don’t you see I’m dressed?”

Candice looked Evelyn up and down in approval, “Okay, good. Do you have the letter written?”

“Yup,” Evelyn took the folded note from her handbag, handing it to her older sister to read, “What do you think?”

She watched as Candice’s eyes quickly skimmed the paper, “ Nice, looks professional and shit. He better not fail you. Make sure to hand it off in person, send a clear message.”

Evelyn retrieved the paper from her fingers, placing it back inside her purse, “…Yeah. Definitely. In person. Got it.”

Evelyn dreaded the entire day going to his office. She couldn’t concentrate on critiques, and she spent the remainder of the day moving at a snail pace in order to avoid the inevitable. She took her time, doing all sorts of things she’d never normally do just to get out of seeing the professor that plagued her with sinful thoughts.

It was around seven in the evening that Evelyn finally worked up the courage to march towards the Science department, heading straight towards his office. When she finally reached it, however, her nerves took over completely.

She spent the next ten minutes pacing in front of his door, letter in hand as she contemplated what to say in order to salvage her grade. And the more she contemplated, the more her determination fled from her.

You know what… fuck the grade. I’ll just take the damn L.

Evelyn then proceeded to bend down, in an attempt to slip the letter of her withdrawal underneath his door.

Just gonna slip this under, then dip. Easy peasy.

However, the letter refused to slip under, remaining stubbornly on her side of the door.

“What the..get.. get under there…!” Evelyn mumbled to herself in frustration as she got on her knees, still trying in vain to shove the paper underneath the door.

She was about to give up when the door opened abruptly, causing her to fall forward fully on her hands and knees.

A pair of polished Oxford’s came within her line of sight, and Evelyn all but froze in shock at the deep voice that rumbled above her.

“…Evelyn?”

———————

A/N: Hey, let me know what you thought! It’s always encouraging to see comments about the story :) I didn’t expect that you guys would like this fic so much, so I couldn’t leave you hanging for long.

[celestica-1988]

The Great Flu of 1982

Mick had his methods when one of his band member/kids got ill: it was a mixture of taking care of them and threating them to kick them in their asses.

Something like: “take this medicine or I will kick you in the ass”, “eat or I will kick you in the ass”, “sleep or I will kick you in the ass.”

And additionally whispered to them to heal or he will kick them in the ass while they were sleeping.

It always worked till that day.

That day of 1982 Mick realized that the situation was serious, after five days no one of the guys was next to be okay, they were still delirious from the temperature, the house looked like a kennel because they were all coughing. They were all complaining and moaning like in a leper colony.

Mick tried desperately to deny to himself the situation because he didn’t wanna deal with the consequences, but it was clear that the band had a flu.

A big gigantic flu and he was the one in charge to help his band mates.

The guitarist though for a second to just leave the tree manchild and find another band less problematic.

But even though he loved complain about them he had an heart of gold and could never really leave them alone, especially if they were ill.

And he loved them being problematic, so while he was about to sleep with his arms crossed on the chest, he prepared mentally for the next day.

And the next day came.

Let’s start with Tommy.

All the people usually had no energy to get up from the bed, Tommy was the opposite.

He couldn’t stay still or lay in bed for more than five minutes, than he started to run around the house, screaming and jumping.

Mick checked his medicines: there were just types for temperature, cough, cold and sore throat.

Nothing to stop a man that reacted to the temperature as if it was a really strong line of cocaine

Ok, he had to find another way.

He cuffed Tommy to his bed, he treating to kick him in the ass if he moves and tried to take care of the rest of the band.

A subtle headache was beginning to form.

Five minutes after Tommy was free and running, Mick cussed all the saints and thought what to do: there were a long chain in the house. It belongs to Vince and he prefered not to think how and for what he used it.

“Okay, bitch. You asked for it.”

He caught Tommy, punched him and dragged him to the bed, he slowly start tie him to the bed: in the end the drummer was a metallic mummy.

When he woke up Mick put a whistle in his mouth.

“Use it only if you have to pee or I will throw you into the bottom of the ocean.”

Tommy nodded, one was sorted.

Now it was the other turns, it was a long walk into hell, though Mick, already tired.

Nikki was different.

He moaned and complained all the time in his bad of pain.

“Like if he’s about to die..”

Thought the guitarist.

Time to fix the problem.

“What’s up, Nikki?”

He said while he checked the forehead of his band mates – too hot – and cover him better.

“My mother hate me, man.

I will never be loved by anyone, there will be just sex till my cock dies.

No wife, no wedding, no children.

All because my mother doesn’t love me, I’m a monster.” And then he started to cry.

“No, Nikki. You are not a monster.” If Mick Mars could meet Nikki’s mother for just one times he will punch her in the face, despite the fact he hate beat women. That cold bitch left so many damages in Nikki’s soul and emotional scars that she deserved to be also kicked in the ass.

But she wasn’t there and Mick was trying to manage a Nikki Sixx in a full lack if affection crisis.

“Mama, do you love me?” Told him or not told him he wasn’t his mother?

“Yes, Nikki. You are my special child, I love you.” “I’m sorry if papa left because of me!” The bassist screamed while crying his heart out.

Mick added mister Ferrana to the list of people to kick in ass with all of his strength.

“It wasn’t for you, my dear.

He was a bad man and decided that he prefer another woman to his family. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry for being mean with all your lovers!” “They were bitch, anyway. Nikki, mama loves you.” Mick cradled Nikki till he felt asleep.

Another one was fixed.

The last was Vince and Mick was a lot worried.

The singer was saying incoherent things from tree days straight.

“What’s up?”

“My dick, it will fall down.

Dead.” “You have a flu, not some sexual disease, Vince.”

“You don’t understand, Mick.” The singer raised a finger.

“My balls are gonna explode because I didn’t fuck any chicks and when it will happen, and it will happen, my dick will die too.” Mick was speechless.

He had to tie Tommy to the bed with a chain, playing the part of Nikki’s mother and now this.

“Your dick won’t fall, believe me.” “NO, IT WILL HAPPEN AND THEN I WON’T FUCK ANYMORE AND MY LIFE WOULD BE OVER!”

Vince screamed at the top of his lungs, Mick became temporarily deaf.

When the hell of the word came back to his ears Vince was still screaming and Tommy was coughing so much he was gonna suffocate. He ran to the drummer and removed a cigarette from his mouth.

“Who do you give it to you?

You know you can’t smoke with this cough!”

Tommy shrugged his shoulders and Nikki faked to sleep.

Goddamned Terror Twins!

Muttered Mick, thinking what to do with the screaming diva of the house.

In the same room where he found the chain there was a sex doll, Mick took it, thinking that his life was really miserable right now.

“Well, if it calm down that beast is okay.

Fuck, this man has got a real problem with sex. Not that I care, unless I’m in this situation, forced to deal with it.” “Vince!”

He screamed, the blonde singer stopped his crazy screech for a while.

“Hey, dude. I found a friend for you. She’s called Sandy.” Mike gave the doll to Vince and came out the room, not wanting to see nothing more than necessary.

“I can’t believe you gave a sex doll to one of your friends, momma.” Said  Nikki.

“Get back to sleep, Nikki.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 The madness lasted for tree others day, the guitarist felt his energy drained out from his body.

And finally the day when the guys have got no temperature and came back to their normal selves arrived.

No more chasing Tommy, no more comfort Nikki about his childhood, no more weird noises from Vince’s room.

He was free and he needed some rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Two days later the guys were playing cards when an unusual vision showed up in front in their eyes.

Mick had got two suitcase with him, but that wasn’t shocking. The shocking part was that he was wearing some khakis shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flop.

“Man, what’s up?” Asked Tommy.

“I’m going to Honolulu.” “What?” “Listen, drummer. I spent the last week dealing with you and your flu.

You drained every inch of energy out of my body, I need rest away from you.

Now listen carefully. I want to find the house again when I’m back, right?

I won’t tell you: “Don’t do this or that”, cause it’s useless, but I want the house at the same place and not too much damaged.”

Once said that he turned around and went away

“Hawaii, wait for me.” He thought while he was putting his stuff in the car.

Mick felt finally free, like a mum when her children went to college.

The world was waiting for him, at least for the next two weeks.

[elvendara]

Dr. Yoosung Kim Ch 7

Yooran Fanfic List

Yoosung opened the door and smiled like an idiot when he saw Saeran standing there. He’d invited him over for dinner. Saeran held a bouquet of flowers and awkwardly held them out towards him.

“These are for you, MC said I should bring you something, I don’t drink so, I couldn’t bring wine, um, it’s silly, isn’t it?” Saeran pulled back the bouquet, his face crestfallen.

“No! I love them!” he reached out and yanked them out of Saeran’s hands, turning to find something to put them in. Saeran walked in and closed the door. “You can hang your coat up behind the door.” Yoosung sent over his shoulder. Saeran turned and saw the hooks. Yoosung’s lab coat was on one and a blue, well used hoodie on another. He took his leather jacket off and hung it over the third hook.

“It smells amazing.” Saeran was nervous, he’d never been to Yoosung’s apartment, it was large. Not as big as Saeyoung’s house, but, that was to be expected. He liked the openness of it.

“I hope it tastes as good.” Yoosung shot back, he’d found a vase his sister had given him and had placed the flowers in it, filling it with water. He placed it in the center of the round kitchen table. “Perfect! I should thank MC when I finally meet her.” Yoosung pointedly stated. He’d been pressing Saeran to introduce him to his family, but, Saeran had not been very receptive.

“Uh, yeah.” Was Saeran’s noncommittal answer.

Yoosung sighed, he gave Saeran a quick peck on the lips, “Thank you.” He sighed, Saeran blushed, stroking Yoosung’s arm. “Why don’t you make yourself at home, I’m just finishing up.”

Saeran nodded and reluctantly let Yoosung go. He knew he was being stubborn, but, he wanted to tell Yoosung everything about himself before he introduced him to Saeyoung and MC. He didn’t want to worry about something slipping out that Yoosung was unaware of. He was extremely nervous. He had decided tonight he would tell Yoosung about his anxiety and his medical and mental issues. He had a right to know. A right to have all the facts before choosing to either stay with Saeran, or walk away. He was terrified that Yoosung would choose the latter, but he hoped he wouldn’t. He couldn’t imagine his life without Yoosung now. He took a deep breath and scanned the large room.

The sofa and love seat were roomy and well used. There was a floor to ceiling bookshelf next to the mid-sized television. Saeran scanned the title covers of the books, most of them were vet related, but several were of what he assumed was some sort of video game. LOLOL, he pulled one out, it was comprised of vibrant artwork of incredible races and environments, dragons and monsters. He chuckled and placed the book back. Yoosung really was a nerd. He vaguely recalled that Saeyoung had talked about this particular game.

There was a thin line of dust on everything, Yoosung must not use his TV very often. He moved over to a buffet table under a myriad of photos, in the center was what appeared to be Yoosung’s graduation photo. His smile was from ear to ear. There was a shorter woman on his left, arm in arm, that must be his mother. On his right was a man, also shorter than Yoosung, that must be his father, Saeran could see the resemblance. A young woman was behind and between Yoosung and his mother, arms around them both. He cocked his head, was that a sister? He hoped so.

“Ah, yeah, when I moved in my mom made my dad put those up.” Yoosung explained from the kitchen. “That’s my family, my mom and dad, older sister too.” Saeran let out a sigh of relief. He shook his head, he was being silly. Yoosung was with him, he wanted to be with him. He lowered his eyes to the frames on the table picking one up. It was a much younger Yoosung, with dark hair, his purple eyes popped against the darker hair.

“Why do you color your hair?” he asked, liking the way Yoosung looked in his natural color.

“Oh, well, when I graduated from high school a lot of things happened, and, I guess I wanted a change. Plus, I thought girls would like me more if I had blonde hair.” He laughed.

“Did they?” Saeran called over his shoulder.

“Sadly, no. But, then again, I guess I’m glad now.” Saeran half turned to look at the blonde. Even though he could only see his profile, he could see that Yoosung was blushing. He decided not to comment. Saeran was glad too.

“Will you ever let it grow out? It looks good on you. Not that I hate the blonde.” he quantified.

“Maybe. Probably, it’s just so much work for no real reason.”

Saeran set the frame down and picked up another. Yoosung was in the center, but he looked sad, behind him was a tall dark-haired man with a stern look, he wondered who he was.

“Any more trouble with the spray painter?” Saeran asked, knowing full well that Saeyoung and he had taken care of that indefinitely. He grinned remembering Bethany’s reaction to the videos.

“No, none.” He giggled, “In fact, my clients have all been incredibly kind, telling me how supportive they are. One woman, who I think is at least 90 years old, told me all about her lesbian experiences when she was young and that if dick is what I wanted, then dick is what I should get!” Yoosung laughed.

“Seriously?” Saeran turned to him, laughing as well.

“I kid you not! I tried to cut her off several times, but she wasn’t having it.”

“Well? Is dick what you want?” Saeran teased.

“Maybe.” Yoosung said after several seconds of silence.

Saeran was about to respond when his eyes fell on another photo frame. He reached out to it and gently grasped it in a trembling hand. Yoosung stood next to a blonde-haired woman. They both were in the middle of laughter, Yoosung’s arm around her shoulder. She was much younger, but, he knew that face, he knew those eyes, he knew them very well. He dropped the frame as if it had burned him. He turned to Yoosung who had stepped towards him when he’d dropped the photo.

“What is it?” Yoosung asked, concern seemingly in his eyes.

“Who are you?” Saeran shrieked at him. Yoosung was taken aback at the venom that now dripped from Saeran’s words. “Who are you!” he screamed again. “Why did she send you? What does she want from me? Leave me alone!” he backed away from Yoosung and hit the back of the loveseat. He twirled and slipped on the wood floor, falling to his knees, holding himself up with a hand on the loveseat. Yoosung tried to grab his arm to help him up. Saeran went feral. He slapped Yoosung away, falling on his ass and scooting away. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!”

Yoosung pulled back, tears springing into his eyes. He was so confused. What did he do? What had he done? What should he do now? “Saeran! I…what…”

There were tears streaming down Saeran’s cheeks, his eyes were wide and terrified, he was screaming incoherently. He scrambled onto his hands and knees and made it to the door, he flung it open and dived through it. Yoosung followed slowly, Saeran had made it to the end of the hall but had collapses next to the elevator, scrunching himself against the corner. He had dropped his phone and was pulling on his hair, periodically slamming his head against the wall and still screaming. Yoosung approached him gingerly, he reached out to the phone and noticed that he had tried to call his brother. He hit the call button and it began to ring on the other end. Yoosung was trying to hold it together, but he was losing it too. He tried to comfort Saeran but he kicked out at him and screeched once more. The neighbors began to open their doors to see what the commotion was.

“Shut him the hell up or I will.” One of them said roughly.

“Hey bro! Did you tank the date already?” a voice answered the phone and laughed good naturedly.

“Um…” Yoosung muttered.

“Who is this? Where’s Saeran?”

“Stay away from me! Don’t touch me! What do you want? Why? Why? Fucking tell me!!!! Ahhhhhh….!!!!!!”

“What happened?” Saeyoung yelled.

“I…I don’t’ know…he…just…I don’t know what to do, he won’t let me touch him.”

“He has pills on him, try to get him to take one. I’m on my way, just, keep him calm.” Yoosung heard a myriad of noises from the phone, he knew that Saeyoung was probably running out.

“He, he won’t let me near him, and, um, the address is…”

“I know the address Yoosung, just, ugh, ok, sing, can you sing? It calms him sometimes.” Saeyoung sounded frantic. “I have to hang up, just do your best, I’ll be there in less than five minutes!” he didn’t wait for an answer.

Yoosung lowered the phone, sing? His mind scrambled for a song, any song….

“Can you hearrrrrr, my heart beat?” he began tentatively, his voice cracking.

“Tired of feeling, never enough.” His voice picked up strength and he did indeed notice a slight difference in Saeran’s body.

“I, close my eyes, tell myself that my dreams will come true!” he sang louder, feeling ridiculous, but wanting to help Saeran. Suddenly there was the strumming of a guitar behind him, he snapped his head around, one of his neighbors was walking slowly towards them, a guitar strapped around her. She played softly and nodded her head for him to continue. He gave her a grateful glance and turned back to Saeran.

“There’ll be no more darkness when you believe in, yourself you are unstoppable, where your destiny lies, dancing on the blades you set my, heart, on, fire!” Saeran’s incoherent screeching stopped, his breathing was still harsh and he still pulled on his hair painfully, but he no longer slammed his head against the wall.

“Don’t stop us now, the moment of truth, we were, born to make history, we’ll make it happen, we’ll turn it around, yes, we were, born to make history.” He kept singing, the only song he could fully remember, thank you Yuri On Ice for such a memorable intro.

Before long the elevator opened and a man who looked just like Saeran, except for the different colored eyes and glasses, stepped out. His eyes widened when he saw Saeran in the corner.

“Saeran!” Saeyoung knelt next to him, grasping his wrists and pulling his hands out of his hair.

Saeran looked at him in despair, his eyes wide and frightened.

“Where’s his jacket?” he asked Yoosung.

“It…it’s in my apartment.” Yoosung pointed towards his still open door. The neighbors were still standing in the hallway, but Saeyoung ignored them.

“I’ll be right back ok? I’m just going to get your pills. Will you be ok?” Saeran nodded miserably, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his legs, forehead against his knees. He was still sobbing, but quietly now.

Saeyoung stood and grabbed Yoosung, dragging him back to the apartment. Yoosung went willingly, he felt useless, confused, and exhausted. They entered the apartment and Saeyoung let him go, he scanned the room, looking for Saeran’s jacket. His eyes zeroed in on the scattered photo frames on the buffet table against the wall. He stepped towards it.

“What happened?” he asked Yoosung.

“I…I don’t know!” Yoosung wailed, feeling his own anxiety rising. “Everything was going fine, I…I was almost done with dinner, he, he was looking at my photos and then, ahh…” he chest burned as he recalled the look on Saeran’s face, a look he’d never given Yoosung before. He never wanted to see it again. He hugged himself, his breath hitching, he could barely breathe.

“Don’t fall apart on me too, I need you!” Saeyoung walked back to Yoosung, a man he had not even met yet and snapped his fingers in front of his face. He couldn’t afford for Dr. Kim to crumble as well.

Yoosung took a deep breath and stood up straight, Saeran needed him.

“Good, now, this is what he was looking at?” Saeyoung motioned to the pictures and Yoosung nodded. “What are they?” “Me, my family, that’s all.” Yoosung whispered. Saeyoung picked up the one frame that was face down, his heart thumped through his chest and his eyes blazed at the image. How? He turned back to Yoosung, holding the frame up, ‘Who is this?” he demanded. Yoosung was taken aback by the vehemence in his tone and the fire in his eyes.

“Mmm…me…and…mmm…my cousin…Rika…that’s all.”

“Your cousin?” he asked.

“Ye..yes…but…she…she died years ago!” Saeyoung’s head snapped up, his eyes throwing daggers into his.

“What?” he flung the frame down and it shattered on the hard wood floor. The sound broke through Saeyoung’s fuzziness. “I…I’m sorry Yoosung, The…the jacket, where is it?” he asked.

“Behind the door.” Yoosung was more confused, why had both brothers reacted so violently to a picture of him and his dead cousin. “I, what, did you know her?” he asked. Saeyoung flicked his gaze at Yoosung then walked past him to gather Saeran’s jacket.

“Saeran should explain, I’m sorry, really I am, thank you for taking care of him.”

He was about to walk out when Saeran burst in, he grabbed Yoosung’s shirt in his fists and shoved him backwards over the sofa. Yoosung grasped his wrists and tried to stay on his feet. Saeran’s eyes were crazed and unfocused.

“Tell me! Tell me what she wants! Why can’t she leave me alone?! Why did she send you?! Why?! Why would you lie to me?! How could you…how…I…I…” he pushed him away and yanked on his hair again, snot fell from his nose, spit dribbled from his mouth, his eyes were big, round, and red, still leaking tears. “Why would you help her?” He moaned.

“Saeran, don’t, he, he doesn’t know!” Saeyoung tried to calm his brother, but Saeran screamed in his face.

“How could he not?! He, he used me!” he turned to Yoosung once more and yanked off his shirt. “Look at it! All of it!” he turned in front of Yoosung and Yoosung gasped. Saeran’s body was riddled with scars, most appeared to be cuts, but a few seemed like bullet wounds. His hands went to his mouth, what agony had Saeran been through?

“This is what she did to me! Is that what you want? Do you want to hurt me too?” he screamed at Yoosung, spit flying from his mouth. Yoosung could only shake his head negatively.  

“Saeran…I...” he reached out to the man who only flinched away, as if he thought Yoosung was going to hit him. Saeyoung stepped between them. He grabbed his hand and slapped a pill into it.

“Take it! Now!” Saeran quieted enough to stare at his brother, he glanced at the pill and tossed it into his mouth. Saeyoung helped him put his shirt back on. He began to lead Saeran out.

“I…I’ll call you later.” Saeyoung called over his shoulder. He walked out with Saeran and left Yoosung stuttering and shaking in his apartment. He hiccupped and slid onto the floor. He stared at the shattered picture frame and Rika’s smiling face.

Yooran Fanfic List

[taeminuet]

Heartbeat (4/?)

Title: Heartbeat Fandom: SHINee Pairings: (eventual) Jongtae; Minkey; OnKai Chapter Wordcount: ~3.5k Rating: R (Some chapters will be NC-17; these will be marked.) Summary: In which not every problem needs to be fixed and not every person needs to be saved; sometimes you just need support.

–

1 , 2 , 3

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Chapter 4: Jonghyun

–

Jonghyun hates group. It’s such bullshit. Yeah, he gets it – socialization is important, it gives them a place to share with others who understand, blah blah fucking blah. It doesn’t mean Jonghyun has to like it.

What the hell do they think is going to happen anyways? They always act like it’s this great and wonderful technique to get them to open up, but usually it’s just shoving a handful of them in a room together and then acting surprised when the volatile ones go off. Too much friction, too much pressure on wounds they haven’t been given a chance to keep hidden.

When Jinki is around, this shit doesn’t happen, because Jinki is actually competent at calming Jonghyun. Or, well, not calming. Giving in to what Jonghyun’s asking for rather. But that in itself is calming so fuck it, Jinki’s clearly doing the best out of everyone here. But Jinki’s not around right now, and Jonghyun’s already not exactly doing great right now.

The new kid, Taemin. He’s pretty. He’s pretty and he looks so soft but he’s got such a harsh edge under there, something bratty and fierce, and Jonghyun can practically taste it on the back of his tongue how good he’d make it. But Taemin doesn’t fucking want him and it makes Jonghyun ache. It makes Jonghyun edgy and uncomfortable, the pressing desire to get Taemin to want him, makes him want to go to his knees right in the middle of this goddamn room if it would help.

It wouldn’t, he knows that much. But when Minho starts smarting off with shit that he very much doesn’t know a goddamn thing about and Key starts lashing out with shit that he knows far too much about, Jonghyun’s not exactly in a place not to snap. It’s fucking horrible, and of course, of course, he gets in trouble for it, even if he didn’t start it. He’d made a joke and Minho had been an ass.

It’s not his fucking fault, but here he is, threatened with isolation, pulled away from the already limited physical contact he does get in here. It’s like they’re trying to break him. They keep saying he’s sick, and then they do shit that actually makes him really feel like it.

Jonghyun hates it. He doesn’t want to be here. Jinki makes it bearable. Even Key, sometimes, on days when he’s not being a complete asshole. But Jonghyun doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t need to be here. He’d been okay. Mostly okay. Handling it, at least.

Of course nobody else saw it that way. The doctors didn’t. The lawyers didn’t. They never do. They look at Jonghyun and see a bunch of shit he’s not, make up their own logic for why he is the way he is and don’t bother to pay attention to Jonghyun’s opinions on the shit going on in his own head. So here he is, stuck here in this hellhole.

Jonghyun wants to stand up and… and do something. Punch the doctor out. Maybe suck him off if it’ll get him out of here faster, if it’ll keep him from isolation. It won’t, so Jonghyun doesn’t, just sits, stiff and restraining himself, until the doctor is thanking them, like any single one of them has actually said a goddamn thing that matters. It doesn’t. None of it fucking does, because this place is bullshit and group is bullshit and every ounce of whatever the hell they’re calling therapy is such goddamn bullshit.

“Thank fucking god,” Jonghyun grinds out, on his feet so fast that his chair screeches across the linoleum, probably leaving scuff marks along the tile. He ignores it, stalking away, shoving past Minho with a little more force than necessary in his march to the door.

He feels eyes on his back, but he doesn’t stop to see whose they are. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to talk to any of them right now. Or, rather, he does, but only one of them, and it’s definitely going to be a lot more than a talk if Jonghyun gets his way.

Minho, Onew, and Taemin are talking softly, making some sort of plans for the afternoon, and Jonghyun has time to think that good, none of them will get in the way, before the door slams behind him. Jonghyun takes a moment in the silent space of the hallway to take stock of it all, the hot anger under the surface of his skin, the way his breathing is already going heavy and hard.

He hears wheels behind him soon, and he moves away, a few steps in front, faster than Key’s wheelchair. He puts himself in front of Key’s door, blocking the way and forcing Key to pay attention to him. Jonghyun is shaking faintly, he realizes, hands balled at his sides and face twisted into something that he’s sure is far from attractive.

“What gives you the right?” he spits, all vitriol.

Key, for once, disgustingly, is the calmer one. “Look,” he says, with a kind of condescending patience that immediately makes Jonghyun’s temper flare, “things got out of hand, I know.”

“Out of hand?” Jonghyun mimics, voice a little pitchy. “Out of hand? Fuck you, Kibum. Actually fuck you.”

“Say whatever you want about me, I can handle it,” Key says, even if he’s already starting to sound like he very much can’t handle it, because Key’s not exactly the poster-child of handling his own shit, “but you can’t fuck with Minho like that. It’s not cool, Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun laughs. It’s not a happy sound. “Oh, like you don’t fuck with Minho? You practically use the kid as a punching bag. Making doe eyes at him one second and then verbally kicking him in the balls the next. You’re not any fucking better than I am, you goddamn hypocrite. You don’t give a damn–”

“Shut up!” Key snaps, fist coming down hard on one of his armrests, making his chair shudder. “How fucking dare you. You don’t get to tell me how to act when all you care about is finding a warm place to stick your dick! You don’t know the first thing about actually caring about someone!”

Jonghyun goes very cold and then very, very hot in the span of a few moments, a little incoherent noise of rage twisting up in his chest. “Fuck you,” he spits, hissing out the words like something poisonous. “You don’t know the first goddamn thing about my life. Don’t you dare act like you know anything. You got hurt. Fine. That sucks. But I got other people hurt, people I fucking cared about, and you don’t get to turn around and use that against me.”

“It’s not the fucking same and you know it,” Key spits, eyes narrowing, hard and sharp, looking over Jonghyun in some mixture of pity and disdain that makes Jonghyun’s entire body tense.

“No, it’s fucking not. You know why? Because in a couple days, Minho’s gonna wake up and not even know your name, much less that I said something mean about him.”

“Stop it! Shut up!” Key wails, like Jonghyun has shot him. “Don’t fucking remind me!

It’s too far. Jonghyun knew it the second he said it that it was. But they’ve been going too far all morning, so why the fuck not? Why not push it a little further, really grind in that pain. He’s a fucking expert at that by now.

He stares at Kibum, eyes harsh, and then laughs. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, Bummie, but there’s nothing to figure out. We’re all fucked. I’m never leaving this place. Neither are you or Minho or anyone. Maybe the new kid. Come and gone like the rest of them. But us? We’re never going to have our shit together.”

Key slumps, sudden and exhausted in his chair, anger gone faster than a flame without oxygen. “Fuck, Jonghyun, I…” he says. “Fuck.”

Jonghyun feels himself waver, just a little. He’s still pissed. How could he not be? But Key looks so lost all of a sudden, curled into himself, sharp features drawn together in sadness. And Jonghyun… he doesn’t want this. He just wants to be right. He doesn’t want to see Key hurt.

“Bummie,” he starts, unsure.

Key shakes his head miserably. “No, fuck. I’m sorry, okay. I was wrong. I fucking get it. I have to go. Just get out of my way, Jonghyun.”

He pushes past, Jonghyun stumbling to get out of the path of the wheels, but he’s not fast enough. The wheel of Key’s chair catches the edge of Jonghyun’s shoe, one side lifting up, and that shouldn’t be enough to tip Key, but Jonghyun’s still trying to rip his foot away, jerking his foot and disrupting both of their balances, Jonghyun slamming into the side of the chair with his hip as he tries to tug away, and Key – already off balance – tips just enough that the ridge of the entrance between the common area and his own room sends his wheelchair tipping, clanging to the floor with a sound that feels more violent than it has any right to.

Jonghyun recoils hard, cursing under his breath, eyes darting around in panic. It isn’t his fault! It isn’t! But they’ll think it was and he’d get in trouble and, and–

“Fuck!” Key chokes, curling his chest down into the crumple of his legs and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just go away, Jonghyun!”

“No, wait, hold on–” Jonghyun says, a little desperation leaking into his tone, draining the anger possibly a little too effectively. He doesn’t want to get in trouble for something he didn’t do, but he still doesn’t want to see Key hurt. Not like this.

They argue all the time, snipe back and forth because that’s who they are, and because that’s all they can do, but in the end, Key gets it. He’s stuck here too. He’s sick too. He’s closer to being on Jonghyun’s side than a lot of people are, and Jonghyun may find it all too easy to lash out, but he doesn’t ever actually want Key hurt. They’re friends, sort of, as best as you can be friends in a place like this. And seeing Key lying there, on the floor, it feels terrifying, wrong.

He stumbles a little as he steps forward, not entirely sure what he’s doing, and cringes when Key curls away from him with a noise of protest. He can’t do anything about that though – even if he reassures Key that he’s not going to do anything, not be an ass or kick him while he’s (literally) down, it’s not going to be nearly as effective as just proving it. It’s faster and easier to just wriggle Key’s chair away so he can set it upright, glancing over the wheels and checking that everything at least looks like it’s in working order before he crouches by Key.

He stops there, at Key’s side, completely at a loss. Key doesn’t accept help from damn near anybody. Doctors, sometimes. Nurses occasionally. But Key is as independent as he can possibly be, and Jonghyun’s never exactly had a reason before to try and help him out. He has no idea how.

But Key needs help, clearly. Maybe he’d be able to drag himself, haul himself back into his seat, but Jonghyun’s not actually sure if he can, and even if he could, Jonghyun doesn’t have any idea how long it’d take. He’s not just going to leave Key to that kind of struggle. It’s just, in the meantime, he’s not entirely sure how to go about fixing it.

He can’t just pick Key up, right? Key is always careful about his legs, but Jonghyun’s seen them once or twice, and they’re all kinds of torn up. He’s not exactly going to go around touching those when he’s not sure if he could possibly fuck them up worse or not, and Key probably wouldn’t be able to tell him because his nerves are practically demolished. How the fuck is he supposed to do this?

“Bummie,” he asks, laying his hand on Key’s back, “help me help you, dude. I don’t know what I’m doing. How do I–?”

Key flinches again. “Stop it!” he says, voice all kinds of wobbly, no real venom to be found. “Stop trying to help me! I don’t need your help!”

Jonghyun tugs his hand back, eyebrows furrowing. “Bummie,” he says again, his own voice shaking almost as bad now. “Dude, it’s okay. It’s fine– I… I get it. But I’m not just gonna leave you here. It’s not pity. It’s just– that’s a shit thing to do, you know? If you want, I’ll call the nurses, but they’re gonna think it was me, and I don’t– I don’t wanna go into isolation, or–”

He’s sure Key can hear the way his breath catches with genuine anxiety at the thought of it, because Key unfolds a little, twisting to face him. It’s quiet for a moment and then Key nods, reaching up with both hands in a gesture reminiscent of going in for a hug, though Jonghyun wouldn’t expect Key to hug him on a good day, much less right now.

“Here, come here,” Key says, and Jonghyun leans into him, lets Key’s arms go around his neck. “Pick me up around the waist – like, yeah, like that – and just put me back.”

Jonghyun tries to obey, tries not to jostle Key, but he’s half dead weight, only rectified a little by the way he’s trying to hold himself up on Jonghyun with his arms, and Key is technically taller than him, making Jonghyun struggle a little not to drag his feet or something. After a minute though, he manages to get Key halfway in his chair, enough that Key can let go and grab the arms of it. Jonghyun drops into a crouch in front of him, grabbing both arms of the chair and steadying it, watching Key himself up and backwards until he’s settled, manually lifting his own legs and easing them onto the footrests. It takes a minute, and Jonghyun waits nervously until Key looks up at him, face a little red with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” he breathes, and Jonghyun opens his mouth to say not to mention it or no problem or something, starting to pull back, but Key reaches out, smoothing down his hair where it had gotten messed up from Key’s arms around his neck. Jonghyun bites back an almost pathetic whimper, a soft shiver going through him, and he closes his eyes against the sudden rush. He’s not sure if Key notices his reaction or not, or if he’s just being self-deprecating, but his voice is tired and rough when he sighs, “We’re really fucked up, aren’t we?”

Jonghyun doesn’t have a response to that. He might, but he feels a little tongue-tied. There’d been so much going on, so much fucking stress and anger, adrenaline spiking through him, and now everything is calming down and Key is touching him so fucking gently. Jonghyun doesn’t quite remember how to think straight.

“Sorry about today,” Key says after a minute. “We both said some things we regret, but… you know I didn’t mean anything by it, right?”

Jonghyun nods before he even knows the question, some part of him just blindly agreeing, because he’s starting to get a little fuzzy, and he’s honestly not quite sure he knows how to answer questions anymore right now.

There’s… Key knows better. Key knows how he gets, but sometimes they forget or they don’t think Or maybe Key’s just trying to be nice, but god his hand feels nice, and Jonghyun suddenly just wants to feel nice too.

“It’s… It’s, yeah, we… we both said some things. I–” Jonghyun manages, more an echo of Key than anything, trying to remember what Key had said, how to be offended by it. His father. He had made some quip about his dad. He should be angry about that, right? But the anger is all gone, pushed aside in favor of concern for Key, and he doesn’t know how to get it back, and he just… if he just…

He slides to his knees, dropping from the crouch into an actual kneel, his fingers still curled tight around the arms of Key’s chair. He leans in, desperate, wanting, a sudden burst of need to feel good, to stop feeling like shit for a bit. Key can give that to him, he knows he can.

“Bummie,” he gasps, feeling like he can’t quite can’t he breathe, but he’s looking up through his lashes, his expression soft and open. Appealing. He knows how to do it, how to be it. How to make people want him.

“Jonghyun,” Key says, almost a warning. “Jonghyun, no. You need to go. If you’re getting like this–”

“Bummie,” Jonghyun whines, voice gentle, pleading, still breathless. “Bummie, if you want to make it better, please…”

“Jonghyun, no. You know I can’t,” Key murmurs, stroking Jonghyun’s hair a few more times before dropping a hand to his back, big and warm, soothing in a way that makes Jonghyun tip his face up expectantly. “I’m sorry. You’ll be alright, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

He lets go of Jonghyun, prying his fingers free of the arms of his chair and pushing away gently, wheeling himself backward, just out of Jonghyun’s reach. Jonghyun sways, the temptation to follow almost smothering, and he chokes on a noise that he doesn’t realize until a moment later is a sob.

Key is saying no. He’s pulling away. He doesn’t want Jonghyun. It’s–

He never wants Jonghyun. He always says no. Jonghyun knows that. Logically he knows that. But right now it hurts, makes him feel small and pathetic and awful. But no. No. He knows better. He is better. He’s not going to push past a no, not ever.

He shudders, pulling into himself. He doesn’t trust his legs right now. He doesn’t trust himself right now.

“Can I…?” he starts after a moment, and then stalls hard. He doesn’t know how to ask this, because he’s not asking for what he needs so badly right now, and it makes the words too hard to find.

He needs Jinki here to help. He needs his dad here to make it all go away. He needs to not be like this. He needs a lot of things, so many things, and he can’t have any of them. And he doesn’t know how to ask for anything else when there are so many things crowding his head.

He drops out of kneeling, falling on his ass, scooting away from Key and bunching into himself, trying to hold himself together and remember how to breathe, how to think. “Can I…” he starts again, trying to remember how to fucking use words, “Shit, if I… if I promise not to try anything, can I stay?”

It’s not what he wants to ask. He’s not going to try and touch Key without permission – never, god, no, never – but he wants so badly to ask Key to touch him. Not even sexually, just… just his hand back in his hair, even if it’s miserable, even if it makes Jonghyun a fucking mess. It’s not anything like what he needs, not by a long shot, but it’s something, something to make him feel less like shit.

But it’s too much to ask. He knows that. He knows it’s too much to ask, and he hunches into himself, grinding out a miserable, “Fuck it, never mind, just fuck it. I’ll go. Just let me… just give me a second to–”

“If you promise,” Key says, interrupting Jonghyun’s train of thought. “But you can’t get all needy on me, okay?”

“I’m–” Jonghyun says, feeling breathless again for a whole other reason, hope winding in his chest. “I’m– yeah, I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I’ll be back to normal in a second. I just got lost in my head for a minute. I’m good. I’m good, I swear.”

Key squints suspiciously, and Jonghyun knows that wasn’t exactly convincing, but Key just wheels himself over to his desk, grabbing a sketchpad and a pencil, and then looks at Jonghyun. “Come here. I need a model, and you know you’re pretty as hell.”

Jonghyun gives an unsteady grin, scooting closer until he’s leaning against the side of the wheelchair. It digs in a little uncomfortably, but Jonghyun can lean his head against the arm, and after a moment, Key reaches down, running the fingers of his left hand through Jonghyun’s hair a few times, arranging it absently in a way that makes Jonghyun want to fucking melt.

“Thanks,” he says after a minute or two, and his chest is tight, but he’s calm again. Mostly calm. He still kind of wants to fuck Key, but not as desperately, not as needily. This is okay. This feels nice. It’ll get him through.

“No quips about how you’re at dick height right now?” Key asks, almost amused.

Jonghyun shakes his head slowly, not enough to dislodge Key’s hand. After a minute, he hears the scratch of a pencil on paper, methodical and disarming. “Nah, I’m good.”

Key hums, more loose agreement than anything. “I didn’t mean to set you off.”

“No one ever does.” Jonghyun shrugs. “It just happens. It’s okay.”

“I meant earlier. I know that didn’t help.”

Jonghyun shuts his eyes tight. “It’s… it’s fine. Just… I’m fine. Can we not talk about it? I don’t really want to anymore.”

“Yeah,” Key agrees, brushing Jonghyun’s bangs to one side. “Just sit still for a bit. Let me draw.”

“Thanks,” Jonghyun says, because sitting still is easy enough to do, easy enough to trick himself into not thinking too hard, easy enough to focus in on Key’s fingers in his hair and the sound of the pencil on paper. Easy enough to pretend he’s anywhere else but here.

–

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