#What if you fixated on making some cold hard cash

[servantleverslutdrop]

I wish I was less focused on fandom stuff and random discourse, and more on anything useful

[always-andromeda]

“Fast food nation” is not really worth it, trust me. It’s… weird (not in an interesting way). There are Brian scene-packs on youtube that cover all the interesting parts. I mean, it still got me hooked on the character, but only because nasty-oily-Dano is my favourite Dano. My ex boyfriend used to work at McDonald’s, so maybe it’s a real-life-event-turned-into-fiction-kink?

Thanks for the quick answer! If you can’t bite the bullet, I’ll feed it to you: “La Belle Fluer Sauvage” (your choice, free your filthy mind, you always hit the checkpoint), Brian Wilcox.

Again, congrats congrats congrats!

Author's Note | Anon. I am gonna need to thank you but also strangle you for this request /j. I have tried so hard to keep requests simple and sweet for my sanity but I literally could not with this one. This shit is just over 2,300 words and I am not about it. Jesus Christ almighty, I went fucking buck wild here. 🤭 also. i got three requests for Brian. so I made them into like a mini trilogy. this is part two of that trilogy. next part will be out in an hour!!

Warnings | smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, sexual tension, Brian is a gross little greasy freak!!

You waste away your summer job at Mickey's like each day is just another everlasting big burger, all held together with plastic cheese and crammed in a box that's way too small. Meaning, it's all artificial. It's all disgusting and temporary and all a product of capitalism or some shit. That's how you describe yours and Brian's relationship.

His kisses are laced with salt and whatever flavor of energy drink he's fixated on at the moment. You would ask him to remember to brush his teeth in the mornings, but you doubt he'd actually do it. He doesn't like you nearly enough to actually take that into consideration for his morning routine. That's to say he even likes you at all.

Because you rarely get the idea that he does. You get the sense that he likes you as long as you kiss him back when he joins you in the walk-in freezer. As long as you laugh when he makes some corny joke about warming you up. Though nothing has ever gone further than quick makeouts and over the clothes action, you suspect that he wouldn't have any qualms with pulling his dick out right in front of the frozen burger patties.

But as soon as he crosses the imaginary line you've set for yourself, you're humming into his mouth, telling him you're getting cold, and that you don't want Tony to catch you. Then Brian makes some quip about how he thinks it would be fantastic, actually, if Mickey's employee of the month was caught in the walk-in with Mickey's worst employee of every month. You giggle sparingly, hoping that doesn't give him the wrong idea.

Because you want what he wants: fun. At least you hope that's what he wants too. Just a reprieve from the hell that is service work that isn't talking shit about Tony in the break room. And you have to admit, getting Brian flustered with a heated kiss is a bit more of a productive usage of your time.

Which is exactly why you avoid him on this day. Because the last time you made out with him in the walk in, you swear you felt him pop a boner. And you'd drawn your line at much less before. So the second you felt him bulging through his baggy pants and pressing against your abdomen, you were out of there.

Three days later, he's staring at you from inside the kitchen as if you're still blue balling him from where you work the cash register. He averts his eyes when you turn to read him the next order. But you know that when you greet another customer with a chipper, 'Hi, welcome to Mickey's! What can I get for you today?' he's right back to burning holes into the back of your head with his dark eyes.

You try your best to ignore him. Like he's some nightmare you had. Yet, just like a fever dream, he doesn't quite go away. He's right at the edge of your vision, flipping burgers with a bored expression. At least he always smiled when he kissed you. Well...he smirked. And it was annoyingly smug. Whatever. It was still better than the indifference he pretends to embody.

I know your secret, Brian Wilcox. With the pungent fumes of stale oil and a touch of mildew, you popped a boner in the walk-in freezer. Because you kissed me.

The thought liberates you until you clock out for the night. You walk to your car, keys laced between your fingers like your mother had taught you years ago. So when Brian grabs your wrist as you reach for your car door, you whip around, ready to hit him directly in the gut.

"Hey, hey, hey, Jesus--" Brian yells, dropping your wrist quickly and lunging away from your swinging fist, "It's just me...Jesus fucking Christ...were you trying to kill me?"

You hiss, "Were you trying to act like a fucking creep? Fuck, Brian-- It's late. What are you still doing here?" Hand over your chest, your shoulders slump and you eye him wearily, waiting for his excuse.

He doesn't bother apologizing. Just looks at you with his brow furrowed and says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I wanted to talk to you."

"About?"

"The other day..."

You sigh and wave him off, "I don't give a shit if Jason steals my chips from the break room, he can go ahead and have them--"

Of course Brian doesn't let you get away that easily, "Oh, fuck off with that. You know what I'm talking about."

"Do we really have to talk about it?"

"I think it's a good idea," he argues.

"Yeah, what a great idea. I kissed you and you're such a pussy that you got hard over it. So glad that I got to relive that. Thanks, Bri." you prepare to turn away from him when he catches your wrist once more.

"That's it?" he searches for an answer you don't want to give. "So...I'm guessing you...didn't like it?"

You snort and your reply comes out less sarcastic than you would've liked, "Oh, I absolutely loved it. When I applied here, I was just praying to get groped by some greasy asshole who can't keep it in his pants."

Brian snickers at your weak tone, "I bet you were."

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me you weren't and I'll leave you alone." he challenged you in a low, even voice that scares the shit out of you. Only it's not because he looms over you, daring you to prove him wrong. It's more the thought of working another day at this fucking restaurant without having his body and quick tongue to get you through it that startles you.

You go deadly silent, opting to stare down at where yours and his rubber soled shoes touch the asphalt.

"That's what I thought." Finally, he seems to understand how hard this is for you to admit to him.

Brian takes a deep breath and tries again, "I didn't think you'd want me either. If that makes you feel any better."

You answer quickly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so…mean.”

"Yes, you did." he insists, "But so did I."

You make tight fists with your hands, pressing your nails into your palms. Sniffing, you ask, "What are we gonna do now?"

Brian kicks one of his feet, tapping the tip of his shoe against yours. "Well...either we can drive home...separately. Or...maybe I could show you the backseat of my car."

A genuine laugh rips from your chest, "Jesus, Brian. Can you not act like you're gonna fucking murder me? If you want to mess around in your car, could you just ask like a normal person?"

His attitude floods his tone ferociously, "Fine, do you wanna fuck me in my backseat?"

The way your clit throbs at that makes you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you taste a tinge of copper. You try not to breathe when you say nonchalantly, "Yeah, sure."

Brian turns, walking a few steps to his car, parked two spaces down from yours. He opens the back passenger side for you in some fucked up, gentlemanly gesture.

"After you," he tilts his head towards the interior and you crawl in, immediately turning to lie on your back on the leather upholstery. When Brian joins you, he barely has enough space in the cramped backseat to perch between your legs. He keeps one hand on the back headrest and the other on the edge of the seat bracing himself there.

Brian hovers over you. That crooked smirk you liked so much is plastered across his pink face as he works at the buttons of your uniform, exposing your bare chest so fast that your skin forgets the feeling of the cool summer air from outside. Your chest rises and falls shallowly with your nervous breath.

Brian says slowly, "I hope you know...I really like it when you forget to put on a bra before coming to work. It's really fucking hot."

"It's not like I do it for your sake," you squeak out a pathetic attempt at a comeback.

"Never said you did, princess."

Oh. Fuck. Right. Off.

He leans in, eyes flickering from yours down to your swollen lips, "Are you gonna keep being snippy? Or are we gonna fuck?"

Please.

You nod fervently and reach for the collar of his uniform.

Brian simply moves back, dodging your grasp, "Come on, princess. I want you to say it. Or else I won't hesitate to leave your stubborn ass back here."

A mixture of anger and embarrassment mixing to form a flush on your cheeks and the tips of your ears, you crane your neck and finally grab his collar, bringing his lips back to yours, "Just fuck me, you asshole."

With a satisfied grin, Brian's lips mold against yours. His mouth open and tongue swiping across yours, you're just as breathless as you are in the walk in. But with his busted air conditioner and the atmosphere of the backseat dampening, not even your unbuttoned shirt could offer any relief from the heat.

Brian pulls away and studies you as you try to catch your breath. Moments pass and he shifts slightly, hovering over your chest. You watch him press his lips together and push out a fat glob of saliva from between them. The spit lands with a wet plop between your tits and you scoff at the humored expression on his face.

That's all before he ducks in again, this time to lick a long stripe up your chest, gathering the saliva on his tongue before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples and sucking. The high pitched moan you let out takes you by surprise as he switches to giving the other attention with a jarringly gentle kiss. He looks up at you through his dark hair with devious eyes. Then the hand bracing itself on the edge of the seat flies to the belt that holds up his pants under the loose fitting uniform.

Brian pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to poke out his solid cock, the tip practically pulsing and purple. He helps you take off your own bottoms, banging his head on the ceiling of his car in the process.

He winces and rubs at the back of his head, "Shit—"

The laugh you let out is cut off sharply when he presses his lips to yours again just to shut you up. But he doesn't just want to stifle your teasing. He also stifles your yelp as he slides himself into your wet cunt, leaving no room for adjustment or romance. He simply fills you out and groans as you tremble and tighten around him.

His lips falter in covering yours and you taste the sweat forming on his upper lip as he struggles to breathe out another moan.

No matter how many pretty sounds he makes for you as you struggle to take all of him without nearly choking on your own dwindling air supply, you tell yourself one thing. Remember, he doesn't actually like you. He likes your mouth and he likes your tits and he likes your pussy. Not. You.

Once he starts moving, you repeat it in your head over and over again every time his skin slaps against yours lewdly.

He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you.

You try to picture yourself twenty years from now. A born again Christian soccer mom with four kids, a minivan, and a husband who thinks women can't possibly have orgasms. You imagine a future where Brian is just a bad memory that you tell your friends over wine. That he's the reason why you'd tell your shitty husband to nip at your neck in bed or maybe try a new position. Because when Brian did it, it felt divine. And before you know it, you're circling back around to him.

Fuck. No matter how much rewiring you attempt, it goes back to Brian fucking Wilcox and you wish you could hate it.

You're entangling your fingers in his dark hair and pulling hard. His teeth bite a little deeper into your skin and you gasp at the sting.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." he curses loudly and you feel the full weight of every vulgar syllable reverberating in his throat.

He's good at this and he fucking knows it. You can tell by the way he chuckles slightly when you try to arch your back off of the leather backseat. All you want is to press more of your body against his. For some fucking reason, you need this summer fling to poison you worse than the preservatives Mickey's puts in their food does.

Already, you feel the good kind of chemicals coursing through your veins. Your uniform shirt rises up and the sweat clinging to your skin makes your lower back stick to the leather. And as soon as you peel yourself off of the seat and your chest meets his, you kiss him.

You make him swallow the sounds of arousal that come from deep inside you as his poison takes over all of your senses. Riding out the climax exerts all of your energy and leaves you gritting your teeth through overstimulation. You weakly attempt to clench around him for only a moment before Brian pulls out and jerks himself off a few more times with a tight fist.

Both sets of eyes blown out with lust, you and him watch as his cock twitches and then shoots thick ropes of cum that spill out over your chest, still practically glistening with the streaks his tongue left.

Thoroughly defiled and spent, you don't dare think of anything but his softening cock laying across your abdomen as he dips his head and catches his breath.

Voice now hoarse and thin, Brian says quietly, "Fuck man…I think— I think I really fucking like you..."

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal. 

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle) 

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution 

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine 

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

-

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

-

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

-

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

-

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

-

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

[retvenkos]

“would it be terribly cheesy if i said ‘it was always you’?”

requested by @biqherosix STRAP IN, FOLKS, BECAUSE TODAY WE ARE TAKING A LOOK AT WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE FOR EJ CASWELL TO HAVE A CRUSH ON A NORTH HIGH STUDENT...

so first of all, you and ej knew each other long before you ran into each other in high school. because, you see, you went to junior high together, and in those days, both you and ej were on dance company 

(you can pry dance company! ej from my cold, dead fingers)

you were arguably the better dancer, and seventh grade ej really wanted to prove himself. a baby competition sprouted between the two of you, but it was nothing big.

you both liked to show off in order to taunt the other, and you both got a kick out of trying to one up each other.

but at the same time, you were teammates. you did everything together.

so the bond between you and ej was strong. it was a competition, yes, but it was friendly competition and you both actually hyped each other a lot. 

plus, dance company does a lot of things as a group, so it was unavoidable. you were going to end up liking each other at some point. luckily, it happened sooner rather than later, and the two of you built up a nice rapport with one another - a closeness forged in friendly competition and last minute studying parties.

but all that changed when you went to north high and ej went to east high

now, since north high is completely fictional, i get to create the dynamic between the schools, so listen up everyone!

north high clearly has the better arts department, and they also have the better tennis and softball team.

east high has the better stem department as well as a better swim team and any other swim related sports.

west high has the better sport teams overall - basketball, football, volleyball, etc.

(that's why we never see any uber jocks at east high—)

now, clearly you have your boundary school, but people get on special permit all the time, and when you say you’re going to north high ej is like ???? but why ???

“they have a better arts department, ej, you know that!”

“well, yeah, but east high is the best. we always said we were going to be wildcats!”

“ej.... they’re actually leopards.”

it wasn’t a super emotional goodbye. you promised to stay in touch, and it wasn’t like it was hard. you still saw each other around the mall, you still followed each other on instagram and what not but.... time just got between you.

you slowly stop texting, you see each other less, when you see each other in public you do that thing where you give a smile but then don’t go over to say hi, because you’re wrapped up in other people. it’s not pointed things, you just... stop talking.

and you still like each others photos on instagram but you’re just... there. 

all of that changes, however, when carlos asks you to help him choreograph hsm.

at the time, the rivalry between schools wasn’t big, it was just a low simmer, and the reason carlos approached you was because once upon a time, you, ej, and him had all been in dance company together for one (1) year (it all comes full cIRCLE) and for one of your performances, you had done something hsm related.

carlos wanted to know if you remembered the routine and could help him come up with something slightly more advanced.

and while you and carlos hadn’t really kept up with one another, he jokingly brought up a time where he did something for you, and how you always said you’d pay him back one day and maybe now it was time to cash it in??

you decided why not? you’ve done a lot of stuff for north high’s dance company, but you’ve never helped out in a musical before (and as you can imagine, north high is very competitive in their arts)

so you joined the hsm cast as co-choreographer.

now, because you had your own north high dance company stuff to deal with, you end up missing a lot of rehearsals. you mostly brainstorm with carlos and add tweaks to the choreo. carlos is the one to really ~teach~ things.

which means that while you are present for ~the drama~ that was ej-nini-ricky, you actually miss a lot of it. you feel the tension, but exactly why it’s Like That is beyond you.

you tried to ask carlos once but he said he wasn’t going to get into that, thank you.

and honestly, you have competitions to keep up with, so you’re not fixated on it. you’re just hoping that they’re not still pissed at each other on opening night, when ej has to strap ricky in for “getcha head in the game”

and while you’ve chatted with ej a couple of times, you haven’t had much time to catch up.

you actually bond a lot with gina, who is on the same level as you in terms of dance. you end up talking and mention how ej was once on dance company, and that rocks her world because ej???

and that’s when you show her all of the old videos you archived on your instagram from your junior high days. carlos, ej, and you all in dance company. they’re precious.

and when ej’s friendships are strained and he doesn’t have anyone to turn to, he sees you and gina laughing and crowding over your phone, and he comes to say hi.

and thus, the friendship begins again.

it is, of course, slow going because so much time has come between you, and gina and carlos (the two you hang with the most) are not on great terms with ej, but you guys grow really close all over again. ej is glad to have another senior to talk to about college, and you’re glad you have an old friend to talk to because it’s easy to feel out of place in this school that isn’t yours.

and on opening night, you know ej gifts you something - maybe it’s a jacket or beanie with the wildcats emblem on it.

“it’s kinda stupid, but we always said we were going to be wildcats together, and we did it.”

“huh, i guess we did.”

and for some reason, you chest is really warm, and you can feel the heat sneak up to your cheeks.

“this is really sweet, ej.”

“well, you know me.”

“yeah, i guess i do.”

and then it’s his cue to get ready to go on stage.

“oh! and there should be another surprise coming, don’t hate me for not telling you!”

and you’re ??? but it turns out to be gina.

you all clearly go to denny's afterward to celebrate, and if ej feels his heart seize in his chest everytime you laugh or steal one of gina’s fries, it’s not an unfamiliar feeling. because really, it had always been like that, with you. you never cease to amaze him.

and once you’re on the east high theatre group chat, you never get taken off of it, so you know everything that’s going on with your theatre buddies, after hsm has finished.

and this is where a conflict of interest really comes in...

because, you see, once hsm is a hit, some of the theatre kids at north high think you’re a traitor. you gave east high their secrets, and now east high is an actual contender. uncool, (y/n).

so you kind of get iced out by a lot of north high kids. like i said. competition there is  s t e e p  and you’ve been accused of fraternizing with the enemy..

but when zach roy shows up and he hears about the drama surrounding one (y/n) (l/n), he gets an idea... so he approaches you one day after dance company practice...

“he asked you to do wHAT?”

you’re texting ej, carlos, and gina in a group chat

“he asked me to co-choreograph their show.”

“are you going to do it?” - carlos

“of course they are! do you think opportunities like this just fall out of the sky?” - gina

“i don’t know, though, i feel like he’s working some angle with me. there’s something about him that doesn’t feel genuine.”

“it’s those piercing blue eyes.” - carlos

“i have piercing blue eyes!”

“and you’ve never done anything underhanded?” - gina

“we did that together!”

“what should i do?”

“accept, clearly!” - gina

“i’d be careful, if i were you. miss jenn doesn’t trust him for a reason.” - carlos

“it’s up to you, (y/n). you’ll do great, and it’s a great opportunity.”

“but?”

and everyone can feel the pause - the conflict where ej doesn’t know what to say.

“but nothing! this is a HUGE opportunity! he’s dancer extraordinaire derek hough zach roy! i’d be the villain of your eventual documentary if i were to try to hold you back.”

“okay... i think i’ll do it. you know how competitive things are, here. this could really give me a boost.”

“hell yeah, (y/n)!” - gina

“spy on their production for us?” - carlos

“anything for you <3″

i imagine you clash a lot with lily, but you actually become really good friends with howie and antoine. but that’s beside the point.

and while things are on good terms at first, your bond with your wildcats stays strong, and you’re carving out a place in north high rehearsals, lily is quick to find out that you’re on the east high group chat.

and because this is hsmtmts, i get to have some fun with this premise.

lily gets some kind of tech nerd on her side, and she gets him to make it so that somehow, the text that you get from the theatre group also send to her phone, for maximum stalking of the competition. that’s how she always gets one step ahead of east high.

and as north high seemingly continues to have insider info on east high, someone suspects there’s a leak.... which leads to you. who else has access to north high? so they send a fake text and wait to see if north high takes the bait.

they do. so now east high thinks it’s you.

but at this same time, you keep noticing that suspiciously, whenever you get a text from east high theatre department, lily’s phone goes off to. literally at the same moment, you’re doing your own test to see if somehow she hacked your phone.

(you had your suspicions because lily is actually terribly bad at hiding her hand and constantly makes remarks that make you Think™.)

you confirm lily to have hacked your phone, and so you go old school and show up to east high, hoping to tell them what happened and find some fix (since east high is the mother of all tech schools in this universe.)

but when you walk into the auditorium, the cast is being really passive aggressive toward you? and you’re so confused? what happened?

of course, ricky is the only to confront you because these days, it seems like he’s always one (1) moment away from blowing up.

and you explain that you were played just as much as they were - it was never your intention to betray them. east high is your family.

“oh, yeah? i’ve never known an east high leopard to go to north high.”

and so now we’re in shambles! we’re divided! 

you leave, upset, and ej catches you in the hall. he tries to explain that ricky’s been on one, recently, that none of his anger was really meant for you, and that he believes you - truly. he knows you’re the last person to ever betray them. you’re not like that. that’s more him than it is you.

and you just give him the world’s biggest  h u g .

now you’re probably wondering why i insisted on this particular plot line, but let me tell you - ej never really understood completely what a complete breach of trust it was for him to steak nini’s phone and violate her privacy like that. now he can see how deeply it affects you - how it can really ruin people in ways you never intend. it’s about the learning curve.

anyway, it takes you a while to build up trust with east high again, but you say “hey, why don’t you guys continue to send false leads to this group chat? make another for yourselves, and continue to spread misinformation to me.

ej is like... do you really want to sabotage your own show? but you tell him something along the lines of “our show is still going to have superior choreography, lily is just going to waste her time doing pointless side missions. it has nothing to do with the quality of my work.”

and ej loves this competitive and devious side of you so much. but he’s also deathly terrified of telling you how much he cares about you, because he always manages to screw things up.

and gina finds hilariously endearing because of all people to be self conscious... ej caswell? the ej caswell? she would be his hype woman if she wasn’t so busy finding this all too Good to be true.

eventually, lily will find out, but when she confronts you and threatens to tell the cast that you’re the reason they’re so behind in their production, you tell her that to do that, she’d have to confess to stealing your phone, hacking into it, and using it to spy on you which breaks like 23 different school rules. but sure! tell everyone! you’d love to see how the principal reacts when you film it and show it to them on monday.

(this is getting really long, let me see if i can wrap it up, quick)

clearly, ej is an Idiot when he’s in love, and even though he’s deathly afraid of telling you his feelings, that doesn’t stop him from expressing them.

both of you are in your respective musicals, and your rehearsal schedules align really nicely, so a lot of the time, ej will drive up to north high afterward so he can give you a ride home. (you don’t have a car, okay?) you guys always stop to get fast food or a drink at starbucks or something, and you have little “dates” where ej parks the car and the two of you eat in his car, just chatting about your day.

or on weekends, you and ej go and drive up to the state college that ej was admitted to, and you walk around campus, trying to envision him there. and if you’re also going to a school nearby, you do the same for you. (bonus points if you’re going to the same college, so you walk around and pick out the places where you’ll chill together.)

and if these little excursions of yours are the highlight of your week, and all you want to do is hold ej’s hand forever, singing in the car with the windows down and driving into the sunset... well, you just hope that ej wants the same.

and since ej is in av club, and he’s really trying to dig in and figure out what his story is, he’s always got a camera of some kind out, and some of his best work, he swears, are pictures and videos of you.

anyway, at some point, you confess to ej that you have a crush on him (howie probably pushed you to do it because he was tired of seeing you pine).

it’s a weekend and the two of you are procrastinating on your respective school assignments (study sessions being interrupted with senioritis? sounds about right) so instead you’re just sitting on the floor, staring at the ceiling, talking about whatever. and i think it just slips out, and when you realize what you’ve said, you’re vvv embarrassed, and you don’t even want to look at see how ej reacts, but he calls your name and you turn to him, a deadly mixture of dread and hope rooted in your stomach and shaking you to your core, but ej is smiling and in his eyes is something brighter than the sun, and when he tells you he’s feels the same, it’s like that dread in your stomach blooms into pure joy and when he tells you he’s had a crush on you since you were eighth graders and you were a better dancer than him, you can’t help but laugh until all of that warmth in your stomach has escaped into the air and hangs around the two of you like low hanging stars - so close, you can reach out and touch them.

anyway, cue lots of sneaking around north high - not because it’s a secret but because it’s fun hiding in the back of the auditorium and sneaking into the empty dance room.

cue cheering for each other at the menkies and congratulating each other when east high gets best musical, and north high gets best choreography (amongst others).

cue going to denny’s to celebrate and laughing until your sides hurt, stealing each other’s fries, and holding hands under the table.

(also... ej 100% would kiss your fingers when your hands are intertwined and that’s truly a blessing)

cue going to pool parties together for no other reason than i want all of the east high kids to do an impromptu rendition of “all for one” and ej gets to hit ricky with one of those blow up beach balls “for revenge” on the basketball moment in season 1.

plus, a pool party would do wonders for destressing, don’t lie.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

taglist: @maybanksslut, @theletterhart, @brokenandheadoverheels, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena @kitsdeadwife, @amortensie // add yourself to the taglist here!

[wendimydarling]

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj​ and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira​ for betaing! 

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death. 

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.” 

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already. 

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet. 

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me. 

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls. 

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

[jordanstrophe]

A Change of Heart, part 2

Previous  <--->  Next

(Some beautiful soul suggested I give them names, so here we go. The names will slowly appear as they’re introduced.) (OH NO I just realized that makes them OC’s... )

CW: whumpee afraid of caretaker, reference to cauterizing, fever, wounds, short fight scene, Whumpee briefly being referred to as merchandise

Caretaker bundled Whumpee up under the shelter for the night, kneeling by their side keeping an eye on their temperature and wounds. They had long passed out after the cauterizing, twitching and whimpering until they fell unconscious. 

Caretaker laid next to them to keep them warm, gently laying an arm around their waist, before drifting off to sleep themselves...

Caretaker jolted awake, there was a loud snap that echoed in the woods nearby. They glanced down at Whumpee who was still knocked out, before slowly creeping up to their feet, grabbing a long stick nearby, holding it up defensively as they glanced around. The fire had long gone out, only darkness surrounding them remained. 

Caretaker wandered around quietly, they couldn't see a thing, but they couldn’t just ignore what they heard. There was a loud crashing sound behind them, as they whirled around, just in time to feel the breeze of a bird shoot past them. Caretaker stood frozen, before setting out a sigh of relief with a slight chuckle. It was just a silly bir- Their thoughts were interrupted as someone full blown tackled them from behind, both of them came crashing down into the leaves, as the figure pinned Caretaker to the ground. 

Caretaker grabbed hold of the arm wrapped around their chest, bringing their elbow back hard against the chest behind them. 

“Darius! What are you doing?” The voice hissed. 

“Carl?” Darius asked, twisting his body around to face the man crouching over him.

“Are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing, taking off with the merchandise?! When they told me it was you, I laughed in their face, I still hardly believe it!” The man hissed. 

“Carl listen! He got hurt, okay? He barely made it through the night, you know what they would have done to him if they saw him in that state.” Darius said, shoving the man off him.

“It doesn’t matter! It was his own fault for diving off a cliff like that. Come on man, this is our job!” Carl growled, brushing the leaves from his vest.

“Well... I don’t care about the job anymore! I can’t work knowing what happens to those people!” Darius grumbled.

“Well that explains it... There’s your first mistake, thinking of them as people. They're merchandise.” Carl sighed. “Listen, I have to take you in, okay? Talk to the boss, maybe you can get off easy, now where’s the kid?” Carl asked, pulling out a flashlight and shining it around. 

Darius sighed, struggling to his feet. “He’s over there...” He hesitantly pointed behind him. Carl turned around, pulling out a radio, but before he could even spit a word out, Darius slammed the branch across his head, as he bonelessly slumped into the dirt. 

“Sorry old friend... But I’m not doing this anymore. I want to do one good thing in my life, and this is how I’m going to do it.” He shook his head, tossing the branch over his body and stepped over him.

Felix slowly blinked awake. His temperature was haywire, first he was overheated, now he’s freezing cold as he curled in on himself. He kept hearing an irritating scraping sound close by, as he grudgingly pressed his face into the jacket. 

*Swwwink* The noise continued, as Felix poked his head out, cautiously glancing at the man sitting near the fireplace. His face went pale when he realized he was sharpening a sturdy stick onto a spear using a rock. His breath shuttered, as his body tensed up, slowly inching back, he couldn’t stay here anymore, it wasn’t safe. Sure, the man was taking care of him, but he was cruel and scary at the same time. He leaned up, trying to slink away into the woods, but winced when pain shot in his side, forcing a whimper to escape from his lips.

He froze, as he heard the cutting noise stopped, turning his head to glance at the man, who was now staring at him.

“Good morning.” Darius raised an eyebrow suspiciously, as Felix submissively laid back down with a guilty expression. Darius followed his eyes that were fixated on the spear in his hand, as he slowly set it down. “It’s okay, it’s not for you.” He said, tossing the rock aside. “How are you feeling?” He asked, standing up to approach, but Felix jolted at the movement, huffing as he scurried back a few inches. Darius immediately dropped to a crouch to match his level. 

“No no no! It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.” He soothed. Felix gave him a skeptical look, as Darius sighed. “Anymore, I’m not going to hurt you anymore, okay? That was a one time thing.” He tried to give him a reassuring smile, which surprisingly made him relax just a little. 

“We have to keep moving, do you think you’ll be okay to travel today?” He asked. Felix gave him a nervous nod, as Darius slowly rose back to his feet. “WAIT!” Felix shouted, cringing and shielding his head when he took a step closer, Darius immediately froze. “I.. I can walk on my own.. Please.” Felix pleaded, trying to prove it to him by shakily leaning up.

 “That’s not a good idea.” Darius sighed, crossing his arms. “Just let me take your arm, I can take some weight off.” He tried. “ No! no, i’ve got it.” He grunted, pushing his knees under him to try and stand. His legs wobbled as he used a tree to push himself to his feet. “S-s-see?” He stuttered, clearly in pain. 

Well.. This was one way to get him to learn. Darius shook his head at the man trembling in front of him, trying desperately to keep a straight face. He understood why he didn’t trust him, or want him anywhere near him after what he did to him last night, but he was in such a messy state right now he would have to accept help, whether he liked it or not. 

Felix let go of the tree to try and take a step, his knees instantly buckling as he fell forward, Darius bolted forward, catching him before he hit the ground, taking his arm over his shoulder. Felix yelped at both the fall and being grabbed, but he got his legs back under him with Darius’s help. “I’ve got you! I’ve got you, just hang tight, okay? If it makes you feel better, just pretend I’m a tree or something.” He shrugged, holding his arm over his shoulder with a hand around his waist keeping him up. 

They stood like that for a second, as Felix finally sighed. “Ookaayy...” He grumbled in defeat, as Darius smile, as he walked him out of the camp.

They walked, and walked, hopelessly seeing no signs of an opening. Felix got more and more tired the longer he walked, slumping lower on Darius’s shoulders, who would have to frequently stop to pull him back up. 

“Wait...” Felix quietly muttered, Darius almost didn’t hear him. He looked down to see his face sweating again, his fever spiking. “Shoot!” Darius gasped, pulling him over to a fallen tree, his feet practically dragging behind. As soon as he sat down, he collapsed his shoulder against the tree to lay down, breathing heavily. “I can’t... I can’t go any further.” He closed his eyes in defeat, gasping for air.

Darius pulled out his phone, it still had no signal. “Listen to me, I need you to stay here, okay? I’m going to go a little further and see if I can get a signal, I’ll come back for you, I promise. I know you don’t trust me right now, but I’m begging you, please stay right here.” He said.

“D-don’t worry, I’m not g-going anywhere.” He huffed, breathless. 

Darius continued to trail, running as fast as he could. Please just find something... Anything! He won't make it much longer... There was a steep hill in front of him, as he stopped to catch his breath. He let out a deep sigh before trying to make it up the hill. He was beyond out of breath when he made it to the top, knowing he had a ways to go even after he scaled the hill. He grabbed onto a tree branch to help pull his weight up at the top as he froze, looking up. There was a road in front of him, on a highway he recognized. He ripped the phone from his pocket, almost dropping it in the process as he saw a signal. 

He aggressively dialed a number, foot tapping with impatience as it rang. 

“Hey! It’s me, I’m cashing in that favor.” He huffed with a smirk.

Felix was on the verge of falling asleep again while balanced on the tree. His wound burned and kept shooting pulses of pain throughout his body at random. He grunted as he forced his head up to look around, part of him wanted to just crawl away, but the other wanted Darius to come back so badly. 

“Hey!” He heard someone shout, as he jolted up. “There's road just up the hill, you’re going to be alright!” Darius cheered, skidding over to him with pure relief across his face.  He hoisted him up in his arms bridal style, as Felix couldn’t help but to latch on to his neck, his head resting on his shoulder, as his eyes fluttered closed. 

‘'I got you, everything is going to be alright, I got you.” He smiled, as he carried him out of the woods.

Previous

(This isn’t reallllyy a prompt anymore, so if anyone wants to be removed from tagging this one, just let me know c:)

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @pyromilka @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

[xsugarysweetsx]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 2

Previous Next

Warnings; Some language; kidnapping; mention of blood (but not violent; horribly written action

°°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°° °°°°

“Uggghh I shouldn’t have drank last night“ you groan as the blaring of your alarm makes your head pound harder than it was. You blindly feel around for your phone to stop the annoying sound. Finally turning off the retched noise you sit up in bed and stretch upward.

“Another day...“ you said in a monotone morning voice. Throwing your legs over the bed you walk across the cold floor into your bathroom to get ready for work. You worked at a local cafe, it didn’t pay as much as you would want but, it got your bills paid. You brush your teeth, shower, and get dressed.

You refill Mochi’s bowls with food and water and you were on your way. After you lock your door you walk down the hall to the elevator. It seemed to be closing but was stopped by your neighbor, Eren. He was a fresh college graduate just a couple years younger than you

“Morning sleepyhead” he teased “Long night?”

“Don’t ask“ you said fixing your hair into a ponytail. Digging through your purse you find your keys and look up at Eren “How's job hunting going for ya” you ask as the elevator opens up to the parking lot. 

“Ass, they’re all ran by obnoxious old bastards“ he scoffed with a pout 

“Well if you keep going to places with that mentality it’ll be like that for a while.“ unlocking your car you get in and start it up “I can always try and get you a job at the cafe“ you offer closing your door

“Nah, I’ll be fine I’m heading to a tattoo parlor to see where I can start there. See ya“ he waves over his head as he walks the other way to his bike 

“bye.“ you said aimlessly as you start to pull out of your spot and on your way to work. The streets busy with all kinds of people business owners, office workers, cops, and the list goes on. The cafe wasn’t too far, just a 10 minute drive was all. After you park you get out of your car and a sigh leaves your lips 

“Another day, another order“ you sigh opening the door and walking to the back. The shop was small but cozy, the smells of teas and coffee filled the air as buzz of baristas and customers filled your ears. You throw on your apron and get to the front where you took orders. 

“Hey, how’d you sleep?“ Christa asked, one of your coworkers “Sasha told us about the date, I’m sorry you had to experience that“ she was always so sweet and compassionate

“Hey can’t win them all, besides he was full if himself“ you smile to the next customer that comes to the counter “Good morning what will you like?“

“Small Black tea, no sugar“ the man said in a monotone. Working here you saw all walks of life. This man was dressed in a grey button up with black slacks, dress shoes, sunglasses and had an umbrella in hand. He was also noticeably pale, maybe he was sensitive to the sun and got sunburned easily. You weren’t one to judge. 

“That will be $5.15 sir“ he hands you the exact amount and stands to the side to wait. After about 5 minutes you serve him his tea and that was when you made eye contact. Striking grey-blue eyes met yours and for a moment your heart skipped a beat. He looked down quickly and grabbed his tea 

“Thank you“ and he left. You walk back to the counter not even noticing the burning of your cheeks

“ooo was that a romantic encounter I saw?“ Sasha nudges you as she passes by. You simply scoff and shake your head and move on with your day

“Can I help who’s next!“

<><><><>

Tch today couldn’t be anymore shitty. It’s sunny as hell, I saw her again, and I’m pretty sure she recognized me

Levi thought to himself as he walked along the sidewalk, his umbrella overhead. He walks a few blocks until he reaches a bar and grill he walks past the bar and to the back of the kitchen. Walking past the chefs and serves, he goes into a backroom with an elevator. 

For lack of a better term, it was an underground. Where more people like him were free to roam. They lived exactly like people, they had jobs, houses, some with families, only they were vampires. A secret society if you will. This was a faster way of getting to the city and back to his Coven. His consisted of about 5 major people, Erwin called the shots, he kept things in order, Hanji did research when needed, and Mike who was a security guard in a way.

Everyone else joins in at some point or were taken in by Erwin. They were pretty well known among other vampires. Walking along the way he makes a stop for some blood. Even though he despised even the thought of it, he had to survive. He would go to a blood supply shop and mix in some with his tea kill the taste of it.

Thanking the shop owner he leaves and continues his way back home. Suddenly something heavy is thrown over his shoulder, causing him to stumble a bit. 

“Levi! Did you check up on our girl?“ he knew that voice too well. Zeke of all people. He actually used to be part of his Coven, and probably one of the best but after a certain incident he was kicked out. Ever since he’s been getting on Levi’s last nerve, especially when it had to do with people going missing.

Technically it would be humans’ problem to solve, but if they find out why and how they went missing, it would only be bad for vampires. Possibly even death for them, even though half of them are over 100 years old. Nonetheless, he can’t have someone constantly slipping up, but at the same time he doesn’t want to babysit a full grown man.

“Listen you bastard, she isn’t yours no is she mine. I got a tea without knowing she was there. Now get your big ass off me before I break your arms.“ he threatened brushing past Zeke and making way back on route. Zeke simply stood there, with a smile, the type of smile that couldn’t mean anything good

“Oh it’s just a matter of time, Levi��

<><><><>

“You sure you want to close Y/N? I can always stay“

“It’s no problem I know you have a baby waiting at home so I don’t mind“ it was already time to close.

Your manager insisted on staying with you but you knew she was busy and just had a baby. She thanked you again and you started to lock up everything. Closing the cash registers, wiping down the counter and locking the door. It was cold that night and you wish you brought a jacket.

Surprisingly the street wasn’t as full as usual. A chill ran up your spine, making you feel uneasy. You slowly pick up the pace, you and your car insight but you no judo to shake off this feeling. Like a cold icy glare at the back of head. Almost like an ice cube running down your spine.

You end up running to your car, and make it to the door panting. You turn around sharply and take in your surroundings. Nothing—not a soul.

“*Sigh* get a grip damn it! Just get home and you’ll be fine” you scold yourself as you open your car and get inside. Checking the backseat no one was there, you don’t waste any more time and drive off. The drive was short and you may have speed in a little.

You’re finally home, you make sure to lock your door twice. There was still something strange going on, usually Mochi was at the door meowing at you for being gone all day.

“Mochi?” You call as you walk through the apartment only to find him in your room. “Oh there you are” you go and pick him up but his gaze is fixated on window. His body was tense and he even had a low growl in his chest. Looking there was nothing to be seen so you brushed it off as him being a cat. Yet, you looked one more time and your heart dropped in lot your stomach.

Zeke. There he was standing at your window. He raises his fist and smashes it through your window. You let out a shriek as you run with Mochi into the kitchen. You open the drawer and grab a knife and turn around frantically. Your hand was shaking, your pulse was racing, and you’re adrenaline was through the roof. The apartment was dark and cool and the room was deafeningly quiet. The silence was broke as a growl like voice said

“Now, now princess don’t play hard to get. This will only take a moment” he said a bit to slightly as he started to inches away to you. He pulled out look look like to be a small white rag and you could only think of one thing “could this really be my end?”

Without thinking you drop Moshi end jump forward to try and learn him. But you miss, and he is somehow behind you in the blink of an eye. He holds your hands behind your back as he smacks the rag on to your mouth.

You struggle against his vice grip, but you couldn’t seem to shake them off or even let you kick on him. You try not to breathe and won’t ever was in that ride but you felt your consciousness slowly slip away from you. Your vision begins to go blurry, your head was light, and your leg start to get out. 

Is this how I die...? Is this....my end...

“Shhh that’s it Y/N, that’s it. Just sleep until I get you back” he chuckled “they’re all gonna get a kick out of this”

<><><><>

Taglist: @mysteriousmagicx @kameko-ko @jin-mowi @mystic-starlove @chronic-claire-universe​ @shrimp1026 @captainchrisstan @givemea-dam-break @actual-trash-goblin @leiaausmus @sugarysweets-appreciation-blog @levisfilm @kingdoms--night--star @leviiiiiiiii @dilirx @super-peace-fangirl @ultimateelitepenguin @happygalaxymilkshake @lola2001 @sillykawa @queenofcurse @fanfictionreaderholic

[anistarrose]

Summary: Winters running the Mystery Shack are difficult, but two unexpected guests improve Stan’s day.

Characters: Stan Pines, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Ford Pines

Relationships: Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Happy Holidays, @halogalopaghost! I'm your Secret Santa, here to mash together a couple different prompts through the power of time travel (and Mabel)!

***

It doesn’t take Stan many years to learn that winter’s no good for the rural Oregon tourist business.

Granted, he can hardly blame the tourists — he has to drive on Gravity Falls roads himself, much to his disgust. Between the paved, plowed streets that always turn slick with ice where you least expect them, and the winding gravel roads that you might as well ignore when road and wilderness alike are under identical four-inch blankets of snow, he knows no gallery of fake haunted paintings or taxidermied coyote’s ass is worth the trip in these conditions.

He’s on his third winter in town, now — not counting the first, worst one he arrived at the tail end of — and if there’s a right way to run a business this time of year, he hasn’t found it yet. He always scrapes together just enough to pay his bills, thanks the occasional local who wanders over to purchase a seasonally appropriate if overpriced snow globe — but he’s lucky if he breaks even in December, and knows January through March are a lost cause before they begin. He’ll make it back within the next year, sometimes even before summer ends, but it stings to know he’s about to fail at his one goal for the next three to four months straight, and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

It might sting less if he had another way to spend these winters — if he had a good reason to formally close the Shack for a few months, like an experienced business owner making a grounded and responsible decision. But he can’t even search for Ford’s journals in this weather — he’s learned from his mistakes, his countless brushes with frostbite, throughout those cold, desperate months in the wake of the portal shutting down.

He’s useless right now, and worse, this season’s shaping up to be the bleakest yet. His usually-scammable neighbors have already lined their shelves with winter knicknacks from Mystery Shack visits past, and the bulk of Stan’s meager sales have come from shivering out-of-towners who’ve never tried to take a Pacific Northwest road trip in December before, and probably won’t be keen to try again.

What seasonal merchandise hasn’t he sold yet? Bumper stickers for miscellaneous holidays, maybe — but neither timely bumper stickers nor the usual selection of tchotchkes will convince people to visit the Shack in the first place, under these road conditions. He can’t even walk around selling merch door to door, for the same reason he can’t look for the other journals — he’d freeze to death, presuming he could make it through the snowdrifts to somewhere worth visiting in the first place. Even with snow chains on the Stanmobile’s tires and a bucket of salt in her trunk, grocery runs alone are perilous enough.

Damn it, Ford, he thinks, why couldn’t you have gone missing in Florida?

He could always do what he does best and lie, maybe — send out word that there’s free hot chocolate or something with every purchase at the Mystery Shack, and hope that people hand over their hard-earned cash before they pick up on the false advertising. He might draw in some local customers that way, and even if he loses their trust for the next few months, they always seem to forget about his cons eventually — as if he never scammed them, and they’ve never so much as heard the words caveat emptor.

He’s just about to dial the local paper’s number on the phone, hoping to flatter Toby into letting him run another ad for free, when he hears a telltale knock at the gift shop door. The bell atop that door doesn’t ring, which means that despite the hostile winds and snow they braved to get here, his visitors are still out loitering on the porch — or so Stan thinks for a moment, before it dawns on him that he doesn’t even remember unlocking the door this morning. He’d just been that pessimistic about even seeing a customer.

“Hello?” someone calls — a fairly young voice, probably approaching the tail end of puberty. “Are you there, uh…Mr. Mystery?”

“On my way!” Stan shouts, throwing on his fez and bolting for the door. His neighbors in Gravity Falls might forget and forgive a lot, but he doesn’t want to risk the wrath of a parent whose teenage kid froze to death on the local grifter’s doorstep, so he unlocks and flings open the door as fast as he can. “Welcome, travelers! Prepare to be baffled and bemused by our mind-boggling boreal mysteries, here at this last refuge at the edge of the Arctic we like to call the Cryptid Cabin!”

His visitor — no, his two visitors — both blink slowly, proving to at least be baffled, if nothing else. Both are bundled up in what Stan assumes to be several sheep worth of wool garments, lovingly knitted into sweaters, hats, and scarves.

“But you call this place the Mystery Shack,” the girl speaks up, and the boy nods.

“Yeah, and we’re nowhere near the Arctic! This is Oregon, not Alaska!”

Stan groans — the only customers he might see all week, and of course they’re teenagers. “Look, punks, business is slow these days! I’ve had a lot of time to think about a seasonal rebranding, and not a lot of chances to workshop it, alright?”

The teens’ expressions instantly soften, and the girl exclaims: “Well, you can workshop it with us!” She grabs the other kid — her brother? — by the hand, and pulls him into the gift shop.

Maybe Stan’s judged them too quickly — he’s still not thrilled to have strangers pitying him, of course, but he’ll take it over strangers mocking him any day of the week.

“Dang, you’re right,” the boy comments once inside, and face-to-face with shelves of untouched merchandise. “It really is empty in here in the winter.”

With little light coming in from the windows, and a flickering bulb overhead that will soon need replacing, the often-bustling room is now dim and eerie — aside from the junk food wrappers on the floor, which Stan hastily kicks under his desk.

“Look at all the lonely snowglobes in need of homes!” the girl pipes up, swiping a glass-encased antelabbit off the shelf and giving it a hearty shake. “Good thing I’m here to adopt this lucky little guy — how much is he?”

Stan takes a second to run the numbers — the maximum amount of money a teen would have on hand, versus what Stan needs to charge to make a profit — and replies: “Twenty-nine ninety-nine and nothing more. We don’t do sales tax here, ‘less you’re a cop.”

“Bet there’s a lot of other taxes you don’t do, either,” the boy snorts, rummaging through a shelf of hats until he unearths one with the old Murder Hut logo on it. “Aha! Now here’s a collector’s item!”

“Oh, did you come here before the rebrand and forget to grab a souvenir?” Stan asks. He doesn’t remember these two, but it’s been a couple years since he painted over the last Murder Hut sign — and they do seem pretty familiar with the building, not to mention Stan’s whole… business model.

“Oh, uh, that’s a funny story, actually! Real funny!” the boy stammers with a whole lot more trepidation than the topic should’ve warranted, and looks to his sister for help.

Sure enough, she steps in. “We lived here for a while — in Gravity Falls, I mean! Not here in the Shack, obviously — wouldn’t that be ridiculous, if we lived in your house for months without you knowing? Could you imagine —”

“That is to say, we still visit sometimes!” the boy supplies. His eyes are a whole lot more fixated on the snowglobes than with anything in Stan’s general direction. “You probably don’t remember us — we weren’t in town for very long, or anything…”

Stan sighs. They’re lying, obviously — but hey, there’s no cops in the Mystery Shack, and he doesn’t have a dog in whatever fight compelled the duo to spew this bullshit. He’ll keep an eye on the cash register, of course, but these kids are tolerable company when they’re not being suspicious as hell — so if they want to invent a bad cover story for a low-stakes tourist trap visit, more power to them.

“Well, the hat’s vintage, so that’ll be double price. Twenty bucks,” he announces matter-of-factly, and the boy groans — but there’s a smile behind it, like he’d expected this and now he’s just playing along. If there’s one thing Stan’s willing to believe, it’s that these kids have been to the Mystery Shack before.

“You’re a highway robber, old man, and I’m the coward who’s gonna let you get away with it,” the boy declares, and Stan can’t help but laugh. The kid reaches under several layers of sweaters to pull out a wallet, with a blue pine tree embroidered on, and miscellaneous charms of fantasy characters hanging off a chain on the side. Stan doesn’t recognize any of them, but they still tug at his heartstrings, because he can tell they’re the exact kind of nerdy references Ford would love.

He does take note of the pine tree design, though — it’s generic enough that slapping it on some shirts and hats wouldn’t quite be plagiarism, and in Stan’s eyes, those are always the best souvenir designs.

The kids put their money forward, hovering awkwardly as Stan rings up their items — the girl busies herself attacking a loose string on her brother’s scarf, nimble fingers tying it back in its approximate place, while the boy twiddles his thumbs and stares at the snowy, gray scene out the window. At the moment, only light flurries fill the air, but tomorrow night promises a blizzard… and Stan, grump with a soft side that he is, can’t help but hope that if these kids are really on vacation, then they aren’t planning to drive anywhere tonight.

With it being winter, and him running the business that he does, he doesn’t have much charity to give — but, if he’s going to play along with his customers’ little lie, then he should probably at least bring up the topic.

“You’re not hittin’ the road any time soon, are you?” He makes eye contact only with the green illustrated presidents in his hands, so not to come across as overly invested. “Weather forecast says tonight’s gonna be a doozy.”

“Aww, you’re worried about us?” the girl coos, because apparently both parties here are damn good at picking up on each other’s lies. “That’s so sweet — but you don’t have to be! Our great uncle’s waiting for us in town, and he’ll… well, let’s just say he’s planning to bring us back home before the blizzard hits.”

“He’s, uh — he lived here back in the seventies, so he knows what he’s doing,” the boy adds. “On the roads, that is. Mostly.”

“Well, you two take care,” Stan tells them, hastily adding on: “So you can come back when the weather isn’t terrible and buy more keychains, that is.”

“Oh, we will.” The boy grins, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his sister. “Maybe don’t count on it being next year — or the year after that, even — but you can count on it.”

“Well, uh…” Stan stops himself, resisting the impulse to divulge things he really shouldn’t. “You just shouldn’t count on me running this place forever. Be sure to get your novelty cryptid pins while they’re hot, y’know.”

He’s never really wondered what he’ll do with the Shack when he gets Ford back — and yes, he has to believe that statement deserves a when, not an if — but he figures the Shack’s fate will depend more on Ford’s own whims. If reality lands somewhere between the nightmares of Ford wanting him gone and the fantasies of finally sailing around the world, if Ford doesn’t hate him but still wants to spend more time with Important Science Experiments than with his brother, then Stan could see himself returning to a mediocre life in his moderately successful tourist trap… but with the search for the journals still coming up empty, Stan can only try not to think about the future, and accept that he’ll just cross — or burn — that bridge when he comes to it.

“Okay, Mr. Mystery,” the girl suddenly declares with a tone that frankly reminds Stan of his mother, “you look like you could use a pick-me-up!”

“What?” It’s starting to freak Stan out how well she can read him, and there’s no telling whether it’s just a sharp intuition, or something significantly more Gravity Falls-y. “If I look tired, kid, it’s because it’s December in Oregon, I haven’t seen the sun in a week, and I am tired. Only pick-me-up I need is for you to get out of my hair, and let me go back into hibernation like nature intended.”

“Okay, but counterpoint: you hear us out,” the boy insists. “We’ve got a little something up our sleeve to really light up your winter —” He winks at his sister. “Don’t we?”

“You bet we do!” She pulls a bag of marshmallows out of not her sleeve, but her backpack, and grins. “Prepare to be amazed and astounded by the natural wonders of this town, and also the miracle that is processed sugar and gelatin!”

“Are you imitating my sales pitches?” Stan asks, dumbfounded. “And do you carry those on you at all times?”

“In winter in Gravity Falls, I do!” the girl replies, already heading for the exit with her brother. “C’mon! If this doesn’t put a smile on your face, nothing will!”

“We all know you’ve got time to spare, Stan,” the boy adds, cracking open the door. “Get a move on!”

“Spare time doesn’t mean I’ve got spare limbs to lose to frostbite,” Stan grumbles, but follows them anyway. There’s something captivating about these little punks — not so much this mysterious phenomenon they’re trying to sell him on, as if they could really out-charlatan Mr. Mystery himself, but rather the way they’re not put off by his frigid facade. They see right through him, showering him in alternating kindness and acerbic wit.

Stan can’t help but wonder if their uncle’s kind of like him — tired, bitter, and pretending to be indifferent, but secretly soft on the inside, like a marshmallow that’s burnt on the surface but melted within. It would explain why they’re so good at calling him on his shit — but then again, Stan and this mystery guy can’t be too alike, because if Stan had a niece and nephew like these two, he’s sure he’d be living his life a whole lot differently.

He exits the Shack, and all his questions are immediately replaced with new ones when he sees the teens just hurling marshmallows towards the edge of the woods. The wind’s in their favor, so some of those sugary little fuckers fly far.

“Okay, so I’ve already got a couple concerns,” Stan tells them, shivering. “First off, what the hell?”

“It might take a couple minutes before one shows up,” the girl admits, as if it’s a totally reasonable stand-alone explanation for whatever the hell’s going on here. With about a third of the marshmallows now blending into the snow on Stan’s lawn, she and her brother stop with the throwing, though they still hold onto the bag. “Our grunkle theorized that they move slower in winter, to save energy — oh wait, never mind! Here comes one now!”

“Sorry, what? And where?” Stan squints out into the woods, terrified to lay his eyes upon a woodland monster these kids just lured to his doorstep — but all he sees, at first, are a few wisps of smoke dispersing in the wind above the trees. He’s not even convinced it’s smoke, really, because these aren’t the right conditions for a fire — but to his surprise, he glimpses an orange light within the woods, glowing steadily brighter until the trees and bushes around it are all casting faint shadows.

When it steps into the clearing, Stan realizes he has seen something like it before, albeit only from the overcautious distance he tries to keep from all anomalies. It’s an otherwise normal campfire perched on wooden, spiderlike legs, and it melts a path in the snow as it trots forwards, then lowers itself to the ground to absorb the first of a dozen marshmallows.

It lets out a satisfied little sound — a low, steady crackle that sounds almost like a purr — then scampers up to the next morsel of food to repeat the process.

“It’s called a Scampfire!” the girl explains, beaming. “There’s a bunch of them out in the woods, and they’ll always wander over if you leave out enough campfire food — especially sugary stuff! Isn’t that cute?”

“Our great uncle figured out this amazing trick when he used to live here, and he passed it down to us!” the boy adds, practically bouncing up and down in place. “If you leave them a trail of food, they’ll follow you around until you run out — which means they can clear your driveway, warm your hands, even save your car if you drive into a snowbank! Or help you make s’mores, of course.”

“Our grunkle says he even skipped paying his heating bill a couple winters,” the girl adds with a grin, “but I dunno if we can recommend that in good conscience.”

As the scampfire draws a closer, continuing to purr as it consumes more of the sugary trail, the boy slaps a handful of marshmallows into Stan’s palm. “Give it a try!”

Stan’s not thrilled about bringing a fire onto the wooden porch attached to his wooden house, even as cute as said fire is, so instead he tosses his ammunition at something much more disposable — the golf cart, since if this one croaks, he can always just steal another from the insufferable rich family up on the hill. His aim isn’t great — he blames his cold fingers — but exactly one marshmallow lands right in the cart’s driver seat.

The scampfire breaks course from its path towards the Shack, clearing a path through the snow before it crawls into the cart, absorbing the final morsel and curling up atop crossed legs. Nothing explodes, and in fact, a few of the icicles on the awning start to melt, dripping water into the patch of bare muddy ground surrounding the cart.

“Huh,” Stan mutters. Dozens of harebrained schemes flash before his eyes — if he could find a slingshot, or even better, some kind of cannon to mount on the cart’s front hood, then he’s sure that with practice, he could entice some scampfires to clear a path through any snowdrift…

But no matter his exact solution, it’s a way to get into town consistently. He can finally go door-to-door selling knickknacks, instead of sitting in the gift shop every day and hoping some poor soul would get bored enough to brave the roads and visit. He can actually work out a way to line his pockets even in the winter, instead of constantly waking up from nightmares about getting foreclosed on —

“See? They get food, and we don’t freeze — classic mutualistic symbiotic relationship!” the boy declares, and his sister gently socks him in the arm.

“Nerd!”

“Hey, you knew that too! We’re in the same biology class!”

It’s familiar, but the kind of familiarity that Stan doesn’t treasure anymore. It’s more like the kind that he hides in the basement or in boarded-up rooms whenever he can, and grins and bears with a heavy heart when he can’t, like every time he looks in the mirror or hears someone call him Stanford. He comes so close to asking these teens if they’re twins, because he figures the answer can’t be worse than wondering — but the question dies in his throat, and he tells himself it’s for the best.

“Is your uncle who invented this trick the same one who’s waiting in town for you?” he asks instead.

“Yep!” replies the girl. “He probably won’t get worried about us for like, ten or fifteen more minutes, though — I’m sure he’s got his nose buried deep in a book right now.”

“Do me a favor and let him know he’s a lifesaver,” Stan says. “Also tell him I’m glad he moved out, because he sounds a little too smart to fall for the fake monster wares that I peddle.”

The kids exchange a look that Stan can’t even hope to comprehend, though he’s damn sure it’s worth a thousand words to the two of them. Twins or not, he’s getting an “inseparable” kind of vibe from these two, that’s for sure.

“I’m not sure he’d like the Shack at first,” the brother muses, “but I’ve got a hunch it would grow on him.”

“He does like cryptids — sometimes even fake ones!” the sister chimes in. “Oh, shoot — we still need to grab a souvenir for him! I knew we were forgetting something!”

“Huh.” Stan throws a few more marshmallows in the direction of the woods, and the scampfire stumbles off the cart before trotting along on its merry way back to the forest. “I can get you something, no problem — I don’t call this place a gift shop for nothing, y’know. But for the love of Paul Bunyan, let’s talk about it inside.”

He’s not great at mental math, but he doesn’t have to be to know he owes a lot to these teens and the mysterious uncle he might never meet. Hell, even forgetting the business perspective — he can actually look for the journals in winter without risking frostbite, if he gets one of his fiery neighbors to tag along. Even if he finds nothing, even if he only winds up with more failures to contend with, he’d rather rule out locations than be useless to Ford for months at a time.

None of this weird family that he might never see again, these three benevolent strangers that he can only put two faces to, could possibly know how much they’ve just changed for him — and he can’t tell them, as much as his oversized heart promises he can trust these snarky kids who remind him so much of himself. But he does owe them, so when he reenters the gift shop, he goes straight for a seldom-opened and never-advertised box of knickknacks that he has no intention of charging them for. It’s got the dimensions of only about two side-by-side shoeboxes, so he lifts it onto the counter with hardly a grunt, and opens it up.

“Got lots of goodies in here — mostly stuff that I made or, ahem, acquired in bulk, so they never quite sold out by the time everyone and their mother in town had already bought their own. Take a gander.”

He knows that gander will reveal some Murder Hut-branded shirts with the words written on in marker, plastic six-sided dice with a different cryptids pictured on each side, cheap whistles purported to attract Bigfoot, cheap flashlights once advertised for attracting Mothman, exactly three cool rocks that Stan found in the woods… and the pièce de résistance, a little wooden Mystery Shack-shaped music box, which chirps out a pleasant tune when Stan flips up the roof. That last one’s a rare knickknack that Stan really put effort into personally crafting, back at the height of last winter’s monotony, through cannibalizing parts of premade music boxes and sticking them into brand-new shapes — but he couldn’t sell them for enough to be worth the cost of making more, and could never sell this last one at all.

“Oh, wow!” the girl gasps, clearly delighted. “How can I even choose between —”

“No, take it all. It’s on the house — but don’t you dare tell anyone about this, you hear me? I’ll know if you blab, ‘cause people will start asking me if they can get free crap, too, and I don’t wanna hear a word of that nonsense.”

“Free stuff at the Mystery Shack?” The boy narrows his eyes. “Are you feeling okay, old man?”

“Kid, stuff only goes in the Free Bullshit Box when I can’t sell it anyway.” Stan crosses his arms with a huff, even though he’s technically telling the truth. “The only catch is take it before I change my mind.”

A sudden spark of recognition in the brother’s eyes morphs into a grin on his face, and he nods. “Oh, we will. Don’t worry.”

“I think our grunkle will love this! Especially the dice,” the sister adds. “Hey, maybe we could give all this to him piece by piece for Hanukkah! There’s enough here for a new surprise every night!”

“Whoa, there is! Man, the look on his face the first time we bring out a Bigfoot whistle is gonna be great —” The boys eyes dart to the watch on his wrist, and he coughs into his hand. “But we should probably get a move on, huh? Don’t want to get caught in, y’know, the blizzard tonight.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Stan returns the lid and hands the box over. “You, uh, need a ride back to town? ‘Cause being a man of mystery and all, I know this neat trick to clear a whole road with just a bag full of marshmallows —”

The kids both start cackling, so hard that the box almost escapes the girl’s hands, and Stan laughs with them — not because he thought his joke was that funny, but because the kids’ laughter is absolutely priceless. The isolation’s definitely getting to his head and his heart, but he’ll take whatever reprieve he can get.

“I think we’ll manage on our own,” the boy finally wheezes out, “but thanks for the offer, Mr. Mystery. Thanks for everything, really.”

“See you later!” his sister adds as they leave. “Don’t let the feral gnomes bite!”

“You take care, too,” Stan replies, not nearly as loud — but he figures that the kids can read his lips. They can read so much about him, and know so much about the town, that he’s honestly a hair’s breadth away from assuming they’re two more anomalies from the woods themselves, just in more recognizable shapes than most…

Though if Stan’s honestly considering that theory, then more of Ford must’ve rubbed off on him than he likes to think about — which is to say, it’s a good a reason as any to stop thinking about it. What or whoever they were, the duo were actually pretty tolerable for teenagers, and Stan’s pretty sure they didn’t put a curse or whatever magic mumbo jumbo on him — because if they could manage that, they could definitely tell some less conspicuous lies, right?

He kinda likes the idea of one goddamn supernatural force in this town that’s actually benevolent, actually watching his back when his mood’s at its bleakest, and coming to his rescue with — no, he’s dropping that train of thought. No baseless hoping, just letting himself down easy before he gets up.

It does occur to him, several minutes after the gift shop door swings closed, that Hanukkah has already come and gone this year. Which probably just means the kids are prepared to hide that box for another twelve months… but maybe, when Stan finds the other journals, he’ll double-check for entries on helpful teenage cryptids who can’t lie. Just to be sure.

***

Mabel, Dipper, and Ford barrel into the living room so suddenly that Stan almost drops his mug of hot chocolate. They’re all covered in a ridiculous amount of snow, considering how briefly they were just outside, and Ford looks awfully delighted for someone whose glasses are someone whose glasses have just turned opaque with fog.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shouts. The cardboard box in her arms has seen better days, but she’s cradling it like an infant. “You’ll never guess when we just were!”

Dipper points a gloved finger in the air. “You mean, when we just — oh wait, did you already —”

“Yeah, I beat you to it this time!” Mabel pumps her fist. “Anyways, Grunkle Stan — you’ll never guess who we just visited!”

[innittowinit]

SBI headcanons awooga

Some headcanons and things for my sbi fd! Abandoned amusement park fic lol 

Here's the link if you haven't read it btw 

SBI last name is Reid, DT last name is Jackson btw lmao, i probably won't mention it much though unless it's like Mrs Reid for the sbi mom y'know

This has Tommy, Techno, Wilbur and Phil included; lmk if a dt post would be a good idea too 

Tommy

The youngest brother, he’s seven lmao what a child

Even though he’s the youngest, he’s also the most confrontational and will gladly ‘fight’ anyone who talks bad about his brothers 

He can’t fight

He’s very tall for his age but is also extremely light since he’s always running around 

Phil tries to get him to try new foods a lot but Tommy’s a really picky eater

...Tantrums.. Every time he doesn’t get his way

This lead to his brothers spoiling him quite a bit, he’s still sweet enough though since Phil has had many stern conversations with him about being nice to people 

Has a toy music boy, with collectable discs

Wilbur got his first disc for him, it’s his most prised possession 

Every time he does all of his chores (which are really just small things like clean up after himself and keep his room tidy) someone, whether its his Mum, Wilbur or someone else, gets him a new disc 

Techno got him ‘Pig step’ for his seventh birthday and he listens to it every night before bed 

One time he snuck downstairs while Techno and Wilbur were having a sleepover and watched the horror movie they were watching without them realising it. Techno and Wil were the ones to get into trouble since Tommy wouldn’t sleep for a week afterwards. 

Techno had to read him a story every night until he stopped thinking he was going to be eaten by a demon in the middle of the night 

Drinks way too much caffeine for a kid, someone take this boys coke away

He’s got a habit of biting his nails, which has left him with some pretty crooked teeth, which will probably need to be fixed with braces when he’s older. 

It’s also gross because he climbs so much there’s almost always dirt under his nails 

Hasn’t really grasped the whole concept of not saying everything he thinks yet

Oh my god someone shut this boy up

He still believes in Santa and The easter bunny too

One time Techno told him Oogie Boogie from the nightmare before christmas was real and he cried

He talks a lot in school because he finds it boring but he’s also very good at maths and English for his age

Wilbur 

Middle child, Wil is 13. Techno’s twin 

He’s pretty insecure about his music even though he’s been playing his whole life

That’s why he likes being able to practice in L’manburg, there’s no pressure to be perfect when he’s alone with his brothers 

Super extroverted and confident in everything else though, Since Techno can’t talk to most people, he usually tries to speak for both of them

After realising that Techno didn’t really like it when he said ‘Techno thinks’ a lot, back in primary school, he adapted to trying to speak for what Techno wants without making Techno’s issues obvious

They tell people who need to know, but for people they’ll only talk to a few times they usually just get away with Wilbur acting super obnoxious and loud so it seems like Techno just doesn’t have room to talk, rather than that he can't 

It’s easier than getting into it since they don’t feel like most people will understand

has separation Anxiety, when he’s not with his brother he doesn’t relax/ feel safe at all. If it happens at school he won't do his work at all/ Will probably just leave the room and try to find Techno

Everyone kinda knows this and they try to suit things around it without saying it outright 

He’s kinda embarrassed, he likes to think he’s the one protecting Techno but really they need each other the same amount 

Techno gets this though, He doesn’t mind if wilbur has a bit of a saviour complex, he’ll play along if it makes him happy 

They’re working on it with their Therapist though so don’t worry, he won't grow up to be an ass

Interests (besides music) include: 

Watching obscure documentaries 

Disney movies, favourite is peter pan 

  Skating 

He and Techno got Picked on in primary school for being so close, he learnt kickboxing so he could defend himself if things ever got physical. Luckily they didn’t but he still knows how to kickbox so watch out

Almost always turning in homework late, he’s good at talking his way out of Detentions though. 

And when he cant talk his way out, Techno finds a way to get detention too

He’s VERY protective of his younger brother(s(he was born first so he likes to insist that Techno is his little brother)) 

That’s good for the most part but he can be a little overbearing sometimes, he’s got detention many many times for cussing out people who so much as looked at Techno wrong 

When he’s feeling guilty he mumbles a lot 

Techno 

Middle child, 13. Wilbur’s twin

Has selective Mutism, completely fine talking to Wilbur, Only talks to Tommy and Phil if Wil is there too but other than that he’s completely fine talking to them as well. He speaks to his parents but not as openly as he does with his brothers, with them its usually very quiet, one word sentences 

Like Wilbur, separation Anxiety also, It’s not as bad as Wilbur’s is though, Wil just makes him comfortable enough to talk with his brothers, he can deal with being without Wilbur but he absolutely doesn’t want to

He can be a bit arrogant and possessive of his brothers at times, he’s a bit scared of them leaving him because he can be so difficult so he has a tendency to be cold to any new people they bring home 

Interests include: Pvp games, ancient china, farming

He was hyper-fixated on a cartoon when he was younger and now he has multiple cosplays from it that he’ll probably never wear again

His hair is LONG and pink, they never figured out why it grew so fast or why it was pink but it is lmao 

When he was born his parents were terrified, they thought he had some kind of rare condition that was going to hurt him but the doctors eventually came to the conclusion that he just had healthy hair that grew fast and the pinkness was due to an abnormality in the melanin in his system or something idk fellas im failing science pls pretend this part makes sense 

Being silent with long pink hair as a kid, he got picked on a lot. There were many instances where he just pushed kids over or hit them because they were being mean 

Since he’s the quiet one, teachers usually trust him a lot so he and wilbur used to skip class a lot, back when they got picked on, by saying they had to help another teacher do something

In an attempt to get him to be more social, his parents signed him up for violin lessons aged 8, he really liked his teacher and had even managed to speak a little to her over the past 4 years he took lessons 

Spaces out a lot 

He watches a lot of conspiracy theory videos but he doesn’t actually believe any of them, he just finds them interesting

One time he convinced Tommy they were living in a simulation and Tommy hit a kid to see if his hand would pass through

He’s spoken a few words to squidkid too since they’re childhood friends and he’s very comfortable with him. Ironically all he seems to say to him is ‘bozo’ to tease the other for saying it so often, instead of literally any other insult

Phil 

Oldest brother, 16 

Cares about his brothers so so so so so much like he will do anything to keep them happy and safe

One time he missed an exam because Tommy was sick and he wanted to take him to the doctor before anything else

Tommy was fine btw, just one of those bugs you get when you're little

Their parents are pretty distant so Phil has been pretty much raising them since he was little, he doesn’t mind though

Their parents aren’t bad people or anything, they just get called out a lot for work and can’t be at home a whole bunch, it’s a big part of the reason why Techno never got comfortable talking a lot around them

He works at a Nearby florist to get extra cash to buy his brothers things when his parents arent home

When their mum is home, he brings her flower arrangements home from work because he is sweet <3

He’s really into mythology and Folklore as well as drawing, when he was younger he had multiple sketchbooks filled up with different creatures that he had drawn 

When he, techno and wilbur were all little, he used to play a game with them where they’d describe a monster off the tops of their heads and he’d draw it for them 

Techno and Wilbur loved this and always put up Phil’s drawings on their bedroom walls 

When he was 13 he used to write angsty poetry, He told wilbur about it one day and that's when wilbur first started adding lyrics to his songs 

He can be pretty gullible, he likes to believe that people mean good no matter how hard it might be to see it that way 

He can hold grudges for a pretty long time, he’s quick to forgive when it’s himself that’s been hurt but it’s very very hard to get on his good side again if you hurt his brothers 

Watches Alien theories with techno, unlike techno he actually believes in them

Has the ‘i believe in aliens’ poster 

When they were little, he used to grow strawberry plants with techno and Wilbur, this is what prompted techno to start growing other vegetables in their garden himself

[serendipityunho]

Cuts & Curses (M) ~ Part One

!! DO NOT REPOST MY WRITINGS !!

❀ Genre: smut, college au ❀ Pairing: boxer!Jongho x Reader (fem.) ❀ Word Count: 4.3k ❀ Warnings: depictions of violence, small injuries, explicit language, fingering, handjob, shower sex, clit play, breast play, semi-public sex, mild dirty talk, thigh riding, mature sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, pull out method

❀ Synopsis: Jongho may have been an out-of-nowhere-shoulder to cry on but he definitely proved he could be more than that when you found yourself taking your throne on his thighs.

→ PART TWO

a/n: i’ve always wanted to write a boxer!jongho smut and here it is. i will admit that i am very proud of this one and i actually love it so much and i hope you guys will too x

“You should see me in the ring tonight” You were met with a pair of brown eyes when you snapped your head up.

Jongho stood in front of you, looking down as he slips you a slim piece of paper, presumably an address of some sort. You let your pen fall onto your book as you eye the piece of paper on your table.

“Give me one reason why I should go” You cross your arms, leaning forward against your table as you stare back at the boy.

“Jungkook will be there” Jongho smirks, hands now planted on your table, leaning down to your level.

“I don’t see how that’s a valid reason for me to go” Your brows furrowed in response to Jongho.

“Don’t you want to see your ex get beaten to a pulp?” He wasn’t wrong with that. 

There was one thing you hated more than Jungkook himself, it was Jungkook walking around with his cocky smile, baiting girls in just to play with their heart like another one of his sports. Unfortunately, you were his first victim since he entered the school.

You were a fool to believe he had loved you, and an even bigger fool to fall in love with him. Since then, you’ve tried to avoid him, but he always found a way to have you find yourself standing in front of him once again, falling for his senseless sweet talk that would unsurprisingly lead you through an event of another heart-aching encounter. 

“How do I know it won’t be you getting beaten to a pulp?” You’ve seen the swoon-worthy biceps of both boys, needless to say, you’ve seen them in action before, not against each other though. Tonight would be the first time, also another convincing imagery to have you show up.

“Jungkook may be older but I’ve been in this shit longer than he has. I know things he doesn’t. Don’t question my abilities” Jongho’s lips carve into a small smirk as he tilts his head to the side.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be there” You shut close your book and packed away your belongings into your bag as Jongho leans back up, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you then” Jongho takes off with a wink, leaving you to read the slip of paper once again before making your own way out of the library.

It wasn’t every day you spoke you Choi Jongho, he was simply a boy with the same objectives who, conveniently, happens to be your lab partner too. The two of you didn’t get off on the right foot, his rival being your boyfriend of course. 

But that all changed when the entire school’s phones had a copy of Jungkook in bed with a girl who was not you. Since then, Jongho’s been nothing but a near friend once he’s realized how heart-broken you were. 

The two of you settled aside your differences and turned them into kindred traits, a vendetta against his arch-nemesis and your ex-boyfriend. Which got to where you are now, attending an illegal underground boxing match just to watch the face you fell for getting beaten in a way you dreamed of imagining.

It seemed like an endless passageway filled with nothing but darkness and cold air, leading you to a parade growing louder and louder with chants. The sound of your sharp breaths echoed off the concrete walls, soft platter of water as your feet hit the damp floor with each step bringing you closer to the violent event.

“... Jongho! Jongho! Jongho!...” 

It would be generic to say you had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, but that’s exactly what you saw. The lights hanging above the ring dimly lit barely the rest of the room, making its priority the contents inside the ring below it. 

Arms and fists pumped the air as ear-bursting yells bounce off the walls. It was filled with raging energy as you watch from the isolated corner occupied with very few bystanders. From here you could see the leveled ring, two large figures preying each other dead in the eye, swinging blows left and right. 

“... Jungkook! Jungkook! Jungkook!...”

There he was, wearing that cocky smile of his, the same cocky smile that got you and who knows how many other girls on their knees. It was the smile you wanted to see get knocked off, literally. 

“Place your bet or get out” Your thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice beside you. 

A large bald man towers over you as you turn around to face his cold-emotionless face. Behind him were smaller men immersed in the stacks of crimpled cash, slipping back and forth between their hands as they count them. 

“A hundred and fifty bucks on Choi” You wipe out the bundled cash from the pocket of your leather jacket, carefully taking out the amount from its elastic hold for placing it in the hands of the bald man.

It was a difficult attempt, pushing past all the sticky bodies to gain a better closer view at the front rather than squinting in the corner you were just in. Your eyes slightly stung at the sudden brightness at the front of the ring, but now you could see clearer. 

Pure concentration was evident on Jongho’s face as his brows furrow deeply, eyes piercing through his opponent. It was the sudden hard blow to his face that made you wince back, hissing even though you weren’t the one socked. 

Jongho stumbled back a bit before quickly throwing a right arm, knocking Jungkook’s head to the side before throwing more consecutive punches to his body, pushing him back against the ropes of the ring. It was then you realized how feral this semi-quiet boy was. It was quite shocking to see the other side of these two boys on a night like this in a ring painted with their blood punched out of their faces.

“... finish him!...” 

Jongho’s eyes remain piercing, that was until he conveniently spotted you below, watching him. It was that split eye contact that costed him, Jungkook took the advantage to throw a hard blow right to his face, making Jongho stumble back, falling onto his side as Jungkook pounces on him, throwing hard left and rights onto his cowering body before getting pulled off by the ref. 

“And the winner is Jeon ‘Buckshot’ Jungkook!” 

There was also another thing you hated more than his cocky smile, it was his cocky smirk. Jungkook happens to also conveniently spot you by the ringside, glaring at him with a clenched jaw, making him throw a snarky wink as his arm held high for victory. 

“Fucking prick” You mutter under your breath before turning your attention to Jongho, slipping under the rope being thrown displeasing words from the crowd for butchering it the last minute. 

Series of chants boomed through your ear as you brush past the bodies, easier than before as they pile into the dark tunnel you entered from. You were left with a few people in the now empty room, most of them you recognized from the isolated corner and the cash handlers by the table. 

“...Here’s the betted cash, take it and leave...” The men hands over a locked box, probably filled with cash, over to the other group of men. There you saw him, Jungkook dabbing his sweat with his towel.

“Oh, so you came just to see me win? Can’t get enough of me, can you?” Jungkook strides closer to you after locking eyes. 

“Fuck you”

“Already did, sweetheart” Jungkook shot a wink before dipping into the dark tunnel followed by the other group of men.

You didn’t know your anger had turned to pain until you felt your palm stinging, looking down you could see your nails carving crescent shapes into your palm from your tight fists. 

“Hey” Your head snapped back to the front, where Jongho was standing with a towel hung across the back of his neck.

“You owe me a hundred and fifty dollars, loser” You cross your arms over your chest, mentally scolding him in your head for losing your money.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually come” Jongho forces a quiet chuckle before scratching his head.

“I did, and you lost. What happened to ‘don’t question my abilities’?” You mocked him from before, gently waving your hands in the air for emphasis.

“Just because I lost this round doesn’t mean you should still question my abilities” Jongho turns around, walking away to another room.

You couldn’t help but follow him quickly behind, seeing the cuts on his face struck worry in you. Following Jongho, you found yourself entering a brighter lit room, a locker room. 

Jongho sat on the bench, unwrapping the bandages from his knuckles. You close the door behind you and step forward, leg on either side of the bench next to him.

“You need to treat that, you know?” You point to the small gash fixated at the top of his eye.

“I’ll be fine” Jongho continued to unwrap the bandages as you scanned his face. His tan really accentuated under the coat of sweat and blood, face now relaxed compared to before.

“It could get infected. Those are worse than the actual cut itself” Jongho stopped, dropping his hands on the bench before looking up at you.

“Can you get the first-aid? It’s in there” Jongho points to the mirrored cabinet above the sink.

“Not even a ‘please’?” You tease slightly, pushing yourself off the bench to the sink.

“Please” 

You chuckle, opening the cabinet to take out the kit before making your way back onto the bench. Jongho was now seated the same way you were before, legs either side of the bench and bandages were now thrown on the floor. 

“Thank you-”

“I’ll do it” You interrupt Jongho and sit down in front of him, opening it to a bunch of medical supplies.

You grimace at the gash above his eye after looking at it closely, pulling a disinfectant swab to wipe away the blood around it. Jongho hisses before pulling his face back, throwing you a hurtful look.

“I didn’t even touch you yet, Jongho, don’t be a baby”

“Just- Just hurry up” Jongho leans back down again, letting you attempt to treat his wound. 

It was quite difficult attempting to tend to his gash, leaning forward as you try to keep your balance but also being gentle. Jongho must’ve noticed your frustration before swatting your hand away.

“Stand up-” 

You were barely standing before Jongho grabs you by the hips, sliding himself forward on the bench and pulling you down on his thigh. You let out a surprised gasp at the sudden action. 

“Um- thanks” You focus on the cut once again, successfully treating it before hesitantly bringing your other hand up, grabbing Jongho’s face gently to turn it around.

You didn’t realize how close your faces were to each other until he turned around and looked you in the eye, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. With how close your bodies were, practically leaning on him, Jongho could probably hear the thumping of your heart in your chest, threatening to explode. 

You could feel Jongho’s intense stare on your face as you focus on the cut on his lip. Your hands shake as you bring them up to cup his face and the other cleaning his cut lip. 

“Are you nervous?” Your gaze snaps back up to Jongho, who was staring at you with soft eyes, hooded but soft. 

“What’s there to be nervous about?” You were suddenly quiet, almost whispering. Even your breathing was louder than your voice.

“I don’t know. You just seem nervous”

“Well, I’m not”

“It’s him, isn’t it? You’re still not over him-” 

“I don’t want to talk about him-”

“It’s odd to find yourself sitting on my thigh, right? So close to my face, it reminds you of him doesn’t it?-” 

By now, you have absolutely no ideal responses to bark back. Jongho didn’t remind you of Jungkook, he reminded you of the sinful things Jungkook did with you sitting on his thighs. 

“- I can show you I’m different... better” 

Jongho’s voice was equally quiet as yours, the gap between your faces unnoticeably grew smaller with each passing second. His arm wraps around your back, pushing you forward.

Your lips plant against his, eyes shut close as you drop the things in your hand to the floor, lips moving in sync with Jongho’s as you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing off the towel that was there.

All thoughts left your head, the vendetta, everything. All you could think about now was the words that left Jongho’s mouth a minute ago replaying in your head, how he could be better than Jungkook, and you were starting to believe it despite the reasoning. 

Your chest pressed against his as you feel him nip against your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in as the two of you wrestle for dominance. You could feel his hands move to your waist, squeezing you gently before pushing your hips back and forth, creating a friction between your crotch and his thigh. 

A small moan slips from your lips in the kiss, you were too immersed with his lips to care or feel embarrassed. One of your hands slides down his naked chest, tracing the outline of his pecks with your fingers before tracing down his abdomen to his lower region.

You can feel your wetness spreading with each time Jongho helped you roll your hips against his thigh, making you grow needier and needier by the second. By now, you were confident enough to move them on your own, taking Jongho’s hands and guiding them down to your ass.

Jongho firmly grasps your ass, squeezing it as he spreads your cheeks apart, still pushing you back and forth against this thigh. Your wetness probably soaked through your shorts by now, staining Jongho’s. 

You take your hand, squeezing Jongho’s other thigh before moving back over to his crotch, feeling his boner before sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts, palming him over his boxers. 

Your clit was throbbing under the material of your shorts and panties, making you aggressively kiss Jongho as you roll your hips faster. Jongho breaks from the kiss, pecking your lips before instantly attacking your neck, sending your head falling back to let him cover more of your neck.

A breathy moan falls from your lips as Jongho sucks on your sweet spot, making you squeeze his clothed dick. His hands slip under your shirt, quickly throwing it above your head, letting your jacket fall to the floor before attaching his lips onto your chest, kissing the top of your breasts as he fondles with the clip of your bra. 

“Please tell me you know how to take it off”

“Remember what I said, don’t question my abilities” And with that, you could feel your bra unclasp, strap dropping down to your arm as your breasts become free and naked in front of him. 

Jongho kisses the valley of your breasts before taking one in his mouth and playing with the other in his hands, nipple slipping between his fingers as he fondles. 

Your lips were now parted, mouth dry as the friction between your clothed pussy and Jongho’s thigh increases. Jongho took the opportunity to lift you up slightly, fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and panties before pulling them down, exposing your gushing pussy to the cold air.

Jongho stands and wraps an arm around you before pushing you against the locker, slamming his lips back against yours as he lets your bottoms drop to the floor, leaving you naked against the locker. You could feel his hard dick rubbing against your leg, letting you take the opportunity to take down his shorts and boxers.

The two of you stood naked in the locker room, swallowing each other’s lips as you grab his dick and start pumping him with the small coat of precum you smeared all over his length. 

“Mnngh- faster” Jongho groans against the kiss, bucking his hips up to meet with your quickening pumps. 

Jongho squeezes your ass before trailing a hand to the front, cupping your wet pussy before rubbing your clit with his fingers, making you moan into the kiss. You could feel your pool of wetness coat your inner thigh as you rub them together under Jongho’s touch.

“Fuck so wet” Jongho circles his fingers over your clit a few more times before pushing your legs apart, slipping his fingers between your legs and coating them with your juices. 

You let out a breathy moan as inserts his fingers into you, pumping them in sync with your hand movements on his dick. You give him light pecks on the corner of his lips before kissing down his neck, sucking on the spot behind his ear before resting your head back on the cold locker your back was pressed against. 

“More, please-” You begged with furrowed brows, eyeing Jongho’s replicate expression.

Jongho slips his fingers out of you and cups the back of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist, letting the tip of his throbbing cock poke at your pussy. Jongho wraps his arms around your back, pulling you down to kiss him as he walks away from the lockers.

You were too immersed by your own lust to feel him push you against another cold surface, slightly wet. Then you realized it was a shower the moment you heard the squeak of a knob, cold water turning warm as it hits your naked bodies, making the warmth between the two of you grow.

Jongho grasps your ass, slowly sinking you down on his dick, making you break from the kiss again, letting out a breath of air as his girthy length stretches out your hole. Your face scrunches in pleasure as he bucks his hips up, bouncing you up against the shower wall and thrusting himself into you.

“Ohh fuck- ohmygod” Jongho bounces you faster, hands firmly planted on your ass to lift you as he knocks the air out of your lungs every time you come down on his dick.

You push back the wet hair stuck on his face, exposing his forehead as you tangle your fingers through his hair. Your breasts bounce with your body as your legs threaten to become undone around his waist. 

“Mmnnghhh- fuck you’re so tight” Jongho groans against your neck, kissing it before moving back to your lips, water slipping into your mouths as Jongho wrestles with your tongue. 

“Fuck- Jonghonnnghhaa” The squelching sounds grew louder as the sound of his thrusts echoes through the lockerroom. 

You grip on to Jongho’s shoulders, feeling every flexed muscle as he holds you up, squeezing his biceps as you release uncontrollable moans into his ear. They grew louder and louder as Jongho deepens his thrusts, sending you bouncing higher than before and sinking down deeper onto his dick. 

Jongho grips your waist, lifting you off his dick and onto your feet before spinning you around, pressing your body against the cold wall, moving your face out of the shower of water. Your hips push back, rubbing your ass against his dick, feeling the tip already in your hole. 

“See how much better I can be than him?” Jongho growls against your ear, pushing his dick into you with a hard thrust, squeezing your breasts on to the wall. 

“So much better- fuck sososo much better” Your head turns to the side, meeting with his before barely kissing him as he starts thrusting fast again.

“How many times has he made you cum in one night hm?” Jongho was breathing heavily against your ear, gripping your waist tightly as he slaps his hips into you.

“Mhmph fuck I don’t know- ah fuck Jongho!” You bite down on your lip, head falling back onto Jongho’s shoulder as he pounds into you from behind, the skin of his torso slapping against your ass each time. 

“Tell me- oh fuck” 

“Ohmygod nnghha- two! Two!” 

“Pathetic. I’ll make it three” Jongho pushes your legs apart with his hand, fingers finding their way back on to your clit.

“Jongho fuckkk-” Jongho circles his fingers over your clit, rubbing your bud of nerves as he quickens his thrusts into you, making you gasp for more air each time.

At this pace, you were so close to cumming around his dick. Your eyes shut close, letting sprinkles of water hit your scrunched up face as Jongho breathes against your ear, letting you hear his deep low grunts coming with each thrust. 

“Are you close? Hm? Cum for me” Jongho grunts through gritted teeth, hardening this thrusts as he rubs your clit faster.

The overwhelming pleasure causes you to release high-pitched moans, mouth gaping wide. You could feel it coming, the built-up euphoria edging to be released through your entire body with each thrust. 

“Oh fuckfuckfucknnnghh ohmygod Jongho!” Your walls clench around Jongho’s dick, breathing becoming heavier as your hips start to twitch and the knot in the pit of your stomach snaps, making you convulse underneath Jongho’s body, hips pushed back and hands flung up around Jongho’s head, gripping his wet hair as pure bliss washes over your body. 

Jongho grunts loudly, fucking out your high with deep thrusts as his fingers still rub at your clit, bringing you close to another orgasm from the stimulation. His thrusts slow down as he focuses on your clit, rubbing it fast with his fingers flat against it. 

Your forehead rests against the wall as you breathe heavily with water dripping down your chin, watching the way Jongho’s fingers rub against your clit. You could feel another orgasm coming, making you grip Jongho’s free hand, pulling it up to your breasts as you squeeze his forearms, feeling his flexed muscles. 

“Oh my god- pleasepleaseplease” Your knees bent, body threatening to collapse on the second orgasm only to be pushed back up again by Jongho’s fingers on your clit.

Your eyes roll back, clenching your jaw as you feel another wave of pleasure wash over your entire body. Broken high-pitched moans escape your lips, thighs trembling and closing together as Jongho rubs another orgasm out of you. 

“I promised you a third, didn’t I?” 

Jongho slips out of your hole again, spinning you back to the position you were in the first time, holding you against the wall as his arms wrap around your back with you clung on to him, sinking down on his dick, twitching slightly as you were still sensitive from the first orgasm. 

You were too fucked out to say anything, needing to have Jongho back inside you again. You were on the verge of crying from the overwhelming pleasure, making your moans turn from soft to pleading cries. 

“Ahhh Jongho shitshitshit oh my fucking god- right there nnghh fuckfuck” You bounced on his dick, back sliding up and down against the shower wall.

Your legs started trembling, on the verge to become undone around Jongho’s waist as another orgasm approaches. You cup his face in your hands, bringing it up to kiss you harshly as your face scrunches harder, brows furrowed deeper. 

Jongho helps you reach your third orgasm, thrusting his hips up, deepening himself into you. Sweet moans filled the kiss as you become undone on his dick, arms slung around his neck and body off the wall, pressed hard against Jongho’s chest. 

“Ohmygod, Jongho- fuck!” 

“Jesus Christ- I’m so close” Jongho grunts before pulling himself out, letting you drop to your feet, struggling to stand after your final orgasm. 

Jongho wraps his hand around his dick to pump himself, head falling back as his spurt of cum shoots out, covering your thigh only to be washed away by the water. 

“Ohhhh fuckkkk-” Jongho takes your chin with his free hand, pulling you in for a kiss as he milks the rest of himself out. 

He slowly pumps himself before taking an arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he passionately kisses you before breaking off. Jongho gapes at you with soft eyes, hand still cupping your face. 

The two of you stay like that for a while under the water, gazing into each other’s eyes not knowing what to do or say. That was until you decided to break the ice.

“You’re going to catch a cold” Jongho’s lips carve up into a small smile, letting his hand drop from your face and turning the shower knob, water coming to a complete stop. 

“You’re lucky I have thick towels” You chuckle, throwing a soft punch to his chest before pushing past, stepping out into the locker area with Jongho following you closely behind. 

Jongho wraps a takes out a towel from a locker before throwing it over your shivering body, patting you dry before grabbing another, throwing it over your head and patting it before deciding to cup your face with it, squeezing your cheeks slightly.

“Be mine” Jongho looks at you with sincere eyes, scanning every inch of your face, waiting for a response.

“This isn’t some sort of way to get back at Jungkook, is it?” 

“No, it isn’t” 

“Why?” 

“Because you came tonight. Nobody ever watched me before”

“That doesn’t mean fall in love with me”

“I don’t love you. Yet” 

part two

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho All Rights Reserved

[jeogiyall]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐭; 𝒌.𝒅𝒚

❥ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗈𝗒! 𝖽𝗈𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀 𝗑 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❥ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾; 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌-𝗍𝗈-𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅

❥ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟻.𝟺𝚔

❥ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌

❥ᴀ/ɴ: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗆𝗀!! 𝗂'𝗆 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺����-𝖻𝗈𝗒-𝗐𝗁𝗈'𝗌-𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒-𝖺-𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍!! -𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

—

While it’s not what most people in your position would say, you love working at the family business. It helps that your family business is your mother running a beauty salon while your father is it’s sole electrician (because no one, and I mean no one, should trust that man with their hair,) rather than something boring like a law firm. But it’s also just fun; you get to style intricate updos for dinner parties, control the radio, listen to church ladies gossip. Sometimes if it’s really busy, your mother will let you take over manicures. 

“That’ll be thirty dollars, mam!” Your voice chirps to Dottie, your Wednesday afternoon regular. She tries for a minute to get into her purse, then puffs out ‘oh hell’ before dropping her palms (with still wet fingernails) onto the counter. You think that if she hadn’t done this hundreds of times before that it’d be startling, but she has. Which only makes it funny.

“Just put it on my tab, okay dear?” There’s a smile twinging on her words as she toddles towards the door, eyes scanning over the nail polish for any chips. Another laugh falls from your lips, mixing naturally with the one sounding from your friend who’s busy holding the door.

“Have fun with the grandkids this weekend!” You shout to the regular customer, who only holds up a thumbs up. Donghyuck swoops into the store like a fleeting breeze, pushing himself up into the familiar spot of your checkout counter. If your mother were here you’d tell him to get off. Since she isn’t you hand him a lollipop from the candy bowl and ruffle his curly black hair, “That new shampoo is really working for you, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” He answers before popping the sucker into his mouth, “How’s Dottie today?”

“Insane as ever, you know she went parking?” The boy laughs lowly, shaking his head while playing with the sleeves of his leather jacket, “Hyuck I’m not kidding! Her and Joe, they went out parking last Thursday and she told me all about it!”

“Aren’t they nearly sixty?” You nod in response while bringing a new magazine to the lady sitting under the hair dryer, who’s two blinks away from sleep until you drop the book into her lap. She accepts and thanks you with a smile, letting you know that she’ll be out in a wink before beginning to flip through the glossy pages.

“Yes! I told her that they’re acting like some crazy kids, but I guess that it’s kind of sweet.” Donghyuck, while more sensitive than nearly every boy you know, gags at your remark, “Carry on all you want, you know that I’m right.”

“Whatever, the boys and me are getting milkshakes if you wanna come.” What follows is a conversation that happens at least three times a week, always ending with ‘you know that I can’t,’ and ‘square.’ You don’t mind having it though, it’s sweet that he thinks to invite you.

“You know that I can’t.” The boy rolls his eyes while pushing off the counter and moving towards the front door, briefly holding it open for a customer who’s desperately trying to hide her roots.

“Square.” He whispers before singing out his usual, “See you in homeroom.” And then you’re alone. But it’s okay. Because unlike most people in your position, you love working at the family business.

* 

It’s a week and a half later when Kim Doyoung walks into the store, all long legs and scuffed sneakers. When you see the sleeves of his leather jacket you just assume that it’s Donghyuck coming to get the latest gossip on your favorite Wednesday regular.

“Well Dottie didn’t tell me much this week, but I heard it from a birdie that she and Joe were picnicking on Wednesday. Right after I did her nails too! They’re orange this week to match her favorite church dress.” You don’t even look up, simply rambling on while scribbling in the margins of your biology notebook. It makes something warm blossom in the boys chest.

“Is that so?” Instantly, your eyes shoot up at the voice that is definitely not Lee Donghyuck. It’s lower, smoother. Like the feeling of hot tea burning a trail down your throat on a cold morning. 

“Oh dear, I am so sorry! I-I just saw the jacket and thought that you were-”

“Hyuck?” He finishes for you, one elbow coming to rest on the checkout counter. Doyoung, you notice, is not a particularly large man. He’s tall enough, sure, but the set of his shoulders is rather petite along with the width of his waist. His face looks like a babies. Despite this fact, there’s still something intimidating about the boy, “It’s Doyoung. M’here to pick up an order for him though, I think he said it’s shampoo?” 

“Yes, I have that right here. Why didn’t he come to pick it up, i-if you don’t mind my asking?” The boy puffs loudly at your question, dropping cash on the table that’s clearly been crumpled in Hyucks front pocket since he placed this order.

“There’s a sock hop tonight a few towns over and he’s getting ready. You know how he is.” There’s a moment of quiet as you hand him his change, your eyes finally settling on the boys face long enough to remember. It takes two seconds for you to decide that he’s the first truly pretty boy that you’ve ever seen. Three to decide that you like boys pretty over anything else, “I have an extra seat in my car if you’d like to join.” 

And while the thought is tempting, driving through town in Doyoungs iconic cherry red convertible with the top down and your best friend in the back seat, all you can think of is your mother. How this is her first time going to bridge club since she opened the store four years ago. How she finally trusts you to do more than sweep up the aftermath of haircuts. How she’s counting on you right now.

“Not tonight. Another time?” For a brief moment your eyes lock, and there’s something there. You can’t reach out and touch it, hear it, you can’t even smell it. But you both know that it’s there, you both feel it. Crawling up your arms like a ladybug and leaving goosebumps in its wake, you feel it.

“Okay princess, I’m holding you to it.” Before you have the chance to tell him that you hope he does, he’s gone.

*

It’s an early Friday evening when you see Doyoung again. He’s in the library, which is surprising enough, but then he takes the seat next to you and the entire world stops.

“Stopped by the store, but your pops said that you’d be here.” Your eyes bulge so hard at the statement that Doyoung is amazed they’re not exploding. Honestly, you are too.

“You met my father?!” Your voice raises at least three octaves, causing the lady up front to shush you. It sends a hot flush to your cheeks and Doyoung thinks that he’d do anything to see it again.

“We’re not talking about that, we’re talking about how it’s Friday night and you’re trying to spend it at the library.” He does that thing again, the thing where he makes you feel so intimidated and small. It’s not in a bad way, like the boys in your honors classes. It’s also not in a good way like when your father hugs you after a long day at school. It’s something in between, which leaves heat in your stomach.

“I-I have biology homework-”

“You have all weekend to do that, we’re going out tonight.” He stands up and extends a hand out to you, the other one already flipping his keys. Panic is rising in your chest as your mind races to find any possible excuse.

“My parents would never agree.”

“Your dad already said yes.” If it weren’t for your heart is trying to beat out of it’s cage then you’d fixate on how weird it is that Doyoung has already met your dad.

“I’m not dressed properly.” His eyes take in your dress, baby blue with white accents, before one of his eyebrows quirks. It’s a blatant lie, the both of you know it. This has been your favorite dress for years.

“Stop being ridiculous and just come with me.” You’re going to say yes. Doyoung is in front of you wearing a green flannel and jeans that hug his waist so perfectly, and you’re going to say yes. But you have so much to do, and work tomorrow.

“I just can’t tonight Doyoung, I’m sorry.” His eyes soften slightly as your nose buries back into the textbook. You’re so focused that you barely even notice him sitting back down in the seat across from you, “What are you doing?” He looks at you quizzically before leaning in close enough that his black hair tickles your cheek.

“Why don’t you wanna go out with me, princess?” If Doyoung himself wasn’t enough to make you blush, the sheer boldness of his words definitely was.

“I-it’s not that I don’t want to.” Hot blush rises to your cheeks as each syllable catches on your tongue, “I just can’t.”

“Why?” You’re going to tell him that it’s because boys like him ruin girls like you. That girls like you shouldn’t want to be ruined as badly as you do.

“Because I have homework.” A heavy silence settles in the space between your bodies, only faltering when he decides to fall back into the green plastic chair with a sigh.

“Alright then, I’ll help.” You’re three seconds away from saying something snarky before he speaks again, “I’m not kidding, I was really good at this!” His eyes are wide and there’s a smile playing on his lips (nothing like his normal smile, so cool and collected. No, this one is warm all over. Like your mothers chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven.) You think that the fluttering of your heart is ridiculous, then that you’re in absolutely no position to deny him.

The two of you stay cooped up in the library until the streetlights outside flicker on and the librarian is all but kicking you out. Doyoung is surprising, to say the least. Where you thought that he’d be rough and abrasive, he is kind. Where you thought the feeling of his hands on your bicep would be laced with callouses, it is soft. Where you thought that Doyoung was intimidating, or even scary, he is gentle. There’s a brief moment when your hands touch and you think that he’s going to keep it there. He doesn’t, which would be more disappointing if you hadn’t seen the pink blush on his face. 

“You don’t even need my help, princess!” Doyoung jokes as you walk out of the library, one of his hands carrying your books while the other holds the doors open. 

In a moment of boldness you take the textbooks and respond, “I know,” then press a short kiss to the high point of his cheekbone, “but having you was fun.”

The weight of you stays on Doyoungs shoulders until he falls asleep that night.

*

No one really knows when Doyoung assimilates into your life, you just know that it happens quickly. In the span of a month sporadic visits turn into him dropping into the salon every day, leaning on the counter and making you blush until your mother gives you a task. Some days he brings Donghyuck too, which are days where absolutely nothing gets done.

Today’s not one of those days, though. It’s only your mother, you, and Doyoung who smells of petrol and rosemary. Thanks to the light Monday crowd, your friend has spent the last three hours distracting you with anything that isn’t work. The distractions range from mindless chatter about his friends down at the car shop (which he apparently works at, but you’re not sure how that’s possible seeing as he spends all of his time flirting with you or going out,) intense stares glued onto the perky bow of your work apron, delicate hands playing with all of your pencils up front. At one point your mother jokes that she’s going to get him a uniform and put him to work.

But then it’s time to close, and your mother is carrying multiple gallon jugs of hair color at once, and Doyoung can’t just watch. He can’t just watch as the bags set deeper beneath her eyes and her soft laughter fades off into sleepy grumbling. After turning on the small radio by the hair dryers on he grabs two bottles from her hands, offering up a gentle smile.

“I’ll help (Y/n) close up.” Your mother sighs loudly, Doyoung watching as her shoulders relax for the first time since he arrived. She gladly surrenders the jugs and pinches his soft cheek.

“You’re a good boy, Doyoung. Don’t let (Y/n) go too crazy.” Something bubbles in your stomach as you overhear the conversation. It’s not your mother teasing you, no. That’s a common occurrence in your household. It’s the sudden realization that your mother is right, that Doyoung is good in every sense of the word. He’s kind, and patient, and attentive, and so painstakingly good.

“I can’t make any promises.” His voice floats through the air like song lyrics, creating a harmony with the sound of the front door closing and the radio crackling in a way that tugs at your heart strings, “Looks like it’s just you and me, princess.” 

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” You ask while moving towards the boy and taking the heavy jugs from his hands. Well, trying to at least. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose (an action that’s become casual between the two of you, like a secret handshake that you can only share with each other,) before you can actually fully take them.

“Never, now tell me where these go?” You grumble out something about the top of the cabinet, which isn’t even right, while getting the broom from behind your spot at checkout. You start to sweep, but before you can get too far with that there’s one hand undoing your apron and another taking the broom.

“Doyoung, what are you-” He doesn’t let you finish before flashing wide eyes at you. It’s a look that you didn’t think he could make, lips puckering into a pout while his eyebrows furrow cutely.

“Let me help.” The plea is soft, yet spoken in a way that tells you he’s not going to compromise, “You’ve been working all afternoon, so let me help now.” His chest is pressed up against yours, and he’s holding your apron, and his lips are so close to yours that if he leaned in just one extra inch... Who are you to say no to that?

Letting someone else work isn’t all that bad, honestly. You have time to dust off the register, empty out the tip jar- which are all things that usually go forgotten until the next days opening. You’re about to reorganize the nail polish out of sheer boredom, but then a certain red color catches your eye and before you know what’s happening you’re receiving a manicure. From yourself, but it’s a manicure nonetheless. 

“I like that color.” Doyoung comments while materializing in the seat across from you. If it weren’t for the soft humming that he’s producing, you would have probably jumped, “Matches my ride.” A soft giggle slips past your lips as you admire your already painted hand.

“Now that you mention it, I guess it does.” You move to finish your non dominant hand, falling into a comfortable kind of silence with the boy across from you. Similar to face kisses, this has become something normal for the two of you. Quiet that was once filled with awkwardly heavy breathing and sweaty palms is now occupied by understanding. This silence doesn’t expect anything, but will accept it gladly. Like Doyoungs humming, or the sound of your foot tapping rhythmically beneath the manicure station. It doesn’t have to be quiet, it doesn’t have to be loud, it just has to be comfortable.

“What does nail polish feel like?” If anyone else had spoken, you’d regard it as breaking the peace. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Doyoung and he’s only added.

“Like nothing, I guess, but also a bit heavy? It feels tacky even after drying.” You’re about to put the cap back on the bottle and really close up for tonight, but before you can process what’s happening two of Doyoungs fingers are cradled in the palm of your hand and he’s staring at you with a gentle smile.

“Show me.” It’s an odd request, I mean who’s really that curious about how nail polish feels? But Doyoung is so precious like this, and his hands are obnoxiously soft. With two swipes of the newly wetted nail polish brush, his pointer and middle fingers are adorned with glossy cherry red. It almost matches the shade on his cheeks, “You’re right, it is kinda heavy. Pretty though.”

“Y-yea.” You choke, eyes gluing to the soft curve of his lips, “Pretty.”

If Doyoungs friends make fun of him the next day for showing up to the shop with a dumb grin and two cherry red fingernails, he doesn’t tell you about it.

*

Doyoung is sweet with you. When you’re hard at work he brushes stray hairs off of your forehead, he brings in new records to listen to every Wednesday. Your favorite thing is when you walk out after closing and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. Doyoung is very sweet. With you.

But there are other people. Like the boys from the school across town who exclusively wear their hair up in a quiff and like to drive by your school during football games. The boys who smoke cigarettes and always have busted up knuckles. You’ve even seen Donghyuck with the same knuckles, groaning each time that they grazed anything. You know that Doyoung isn’t sweet to everyone. You know that Doyoung gets into fights. You just didn’t know that he looks like this afterwards.

“Evening, princess.” The boy grumbles while sauntering into the parlor thirty minutes after closing. You remember thinking that it was weird when he didn’t show up after class let out, smelling like rosemary and wearing a grin. Now you think that he looks heartbreaking with a small cut on his cheek and purple blossoming over the curve of his neck.

“Doyoung, what did you do?” You question, hands immediately dropping the tips you were counting and instead covering your mouth. He only grumbles and shakes his head dismissively, leaning down in front of you in a way that says he’s not going to tell you, “You don’t get to do that, Doyoung. You don’t get to show up like this and not tell me what happened.” Another groan generates from the base of his throat. There’s a red cut there, you notice.

“I didn’t do anything, it was those greasers from across town.” It’s not clear when your hands take purchase on his face, or when his eyes glass over with tears that you thought were impossible, “It hurts.” Something about those words feels so intimate, like he’s taken off the leather jacket and the tough facade and shown you what he really is. Shown you that he’s just a boy. 

He thinks that you saying, “I’ll fix it,” shows just as much about you. 

You exit to the bathroom while Doyoung pushes himself onto the checkout counter, hissing loudly when his raw palms connect with the metal top. That pain feels stupid compared to actually having the cuts cleaned out.

“Hurts like a bitch.” He grunts as you press a cold rag onto the hollow of his throat, voice taking on a low tone that makes your cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry.” An arm comes up to wrap around your waist as he lets out a deep groan, holding onto that spot as though it’s a tether. It shouldn’t make your heart flutter the way that it does. Doyoung is against you, and he’s squirming ever so slightly whenever your hands move, and he’s letting out the most beautiful sounds, and it shouldn’t make your heart flutter, “It’s clean, I-I’m gonna bandage it now...” Doyoung pulls his head back so that you can fully see him, then nods gently.

“Go ahead.” He’s going to kiss you. His lips are less than two inches away from your lips, and you really really think that he’s going to kiss you. He tilts his head back in a way that exposes every delicate line and curve, including the thin red one that you want to make better more than anything, “Patch me up, princess.” Your thumb smooths over the bandage once it’s down, and he keens into the touch. It makes you genuinely smile for the first time since he walked into the store, “I love to see that.”

“You do?” You question, connecting your eyes with his mocha brown ones. 

“I do.” His free hand comes up to caress your cheek, but the mental image of him shuddering as your skin swipes over his fresh cut is enough to keep your hands where they are. 

“Never get in a fight like this again and I’ll smile for you for forever.” His eyes take you in, flushed expression, red cheeks, your face resting in his hands. You flash him another gentle smile, and he doesn’t even have to think about his answer.

“Consider it done.”

*

It would be difficult to sum up Doyoungs relationship with your family, but a good place to start would be that he’s your dads best friend. And also your moms favorite child. Also your crush, in the most destructive way possible. With Doyoung you don’t care about homework, or who wants their nails what color, or the spot of dust that you missed while cleaning. All that matters is his sweet scent and the way that he laughs.

Which is exactly why saying no to him is so hard right now.

“C’mon princess, just let me take you out.” The boy begs for the thousandth time, voice taking on a more flirty tone than the past three asks. Your cheeks flush pink while you look down and busy yourself with anything else.

“Doyoung please, I’m busy!” As soon as the word leaves your mouth your father is wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to the skin of your temple the same way that he does after school or a busy weekend.

“Busy with what, sweetie pie?” His voice has always been one of your favorite sounds. It’s low and kind, and so comforting that it hurts.

“The store, I can’t leave mom alon-” Before the words are even finished the woman in question is standing next to Doyoung, ruffling his hair affectionately and casting a smile to you.

“We’re covered, sweetie pie. You ankle biters go have some fun!” Doyoung grins the way that he only does around this quartet before gripping your arm from across the counter.

“B-but I’m scheduled to work tonight.” Everyone locks eyes, then lets out a loud sight in almost perfect unison.

“When’s the last time you’ve taken a night off?” You think for a minute, then hold up three manicured fingers, “Three weeks without a break is bonkers (Y/n!)”

“She doesn’t mean weeks, mam. She means three months.” Your mothers jaw goes slack as your fathers eyes widen. You think that no one’s looked this shocked since Donghyuck caught on fire in tenth grade chemistry. 

You’re out the door and buckled into your favorite boys convertible in less than a minute. No one seemed to be too worried about your persistent screams of ‘Wait, I’m still in my uniform!’

“Don’t worry princess, I’ll let you change.”

“My aprons gonna get dirty.” You huff, silently praying that Doyoung won’t notice the red of your cheeks. Obviously, that doesn’t happen.

“Now your nails and your face match my car.” The comment comes back to haunt you when you’re staring into your closet, hating absolutely every piece of clothing in sight. There’s something in the back of your mind, though, something that makes your heart flutter. The thought of leaving your house in a dress that’s been worn twice (a dress that was really just bought for fun) and watching Doyoung smile the way that he does when you’ve done something out of character... It’s enough to make you sing.

The dress is a fluffy thing, with nearly three layers of tulle beneath it’s skirt. White polka dots are scattered around the red fabric, and the silhouette finishes with a sweet heart neckline. It’s very not you. You’re not the girl who puts on pretty red dresses and goes out with boys who drive convertibles. You’ve always wanted to be her, but you just aren’t. You’re the girl who spends Friday evenings doing homework in the library. The girl who likes working at the family business.

But then there’s Doyoung. A boy that you’re nearly dating, who’s not ruining you. No, he’s helping you step into yourself, the way that you do into a red dress with white polka dots. 

When you come out of the front door the boy in question physically chokes. It makes your freshly painted lips spread into a genuine, carefree smile.

“Do I still match the car?” He nods fervently in response, eyes going as soft as butter, “Good! That’s what I was going for.” For the entire drive he keeps a hand on your thigh. 

There’s a solid ten minutes where you don’t think that he’s actually going to take you anywhere, just leave you to be paraded around town and whipped by the wind. It’s a short lived concern though, because after the third ridiculous back road he’s pulling into the lot of your local park (a cute setting, complete with a wooden castle and a petite duck pond.) 

“Doyoung, what exactly are we doing here?” You question as he helps to hoist you out of the car. The question isn’t met with an answer, only him holding up a finger while popping the lid of his trunk. You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting to see, but you are entirely sure that it’s not what you do see.

Because Doyoung is standing in front of you wearing jeans with a rip that starts right above his knee and extends to the bottom of his shin. There’s ink black hair swooping over his forehead, there’s a cut on his cheek, there’s a leather jacket hugging his shoulders. There’s all of that, then there’s also a picnic blanket in his hands and two paper bags from your local diner in his hands.

“I’m very glad that you said yes.” He says finally. You think to yourself that you are too.

He leads you to the duck pond, carefully laying the blanket over damp grass before guiding you to sit on it. If it were any other day you would force him to let you help, but each time you try to assist he swats your hands away. Part of you wonders if it’s to repay you for taking care him last week. The other part of you knows that it’s just because he’s Doyoung. He’s feeding you french fries and laughing too loud at every story that you tell because he is sweet, and attentive, and real. Because he’s Doyoung. 

“Tell me more about your parents.” The boy exhales while falling backwards onto the picnic blanket. He looks so beautiful like this, relaxed with his hair fluffing out in every direction and a natural grin creeping onto his lips. It makes you want to sit here and talk to him stories for forever.

“Where to start?” You chuckle, pushing up onto your elbows so that you can see Doyoungs cute listening face, “They met in high school, got married at eighteen and nineteen, had me about three years later... I remember when mom opened the store they fought a lot, but they’ve never been bad. I always knew that no matter how loud they shouted or how rude they were that I’d always find them dancing together in the kitchen after dinner.” His lip quivers a bit before quirking into a smile that verges on laughter.

“Dancing in the kitchen?” Your shoulders shake with a giggle as he moves to push hair away from your eyes. Something inside of you wants to stay like this for forever.

“Yea, they started doing that when they first got married. Dad says that it’s just something that they do, but I think it’s because he loves her too much to go a day without it.”

Doyoung is going to tell you that he feels the same. It comes out as “Would you like to dance?”

A month ago you would’ve laughed it off and mentioned that there’s no music, or that you’re in public. Now you spring up from the blanket with his hand in yours, and dance carelessly. In public, to no music, hand in hand with Kim Doyoung.

It’s all playful, just lingering touches and childlike smiles. He laughs under his breath, then out loud. The sound alone draws you in like a sirens call, leaving you nestled up in his arms as if it’s the last place on earth. You look up at him with a giggle, he looks down at you with an exhale, then the two of you are crashing your lips together as if it’s what they were made to do.

His lips are chapped, and palms feel soft where they’re cradling your cheeks, and his hold is gentle while still being firm, and he’s never going to let you slip through. He’s kissing like he’s never going to let you slip through his fingers.

When his hands grasp the smallest part of your waist to pull you close, every last bone in your body turns into jelly. This kiss feels like the universe is falling into place, like with each subtle movement from his dry lips he’s correcting a problem that you didn’t even know you had. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you think of forever. That makes you want forever.

“Doyoung?” You breathe heavily while pulling back to rest your forehead on his. The hair on his forehead feels just as soft as you’d imagined. 

“Yes?” He looks at you with wide eyes that bore into the very core of your being. For the first time, it’s okay that someone sees that.

“Please never stop kissing me.” The boy in front of you chuckles lowly before pressing another kiss to your lips. It’s softer this time, leaving your chest with a feeling that’s like sunshine on your skin. When he pulls away you nearly whine, which would be more embarrassing than you even know how to express if the boy against you wasn’t equally as needy.

“You can count on that one, princess.” He smooths his thumb over your cheek, lightly grazing the corner of your mouth as he does so, “You can count on that.”

[bloodredfirework]

After they’d spent most of the money that Shiloh had taken from her bank account, things were starting to get more stressful. It wasn’t as though they could stop and get a job somewhere to make some more money, and with the fuel gauge quickly dropping to zero, they were in desperate need of some quick cash. Left with no options, they’d decided to rob a convenient store. This time, however, it was Shiloh that sat in the truck while she waited for Felix to get the job done, her nervous gaze fixated on the door the entire time that he was inside. With the rain coming down in heavy buckets though, it was hard to see much of anything.

Much to her horror, through the veil of falling droplets, Shiloh saw Felix running towards the truck with his hand clutching his shoulder, and as he got closer, she realized that he’d been shot. She’d heard the gun go off, but amongst the sounds of the storm, she’d thought that it was just a mix of paranoia and thunder that she’d heard. Her breath got caught in her throat and she held her breath for a moment, the entire world seeming to spin as panic crashed over her like relentless waves. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her stomach tied itself in knots at the thought of what might happen next.

Pulling herself from her thoughts, Shiloh snapped herself back into reality and frantically crawled into the driver’s seat, swinging the vehicle quickly over to where Felix was and stopping in front of him. Leaning over, she opened the door for him to get in and then she sped off down the highway. With the differences in their heights, the positioning of the seat made reaching the gas pedal and brake uncomfortable, but she knew that she didn’t have time to stop and fix it.

“Felix? Oh my god, Felix. Are you okay? You got fucking shot. Holy fuck.” The panic that was welling up inside of her had caused Shiloh’s voice to crack as she spoke, tears beginning to brim along her lower lash lines. She was trying to keep her eyes on the road, but repeatedly she found herself stealing quick glances of the soaking-wet, injured male next to her, just to make sure that he was still alive and breathing. She truly felt as though she was about to hurl from the nerves that were quickly overwhelming her system. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay,” she told him, although a part of her was also trying to calm herself.

With shaking hands, Shiloh steered the truck down a back road and onto a farmer’s property. She’d been cautious enough to put some distance between themselves and the store that they’d just robbed, but she knew that Felix wouldn’t be able to go too long without medical attention. Going to a hospital would be too risky, so she just had to hope that whoever lived here would be able to help them, or at least offer them some medical supplies.

One she’d pulled up out front, Shiloh turned off the ignition, shoved the keys into her pocket and then quickly ran over to the passenger’s side door to open it for Felix. “Okay, Felix. Come,” she told him, firmly gripping onto his shirt as she used all of her strength to help haul him out of the vehicle. He looked like hell, and she could tell that he was starting to feel faint from the blood loss and shock of the situation. Truth be told, she was starting to feel a little bit like fainting herself. Remaining in control of the situation though, she allowed the tattooed male to brace himself against her tiny frame as she led him over to the front door. After multiple knocks and many attempts at ringing the doorbell, only to have no response at all, she finally leaned him up against the outside of the house, ran around until she’d found an open window to climb through, and then pulled him through the front door. With proper lighting now, she could really see just how bad his condition was, his hoodie quickly beginning to turn red with the blood that it was absorbing from the wound on his shoulder. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing what it looked like underneath.

With the last of the strength that she could muster, Shiloh helped Felix onto the couch and tugged off his hoodie to lay it beneath him instead, leaving him in a once white but now blood-stained wife beater. She gasped as she saw the wound for the first time, her hands clasping over her mouth. To avoid causing a panic though, she quickly uncovered it again. “It’s not even that bad. Honestly, Felix, you’re just a big baby. Grow up,” she told him, trying to make light of the situation even as she ran through the house, looking for a bathroom that might have a first aid kit. When she’d finally located one, she sprinted back into the living room, fumbling with the contents of it with her shaking hands until she’d found what she needed.

It wasn’t long before Felix had passed out, much to Shiloh’s concern. It did make it easier to patch him up though, she figured, because he wouldn’t be flinching from the pain of being disinfected and man-handled. However, it did make cleaning the exit wound on the back of his shoulder quite difficult, because she’d had to rely on her brute strength (and there wasn’t much of it) to move him around. Around two hours had passed before she was satisfied with her work and she was able to close up the kit, but she still spent the bulk of the rest of the night rotating cold cloths on his forehead to keep his fever at bay and repeatedly sticking her finger below his nostrils to make sure that he was breathing.

When morning came, she was passed out on the floor next to him, her upper body slumped over the coffee table.

@narcotlcs

[moonandstars]

beautiful : yuta

Plot : yuta is a underground boxer and somehow you work there too.

details : underground boxer! yuta

words : 4.9k

a/n : fucked around and made a mood board wbu

You start to dress up fast looking at the time. It was 8:30 PM. You had to be there at nine. You texted Johnny that you will be on your way soon. You pulled your black jeans and some t shirt and pulled over hoody. It was best to dress as simple as possible for the place you were about to go. You called your mother and told her you'd be going to sleep early today as you had an early shift tomorrow. The lies tasted so bitter on your tongue.

"Ah yes, sleep early and don't take too much stress. Also don't miss your meals. Otherwise I will come down there."

"Don't worry mum, I am perfectly fine." You said trying to sound as cheerful as you could. There was a little pause.

"You can tell me everything honey okay? I love you so much. You're my everything."

"I love you too mum, good night." You took a deep breath and went out of the apartment.

It was a little cold today , so you called a cab. You dropped off a block away from your destination. You walked there, it was shabby place. Not too crowded specially during the night. You walked to the gate and knocked.

"Who's it?"

"It's me,___" You said lowly. The gate opened and you walked in.

"Hey, you're on time. People have started coming in and they're gonna place bets now." Johnny said walking towards you.

You worked in a underground boxing matches, allowing people to place bets on the players. Not a dream job, not even an acceptable job for a girl like you, but it paid and that's what you needed. You only took bets on Taeyong, your friend and classmate. He was the one who introduced you to this place.

"Listen, I will never encourage you to take this spot. I did not even wanted to bring it up to you, but you told me you needed to make money but honestly I know you, and that place, that job is not for someone like you." He had told you. Looking guilty and anxious.

"It's okay. It's only for a short time and I'll find another one soon. Besides you will be there."

"Yes, yes of course."

Your whole day was spent in the uni and then your job at the cafe. You worked there till evening and then went home to rest a little and then you were here. You were thankful that matches only happened once or twice a week, during the weekend, so you could be here as less as possible. The only reason you could even make it here was because of Johnny and Taeyong. And they both always made sure you were safe and as comfortable as you could be in a  place like this.

You stood near Taeyong's spot near the ring and everyone started handing you money for the bets. He never lost, but still it was hard to see your friend end up bruised up at these nights. He was a monster in the ring. At first you were surprised at the sudden change because he was a whole different personality during the day, a shy friendly person, and here in this ring, he is ruthless.

"I am betting on Lee Taeyong." A man said and handed you the money. You tried to take it but he took your hand and grabbed you. You already knew what kind of man he was, you had enough of them here.

"And how much for you for the night?" He said with a smirk eyeing you. You jerked your hand and pushed him against the wall.

"Listen here you bitch, place your bet and get your fucking ass away from me." You spat in his face. A few months ago, you would not even imagine about being this brave but this place has sure taught you to be rough.

"Or what huh?" He started coming to you again. He was a stubborn one. As he tried to speak again, he was pushed back against the wall harshly by someone.

"Or I will make sure that even the street dogs won't  be able to find your fucking ass. Now move." You could only see the back of the person who tried to save you but his voice sure sounded compelling. The man backed away and walked off looking petrified.

The person turned around and smiled at you. And the only thing you could think was 'beautiful'. He has dark brown hair, almost too dark.

"You're okay?" His voice, his accent sounded different, he was not from around here.

"Oh yea, I am fine. Thank you." You said, still surprised. It was not usual for people to help someone here, it was dirty ruthless place after all.

"This place is full jerks." He chucked a little and it made you smile. His little laugh really sounded cute. It was like a dazzle in a dull place.

"Yeah that, I am used to it." You said and looked down. He was wearing a black tank top and black skinny jeans. His muscles moving has he used his hand to push his hair back.

"You should not be." He said, still giving you a small smile.

"Hey,___, Yuta? You're here. You're up next after Taeyong. You should go back there." Johnny said making his way towards you.

"Yeah sure." Yuta told Johnny and turned towards you. " Hi I am Yuta."

"___ and thank you again." You smiled and watched him walk away. You were numb for a minute. You felt a little warmth inside you and clenched your fist softly. For the first time in this dreary place, you felt something vibrant.

"Did something happen?" Johnny asked leaning against the wall and lighting his cigarette.

"No, he just helped me with some old jerk. Who's he?"

" Nakamoto Yuta. He's going to start fighting here from today. And I want you to take bets for him." He spoke, blowing out a puff.

"ME? What about Taeyong?"

"You can take for both if you want. They're friends so they won't fight with each other. Or I can help you out with Taeyong from time to time if you want."

"Why don't you take him?"

"I already have a lot and besides I want an honest one for him. You know others are just corrupted." He stated offering you the cigarette. You took it.

"Fine. I will do it." You responded with a puff and gave the cigarette back to him. "Seriously how many friends you have? As much as the people in the city?"

"I got more than that darling." He smiled. "Definitely more than that."

After Taeyong's match, he came up and sat with you and Johnny at the front. You all were waiting for Yuta's match. Somehow you were really keen for it. You already saw a little dangerous side of him when he helped you out before but you had no idea how was he going to fight. The matches here were not the ethical ones, the basic rules are to not kill anyone or do anything that will make the hospitals suspicious or get cops involved. Apart from that, it was whatever you do to win. You saw Yuta walking out as the crowed cheered, was he famous? why would the crowd cheer for a new guy? You saw him bending and going inside the ring and you could not focus on anything but him. His whole demeanor changed from before. He hair a little sweaty and falling down on his forehead. He tank top off him and he was only in his jeans, showing his abs. You watched as his knuckles were covered in tapes. You were confused as to why you were even paying so much attention to him. You never watched the fights here except for Taeyong's and then leave, but something about Yuta made you fixated on him.

The fight began and Yuta landed the first punch. You did not have much idea about fighting but it was clear that Yuta had experience and was very strong. His defense was sharp and rapid with hardly getting any blow and constantly punching out his opponent. It was an easy win and the crowd cheered. Johnny and Taeyong looked very confident about him.

"Told you he was gonna own. Come let's meet him." Johnny exclaimed and you all went to meet him.

"Hey man. Piece of cake was it?" Taeyong said and hugged Yuta. You handed him his amount and stood back.

"Thanks." He said and smiled. You noticed his eyes crinkled from the side. Even with a bruise on the jaw and blood on lip, all you could think was how beautiful that smile is.

"We're going to leave. See you tomorrow." Taeyong added. "Thanks for helping out ___." And you had expected this because Johnny can't keep his mouth shut. While leaving you mouthed a 'fuck you' to Johnny and he mouthed a 'you wish' back at you.

You sighed and leaned back in Taeyong's car. He always dropped you off after these nights, and you were glad that you had your friend with you.

"You should call me or Johnny if someone tries to bug you like that. I am glad Yuta was there." Taeyong said,making a turn. You did not wanted to tell him. The first time it happened, Taeyong was near you and he saw everything. He beat up the guy to pulp and caused a scene. You decided it then you had to handle your own fights.

"It was nothing. I told him off." You said smiling. "I did not know Yuta was your friend."

"He's Johnny's childhood friend. I have known him for quite some time but we have hardly time to meet. Now that he's here, I can see him more."

"He sure made an impression tonight." You said showing the cash to Taeyong.

"This was nothing to him. He used to fight in a different place before this and he's been a champion there."  Taeyong chimed.

"Ah that explains his popularity."

"You have never asked so much about anybody else before." Taeyong smirked and you decided to look out of the window. The sky was clear and with little stars scattered across it, the moon was lighting up the entire night. You never really wanted to know so much about anybody else before.

--

The next time you see Yuta is surprisingly is outside that boxing ring at the cafe you work at. He had a head band on, but still his hair were falling on his forehead. The football was dangling in his hands and the jersey hugging his chest. He was with Johnny, he turned around and noticed you, giving you an instant smile. You could not look away. The sun rays were falling on his face from the glass windows, and he was making his way towards the counter. You smiled, because confusingly his presence was so calming, you could  not help yourself.

"Hi, remember me?" He asked, his football by side.

"Yeah, of course. So you're on team?" You inquired, motioning towards the jersey.

"The captain." He said proudly.

"Well what would the captain and his friend like to have?"

"My friend would have whatever his regular is, and the captain would like to have the waitress's favorite drink and her number." He smirked. So you exchanged numbers, after all he was part of your group now.

You started seeing him more often on the campus, in the library, in the park ,cafeteria and he would always smile at you. Sometimes you would watch him from afar, you noticed he hardly ever talked to anyone apart from a few close friends and was mostly with Johnny or Taeyong. It was weird, he was the captain of the football team, one of the most handsome guy on campus, he should have been everywhere, but he avoided everyone. He was like a boat, trying to sail opposite of the waves.

It was Yuta's fifth time when he faced a nasty opponent and you knew things were not good when even Johnny looked concerned and not his usual snarky self. He won but with multiple wounds and his face and knuckles covered in blood. It was not new, you have seen Taeyong in this condition before but looking at Yuta, leaning on Taeyong, limping towards the car made your heart feel heavy. It was like somebody was injecting thrones in your chest.

"My match is still left, you take him, you know what to do." Taeyong said, and you knew exactly what to do. Going to the hospital was not an option for him, you learned it the hard way.

Taeyong was grunting, clutching his jaw with his hands. Your hands shaking trying to constantly wash the cloth and dabbing his blood.

"Please, let's go the hospital. It doesn't look good, I don't want to see you hurt. Please Tae-"

"And what huh?" Taeyong hissed. "Let the doctors see this. They will fucking know from where I got this. The cops will get involve. Bloody hell why can't you just dab it?" So you just did.

"I am sorry ___. I really am."  Taeyong said, after a long silence.

You helped Yuta inside and started grabbing out all the first aid kit. You have watched tons of medical videos specially for these nights.

"Alright, this is going to hurt a little." You said while putting the cloth against his face.  He didn't flinch, maybe he was really used to it. You quickly patched him up and applied the bandages.

"You will need to replace these for a couple of days." You stated, patting the bandage.

"Would you?" He asked, looking at you intently. "I suck at doing these stuff, and I don't have anyone else to do it." He whispered.

"Yeah, I would." You smiled. Lately you were finding it hard to say no to him. "I will pull out an extra mattress for you, you can stay here tonight."

"I see even these bruises can't tame my charms huh?" He smirked looking down at your lips. You were in the bathroom, beneath a bright light glowing over you, the smell of disinfectants and blood around you. It was always Yuta who was making you feel something vibrant when everything else was dull. He leaned in and you kissed him. Cautiously and softly. When you were breathless, he was resting he forehead against your shoulder.

"Thank you___." He whispered.

--

It was bright afternoon when you were sprawled in the university garden, with Johnny by your side, still a few minutes to start your cafe shift.

"You know Yuta is single."

"You know Mei is out of your league."

"Well darling  we both made if official so you can take your ass off me and stop directing the topic." He chirped. Of course he would end up with Mei, it was about time.

"How is he single? He's like the most desirable person out there, no offence."

"I said single, not a virgin. And offence is taken." Johnny said, lying next to you. "He has never clicked with anyone before, to have something serious. One night stands, meaningless sex, that's all I have ever seen."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I have known him forever, and for the first time I am seeing something different." He ruffled your hair and got up. "Time for work."

--

You sighed. You were supposed to meet Yuta after your shift, agreeing to replace his bandages and hang out you guess. Yuta left that night after the breakfast and you both carried on like usual. Surprisingly, it was not uncomfortable at all. He was still Yuta, the handsome guy who makes you feel like you could see the stars even in the darkest nights. You never had a serious relationship either, you wanted to tell Johnny. Not because you did not wanted to, but because you never had the time, always burdened with responsibilities, feeling like you will slow down if you tried to ever enjoy yourself.

"It's a clear weather today. Looks like there's going to be lot of stars." Yuta stated, standing next to you,  startling you.

"You almost gave me a heart attack Yuta." You gasped.

"There's a fair nearby, I heard it's cool and they're going to do fireworks tonight? Want to go?" Yuta asked, smiling like he always did.

So you went, your bag in one hand and Yuta's hand in another. There were indeed a lot stars today, sparkling continuously, like they were giggling at you both. The wind was cold but sweet, it constantly flew, like laughing in your ears. You looked at Yuta, the lights shining across his faces, his eyes glowing, lashed casting a shadow on his cheeks, you did not realize he was looking at you too.

"I loved it, thank you for taking me there." You said as you stood outside your apartment building, looking at Yuta.

"Thank you for coming with me." He responded. And you kissed again. This time it was sweet and nostalgic. You did knew what you both were, and you were scared to know. This was new, and exciting, a whole lot different from the life you have been living. So you thought it would be okay for a while to let things stay just the way they are.

--

You were cleaning a few tables when you saw Mei grunt a little while bending down. You took her to the counter and helped her sit. She also worked with you at the cafe.

"You should go home. I will talk to the boss." You said, noticing a few marks.

"No I am fine."

"What are you not telling me?" You asked, and she knew it was useless to argue.

"I fell from the pole. This guy was giving me a hard time constantly being on nerves about sleeping with him, so I was trying to avoid him and got distracted and fell. Awkward." Mei worked as a stripper. Works in a club not far away from the boxing place. She was an orphan, and was here on a scholarship. It's funny how you always found broken people like you.

"Anyways, how was your date?" She said winking.

"It was not a date. We just hung out."

"What? You guys are not like together? But I always see you guys together so I thought-"

"Well you thought wrong Mei, we are not together and we are not dating. I don't what it is, he's just my friend like every one else and you know I don't have time for anything or anyone right now. There's nothing special really." You said, flinching at the lies coming out of your mouth. You just wanted to not talk about it, until you made up your mind and talked to Yuta first. And looked up and saw Mei looking scared, staring past you.

You looked around and saw Yuta. Looking at you with a blank expression, the same one he has on while he is in the ring. You noticed a little flicker in his eyes. Anger, disappointment, hurt. His sweaty jersey and black jeans on. And he was out without saying anything.

"You fucked up." You heard Mei whisper.

--

You hurried up the stairs of Johnny and Yuta's apartment building. You had to see him, talk to him, yet you did not knew what you would say if you met him. You felt yourself getting out of breath. Just as you were about to take your next step, somebody pulled on your hand.

"Huh?Johnny?"

"You should not."

"I just-have-" you enhaled "have to see him. I think he-we"

"I get it. But right now is not the time."

"Why?"

"He got pissed off and drunk, bought some girl home. "

"Oh yeah." You said, sitting down on the stairs. You felt dull, numb, it was like the temperature dropped suddenly. You touched your throat, your neck, there was nothing but then why  you couldn't you breathe.

"There's match tomorrow. You can talk then. Come I will walk you down." The night was so cold. You looked up, no stars in sky tonight. It's like your darkness engulfed them too.

--

The match was horrible. Taeyong won. But all you could remember was his body in blood, with Johnny grabbing him and taking him away. It was all a blur. You were choking, crying, shouting how this time he needed a doctor. Yuta was holding you back, your tears falling on hands.

"He will be alright. He will be back." He kept chanting.

You were sitting in your room when Yuta bought a glass of water for you. Still frustrated, annoyed, at Taeyong, at Johnny, at Yuta , at yourself. Your anxiety was eating you up. You could feel everything was piling up on Yuta's nerves too.

"Here drink this."

"I don't want to." Silence for a few seconds. You heard Yuta inhale.

"Then what do you want? I told you he will be fine. We have connections to doctors who deal with his stuff. Johnny said it's nothing. What else is fucking wrong then?" He sneered.

"YOU KNOW WHAT IS WRONG?" You got up " You wanna know what's wrong? Huh? It's wrong that Taeyong has to end up being bruised every week so that he can pay his dad's bills. It's fucking wrong that Johnny has to deal with these shady people to make some money. It's-It's wrong that Mei has to deal with these perverts to survive. " You ranted. "It's wrong we all ended up here being so miserable. That we have to constantly compromise on this road in order to get the destination. And what I want? I want to stop feeling like I am choking all the time. I want to breathe. I want to be brave enough to tell you how much I fucking feel for you. Brave enough to allow myself to love, to feel, to actually live. " You crashed on the floor and closed your eyes.  You heard some footsteps and then some warmth. You felt the heaviness leaving you. You both sat there for a while, when he started getting up .

"Don't go." You spoke, pulling him towards you close, your nose brushing his.

It was the first time you actually felt his muscles, after seeing them from afar for so long. It was awkward, hot and passionate. It was like you both were trying to say something but could not find the words. So you used your hands, your lips. His grunts filling your ears. It was long after when he was asleep beside you, you looked around your discarded clothes on the floor and realized how you haven't seen him smile for so long.

The morning after was not awkward, not comfortable, just calm. You looked at Yuta, his face towards you, staring. His hair ruffled on your pillow, your finger tracing a scar on his shoulder.

"How did you meet them?" He whispered.

"Taeyong is childhood friend. We were neighbors, same school and now same university. He introduced me to Johnny. We all hit it off." He hummed. "You're not from here huh?"

"No. From Japan. Moved here in school, my dad got a job here. Met Johnny. Everything's a history since then."

"At what point it got fucked up?" You mumbled. He laughed, the voice ringing in your ears, it was like the warmth of ear muffs in a cold winter.

"It was a car crash. Both of them gone, just like this. No goodbyes, no love you's, no 'go to sleep, enough stories for today', nothing. Just silence. It was a like a black and white silent movie since then. I stayed with Johnny's family until my grandmother moved here to take care of me, helps me all she can. " He spoke, like a dream.

"You must really love her."

"I do."

"Your turn." He said, turning an imaginary mic towards you.

"My father was an abusive jerk. My mum suffered a lot, but one day she left. It was hard you know, she did not had a job. But still she raised me the best she could. I can't ask her for any more financial help, she doesn't tell me but I know how hard it was for her to send me here. So that's that."

"Your mother is a very strong woman."

"Seeing her work so hard, taking so much for me, I thought about dying so much. But I just could not. I am all she has."

"It's nice. To know you. To be able to understand you."

"Why would you want that Yuta?"

"Is it weird that there's a guy out here who's hobby is to try to understand you?" He spoke, barely a whisper, like a complaint, like it was unfair to him.

He was gone when you came out of the shower. You called Taeyong and he told you he was fine.

"A cast on the hand, and some bruises. Other than it's fine. Some rest and I will be fine."

"You're not lying, are you?"

"Never___."

A part of you was hoping Yuta would stay, after the morning you spent, talking about everything. You constantly replayed the conversation in your head. It felt unreal how he was just beside you just few hours ago, now he was gone. You wanted to talk him but what words were you going to choose. You looked at the bed, still unmade, the room still had a faint smell of his cologne. Even though he was not here, his memories still made you feel the stars were twinkling inside your heart.

--

"I love this smell after the rain." Mei spoke, as you both walked towards the park near the cafe, as you watched the evening disappear and the stars coming out . Johnny decided it was long time since the group hung out together and Taeyong wanted some fresh air after so many hours of sleep and pain killers. You knew Yuta be there too, after all Johnny said the whole group.

You saw Johnny and Yuta passing around the football and Taeyong sitting on the bench, laughing. You all talked, laughed and played. After a while, Johnny and Mei sat together, just looking at park fountain and Taeyong was writing something in his diary. Yuta was sitting under a tree, football by side. You went and sat beside him. His face covered in moonlight, his eyes closed.

"You left without a goodbye." You spoke softly.

"I thought you needed some time, you were upset last night."

"Do you think I slept with you because I was upset?"

"Should I think that?"

"No. I slept with you because I wanted." You sighed. "I did not mean what I said that day, in the cafe."

"Then why did you say it?"

"Because I was afraid, I still am. I saw my parents marriage crumble, I saw people change, I feel like you're too good for me. I am used to being alone, being responsible. I am on a journey and yet you feel like a destination." You spoke. He took your hand and held it.

"I have lost so much, I stopped feeling anything for a long time. And then I met you, and you I started seeing splashes of colors in white and the stars glowing in black, I could hear the voices again, people laughing, shouting, calling out each other. I am not your destination, but I want to be your journey. I want to be with you, beside you, I want to walk with you." He spoke.

"I want to be with you too. Being with you makes me feel the most vibrant, you make me feel like I can breathe, like I can stand up on my own. I used to feel like I was not supposed to feel happy or loved until I had everything, after meeting you, I know that the journey can be beautiful too."

"I used to see you in the university, always with Taeyong, Johnny and Mei. I wanted to approach you, but you looked just so happy with them." Yuta turned towards you and then smiled, his smile, the one that could light up the sky. "Then I met you this winter on a cold night,  and my life started to change since then. I miss you, I need you and I love you."

"Nakamoto Yuta, I love you too."

The kiss was sweet, full of longing, patience and love. The wind blew your hair, the stars were blinking at you, like they were laughing, the moon was bright, beaming at you, like it knew. You saw Johnny and Mei walking standing up and Taeyong closing his diary and smiling at you. You felt vibrant, not only on the inside but the also on the outside.

"You look beautiful." Taeyong said.

"Thank you for being here."

"I wouldn't let anyone else to be here."  Taeyong added. "Quite wonderful how all of us reached the destination huh, I am proud of us."  You hugged him.  "You have and will always be my little sister." He whispered.

"Shall we?" He asked, giving you his hand.

"Yes." You took it and walked down the aisle. You saw your mother at the front, Mei being your maid of honor, Johnny as the best man and then you saw Yuta. Standing at the alter, smiling at you, and all you could think was, so beautiful.

--

alright so i don’t know underground boxing scene works. knowledge is limited to the fanfics. this was supposed to be kinda slow or slice of life kinda thing. Also it doesn’t look like it but i’d really appreciate comments or ask, it’s a side blog so i can’t reply personal DMs.

[unholyplumpprincess]

Corrupted Angel

For twitter user @/EnEssTimesTwo bc I fell in love with her vampire Bloodhound art and this is based off one of her art images which I can’t seem to link back to!

Summary: Essentially a monster au where human Elliott is a burlesque/exotic dancer who has caught the eye of a owl masked person who tips very well yet is too damned polite when Elliott just wants them to grab him and make him a meal. Not knowing, well, what kind of meal they’d really want.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Mirage

Warning: NSFT/R18+, monster au involving vampire Bloodhound, Bloodhound has body mods so if you don’t like those!, Elliott has a fang kink, Bloodhound’s nasty oral fixation, basically Mirage’s dick is a caprisun and Bloodhound is Hungry, nothing really like ‘terrible’ in here as far as kinky just oral and some dirty dancing.

Words: 7k

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In a world like this, getting clients that were of inhuman breed wasn’t so uncommon.  

Other folk, or commonly known as the monster breeds of their species, were just as normal to have around as humans were. Beasts of great heights and strengths covered head to toe in fur and too many arms, or to the more human looking ones with sharp teeth and a wicked grin, to the ghostly apparitions that haunted your very heart.  

Elliott had been one of four children to end up being a human. His brothers had all been lycanthropes like his mama, Maria, while he took after his mom Evelynn. Not that it had been too big of a deal, just that his brothers had a higher appetite than himself and he needed to learn to not laugh when his eldest turned into the fluffiest little wolf pup he’d ever seen.  

Old memories that would forever fill him with nostalgia and happiness, he missed them dearly.  

Elliott nowadays kept himself busy at the club he worked at. Twirling on poles, racking in delicious clientele who were to die for in their own very beauty, dancing and working them up in certain costumes. He was a crowd pleader, widely beloved in the club as one of the best around. A beautiful tease with an  award-winning  smile.  

~Rest under the cut~

The problem? Well, most dancers liked to get some extra cash by bedding their regulars. It wasn’t an issue here, the way it was run was a safe environment for the dancers. Body guards rested around at the ready, panic buttons in the hotel rooms that were upstairs above the club; Condoms and lubricant supplied- not to mention anything else you may need when dealing with clients who were more...monstrous. Or those who weren’t interested in bedding you, but feeding.  

Elliott, however, didn’t just let anyone take him upstairs. He enjoyed intimacy, sure, loved to tease and plead the masses, but you had to get his attention in order to even pay for his services. Tips weren’t hard for him to come by, not when he used long, strong legs to frame his client’s lap and purred in their ear with a low tone of voice. Letting his stubble scratch over their flesh and murmuring teases.  

A rumor had spread around about him that he would laugh at. That he would not bed humans, that he liked the danger too much. Whispers in the club of how you had to be tall, had to have cash, that you had to not want sex but instead be seeking out feeding or discipline, all sorts of rumors that were just false. Or at least, vaguely correct but not quite.  

He...he liked danger, he’ll admit that much, but in the end not a lot of people caught his eye in that way. He had to want and enjoy it too, right? And not just for the sex that came out of it.   

Yet, the only client that came to mind that he’d oh so willingly bed to the point he was ready to beg THEM to go up to a room with him, was one who was too polite.  

Devilish red, glowing eyes, always coming masked like most people were to enter a club such as this. Dressed in tight old-fashioned leathers and an old owl style look to their mask, and though full faced, Elliott could feel the hunger clearly through it. They only spoke with him after dances, never for him to come to the back with them, just offering generous tips in the politest way of giving it to him straight forward. Compliments that spread redness to Elliott’s cheeks as they’d boldly brush their knuckles over his cheek, only to retract and apologize for the act.  

The person was loaded, that was for sure. Their gloved hands always had wads of cash that would pay his rent in one sitting. He’d tried offering more, a private dance, a private...event even. Trying not to make himself look TOO desperate.  

But they would always kindly decline, saying they were busy and only here for just a moment. Even going so far as to kindly tell him that they did not wish to take up too much of his time. Always so damned  polite .  

What Elliott would do to take a peek under that mask and see his most fantasized about person.  

A small note of the club was a twist on the old concept of burlesque dancers, their clients were masked, while the dancers could choose to wear one or not. Elliott thought it gave excitement for their clients to be masked, while providing privacy for their identity if they chose to not be recognized outside.  

Wraith preferred the mask, one of his coworkers and closest friend. Though, not human. Her class was a banshee, long since caught between death and life as she’d told him.  

Her pale skin was ice cold to the touch, her voice sounded like multiples and could send chills down your spine. She always took upon a laced mask and some sort of leather costumery. You could find her perched on the lap of her most regular client, an old soldier who went by the alias Bangalore and showed up with an upper half face mask designed like a fluffy dog.  

Elliott’s eyes drift in the dark room over to where Wraith’s stage was. Vaguely seeing her outline in the low dim of red LED’s surrounding her. He had seen her in the dressing rooms before they went on stage, he’d meowed at her and winked as she laughed and told him to get his outfit on. What? She looked hot; He could appreciate it.  

She dressed in a leather body suit with matching thigh highs and killer heels that made up for her short height. The body suit looked more like an upper corset or bustier, the clasp at her crotch secured but the cut of the hip area coming high up above her hips for a sexier cut. Horns perched atop her head with a matching devil tail and red eyeliner to match. Her lace mask suited well for it, something he’d adjusted as he passed by and brushed her hair from her face affectionately.  

It settled her own quiet anxieties as well as grounded him when Wraith had smirked at him and told him she was fine. Two peas in a pod, he’d always tell her before wishing each other luck.  

A breath escapes Elliott’s lips now as he hooks his fingers around the pole. Motor motions, a slow warm up with the lights off as he idly twirls on the pole. The quiet, slow rising of the beginning of the remixed song. He lets his head fall back as he feels the anticipation, feeling his curls fall onto his chin where he’d purposefully made them loose and messy today.  

It fit his own theme for the song of choice for both himself and Wraith.  

His own is a lovely little angel get up. His hair had been loosely done today, curls allowed to fall freely and beautifully to curl onto the side of his face. Soft makeup had been applied of lipstick, kitten liner, and soft highlights. His facial hair had been trimmed up a bit for the event. His outfit consisted of a white ribbon choker with a matching harness that tied over the top of his chest and at the bottom of his ribcage, coming up over his shoulders for small wings to sprout from his back.  

A white, see through bralette rested over his chest, yet the harness presses his pecs to give the appearance of more cleavage. A small pair of white shorts, small enough to be considered panties, rest over his lower half, as well as white thigh highs with garters and black boots.  

He looked cute, if he would admit that to himself. He liked getting all dolled up and showing off his strong body, fit with lean muscle and sharp curves. He liked being drooled over, liked being watched. Not to mention the fact anyone in this club didn’t mind whether he dressed feminine or masculine, or what name he went by. All they knew was his stage name-  

“Presenting- Mirage and Wraith! Give it up for them whilst they give an electrifying performance to the song: Horns!” Natalie- better known as Wattson was always a good show host, standing a  little ways  away on her own stage in her ring leader outfit, she throws one gloved hand in the air as she speaks, a big smile on her face and her other hand full of the microphone. The crowd cheers before quieting down just as the song begins.  

The song is a remixed version, starting slow as the lights begin to flash. There’s the briefest moment that Wraith and him share a look as it begins before they’re matching movements.  

There’s a slow twist of his head thrice that he knows she’s matching. The grinding movement of hips downwards into a crouch that leaves the crowd cheering matched with the slow rise up with a dramatic bow of the back to make eyes fall to his ass. The repeating humping motion until the lyrics begin and he’s doing a twirl around the base of the pole. Followed by the low, slow grinding crouch with too much leg pushing out, his head falling to the side as his eyes narrow sensually and he looks for his targeted prey in the audience.  

The sight of an owl mask never leaving his form makes him grin.  

The desperately cried out word of ‘ breathe ’ in the song makes him slow to his knees, wrapping fingers around his throat and adding up the sexuality with a flutter of his lashes. It’s so brief before his body is dragging itself upwards, both hands gripping the pole as he hoists himself up onto it, turning his body upside down to hang off in a back bending twirl before beginning to ascend with each grab and pull. All never breaking his own innocent flutter and smiles. He knows damn well without looking that Wraith has an opposite expression of a snarl and sexual energy.  

Every time he comes back around to be able to look at the crowd, normally he’d let his gaze sweep the crowd, let them all feel attended to. But Elliott can’t help it when his gaze keeps settling on that owl masked wearing stranger. Even when it comes time to the part of the song where he sings ‘Heel stomping down my throat’ and he rolls onto his back, arching himself upwards with a dramatic bow of his back and letting his eyes flutter when his hips thrust into the air and roll.  

His gaze never falters.  

Elliott swears he could hear a growl from them, but the music and bass is so loud, there’s no way he could have heard it. Right? But why was it so clear? As if it echoed in his mind.  

He doesn’t falter regardless in his routine. He likes the hungry gazes on his body, but more important how that full faced mask never loses him for a moment. Even at the end of the routine where Wraith ends with her back facing the crowd, head tipped over one shoulder, tail curled around her wrist and a red glow over her frame, and Elliott reflects by facing the crowd, head tipped to one side as if bashful, and thumbs interlocked to fans his hands into wings at his chest, the light reflecting blue.  

With the crowd cheering and the lights dimming, both of them are able to make their way off the stages towards the crowd and begin to find people who wish to engage with them. Wraith, as Elliott notices, works her way through the crowd with her polite ‘thank  you’s  as she finds her way to her favorite client. He could laugh, really, but honestly was he any better?  

When Elliott enters the crowd, he works his magic all whilst waiting for the telltale feeling of gloved fingers stroking over his arm to gather his attention. When he feels it, he excuses himself with promises of returning with playful winks.  

“You shall not be returning.” Comes a voice in his head, practically a purr echoing throughout and Elliott’s eyes blink a few times, tempted to look around the room- but that voice was familiar. The same person who now rounded a corner ahead of him, cloak billowing behind them.  

Well, damn, mark Elliott down as scared and horny.  

Normally this stranger liked to give him the cash and let that be that. But the idea of them wanting to keep him around longer this time? His heart flutters, wondering if he’d get to see them unmasked, to hear that gorgeous accented voice sing his praises and stop acting so polite and let him see them absolutely unhinged -  

Wait, could they hear his thoughts or just talk to him through them? Quick, Witt, think something less horny! Uh- Old mcdonald had a farm, E I E I--  

“Come here,” Comes the haunting voice around the corner. The one Elliott has been following down and down the halls until they’re near the staircase that led up to private rooms. His heart is pounding when he turns the corner, already ready with a pick up line and a thank you from the bottom of his heart. But fingers hitch into the straps at his chest, yanking him close until next thing he knows he’s pressed up against the window nearby. The flashing neon lights outside of the sign reflecting across his skin.  

“H-hey there! A little eager for the bedroom, aren’tcha?” Elliott manages to get out, his voice nervous as that mask is so close to his own face. Near nose to nose—or rather, nose to beak with the mask. Able to make out the respirator so close, and the dark fabric on the owl’s eyes seeming to hide a pair behind them much brighter. He also notes that their gloved hands are resting politely on him, one on his shoulder, the other hovering over his waist. And oh, how he wished they’d just give up the mystery already, maybe even yank him closer-  

As if blessed, the hand that had been hovering at his waist lifts to their mask. Grabbing at its beak to pull it up, “No. I am simply ready for my meal-- if you are willing.” And the entire time they say this singular sentence, they slowly pull up their mask to set on the stairs nearby. Elliott’s heart races because of course they’d be attractive. With a voice like that, honestly what was he expecting?   

Their hood still remains on their head, a few loose red curls framing their sharp face. He notes the red face paint on their face- before realizing that’s tattoos. The scarring across the right side of their face looking like they got into a fight with a beast, the eye blinded and appearing like a mini solar flare. Yet their other a deep, dark red with a slit pupil focused entirely on him. More scars edge at their throat, climbing up like lightning across a sky over their jawline.  

Elliott’s already dizzy, eyes tracing over their deep olive skin tone, over their pierced roman nose and down just in time to see their plump lips part. Showing a double set of fangs and a split tongue with vertical piercings up each tongue- good lords.  

“Th- th -those are some serious chompers.” Is all Elliott can manage to get out, his breath caught in his throat as his hazel eyes focus on their teeth. He could beat himself up for THAT being the thing out of his mouth. Not how attractive they were, not how he really wished they’d just skip the tip and take him right to the bedroom- free of charge!   

The phrase makes their head cock charmingly, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that their teeth would be the focal point. Though he hadn’t said ‘no’ nor did Elliott look AGAINST said ‘chompers’. They lick over their fangs, only serving to make Elliott’s head fall back as if he was already preparing to be the most delicious meal.  

“Do not worry. I do not ‘chomp’, as you say.” They speak lowly near his ear as they lean in. Elliott can hear the way they inhale his scent, sounding like they’re swearing under their breath and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t ragingly hard in his already too tight of shorts. Especially when they come closer to him, lips brushing over his throbbing pulse and Elliott can only hope he’s making it quite clear that he’s all game for whatever ‘not chomping’ they’re about to do.  

Vampire. It all made sense, really, when he put it all together. The get up was rather old fashioned, their politeness even more so. Or the fact he’d noticed that they’d adorably pause at the bar every single time, never ordering anything, but always seemed keen on counting all the bottles. Then of course the mental communication- seems his client was one of the older of the breed, maybe a few centuries old.  

Thoughts he’d save for later. When he’s not being distracted.  

Lips brush up the length of his exposed throat, just brushing and making Elliott shiver. Their lips press to his pierced lobe, lightly nipping and making Elliott gasp out a low moan. When they chuckle lowly at his reaction, he swears he could cum right then and there.  

“Wait,” He starts, amazed at how quickly they back up but he’s quick to whine to ease their worried expression. Cute how they thought they had crossed a boundary- anyone else would probably have tried ripping off his clothes right then and there. “Your--your name. I never got it?”  

His client’s furrowed brows relax near instantly, their worried expression easing up as a soft, relieved breath leaves them. Idly, a gloved hand comes up, tucking a curl behind Elliott’s ear and making his heart throb. There’s only a pause longer before they murmur out. “Bloodhound. You may call me Bloodhound. I assume your tongue could not handle the original pronunciation.”  

“But your tongue may be able to handle other things much better.” Comes the echoed purr in his mind, though their lips do not move to speak, they do curl into an attractive smirk that makes him about whimper.  

“Bloodhound,” He breathes out, enjoying the way their eyes seem to narrow at the sound. It’s as if he knew they’ve wanted to hear it this entire time. It’s almost a power trip, almost, if he weren’t the one pinned to a wall and about to cum in his own shorts from some gentle petting. “You said meal- now-now I’m absolutely willing! Promise, absolutely down for it, it would be a ple- pleas- pleas— absolute delight to do that for you.” Curse his need to talk too much when he was like this.   

Bloodhound's eyes seem to grow darker at that, despite his clear mishap, they don’t mention it. A quiet gesture that honestly put Elliott at ease. The hand on his shoulder slides up to his neck and Elliott’s eyes flutter, willingly moving his head to the side with the gentle touch so they could trace their fingers up and grab his jaw lightly.  

“...You mentioned a bedroom?”  

Oh, fuck yeah.  

--  

Elliot had never moved quicker in his life. Bloodhound had slid their mask back on, following him up the stairs and towards one of the hotel rooms that were available for their work to continue. He could laugh at them politely waiting outside the door before he remembers to invite them inside.  

 It’s a standard room with soft lighting and a bed fit in the center. Toys are lined on the wall, a pole in the room and a few comfortable chairs. There’s a bathroom for freshening up too, fit with anything that may come in handy.   

The lights and any music could be adjusted via a panel on the wall when they entered. Something Elliott is quick to shift the lights to a deep red and letting music play lowly. When he looks over at Bloodhound, Elliott gets the pleasant view of watching them remove their mask and cloak.  

They shake their hair loose, moving a gloved hand through it to toss their curls. Now, Elliott had seen plenty of attractive people around here. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful in his life. Not even himself, and that’s saying a lot.  

He feels his mouth go even drier when he looks down at what they’re wearing. Normally they were always in an old fashioned get up or in leathers. But now their outfit consists of a plunge neck black dress reaching just beneath their chest to show cleavage. The dress skirts the floor, a long slit up each leg and heeled boots resting upon their feet. They looked dressed to kill. Even more so when Elliott’s eyes are trailing back up slowly, feeling ever so dizzy when he meets their gaze, a smirk on their lips quirked ever so to show one fang on their lower lip-  

“I have not looked into your rates.” They speak casually, walking towards him with one foot slowly in front of the other. As if they’re stalking him. A devil stalking an angel. Oh, Elliott would be a good sinner, he swears. His knees wobbling by the time they reach him, their gloved hand cupping his cheek and their thumb running across the sharpness of his cheekbone.  

“Consider this a ‘thank you’ for your gen- generous tips.” Elliott manages to practically whine out, hating how his voice pitches up when their hand slides down his throat to trail down and rest on his chest. They’re walking him backwards, until the back of his knees hit a chair and he’s sinking right down. He has the pleasure of looking up at them, seeing their hair curling around their face beautifully with the red light illuminated behind them. Now, Elliott prides himself on being a good boy, so he lets it known he’s very interested by cocking his head to the side, straining his neck and trying to look as appetizing as possible.  

“Ah, but those were merely for watching your beautiful body dance, Elliott.” They croon out his name in a way that makes heat roll down his spine. He REALLY needs to be out of these shorts yesterday, but he’s willing to wait a little longer if it means wearing some nice bruises and puncture marks on his neck. He whimpers at the thought, rolling his hips up into nothing and he swears he hears Bloodhound inhale like someone inhaling the scent of a bakery.   

He’s waiting for them to pounce him, sink those  deliciously  sharp looking fangs into his throat- maybe they’d even let him grab their ass while they were at it? They had such a nice ass, rounded and juicy even in their dress. He wonders vaguely if they’d ever done dance work as well-  

But before his mind can wander too far. Elliott watches them pull their hair back, tugging it up into a ponytail and tying it. The visual makes his cock jerk in his tight little shorts, a whine escaping his throat as they tuck loose strands of hair behind their pierced ears. And instead of pouncing on him like he expected and is tensed for, they sink to their knees.  

Wait a minute.  

“I thought you were hungry?” He manages to squeak out, watching as they rest between his spread thighs. A small grin makes its way to their lips, and it truly should be a crime how attractive they are, fangs and all.  

“You must not be aware of feeding habits,” Bloodhound softly laughs out, their hands running over his thighs and the leather feeling just as sweet as it did over his throat. Elliott’s breath catches when they skirt his inner thighs, his legs trying to fall apart further. “If you would prefer I sink my teeth into your pretty neck and mark you as my own, I would not mind.”  

Elliott moans freely at the idea, head falling back and hips rolling into nothing. He could just imagine it, the teeth marks in his neck, the bruises. He imagines they’d snarl if they saw he’d tried to cover them up with makeup. Normally he’s not about someone trying to stake some sort of claim on him, especially in a situation such as his job. But something about Bloodhound made him want more and more and more.  

“Or,” They murmur, catching his attention again as their hand finally slides over the front of his shorts. Elliott cries out, over sensitive as they apply pressure to grope him. “You shall feed me  everything  you can from here. And we can discuss regular feeding sessions in...other  manners, if you so choose.”  

Other manners?! OTHER MANNERS?! Elliott’s catching onto the whole ‘life force’ rumors not being rumors like he’d thought. Blood and cum, yeah, he could do that- fuck what else could they do to him? What would they do to him?   

They’re loaded with cash, absolutely drop dead gorgeous, AND implying they’re kinky. Call Elliott a sucker all you like for even offering something for free, but could you BLAME HIM?!  

“I shall not continue if I do not hear verbal consent, sweet one.” Bloodhound’s voice pierces his loud thoughts, not having even noticed he’s practically dry humping their hand that they’ve so generously kept pressure with. Elliott’s dizzy already, panting and rolling his head to the side so he could finally look at them again.  

Oh, yeah, he could definitely get used to that sight.  

“Yes! Yes- fuck, yes, absolutely. However  you- you- you want to feed! Whatever you want, Hound, please just- fuck stop teasing. Please? Come on I’m not supposed to be the one- the one begging here!” The nickname slips out, truly, as does his pleading. It rolling right out of his mouth as easy as breathing. They don’t seem to mind, in fact, they seem pleased by his begging. Going so far as to give him this wolfish sort of grin that shows a lot of fang and- yeah he’s definitely going to cum in his shorts if they do that--  

“If you insist.”  

That’s the last thing he hears from that torturously delicious looking mouth. His shorts are immediately tugged off, hanging off one of his ankles, but when he goes to discard the harness and angel wings, they stop him with a dangerous look in their eye. He wonders if they like that sort of thing- roleplay. God, he could just imagine them in some devil get up seducing him. Fuck.  

Elliott’s mind immediately stops when he looks down, however. His cock is out in the open, heavy and drooling with pre-cum in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever done. The head is reddened, desperate with arousal, a prominent vein on his cock more pronounced. He’s always thought he’s had a nice dick, the foreskin coming up to rest just about the round of the head, a good size of seven inches and a good girth around. He’s trimmed his body hair to look more presentable on stage, but is clean shaven on the mound and his balls.  

The best part is the way Bloodhound’s gloved fingers wrap around the base of his cock, giving it one full stroke to pull the foreskin down. Their lips are parted softly, enough for him to see the way their split tongue wets their lips with prominent saliva as if they’re drooling.  

He’s never felt more look food before.  

Elliott’s not sure if he’s more turned on at how desperate and  hungry  they look or the fact he’s about to get what he’s pretty sure is going to be the best blowjob he’ll ever have. He’s already tensed, whimpering low in his throat and flexing his fingers on the arm of the chair in anticipation. But before he can start begging again, they move.  

First their tongue presses to the very bottom of his cock, licking up in a slow stripe in a way that Elliott can’t tear his eyes away from. Their glinting fangs look so dangerous, only to vanish when their plump lips seal around the head to give a soft suckle to, practically a wet heated fleeting kiss. Elliott would never admit to how he sounds now, not even faking the noises of his cries at just the smallest of touches.  

It makes it even worse when Bloodhound has the audacity to moan. This soft little sound in their throat like a content fucking kitten. Ridiculously, Elliott only feels closer because of the sound, his fingers practically clutching the arms of the chair for dear life. His thighs are trembling, his skin feeling far too hot even in something so little as a harness, and his voice isn’t feeling like his own as moans and sobs slip out.  

They repeat the same motions a few times of licking him up and suckling the head briefly, and he has half a mind to tell this beautiful vampire with insanely sharp teeth to stop playing with their food. But once their lips finally suckle around him, their head comes down in one go, swallowing him down a strangely cool throat with the threat of teeth resting at the base of his dick.  

Elliott cums.  

He cums harder than he thinks he’s ever cum before in his life. His body reacts on instinct, hands coming to Bloodhound’s head to hold them right where they are as beautiful sobs leave his lips and swears flying out. His thighs tremble, his hips weakly trying to hump against Bloodhound’s face with nowhere to go since they’ve deepthroated him entirely.  

“Such a delicious taste,” Comes that haunting voice in his head. It only serves to make Elliott’s hips weakly jerk again, feeling their throat constrict as they swallow his cum with a moan. “ You were a deserved wait. You taste divine, lítill engill. Better than I have imagined. ”  

“Thank you,” Elliott practically sobs out, his fingers still pressed to their scalp as he sobs out again. “Thank you, thank y-you- fuck-”  

The gentle lift of their head signals for his hands to retreat. Watching and feeling how their mouth slides over him with a fleeting kiss pressed to his still reddened head. Elliott just about goes cross eyed at the sensation, leaning back in the chair and throwing his head back as he tries to focus his panting breaths to narrow out into something normal.  

A cry leaves his lips when their gloved hand wraps around his cock to jerk him a few times. Over sensitivity ringing across his skin as he sobs out, “Wait, wait- can't go again that-that— fuck- quickly!” He’s practically begging, yet his hands stay glued to the arm of the chair again. Only able to look down at them and the way their eyes dance with mischief.  

“And I am yet sated. Do you wish for me to starve, little one? You were so eager to be made a meal of.” Their tone is taunting. As if they know exactly what they’re doing. And fuck, they probably do. Curse their fucking beautiful, stupid face and how their eyes make Elliott feel so small and yet so adored. So...paid attention to- more than he had in forever.  

Elliott’s immediately whimpering, shaking his head and rolling his hips up against their hand despite how his motions are quivering with the strain of his muscles. “No! No, no, no, promise! Promise I can be good for you, I want to be good for you- oh god  just let me-” Elliott’s breathing is wet, strained with tears pricking his eyes as their hand squeezes his cock to wring out anymore  cum  he may have. Just to watch them lap at the head of his dick to take it all eagerly.  

“God -” Elliott sobs out again at the sight alone.  

“You flatter me.” They respond with a teasing tone, letting their lips brush across his slick flesh with each movement.   

They’re a devil in disguise, Elliott is sure. This is what he gets for wearing an angel get up today, of course he’d find himself at the mercy of a demon who’s going to suck the absolute soul out of him via his dick. And he isn’t even mad is the funniest part of this, he’s willing his body to try and relax, despite their teasing motions and the way their lips part so he can see their fangs again and how hungry they look.  

Elliott’s fingers flex again on the arms of the chair, wanting so badly to maybe pull their hair or ease them back to him to show he’s ready. He’s too busy wondering if he’ll get chomped by them that he doesn’t notice they seem to sense his inner turmoil, not until their free hand gently grabs his wrist and begins guiding it to their ponytail for him to grip.  

Elliott’s face flushes deep red at the simple action, a blinding smile crossing his face and showing off his dimples. His heart twists pleasantly at such a simple gesture, and vaguely he’s wondering if he can’t get Bloodhound’s number and make this more than whatever sort of sugar baby relationship this feels like.  

What he doesn’t realize is how Bloodhound is looking at his smile, at his flushed face with a healthy glow about him. Thinking how beautiful he is, how darling he must be to have as a lover, how obedient and kind he must be. Even so willing to accept their claim on him already as to get excited at the prospect of being bitten and exposed to being claimed on stage. They could supply him  everything  he needed. Could fulfill every sexual desire, make sure he had enough money for anything he wanted.  

Longing. Yearning. Emotions that Bloodhound should not have whilst trying to play with their food.  

“O...okay, okay I think I’m ready to go.” Elliott finally says after a comfortable pause of silence. Their gaze is so intense on him, making him feel like the star of his own show right now. Even more so when they smile, this genuine little thing that makes his heart pound and not just because he’s thinking about their fangs on his cock again.  

Way to go, Witt, already falling for someone.  

Their lips wrap around the head again and Elliott’s breath is taken away again. He groans, head lolling to the side and eyes half lidded, making sure to watch them. Their own eyes flutter closed, their thumb tracing along the underside of his cock in their grip as they stay suckling and toying with the sensitive glands at the underside of his head. They keep his foreskin pulled back, their tongue lapping at the slit and making his thighs jerk with  sensitivity  at each brush.  

Bloodhound is clearly starting slow, but still keeping him on the edge of overstimulation. Elliott’s toes curl into his heels, his other hand coming to rest on the back of their head and feeling over the shaved hair with his thumb idly. A whimper blossoms from his throat when their hand moves down from holding his cock to slide down to cup his balls, thumbing the seam and gently squeezing.  

It’s like they know exactly how to play him.  

“Fuck, baby-” He hisses out, not paying any mind to what is coming out of his mouth. They hum at him regardless, and vaguely he can hear this sort of hum in the back of his mind that he can feel pressing until he hears their voice curling into his mind like delicious smoke.  

“You taste divine, little one.” It’s a purr in his head, resounding and making his cock throb at the praise, let alone the pet name. He wants to say thank you, but his mouth feels like honey, only spilling out soft whines and moans. “You are being such a good boy, so pliant and willing for me.”  

Yep, that’s really doing it for him.   

His hands press at their head as his hips come up, finding that they go with ease and no resistance. It gets to the point where he’s able to hold them still, fucking up into their mouth as their hands slide under to grab his ass to urge him to continue his thrusts. Elliott’s mind is swimming, swears finally able to come from his mouth and filth following along with it along the lines of, “W-want to touch you. Want to make you-  ah!-  feel good, want you to-to-to bite me-” All promises and praises keening from his lips like a singing bird.  

In his head he can hear phrases murmured back at him, some in a tongue he doesn’t recognize. Some make sense like ‘ good boy ’ and ‘ you taste divine ’ echoing again and again matched with deeper snarls that make his skin sing like ‘Mine ’ and ‘ I shall ruin you for anyone else ’.  

When Elliott cums again, their fingers sink into his ass and hold him up with amazing strength. They have him in their throat again, swallowing everything he has to offer as he sobs out his praises. His body feel tensed, overstimulated and ringing with a  pleasantness  of ’too much’. But he doesn’t feel like he couldn’t go again, feeling like he could just be their toy forever.  

When they finally lower him back to the chair and slide their mouth off, Elliott feels the whine coming from his chest as his fingers scrabble to press back down on their head. It’s like they were a drug he couldn’t get enough of, even if he is shaking. “Please, please, more, please, baby, please, please, please- ”  

The snarl he hears from their own chest sounds possessive and pleased, a low grumble as they take him again.  

He cums two more times through the night before Bloodhound is finally sated. Elliott is an absolute mess, babbling away once he’s finally come down from his high. He expects they’re going to maybe just pay and leave, but for a small moment he kind of blacks out.  

When he comes back to, he’s naked and been placed in a cool bath. The temperature is soothing on his too hot of skin, and when he lolls his head to the side, he sees Bloodhound resting on their knees by the tub. Their eyes flick up to him, the washcloth they were using to wipe at the glitter on his chest pausing. They offer a small, almost nervous smile. “It appears you passed out momentarily. I assumed you were overheated. My apologies.”  

“Can I kiss you?” Elliott blurts out in reply before he can even think differently of it. He almost laughs at their surprised look, not knowing that their confident expression could drop into such a look so quick. Their eyes widen ever so slightly, eyebrows raising before a soft laugh leaves their chest, almost...flustered sounding.  

Man, what Elliott would do to hear it again.  

“I...Yes, you may.”   

It’s all the consent he needs before he’s reaching over, resting a hand on their cold cheek and vaguely understanding why they wore the gloves now. They felt chilly to the touch. Bloodhound, in turn, looks at him expectantly as they lean over the bath tub, hovering above him and letting their breath mingle at their closeness.  

It’s intimate.  

When their lips meet, both of Elliott’s hands come to rest on their cheeks, sliding into their hair with a low moan in his throat. They kiss him gently in turn, their hand resting on his chest to steady their body as they guide the kiss. When they lick into his mouth, he can vaguely taste himself, only serving to make a familiar whimper resound from his chest.  

When they part, Elliott takes the chance to surprise them again with a murmur of, “Can I have your number? You...you know, in case you get hungry again and I’m not working...?”  

Their looks  is  definitely worth it again when they lean back slightly, a crooked smirk upon their lips. “You are bold, Elliott Witt.”  

“That’s not a no.”  

“I suppose it is not.” They agree, eyes dancing with mischief as their eyes flicker to his lips when he licks them and bites down on his bottom lip. Bloodhound could sigh, he was too cute, even if they know the exact reason he’d want their number. And not just due to him wanting to get ‘chomped’ as he so put it.  

When Elliott beams brightly at them and tilts his head for another kiss, they feel that they are too weak to even consider denying him. Leaning in to take his lips again and again and again.  

They suppose that this was a rather unconventional way to try and seduce the dancer, but in the  end  it pays off when not a day later they receive a lengthy text of Elliott saying of what a good time he had and thanking them for the tip, as always. And that when could he catch them for a date?  

It would certainly be sweet, if he didn’t leave the damned vampire emoji at the end.  

[chunkymilkies]

n$fw, Kaeya and Diluc, part one. Includes blowjobs.

The cold breeze clings onto your skin as you enter the local Mondstat bar, the Angel's Share. A lonely wandering traveler like yourself ached for a drink after a long day of cleaning up monster camps and cashing in on the commissions of the day. Opening the door, you took in the warm air that singed your icy skin. The red headed man behind the bar scowled at you for letting the hot air out, so you quickly closed the door behind you and found a seat at the bar. The bar was empty except for a muscular, tan man with a blue mane and a mysterious redhead with a trench coat.

You silently ordered the local specialty, a light and airy sparkling beverage with a hint of alcohol. Savoring the feeling of the cold drink in your mouth, you swirled around the glass, looking around at the building. The bar was dimly lit, but still a nice establishment. There were posters of adventurers feats lining the walls and neatly set tables on the bar floor.

"You look lost. Not from around here. I can help you find your way back," the man with the blue hair introduced himself as Kaeya. "Lonely as ever. I could also fix that." He chuckled to himself, taking a sip of his frothy beer out of his mug. You were a bit tipsy yourself, so your advances only seemed natural. He was a handsome man with toned abs and an alluring aura, and you were a beautiful person yourself. It would only be natural for the both of you to start gravitating toward eachother.

"That's enough. I run a bar here, not a hookup place. If you want to, take it somewhere else. I will not be having my reputation ruined by having you two fuck on the tables of MY bar," Diluc spoke firmly, only making you more attracted to him. You loved stern men, almost as much as you love men who are straightforward in what you want. You swayed your body toward Diluc from behind the bar. He was a tall man, so you had to pull him by the collar to get him to your level. As soon as his face was close to yours, you planted a big kiss across his soft, thin lips. Your tongues danced in an intricate rhythm as you pushed your tongue passed his lips, allowing the alcohol still on your tongue to intoxicate him. He pulled away, suprised, but not readable. His eyes wandered to trace your slender figure, and his lips parted into a small smirk. "Well, I wouldn't mind having you work off the small little tab you owe the bar." He chuckled, pushing your head downward toward his pants.

Diluc gave Kaeya a stern look. "Just be patient, you will have your turn soon enough," the look seemed to be saying. Kaeya nodded, smirking as he watched over the table. You didn't hesitate to work off the debt that you had accumulated, undoing his belt and pulling out his semi-hard cock. Already, it was bigger than you had any practice with, and his cock isn't even at full mast. Letting your hot breat linger on the base of his shaft, you gave it a couple long licks, from his tip, all the way to the balls. His cock was standing at full attention now, laying across your face as he eagerly watched to see your next move.

Although it was almost closing time, someone managed to wander in and almost ruin your change to taste some of Mondstat's salty nectar. The door rung as the small bard walked in. He was famous all across Mondstat, so you knew his name by the sound of his voice. Venti sat down on the bar stool and ordered an alcoholic apple cider. He chatted with Kaeya for a moment, while Kaeya's icy blue eyes were fixated on watching what you did next. Venti was too short to see over the counter, so he had no idea what was going on.

You admired your work. Getting the most stuck-up man in Mondstat to pull out his cock before you was a trophy in its own right. You admired the massive hunk of rock hard meat before you, pulsing in anticipation. Diluc was as calm as ever, preparing the drink without even moving, allowing you full range of pleasing him with your mouth. You took him into your wet cavernous mouth, and his breathing hitched as he tried to maintain his composure. Sucking on the tip and savoring the taste of his precum lubricating your throat, you sat there for a while, leaving him in anticipation. Out of nowhere, you shoved the whole length of his cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down furiously, to draw out the nectar awaiting for you. You kept your tongue out as you bobbed in and out, tasting the sweat that was accumulating on the base of his cock. You eyed him, watching his moves carefully as you did this lewd act in front of a bystander, but loved every minute of it. You loved being secretly on display for everyone to see if they could just look. Kaeya licked his lips, eagerly watching your every move as he took a sip of his own beer.

You could tell that Diluc was close to flooding your mouth with his salty juices. He gripped the cup he was polishing in his hand tight and his breathing was labored. This only encouraged you to keep going harder so you can receive the fruits of your labor. You gave it your all, taking the whole length of his massive shaft down your throat. To make sure you got every last inch of his cock in your mouth, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in further, causing his cock to swell and your throat to clamp tight onto his massive length. His dropped his glass and slammed two hands onto the table, gripping the edge as he was close. Diluc flooded your mouth with his sticky juices, flowing down your throat and coating your mouth in his flavor. He pulled his cock out of your vice-grip mouth, and you eagerly opened your mouth, showing off the massive load you just took. Kaeya was intrigued as he watched you swallow the load that was just dumped into your mouth. Venti looked concerned, never seeing Diluc act this way. He tried to come around the bar to help him stand straight, but Kaeya gripped his sleeve, assuring him that he was alright. He admired your beauty, his eyes roaming across your cum-soaked face as he began to regain his composure.

He was panting, yes, but he was beaming. After all these years of being pent up, he finally got the release he was looking for. But Diluc was far from done. He was willing to milk this out for all its worth. Actually, both him and Kaeya were ready to take it to the next level.

(Hey, if you liked this and wish for me to continue, let me know what you would like to see in the next part!)

[bigbeautifulmothwoman]

Family Values Ch. One

Martin Mathias x (S/I) Lena Wilusz

Braddock nightlife is almost non-existent, and that was how most of its residents liked it. A collection of old and new, families and singles. Braddock was religious, intended to be pristine under the light of the sun and quiet in the dark of night.

Braddock was not the best place for Martin to be. Martin Mathias, young and inquistive. Preferred his hair longer but dressed simply. He always felt as though he stuck out like a sore thumb by his mere existence, and as such worked tirelessly to make himself as unassuming as possible. Dressed plain, acted plain; he kept to himself in town, never wanting to make a fuss…

...So he took the night train to the next town over. By train or bus, it was about thirty to fourty-five minutes to Pittsburgh, close enough to be back home in time but far enough that his name wouldn't reach back to his family's ears. The day was for showing Tata Cuda that he was in fact not a monster; the night was to be one.

Stepping off the train in the Pittsburgh station, he found his way into directions towards the bustling center of town. If Martin was any one thing, it was careful. He always got what he needed, safely and how he wanted it. His first nightly adventure in Pittsburgh, he had decided, would be reconnaissance. Just thinking the word made him feel like a man out of the movies- he was already armed with the tools of his trade, packed away neatly inside the small leather case he carried them in. Just in case, he thought.

Just in case.

This night he wandered around town looking aimless, taking note of what kinds of things the place offered. It was already more diverse than Braddock was: a few larger grocery stores, a candy store, a small theater, and a multitude of restaurants lined the streets along with a number of other things to enjoy. Unlike Braddock, there were still a number of people roaming around at this hour; couples and singles alike. Martin finds it strange to see so many people out on an average night, the clock just barely hitting nine p.m. But this was only natural, he was only used to small towns after all.

The man comes to a stop rounding out his investigation back onto the strip of restaurants he'd passed before; his stomach growled. Dinner at his home wasn't always substantial, especially when he had no say in the menu. It was another night with a half full plate of something he could barely stomach. A decent amount of cash tucked in his pocket leads him into the first establishment that catches his eye.

The place was called The King's Tavern. His first thought was that his feet were leading him to some kind of bar, but stepping inside gave him an entirely different sensation. He couldn't understand how a place could look so much like his black white thoughts and yet still make him feel so...safe and comfortable. The entire inside was lit by false lamplight, with wooden tables and chairs. Some corners had booth seating with velveteen lined seats. His first instinct was somewhat correct, there was a small bar space with a woman standing behind it mixing drinks and pouring ales into steins. In this place, everyone else was out of place. For him, it was like stepping back into his own eastern Europe.

Confidence beside him, Martin slides into one of the available booths, still not looking for extra attention. He sat, waited, observed, and he saw her. A woman approached another table just before his. Somewhat petite, a corset keeping her linen blouse tucked against her skin and resting just over the waist of her skirts. An apron was tied around her waist, adorned with colorful floral embroidery in contrast to much of the dimmer atmosphere. Her face is soft but her eyes exhausted, a notepad and pen readied in her hands.

"All I'm saying is, the point is moot if you aren't going to keep everything to fact. No one in the 15th century would be wearing sneakers or have synthetic fabrics."

"Sir please, this is just a restaurant-" The woman tries to keep her cheerful work façade up despite her frustrations.

"It's just a little bit of extra effort, for the true authentic experience." The customer insists. By the look on the woman's face, Martin can tell a nerve has been hit.

"Well sir, the cobblers been ill and price of linen is up. We can make you a meal, but you'll get no women here. Now, can I get you something?" A thick European accent coats over her words, sounding impeccably natural. Martin can see that finally the man in front of him is appeased enough to let her slip from his attention and finally move onto his table. She sighs one more time before him.

"Good evening sir and welcome. Have you been with us before?"

“Ah, no, this is my first time. A-and uh. I’m sorry about...that-“ He says.

"O-oh...Thank you. It's kind of stupid, people seem to get really...annoyed? Irritated? Something like that. They don't even know what it's like there...only ever seen it in books. I'm sorry, you came to eat not to listen to me talk, please, what can I do for you?"

"I only have so much cash...do you have something easy? As, as long as it isn't stuffed cabbage?" He must have said something funny, because the woman chuckles happily at his remark.

"I'll surprise you then. And no cabbage, I promise." She departs as quickly as she comes, leaving Martin to sit in his own quiet. Shifting his fingers, eyes darting between spaces of decoration. His hands itch to dig into his bag and reset the organization of his tools another time, just to ensure they're in their proper places.

He keeps his hands planted on the table. You don't know who's watching, Martin.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the woman returns with a plate of food in her hands and a glass of water.

"I hope water's fine, I forgot to ask what you wanted… I can get you something else too."

"This is fine, thank you."

"Swell! I uh. I hope this isn't too forward but...do you mind if I ate with you? My shift is ending soon and my boss is letting me grab some dinner because of the time...and really I just don't want to sit alone. I-if it's not okay that's fine! I just thought I'd...give it a shot." Martin bites his tongue. Instead of speaking, he gestures towards the seat opposite him in invitation.

"Oh thank you! Let me go get my plate!" She scurries off again.

This was a surprise. Never in all his years, or at least the recent ones, had a woman throw herself so willingly towards him. Perhaps there was something new to him? No, he was sure everything was quite the same when he got up that morning, and no sickness magically changed anything about him. Not that there was any magic at all. Once again, she's back in his sight, another plate and glass in hand.

"I just got us both the same thing. Leftovers of today's rouladen special, leniwe pierogi, and some vegetables. No cabbage, I made sure!" She laughs again.

"I hope you enjoy it." She says.

"Thank you." They both dig in, enjoying their meals in relative silence as life continues around them. Martin is reminded of a past time, sitting at a table in quiet comfort, candles burning and exchanging longing glances sat on either side of the wood between them…

"Uhm...may I ask your name?" Martin wakes from his daydream once again, eyes now fixated on her, blinking slowly.

"Ah. It's...Martin."

"Pleasure to meet you Martin. My name is Lena. Lena Williams."

"...Lena?"

"Yeah...it's Americanized. Magdalena Wilusz, my family is from Poland."

Something somewhere in him felt like a dream came true.

A stout older man approached their table, two glasses in hand. He assumed, and assumed correctly, that this man must of been her boss, and the owner.

"Mr. Kaufmann, what's this for?"

"On the house, dear. You've worked hard this week, just enjoy your weekend off."

"...Thank you sir."

"My boss," she says, "he's a good man, really looks after us. He really is too kind…" She takes hold of one drink, glass frosting with cool condensation from the liquid inside. She takes a drink with eyes closed, sighing.

"It's really good, sweet like apples. Try some!" Martin is unsure what’s been brought to the table, but he trusts her. And she’s right, the flavor is light, crisp, and refreshing. The thought crosses his mind that this is alcohol, and alcohol can make him clumsy and clumsy is not what he needs if he is intending to feed, which wasn’t his intention in the first place with this trip… But the bite of it is only as harsh as cold lemonade in

summer and encourages him to continue swallowing the drink down as he enjoys his meal. The two continue talking, drinking as the evening winds down in the dining room and their food dwindles.

“H-huh, oh dear, its getting late isn’t it...this is about the time the bars start letting out...s-shit- oh! Sorry, I usually d-don’t curse…” Lenas face is molded with concern as the minutes continue to tick down. He thinks she must be worried about the influx of men flooding into the streets…

“I...i could walk you home…?”

“Martin, I couldn’t burden you like that-“

“You’re worried, a-about the people? You drank some and just want to get home safe, right?”

“...Yes. Even when I eat I leave fast...you’re really a gentleman aren’t you, Martin? I’m sure...I can find something to repay you.”

“I-I’m sure you can, if that’s what you...need to do.”

Martin was ecstatic. It still raised a conflict in his somewhat addled mind, but the ease of solving his sickness for one night also held high. As minutes passed on, the facts and choices began to swirl into a haze. Dinner was finished and the plates left to the closing staff. Coats were donned, Martin's bag of tools secured, and on they went with Lena leading the way. She kept herself steady by clinging onto his jacket sleeve, pointing out vague instructions to her home. It wasn't very far at all, if not a roundabout from her place of work. Just under thirty minutes from the restaurant, only taking so long due to their somewhat inebriated states.

"S-see? Not too bad...thank you Martin. You're such a sweet guy…" Lena says, finally arriving at her front door. She's still unsteady on her feet, wobbling just a bit as she stares down at her hands and the concrete steps.

"S-so, Martin...do you… mind if I do something stupid?" The man in question remains silent, merely nodding a positive response. Sure of herself, she plants her lips to his, fisting her shaking hands into his coat.

"U-uh, if that was b-bad of me, I'm s-sorry, uhm...but. Y-you're welcome to come in, j-join me-"

“Join me, Martin."

Echoes of her flitting about dim halls in a white gown guided his hand over hers, turning the handle and letting them both inside. He was going to do this. He was going to do...something. Combined, they bypass the dark living room and go straight through to her own space. Her room is messy, as that of any busy employee's, and gently illuminated by the one wide window with the drapes drawn open. A socket mounted night light assisted the moon in keeping the floor lit. Returning from a quick trip to the bathroom, she stands anxiously by the bed.

"I-i uhm...i-i don't know what to do, I-ive never...brought someone b-back like this…"

"I-its okay. I know what I'm doing. I-i'm careful." He tells her. It's a truth and a lie mixed together, not fully aware of what outcome will occur. Both of them have toed off their shoes, and again Martin guides Lena to her back, on her bed. She's softly cradled by her sheets, and when he rests his forehead to hers, she kisses him.

In the time that Lena was gone, Martin was quick. In moments, he prepared an appropriate dose of his sleep agent, and carefully stowed the exposed syringe inside his jacket sleeve. Knelt over her, he runs his hands up and down her legs, both removing her skirt and seeking out the best spot for injection in her thighs. He finds his chosen location, squeezing gently as she sighs. Again, he kisses her as he maneuvers the needle carefully and pushes down on the plunger. Breathless, her eyelids already begin to flutter.

"W-wha...M-martin, what was that…?" She questions, her voice high and airy.

"Don't worry, i-it'll...it'll make you feel better." Lena, now on her path to sedation, he begins removing his own clothes. First shirking his coat, he gets back up to carefully place the now empty syringe on the beside table, and follows up by then ridding himself of his pants. Next he goes towards her top, fiddling with the ties to loosen and remove the corset over her linen shirt, her own fingers lacing into his to pull the strings apart. He continues to run his hands over her exposed skin as the sedative runs its course through her veins. She sighs softly, the gentle treatment combined with the power of the sedative and alcohol has her eyes barely fighting to keep open. She finally succumbs to sleep as Martin cradles her face and kisses her nose.

“It's all going to be okay…” He promises to her sleeping body. Finally, he’s safe enough to do away with both of their shirts and her bra.

Her skin was perfect, soft. It was of course marred by a cocktail of imperfections: stretch marks, discoloration, one generous scar on her belly. But it was warm and comforting to the touch. He no longer needs to kneel over her, the next step…Without gathering his materials, he lays beside her, pulling her close in imitation of a loving couple.

He is so tired… He keeps admiring her skin. The minutes pass as he tucks her limbs into his own body. In her sleep she takes advantage, wrapping herself tighter around him, fingers coming to rest delicately on his cheek.

Martin was there to be a monster. He was supposed to take and leave as easily as he came, then to never see her again.

Instead, Martin falls asleep.