#and guess who nearly flipped their car trying to avoid it!!!!!!!!!!

[secrettreestuffidk]

todays omens:

1: every seeming catastrophe will turn out to be not as bad as you fear. Just calm down, breathe, and take a second look

2: remember to temper your excitement with caution, but remember to be excited

[mrprettywhenhecries]

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) [b.h]

four. | hot blooded

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (ofc)

⇾ w.c. 4.2k words ⇾ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, we finally get to the smut!, obligatory car sex (gotta break that camaro in eyyyyy), angry sex, unprotected sex

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

The next morning, Win grinned to herself as she poured her orange juice, still riding the high of her victory over Billy the day before.  

“Somebody looks happy,” her father pointed out, glancing up from the morning paper.  “Did something good happen?”

Win opened her mouth to brush off his question when a heavy knock sounded at the door.  For a moment, she was half afraid it might be Billy, up to some new scheme to get back at her.

“Who the fuck could that be this early?” David asked, groaning as he got up from the table.

Of all the people Win expected to see on their doorstep that morning, the Hawkins’ Chief of Police was not among them and a shot of fear ripped through her.

“Chief Hopper, was it?  Uh, come in,” David faltered, taken as off guard as Win as he stepped aside to let the man in.  “What can we do for you?”

Hopper pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped through it until he found the page he wanted.  “We’ve had a report of an illegal street race that happened yesterday on the Quarry Road.  You know anything about that?” he asked, his eyes flicking pointedly to Win.

Quickly tamping down the flare of panic, she carefully avoided her father’s suspicious glare.

“Why are you asking me?” she asked instead, projecting as much innocence as she could muster.

“Because–” Hopper replied, peering at her as if trying to puzzle her out “ –we received an anonymous tip this morning that a black Chevelle was involved, and the only person in town that has such a car registered in their name is–”

“Me,” David finished for him, crossing his arms and Win winced, knowing that look on his face.

“I’m afraid I don’t see how that’s possible, Chief.  I haven’t driven that car since we moved, and Winrey doesn’t have access to it.”

Win’s brows rose at her father’s bald faced lie, he knew damn-well she was guilty.  Well, technically it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t like her father kept his keys locked away or anything.  

“That’s right!” she added hastily.  “I don’t even know where the keys are.”

“Is that right?” Hopper mused flatly, looking between the two doubtfully.

“It is,” David insisted.  “Perhaps this anonymous tip was nothing but a childish prank,” he suggested, punctuating his words with a sharp glance at Win.  “I mean, is there any other evidence that this actually happened?”

Hopper pursed his lips, but didn’t answer, catching onto the tension between father and daughter.  “Perhaps…” he finally murmured.

Win nearly suggested looking into a certain someone whose car might be mistaken as theirs’ when flying down the road, but she held her tongue, deciding better of it.

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Chief?  Win has to be leaving for school soon,” David said, hoping to nudge the police chief along.

“Nope, I guess not,” Hopper replied slowly, flipping his notebook shut and returning it to his place.  “Let’s hope there’re no more childish pranks going forward,” he said pointedly before heading to the door.

“I should hope not, Chief,” David agreed, showing him out.

As soon as the door latched shut, Win heaved a sigh of relief, but the emotion would be short lived.

“What were you thinking?” David exclaimed as he turned from the door to fix her with the sternest glare she’d ever seen from him.  He didn’t give her a chance to answer before steamrolling on, his face and neck growing redder with each passing moment.

“No, I’ll tell you what you were thinking–you weren’t!” he cried, pointing a trembling finger at her.  “Because if you had been, you’d have thought about how fucking dangerous that could have been.  You could have caused a wreck.  You could have killed somebody.  You could have killed yourself!”

He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something.

“Well?  Let’s hear it.  What reason could be good enough for you to do something so reckless?  I thought we were past all this, Winrey!”

Win opened her mouth to answer, though she knew full-well that whatever she said would be the wrong thing.

“This guy–” she began, but David threw his hands up.

“I should have known a boy was involved,” he exclaimed, pacing furiously across the linoleum floor.

“But–”

“Ah, ah!” her father once more interrupted.  “I don’t care if you were trying to impress him or embarrass him, you know better, and now I’m afraid I can’t trust you.”

Win gaped at him as he grabbed a padlock from the drawer and strode to the door, throwing it open and heading to the garage.  Win ran to the window in time to watch him lock the garage door shut and pocket the key.

“There,” he said when he returned.  “Now I can sleep in peace.”

“Dad–”

Tina’s horn blared from the driveway and her father shook his head, done with the conversation.  “Your ride’s here, go to school,” he added brusquely and Win scoffed, grabbing her bag and turning to stomp toward the door.

“And I want you to come home straight after–!” he called after her, though his words were cut off as she slammed the door behind her.

––

Tina could sense her friend’s sour mood, thankfully keeping quiet during the short drive to school.  As soon as they parked, Win slammed her door shut and strode toward Billy’s Camaro, planting her hands on her hips as he climbed out.

“Lewis,” he greeted, looking her up and down.  “Just couldn’t wait to see me, could ya?” he taunted, his usual smug smirk tugging at his lips.

“Did you call the fucking cops on me?” she demanded, unswayed by his charm.

Billy’s grin slipped.  “I’m no snitch.  Why would I do that?” he asked, and for a moment Win almost believed him.

“I dunno.  Luckily, my dad lied for me, but now there’s no way I can sneak his car out again,” she grumbled.

“Can’t say I feel all that bad for you, Princess,” Billy snorted, flicking his spent cigarette away as he stepped around her, heading inside.

“You’re an ass, Hargrove!” Win called after him, hating how petulant she sounded.

It seemed like the rest of the day Billy was intent on ignoring her for the most part, aside from the glances he shot her way when he didn’t think she was looking, and she very purposefully avoided her usual smoking spot, just in case he was there.

By the end of the day, talk of Win’s victory over Billy in their little race was already trumped by the news of Steve and Nancy’s breakup, with Nancy already seen leaving school early with Jonathon Byers.

“Look at him, he looks so sad,” Holly murmured, hugging her books to her chest as she stood next to Win’s locker, watching Steve from across the hall.

Win turned to look as well–he did look rather rough, and Billy had once again creamed him on the court during gym class, as if to add insult to injury.

“Maybe someone should ask him out,” she suggested and Holly’s eyes went wide.

“He just got out of a relationship!  I don’t wanna seem… predatory,” Holly exclaimed, lowering her voice as she glanced around to make sure no one had overheard.

“Then, ask if he’d like to hang out, you know, platonically,” Win countered, dropping her books into her messenger bag and shutting her locker door.

“Oh yeah, as if he won’t see right through that!” Holly cried.

“Then I’ll go ask him.” Win said matter-of-factly, not waiting for Holly’s reaction before crossing the hall toward him.

“Win!” Holly hissed after her, but Win didn’t stop, striding up to Steve’s locker.

“Hey, Steve,” she greeted and he turned, somewhat taken aback by her appearance.

“Uh, hey Win,” he replied hesitantly, shouldering his backpack.

“I know we don’t really talk much, but I wanted to say I was sorry to hear about you and Nancy,” she said, frowning slightly.  “If you’d, I dunno, like a distraction, Holly and I are going bowling this Friday, if you’d like to join,” she offered, gesturing to her friend across the hall.

She really did feel bad for the guy.  He genuinely seemed like a nice guy, plus maybe she wanted to set her friend up, if only so she’d actually talk to him instead of pining from afar.  Before Steve could answer, however, Billy’s voice cut through their conversation and Win turned to look.  For a moment, it seemed he was headed her way and she braced herself, only for him to walk straight past her and stop, instead, by Vicki’s locker.

“Wanna go out Friday night?” he asked, loud enough to be overheard.

Vicki looked him up and down, clearly considering.  “I thought you had a thing for Win,” she said, watching him expectantly.

Billy paused before shrugging.  “I’ve lost interest.”

Fighting the urge to gape at him, Win set her jaw, determined not to give him the pleasure of her reaction.  She knew this was just another ploy for him to get under her skin–at least, she thought it was.  It had to be.

So then, why did her stomach churn with jealousy?

“I’ll go.”

Steve’s response barely registered and Win blinked, snapping her attention back to him.

“Huh?”

“Bowling sounds fun.  I’ll go,” he repeated.

“Rad,” Win replied distractedly, definitely not straining her ears to listen for Vicki’s answer.  “Meet us at Hawkins’ Lanes at eight?”

“Sounds good.  I’ll see you guys there,” Steve replied, waving at Holly before nodding to Win and taking off.

“Oh my God, he said yes!” Holly cried, grabbing Win’s arm as she joined her.  “Thank you thank you thank you!” 

“It was nothing,” Win laughed halfheartedly, her eyes once more wandering to where Billy stood, leaning against Vicki’s locker.  She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but soon he straightened, his eyes catching hers, and as he stalked away a ghost of a smirk graced his features.

––

Friday night the bowling alley was hopping, with most of the lanes already taken.  Luckily, when Win, Steve, and Holly arrived there were still a couple left, and they paid for a game, sitting down to change their shoes.

“I hope you know how to keep score, because I always forget what to do with the spares and strikes,” Win said, leaning over to tie her ugly neon pink and orange bowling shoes.

“Oh!  I know how!” Holly said.  “I bring my brothers here a lot,” she explained to Steve.

“Cool, sounds like we’re covered,” he replied, flashing her a grin and Holly’s face flushed bright red.  

“I’m gunna go see if my favourite ball is free!” she cried, jumping up and hurrying away before Steve could see her blush.

Steve chuckled softly, watching her go.  “Thanks for inviting me,” he said, turning his attention back to Win.  “I really needed this.”

“It’s no problem.  Besides, I figured I should widen my friend group,” she joked, her laughter cutting off as Billy and Vicki walked past, heading to the empty lane next to theirs.  “Oh shit…” she hissed, a moment before Steve noticed them as well.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

When Billy spotted the two of them together, his brows furrowed deeply in surprise for a moment before his expression smoothed.  “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he drawled, slinging an arm around Vicki’s shoulders. “Looks like we got ourselves a double date,” he taunted. “This isn’t a date,” Steve said as Holly returned, her eyes going wide at the sight of Billy, his grin growing when he realized it was the three of them there together instead of just Steve and Win.

“C’mon Billy,” Vicki said, tugging at his sleeve to get his attention and he let himself be led away, though his gaze kept flicking back to the others.

“I’m so sorry,” Win exclaimed in a hushed voice.  “I had no idea they were gunna be here tonight.”

“How could you know?” Steve sighed, directing a stern frown at Billy’s back.  

“We can go somewhere else,” Win offered, but Steve shook his head.

“No, we already paid,” he replied.  “Just don’t pay them any mind.”

“Yeah, easier said than done,” Win muttered, but she went to grab a ball for herself, trying her best to ignore the intrusion.

Billy didn’t make it easy though, crowing loudly every time he got a strike and heckling Steve at every opportunity, purposefully trying to get under his skin–just like gym class all over again.  Every time he noticed Win glance over, he smirked wider, leaning in to say something to Vicki or pull her closer.

Win rolled her eyes, turning her back on him.  “Come on, Steve!” she called, clapping encouragingly as he got up to take his turn, finally reaching the tenth and final frame.

“You okay?” Holly whispered, sitting down next to Win, though her eyes were still on Steve’s back.

“Why, because of the dickhead in the lane next to ours?” Win muttered.

“Yeah…”

“I’m fine, really,” Win insisted, jumping to her feet to cheer when Steve’s ball soared right down the center of the lane, knocking down all the pins with a deafening clatter.

“Steve, you’re amazing!” Holly cried, quickly distracted by his strike, much to Win’s relief.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, a grin spreading across his face when he turned back to them.  “It’s your turn, Win,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder as he passed.

Win nodded, grabbing her ball from the rack and taking her spot in front of the lane, waiting for the machine to set the pins back up.  Feeling eyes on her back, she glanced back for a second, finding Billy watching her, no sign of the smug smirk on his face from earlier.

Grinning to herself, she threw the ball down the lane, bowling a perfect strike as well.

“Hey, once we’re done, what do you say we get outta here and go get something to eat,” she suggested, plopping back down next to her friends.

“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Steve replied.  

“Perfect, I’m in the mood for a milkshake,” Holly exclaimed, counting up their final score–Steve winning by a fair margin.

Offering to take the girls’ bowling shoes back up while they put their street shoes back on, Steve leaned against the counter while he waited for the manager to make his way over.

“Harrington, fancy meetin’ you here.”

Steve let out a weary sigh, turning to find Billy sidling up next to him, dropping his bowling shoes on the counter carelessly.

“I don’t want any trouble, Hargrove,” Steve warned, but Billy merely leaned in imposingly, lowering his voice.

“You know, when I told you there were plenty of bitches in the sea, I didn’t mean her.”

“We’re not on a date,” Steve countered, turning to fix Billy with a level glare, knowing exactly who he was talking about.  “We’re just hanging out.”

“Just hanging out, my ass,” Billy scoffed, leaning in closer.  “Last I checked, I don’t take kindly to people messing with what’s mine.”

“That’s funny, last I checked, you came here with someone else,” Steve replied flatly, pushing away from the counter.  “Besides, Win doesn’t belong to anyone.”

As soon as he turned his back, however, Billy gave him a shove.  “Don’t walk away from me, Harrington,” he called, drawing himself up taller.

Setting his jaw, Steve turned back to face him.  “I’m not gunna fight you, man.”

“What, you too pussy?” Billy scoffed, pushing Steve back a second time.

“Hey, take it outside!  Don’t make me call the cops!” the manager snapped, pointing toward the door and Win finally noticed the commotion.

“Oh shit,”she breathed.  “I knew we should have left when he showed up,” she grumbled, grabbing Holly to go break things up before they got further out of hand.

“This is all your fault, you know,” Vicki sneered as she fell into step with the other girls.

“Oh will you shut up,” Win huffed, pushing the door open with more force than necessary.  “This is just getting fucking childish!” she exclaimed, striding between Billy and Steve without breaking her stride.

“Win, what’re you doing?” Holly cried, fidgeting anxiously as she watched, worried Billy might ruin Steve’s pretty face.

“Cut it out.  Now,” Win snapped, glaring at Billy, her hands planted on her hips.

“Yeah, c’mon Billy, let’s go.  I’m bored,” Vicki whined, though Billy ignored her, peering down his nose at Win.

“You gunna make me?” he scoffed, but it was Win’s turn to ignore him.

“Steve, can you take Holly home?” she asked, glancing back at Steve.

“What?  No, I’m not leaving you here,” he exclaimed, looking between her and Billy.

“I have something I need to settle,” Win insisted firmly.  ”I’ll get home alright.  I promise,” she added gently. “Yeah, go home Harrington,” Billy taunted. “Are you sure?” Holly asked, joining Steve, torn between leaving her friend and getting at least a little time alone with Steve. “Yeah.  Go on,” Win insisted, her anger seething just under the surface.  “Please Steve?” she asked when he still didn’t look convinced.

“Alright fine,” he finally grumbled, though he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

“Call me when you get home, okay?” Holly murmured before nervously following Steve to his car.

“Billy!” Vicki repeated, crossing her arms over her chest impatiently, not liking where this seemed to be heading.

“Jesus, will you shut up?” Billy scoffed, turning to look at his date as he placed a cigarette between his lips.  “Harrington, you wanna take her home too?” he joked.

Vicki’s mouth fell open, realizing he was being serious.  “Forget it.  You’re an asshole, Hargrove!” she spat as she pushed past, heading back inside to call someone for a ride, hitting Win hard with her shoulder.  “And you’re a slut, Win,” she added under her breath.

Win waited til she heard Steve’s car pull away before finally losing it, turning back to wipe that smug grin off Billy’s face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she cried, marching toward him, her finger jabbing him in the chest.  “Did you really just ask Vicki out to make me jealous?”

“Is it working?” Billy chuckled, backing up.  When Win didn’t answer, his grin grew.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Fuck you.”

“Now, or later?”

“You are infuriating!” Win growled, snatching the cigarette from his lips and tossing it away.

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you are when you’re mad?” Billy snorted, circling around her.

“Stop changing the subject!” Win huffed, trying to regain the upper hand.

“Why don’t you drop this little charade, it’s getting old,” Billy huffed, stepping closer.

“What charade?” Win snapped back, backing up until her back hit the side of his car.

“The one where you act like you can’t stand me when really you can’t stay away from me,” he drawled, leaning in, his arm resting against the car door, boxing her in.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one,” she huffed, meeting his lidded gaze defiantly, her heart pounding in her ears.

“No?” Billy asked, tilting his head.

“No,” Win repeated, wetting her lips.  “You can’t stay away from me either,” she pointed out.

Billy huffed a soft laugh.  “Guess not.  What are we gunna do about that?” he breathed, holding her gaze as he waited for her answer.

Something in Win snapped, and without a word, she grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward til their lips collided.

Billy let out a surprised grunt, but before Win could think better of it and change her mind, he was kissing her back just as hungrily, pinning her tighter against the side of his car as his hands greedily traversed her body and his tongue invaded her mouth.

He tasted of nicotine and spearmint, and Win couldn’t hold back the soft moan that caught in her throat as her tongue met his, though she hated how needy it made her sound.  When Billy chuckled in response, a wave of heat rolled through her and she tangled her fingers in his golden curls, tugging hard enough to draw a moan from him in return.

Pleased with his reaction her kisses grew fiercer, as if trying to outdo him, and Billy’s grasp on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her skin hard enough to bruise.  Pulling back long enough to gasp a breath, Billy’s mouth moved impatiently to her neck, his tongue carving a searing path to her pulse point, leaving a quickly cooling trail of saliva that made Win’s skin pebble as the night air hit it.

“Fuck, you better not leave a mark,” she warned, hissing at the flash of sweet pain that he quickly soothed with a swipe of his tongue before his lips brushed the shell of her ear.  

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he chuckled huskily, his hips pressing into her, letting her feel his arousal straining beneath those tight jeans of his.  “See what you fucking do to me,” he growled breathlessly and Win let out a whimper, heat flooding her, pooling between her thighs.

When she lifted her gaze, she saw her desire reflected in his eyes and the dam burst.  

“What are we gunna do about that?” she breathed, clutching tightly to his shirt lest her knees gave way.

Without a word, Billy yanked the door open and Win slid in, Billy following, his mouth finding hers in the dark back seat as he shrugged his jacket off, only pulling away long enough to slip his shirt over his head and bring her hand to his chest.  “Tell me you want this,” he groaned in between heated kisses, needing to hear her say it.

“I want this,” Win gasped, her hand moving down his chest to his stomach, before palming him over his jeans.

Billy let out a groan, his kisses growing bruising as they awkwardly undressed in the cramped space.  

“Do you have a condom?” Win asked breathlessly, chasing his lips when he pulled back.  

“There’s one somewhere…” he grunted, reaching blindly toward the front seat.

“Oh fuck it.  Nevermind, I can’t wait that long,” Win groaned.  “Just don’t cum inside me, okay?”

“You got it,” Billy drawled, pulling her closer, fumbling his cock free from his jeans and guiding it to her slick entrance.  It took several small thrusts for him to finally press inside her.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted, pausing to let her adjust and to catch his breath.

“It’s been a little while,” she admitted reluctantly.

“You haven’t fucked anyone else in Hawkins?” Billy asked, a grin spreading across his face, the thought going to his head.

“Don’t sound so smug,” Win said wryly, the effect ruined somewhat by the moan that caught in her throat when he began to move his hips.

“You like it,” he taunted, hiking her leg up to thrust into her deeper, finding a rhythm despite the cramped space and soon the car was filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping softly against skin and their breathless gasps that quickly fogged the windows.

With each desperate rut, Billy’s grunts grew louder in her ear, his silver pendant pressing warmly against her bare chest while Win’s hands roamed his sweat slicked back, slipping down to grab his tight ass, urging him to fuck her harder.

“I’m close,” she whined, trying to angle her hips to keep him hitting that spongy spot deep inside that sent pleasure rolling through her.

“M’ not gunna stop til you’re shaking,” Billy growled, his movements only growing rougher.  With a sharp gasp, Win went rigid, her toes curling as her pleasure crested, washing through her like a flood.  

“Oh fuck!” she cried, her voice cracking as she clenched around him, her nails digging into his back as Billy fucked her into the seat, his movements turning jerky.

“Shit–” he hissed, barely pulling out in time to spill his load against her stomach.  

For a long moment neither of them spoke, merely trying to catch their breaths, Billy’s messy curls falling against Win’s shoulder.  

“I knew you wanted me,” he finally said, lifting his face to look at her, a grin playing at his kiss swollen lips.

“Don’t gloat,” Win huffed, pushing herself up when she realized the door handle was digging into her back.

“Not gloating, just stating facts,” Billy chuckled, grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe the cooling jizz from her feverish skin.

Win didn’t have a comeback, unsure if she was more upset that he was right, or that he’d seen right through her.

“So,” he ventured, tossing the shirt away and tucking himself back into his jeans before looking at her, “you gunna be mine tomorrow, or just tonight?”

Win was halfway through pulling her shirt back on when she frowned.  “Who said I’m yours at all?” she countered, though her words held no bite.

“C’mon Lewis, throw me a bone here,” Billy sighed, a weary edge to his voice that Win had yet to hear from him.

“Only if you ask me properly,” she said, sitting up straighter.

“What, no that’s stupid,” he scoffed.

“Then no.”

Billy growled in annoyance.  “Alright, fine.  You’re the most interesting thing about this bullshit hick town,” he grumbled, holding her gaze.  “Will you go out with me?" he asked, the words dragged from him.

Win considered him for a moment, letting him sweat before a soft smile spread across her face.  “Yeah, I think I will.”

⇾ taglist: @oliverscheshiresmile @santacarlahorrorshow @wherethewitchersare @super-unpredictable98 @elliethesuperfruitlover @b1tchywheeler

[always-andromeda]

La Belle Fleur Sauvage for Brian Weathersby? I have seen absolutely ZERO nsfw for him and I am just DYING to see what your take on it is. Imma give you free range on this one bby. Tear it up 💖

Author's Note | ooooo boy...I have teeeeensy bit of a soft spot for Brian and it's purely because of how bad this man gets beat up in this movie...oopsie...thank you for giving me free reign though!!!! this concept simply kept bouncing around in my brain lmao.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), unprotected sex, overstimulation, nothing else I can think of!!

When you waltz in, Brian knows he's in trouble. He didn't even realize just have much time he'd wasted on paperwork. Normally he'd be counting down the minutes until he could close up the store and go home. But of course the one day he actually has plans outside of work is the day that about a dozen people decided that they needed a mattress.

Why anyone would decide they wanted a mattress about the cost of a used car, he had no clue. He still manages to sell seven mattresses. A good day. A very good day. Until you walked in, of course.

"Didn't think you'd be having this much fun without me," you tease humorlessly, approaching his desk. Stacks of papers litter the surface of his work station.

"I'm so sorry, I've been completely swamped today." Brian clicks the pen he holds and avoids your hard gaze. He tries again, "I meant to call and tell you I'd be late. But everything just..."

You finger runs up the length of a particularly large stack of papers, "Piled up?"

Brian sighs before giving you a purse lipped smile, "Something like that."

You nod once. Simply accepting the halfhearted excuse. Brian waits for you to say something else before you swivel around on your heels and begin to walk along the row of remaining mattresses on the sales floor. You hand presses down on each one for a few seconds, teasing the firmness as you seemingly decide it's too hard or too soft. He watches you with a quizzical look as you seem to finally find one you like. You press both hands on that one and bounce a few times.

Then you crawl up on it, that little dress you're wearing, riding up just enough so Brian catches a glimpse of the back of your thighs before you turn around and lie on your back. Deciding to entertain whatever you're trying to do, Brian gets up and slowly makes his way towards you.

He hears you breath out contentedly as you ask, "How much is this one, Bri?"

Brian chuckles. As if you'd ever be able to afford it. Nonetheless, he replies, "Ten grand." He's got practically every price memorized. There's not much else to do when he's surrounded by the numbers every single day.

You scoff, "Jesus Christ, who buys these?"

"People with money to burn, I guess."

Head raising for a few seconds, you smile slightly, "Wanna test this one out with me?"

"Test it?"

You rub the spot beside you, "Yeah, have you never actually tried one of these bad boys?"

Brian shakes his head defensively. But he still brings his knee up to the bed and carefully crawls up it. He doesn't need a ten thousand dollar bill to pay if it gets damaged in some way.

"Oh, don't be such a dork," you laugh and grab him by the collar of his dark sweater. Before he can possibly move in time, he collapses on top of you, knocking his nose into yours on the way down.

Your face scrunches up at the impact and you nuzzle your nose against his.

"Hi," your voice is small and sweet. There’s a pang in his stomach. Brian stares into your wild eyes and blinks hard when you draw your knees up and press them into the sides of his torso.

You add quickly, "Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?"

The sentiment nearly knocks the air from his lungs. He shakes his head solemnly.

"Really?" your thumb and index finger grab his chin, "That's a shame." you whisper. Your lips engulf his in a slow, lazy kiss as he closes his eyes and sighs.

Using the leverage from your knees, you make him flip around onto his back and straddle him. The little weight that you put on him presses him down into the mattress. He'd never really felt one of them. It's different, his full weight sinking into the luxurious cushion. He's not sure if he can feel the ten thousand dollars it would cost to own the mattress in its Swedish glory. But he can feel your hips grinding into his own. He feels himself harden at the sheer friction of your clothed cunt against him.

That dress does nothing to spare his imagination. Nothing keeps his mind from wandering as you hum into his mouth. Before he can think about it more, he's hitching your dress up a little further and undoing his belt.

"Oh?" you sit up properly so Brian can struggle to pull his pants down. "You really want to test this bed out, huh?"

Brian can only inhale deeply as you reach into his underwear and pull his cock out from the confines of the waistband. He has to stop himself from bucking into your hand. Just watches with bated breath as you lift yourself up, slip your panties to the side, line him up, and slowly sink down.

The way he stretches you hits sharply and Brian caresses your thighs until you're almost seated on him. His tip barely brushes something inside of you and your head lolls back as you adjust to the fullness. As disappointing as his time management was, this certainly wasn't disappointing.

Brian keeps his eyes clenched closed, concentrating on staying still for you. As much as he wants to move you, he stays as patient as he can, trying not to think about how warm you feel. How just a little bit of grinding had made you so ready for him. He tries not to let that thought get him too cocky.

Then you gently rock on him. You struggle to keep your knees planted firmly on the soft mattress so Brian takes it as his chance to hold onto you and help you bounce, thrusting slightly to meet your movements. He watches your face change as he digs deeper inside you.

"This good for you?" he asks quickly. 

"Yeah, just keep going," comes your breathy response. 

Finally, for a few seconds, he stops worrying about the forgotten date. About the mattress. About the ten thousand dollars. The only thing he hears are the squeak of springs and your heady moans. 

The coils in your own belly tighten impossibly. It all builds to a peak so quickly that you don't have time to prepare yourself for the impact. Your hands stable themselves on his chest.

Brian almost wishes he'd waited long enough to get fully undressed. The mattress is so soft and so warm. He already feels the sweat forming on his hairline as he gets higher and higher. And just as he thinks about the possibility of staining the mattress, your cunt contracts around him. Your hips convulse. You hold onto his sweater with balled fists. And with one last whine, you're there.

But you're still moving. Still riding him through the stinging overstimulation that makes you jolt and cry out. Wordlessly, Brian moves to take you off of him, but you hold on and stay seated.

"It's okay, Bri," you sigh, "Just keep going. Just...keep...going."

He's so close. And with you gently clenching him, he knows he doesn't stand much of a chance to last much longer. But he'd take the frustration of a missed orgasm over the way you wince in pain.

"No, no, get up," he says urgently, prying your knees away from his sides and pulling himself out.

Your hand immediately goes to pump his red and rigid cock. But he grabs your wrist and repositions it on his chest.

"Why won't you let me finish you?" you ask with a furrowed brow. 

Brian lets his head sink further into the bed as he thinks up an excuse. "I don't want to...stain the bed." He breathes hard, trying to ignore the empty ache between his legs and the hunger that still lies dormant in his belly.

You lightly slap his chest, "You're such a hard ass."

His chapped lips form a small smile, "I know. You can make it up to me after our second date."

"Second date? We didn't even have our first."

"This wasn't our first?"

"I can't believe you. The first time I fuck on the first date and he doesn't even cum," you say sarcastically and roll your eyes.

Brian sniffs at the small jab, "Take it as an apology."

You fiddle with a loose thread on his sweater and as he watches your fingers pick at it, the erection thankfully dies down. He's only had a little taste of you. And he wants more than a missed date and a quick fuck on a mattress that hundreds of other customers have laid on. So much more.

Brian clears his throat, "About the second date. Maybe we could have dinner at my place. I've been told I'm a pretty good cook."

"Oh, he's pretty, he can get me off, he can cook...what else can you do?"

"Je ne fais pas grand chose d'autre."

Your eyes light up, "Where have you been my entire life?"

Smiling once more and only offering a little laugh, his arm around your shoulder pulls you closer into his side. He wondered if the scent of your arousal would be enough to consider the mattress ruined. Yeah, then I'd take it, he thinks to himself as he eyes flutter closed.

[artemiseamoon]

A drabble I guess?

Gabriel (omc) , Corinthian, Jed

A random idea I just had based off this prompt I have not featured a male OC yet, not as lead, so wanted to try something different.

Omc: Gabriel Thompson (fc: Jesse Williams)

Corinthian alias name for the school: Cori and Mr.Nathan

Gabriel slowly packs up his things as the kids file out of the room. It’s nearly 4:30pm now and he’s done with after school tutoring for the week.

His other cell phone is vibrating in his pocket, and he’s waiting for the room to be empty to answer.

“Mr. Thompson?”

He raises his eyes from the desk as Jed approaches, he’s last in the classroom now.

“Hey Jed, everything good?”

“Could you walk me to the front of the school?”

Gabriel closes the flap of his messenger back and stands up straight. “Sure. Let’s go.”

When they leave the classroom, he flicks the light off and closes the door. As they walk down the hall, Jed takes a comic out of his pocket and unrolls it.

“Careful.” Gabriel grabs his shoulder and helps him navigate the hallway, and to avoid bumping into a sign.

Though Gabriel has only just started teaching part time here, Jed has quickly become one of his favorite students. He reminds him of himself as a kid, nose buried into a comic, big imagination, curious, no parents.

He was actually surprised Jed wanted a tutoring session today, he never needs it, hes one the top students here. It was a small group of three today, and he already saw the other two kids get picked up by their parents from the window as they left the classroom.

Gabriel hasn’t met all the kids' parents and legal guardians yet, including Jeds. A man named Cori, sometimes referred to as Mr. Nathan. Jed seems to be a fan and speaks fondly of him, from the little bits he’s heard.

…

“Alright little man, keep up the good work, stay sharp,” Gabriel says to him as they step outside. Jed smiles and puts the comic back in his pocket.

“Thank you Mr. Thompson,”

“Oh one last thing,” Gabriel digs in his bag and pulls out a worn comic, “found this lying around, you might like it.”

Jed’s eyes light up, “ cool! I haven’t read this one yet.” He takes it, “ i didn’t know you like comics Mr. Thompson.”

“Let’s just say I was like y-” Gabriel watches as the familiar car pulls up in front of the school. He’s seen it before, but is having a hard time placing it. A chill runs down his spine and he instinctively steps in front of Jed. “ stay there-”

Gabriel does a double take, he must be hallucinating, there is no way in hell the man casually exiting that car is who he thinks it is.

“Hey Cori!” Jed steps out from behind him and runs down the stairs.

Gabriel drops his bag on the floor and catches up. Then quickly standing between Jed and the man.

“Well,” the Corinthian breathes, “look who it is.”

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel asks between gritted teeth.

“Oh me,” he smirks, “ just picking up the kid.”

“Is this - “ Gabriel looks at a confused Jed, then back at the Corinthian, “is this your guardian?”

“Yeah.” Gabriel replies.

Behind them the door opens again, it’s Mrs. Kay, one of his teachers.

“Hi Mrs. Kay.” The Corintian waves at her, she waves back excitingly.

“Hey you two! Get home safe now.”

“We will,” he turns to Gabriel who is staring at him, “what can I say? They like me.”

Jed gives them one more puzzled look, then gets into the car.

Gabriel shakes his head in disbelief, “this can't be real.”

“Oh but it is, “ the Corinthian leans against the driver seat door and slowly looks Gabriel over. The Corinthian is impeccably dressed, as usual, and wearing his signature sunglasses.

“Who let you adopt a kid?”

Jed cuts in, “He’s not a bad guy, not anymore. He promised.” He goes back to flipping through the comic book.

The Corinthian smirks, then reaches out to touch the button of Gabriel's blazer, “I’ve changed.” The grin lingers on his lips, “I don’t do stuff like that anymore - you heard him.”

Gabriel slaps his hand away.” last time i saw you, “ he leans in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, “ you tried to kill me.”

“We tried to kill each other.” he corrects him with a chuckle, “but look at us now.”

Gabriel tries to hold back his growing frustration, “Cori, is that your name now?”

“Mr. Thompson, is that your name now?”

Gabriel clenches his jaw, then shifts his attention to the passenger seat. “Are you okay with him? If not - “

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jed reassures him.

As he steps back from the car, the principal walks by, she also greets the Corthian warmly and Gabriel only becomes more confused.

“You’re just going to have to get used to seeing me around,” the corinthian opens the driver's seat door, his concealed eyes still on Gabriel.

“Yeah, I’d say the same to you.”

The Corinthian takes a stick of gum out of his pocket, unwraps it, then pops it into his mouth. He brings his last leg inside the car, then shuts the door.

Gabriels work phone goes off in his pocket again. He ignores it.

“How about you pick up that phone? Might have somebody to save.”

“Somebody to save?” Jed raises a brow and glances up from the comic.

With his hand on the wheel, the Corinthian rests his other arm on the car, “see you around, Gabriel.”

Gabriel crosses his arms bites his tongue. Before he could blink, Corintian drives off and away from the school.

“What the fuck?” Gabriel watches the car get smaller and smaller, then pulls his work phone from his pocket.

…

More Sandman

[kiridarling]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

[emeren]

birthday boy - eren jaeger

shameless birthday fluff for the boy who deserves a happy ending and a happy birthday 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.1k 

content warnings: absolutely none, 100% fluff!

notes: i’m emerging from my request writing hole to post this lil one shot for my love’s birthday. i did not read over this so there may be errors or whatnot, but enjoy!

SUMMARY: reader shows eren what it means to have a good birthday.

eren had never been one for birthdays. 

he’d tried, he’d really tried to love them just as much as everyone else did. he could vividly remember all of the kids in his class bringing in donuts and ice cream and handing out little handmade invitations - invitations he never received. 

after two or three failed birthday parties thrown by carla - birthday parties that only armin and mikasa showed up to - eren had stopped trying. he insisted that he hated march 30th and that it was the worst day of the year. his mom always made a big deal out of it anyway, insisting on taking the three kids out for ice cream and a movie in celebration. 

eren would’ve never admitted it, as his pride was too strong, but he liked the small celebration his mom would throw. just him and his two best friends, building blanket forts and being allowed to watch one PG-13 movie for the special occasion. 

he remembered his tenth birthday being the last one that he even bothered acknowledging. that was the last birthday with his mom, the last birthday that didn’t go forgotten on grisha’s busy schedule. that was the last birthday that he went for ice cream and got to watch a PG-13 movie. 

as he got older, birthdays became less of a big deal to his peers. they weren’t large scale, festive events, but rather small group hangouts that involved getting drunk in a field. some sad, petty part of eren enjoyed watching everyone’s special day become exactly like his had always been: just another of 365. 

he didn’t remember telling you what day he was born. in fact, he was sure he hadn’t told you. it’d been a conversation topic he’d narrowly avoided in the past; lucky enough to have met you around april in order to skip over the awkward ‘oh, it’s my birthday’ chat. 

so he was confused. 

he was confused when he pulled his apartment door open, only to be met with your figure holding a carefully wrapped gift. hell, even eren didn’t realize that it was his birthday. he’d stood there in the doorway, gawking at you with a half-asleep look in his eyes. 

“what’s that for?” he’d asked incredulously, pointing at the gift. you laughed, the sound music to his ears as you slipped into his apartment. 

“happy birthday!” you squealed, setting it down and wrapping your arms around his slim figure. eren frowned for a moment, mind counting through the days of the calendar until they landed on march 30th. oh, i guess it is my birthday.

he hugged you back, eyes still warily focused on the gift. “who told you?” he’d questioned. 

you smiled up at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “i have my ways.” 

eren didn’t know what emotion it was that burned in his chest at your soft grin. he desperately wished for it to be annoyance, but it wasn’t, so he resorted to feigning it instead. 

“i’d rather we didn’t make a big deal about it,” he grumbled, slipping from your arms and walking towards his kitchen. he didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes or the way you mocked his voice, only turning around to see you approaching him with a bag he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“that’s alright, i was just going to make you some breakfast, if that’s okay?” eren normally would’ve protested any other special treatment on his birthday, but it wasn’t very unusual for you to cook him a meal. eren had a big stomach, and absolutely no skills in the kitchen. he resorted to shrugging, not wanting to show you the way your suggestion made his heart skip. 

and so he watched you. he watched you flit around the kitchen and make him his favorite breakfast (waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, extra side of bacon). your movements were so mesmerizing he’d nearly forgotten about this rotten day, the day that his younger self had declared the worst of the 365. 

“here, shithead. enjoy your meal,” you hummed playfully, sliding the plateful of food in his direction. eren flipped you off, too hungry to pick a fight as he dove into his meal. 

he tried to ignore the feeling of you staring as he scarfed down his waffle. he’d hoped you wouldn’t say anything else about his birthday. “do you wanna open your gift after we’re done eating?” you’d asked. 

eren paused his feast to look up at you, your eyes focused on your own plate as you waited for a response. he was apprehensive, but decided to take the bait nonetheless. “uh, sure.” 

eren could remember the best gift he’d ever gotten. it had been a handmade terrarium from armin and mikasa for his eighth birthday. they’d gone out in the woods behind their houses and rifled through the bushes and weeds to put together a jar filled with all sorts of creatures and plants. eren’s favorite had been the spider - whom he’d lovingly named peter - as he would catch flies and other small insects to feed to him. he’d been so excited about their cheaply made gift that nothing had ever come close to topping it (not that he ever got much in the ways of gifts, anyway).

as you sat him down on the couch, carefully placing an oblong box in his lap, he was unsure. he loved you, no doubt, but he didn’t know what on earth you could’ve gotten him. 

his previous confusion only grew when he opened the box to find a bundle of wildflowers. they were a mix of baby hues, soft and simple. he looked to you, brow raised in question. 

“flowers?” he’d asked, mind pondering all the possibilities. you laughed lightly in response, standing from your seat next to him. 

“c’mon,” you gestured for him, eyes scanning his bare chest. “go put a shirt on and come with me.” 

eren sighed, standing himself as he set the flowers on the couch. “listen. i love you, i really do. but i would just rather we don’t make a big deal out of today, alright?” 

he watched you roll your eyes, watched you fold your arms over your chest.

“i’m not making a big deal out of today,” you’d responded, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “just go put a shirt on. it’ll just be the two of us.” 

eren talked a lot of game regarding his self-proclaimed willpower, but he would never understand how easily he caved to you. thirty minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, eyes mindlessly gazing out the window with the bundle of flowers in his lap. 

you were playing his favorite music, humming along as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel. he’d just stared at you, admiring your beauty as you turned up a desolate road that he’d been too focused on you to recognize.

it wasn’t until the car stopped; surrounded by newly blooming flowers and freshly greening trees, did he piece together where he was.

“mom?” he’d breathed, eyes glancing out the window. you just smiled in response, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. eren looked down at the bundle of flowers in his lap, wildflowers, his mom’s favorite. 

in that moment he felt like crying. sure, he’d cried on his birthday before, but this was different. it was a cry of appreciation, one that burned in his chest as you impatiently pulled his door open. he was quick to blink the tears away, putting up a front as he got out himself. 

his mom’s cemetery was atop a hill, located away from the city amongst the trees and wildlife. he remembered picking it for her because of how freeing it felt - it was more of a place for remembrance that mourning. he knew that was what his mom would’ve wanted. 

eren showed his appreciation by wrapping your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as the two of you approached his mom’s headstone. 

“what made you think of this?” he’d asked quietly, setting the bundle of flowers right beneath her name carved within the granite stone. he remained kneeled in front of it; long fingers coming up to trace the words. he’d been surprised by your answer. 

“i know you hate your birthday,” you’d started, watching the moment in front of you. “and i know your mom was the only person that ever tried to make you enjoy it. i hope it wasn’t insensitive of me to bring you here? i just thought maybe you’d want to spend the day here with her.” 

and there it was again: that burning within his chest. he pulled his fingers back from the cold stone, relieved you couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. it was on the contrary. he’d never had someone think of him this way, think of what he truly wanted to do. he smiled as he stood to face you. 

“thank you.” he’d said sincerely, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head.

the two of you sat for hours, hands wrapped together as eren told stories about his mom and talked to her gravestone as if she were really there, too. he talked about his tenth birthday; how his mom had rented some barely scary movie, but how armin couldn’t sleep for weeks following their watch. he talked about the time mikasa had beaten up one of the popular kids for only excluding eren from his birthday party. before he knew it, he was wrapped up in stories upon stories. 

all too fast, the sun began to dip past the horizon. the two of you stood from the grass, pants slightly damp with mud but neither of you cared. eren leaned down, pressing his lips to the stone as a parting goodbye - something he’d started doing as a kid. 

as you drove away, eren felt content with how the day had gone. he watched the sunset from the window, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. he enjoyed the sweet moment, but couldn’t help the perverted thought that crossed his mind. he’d never had birthday sex before, and oh boy was he excited to try. 

the car stopped outside of his apartment, the two of you walking up to the door hand in hand. he grabbed his keys, about to unlock the handle when you stopped him. 

he loved when you looked at him like that. when your eyes were big and doe-like, filled with a mix of adoration and excitement. your hands carefully wrapped around his jaw, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a tender, warm kiss. 

he could feel his heart clench at the action, pulling away with a smile on his face. “what was that for?” 

“i just love you, ‘s’all.” you hummed in response, motioning for him to open the door. eren hated that you could make him blush, looking away with a playful roll of his eyes. 

he wasn’t expecting what waited for him behind the door. 

with the flick of the light switch, all of his friends popped up from around the apartment, yelling ‘surprise!’. his eyes widened in shock, a large banner that read off ‘happy birthday eren!’, but the words were all scrunched together at the end, the banner not large enough. 

“connie made that!” armin explained hurriedly, as if noticing the way eren’s eyes traced over the decoration. eren couldn’t help the burning in his chest as he looked at all of his closest friends. 

sasha, connie, jean, mikasa, armin, you. you, who had clearly planned this all. eren wasn’t ever very sappy, at least not since he was in high school. but the burning in his chest had become too much to bear, overwhelmed by all of the decorations and confetti, and thoughtfulness. 

he looked at you, tears in his eyes. he’d never had a big party before. he’d always wanted one, and here it was. “thank you.” 

“goddammit, this is what you get for taking him to the cemetery before his surprise party!” jean yelled, pointing at his friend. “i don’t think i’ve seen you cry since you were an annoying ass teenager!” 

“oh, shut the fuck up,” eren replied lightheartedly, embracing each of his friends. he wasn’t even embarrassed to cry. it’d been so long since he’d felt so loved. 

and so you all sat, eating ice cream and watching a horror movie. eren was in the middle, you curled up on his one side and armin on the other. as all of his friends enjoyed his birthday, squealing at the unnecessary gore, he couldn’t help but smile. 

maybe march 30th wasn’t the worst day, afterall.

<3 <3 <3 

[kimnjss]

tricky part | knj

⤑  series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: fluff?? (idk, man. i think they’re cute.) ahem, some smut... nd we get a little angsty, of course.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 8.1K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: (mentions of alcohol abuse). slight dirty talk, cursing, fingering, nipple play, handjob, unprotected sex, cumshot, doggy style, light hair pulling, multiple orgasms... i think that’s it.

⤑ chapter song: tonight (i wish i was your boy) - the 1975 (the entire song is namjoon is swear...)

⤑ A/N: hiiii! this is wicked late ., i took a nap today nd it was amazing . let me know what you think !! x

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:09

It takes longer than usual for you to get ready, stuck in the mirror contemplating whether or not what you're wearing is good enough. If maybe you should put your hair up instead of letting it fall freely. Would it be showing too much? But you wanted to show a little, right? This was a date after all, who didn't tease a little on the first date?

But this was Namjoon. Sensible, cautious, easily frazzled Namjoon. Would it turn him off? Or fluster him so he's showing off that cute dimpled smile of us. The one that he let slip when without even noticing it, cheeks flushing pink as he tried to avoid eye contact. Gosh, he was so cute!

Okay! Perfect solution, you're thinking as your eyes find the hair elastic on your dresser. You'd bring the hair tie and feel things out, read the room, and with the first desire to jump his bones, you'd tie your hair up. Giving him a perfect look at your shimmery collarbones, thank you Fenty, and the slope of your neck. No doubt he'd find himself thinking about pressing his lips against your skin at the sight of it.

Boys were simple. All of them. A mere flash of skin and they were putty in your hands. Joon was cute with it, though. So you'd let it slide. 

Your phone lights up, humming against your sheets. His name flashes in bold, waking up the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Weird. He must be here, no doubt outside waiting for you right now. He'd think you looked nice, right? Grant you one of his lingering stares that he's always so quick to avert.

That's when you knew you caught his eye. Pride warms your chest each and every time you're catching him. It took a little bit more effort to get Namjoon to turn his head. Yet, he was still a boy at the end of it. He'd end up looking at you one way or another, it's all about how you present it.

Which is exactly why you were yellow. A yellow two-piece that highlights the best parts of you. And you're sure you've made the right decision when you catch the stutter in his step, eyes flickering from your face to your legs then back again. Forcing himself not to look away the entire time you're walking up to him, black platform heels carrying you with ease. Only a few inches below him with them on.

“Hi,” You're saying with a grin, hand reaching out to grasp his bicep. Giving it a little squeeze and watching the way his eyes go wide. He's wearing sweats but still looks so good. As if he's stood in front of you in a three-piece suit, although you might be exaggerating.

He doesn't shake you off but doesn't exactly relax in your touch either. Fingers tapping against his thigh and you can't help but wonder if he's holding himself back from touching you. Lame. “You're wearing yellow,” He says after a moment, stating it as fact rather than something that was intentionally done for him and his attention.

Eyes rolling on a laugh, you're nodding your head. “Yeah. You like yellow,”

“I do,” His nod is curt and his tone is military.

Huffing, while stepping forward, easily pulling him a bit close to you. “Okay, rule number on to this date...” Lifting a single finger for reference. His eyes flicker to it before he's looking back down at you. “You're not allowed to think tonight, got it? No analyzing, calculating. Weighing the options. Just do and talk, get loose.” Giving his shoulder a playful shake, you're shocked to hear the laugh that falls from his lips.

Like an actual, really pretty laugh. “Alright, deal.” A proud smile threatens to split your face when you feel his hand lift, hesitant at first but landing on the small of the back. Albeit, just to guide you, but it's still something. “Let's get going,” He's guiding you with the gentle hand on your back, barely touching you but you're stomach was doing backflips.

How quickly the roles reversed. Hands clasped in front of you, urging yourself to calm down. To stop acting like some thirteen year old who still hasn't had their first kiss. You were twelve years and eighteen kisses past that. Get it together.

“Where's your car?” Stepping on your tiptoes, attempting to peak up the street to spot it. “Actually, what kind of car do you even drive? I've never seen it?” Eyes shifting up toward him, a quizzical look on your face.

You're missing the soft, “I don't...” That falls from his lips because you're brain is working overtime to guess what car he could possibly drive. “Hm, you kinda look like a Chevy guy... maybe a Honda? But, I could be wrong. Definitely not a sports car, though.” You couldn't imagine Joon in one of those loud, low to the ground car.

Whipping through traffic as if where he had to go was much more important than all the other people on the road. Yeah, that didn't fit.

He's taking offense to this for some reason, nose scrunching, and hands finding his hips. His steps even come to a halt. “Hey. Why not a sports car?”

You're letting out a laugh, not at him, of course. Just at how adorable he looks right now. Actually pouting, with his arms crossed in the middle of the sidewalk. You've never seen him like this, not even sure where this new Joon came from. But he might be even cuter than the Joon you knew and had a huge crush on.

Moving toward him, not even bothering to stop yourself from poking his pouted lip. “Come on, that's totally out of character. You're practical and sensible. You wouldn't splurge on a sports car, that's not even durable. Those cars get torn apart in accidents,” He's not really mad, obviously. Which is why it doesn't take long for him to lose the face.

“So which one is it? Honda or Chevy?”

A large arm is dropping around your shoulder, tucking you into his side as the two of you continue your timed steps down the sidewalk. “Neither. I don't have a car. Or my license,” Eyes nearly popping out of your head with his words, stopping in your tracks to get a good look at him. Just in case you might've heard him wrong.

But he shows no signs of correcting himself or clarifying what he had just said. “Wait. So how are we going to get there!?” Did he expect you to walk!? All the way to Daejeon? In these shoes... they were cute, but not the most comfortable. And they didn't need to be because they weren't meant for walking 100 miles at a time!

“We're gonna take the train, of course. How else?” He's not even looking like he knows he's talking nonsense.

Like, honestly. Did he expect you to ride a gross train dressed like this!? What if you got robbed? Or kidnapped? Or worse, thrown up on!? This outfit was irreplaceable, one of a kind. No way could you take it on a train, that wouldn't do. “No. That won't be necessary. I'll just call one of my drivers, they'll come get us,” You've got your phone out before you're even finishing your sentence.

Namjoon is quick to pluck the device from your fingers, a sly smile playing on his features as he tucks it into his pocket. “Let those people spend time with their families. It's Sunday. There won't even be that many people,” Two firm hands placed on your shoulders, he's turning you effortlessly. “The train, it'll be fun.”

“You're the only guy, in the universe that thinks riding the train will be fun.” He's laughing again and it's not cute as it was a few minutes ago. “Oh no, I meant fun for me. You're gonna hate it,”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 17:37

Just as you predicted, the train is gross. And sticky. Crowded and sweaty. Joon holds you close as you weave through the sea of people, fingers laced with yours. Although you know it's purely for survival purposes, the flutter in your heart still rises from feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

You try not to make a huge deal about it. People rode the train every day and considering how many of them were in here, they've all survived. You'd be fine. Especially with this six-foot angel clearing the way for you at every turn.

Joon finds a seat for the both of you against the wall. Close with your thighs pressed together and he still hasn't released your hand from his grasp. It's cozy beside him, warm. Leaning your weight on to him, you try to be subtle but probably fail. He's concentrating on something on his phone and from the quick peak you were able to sneak, you see he's checking on your reservation for tonight.

Stomach flipping at the tiny fact he made a reservation for you two. It's so Namjoon to want to be triple prepared for anything, but the fact that it's in your favor makes you happy. No idea why, but that was the truth of the matter. More often than not happy when you were around him.

Even cramped in this stinky train, his hand in yours was enough to convince you, you were in the back of a limo. The unfocused chatter around you replaced with soft music that you'd play. Probably something he likes to listen to. His taste in music was quickly becoming yours the more time the two of you spent together.

He's dropping your hand for some reason that you don't realize until you're looking up to see him standing. Offering his spot to some brat with a broken leg. What the heck? Were you supposed to hold hands with this kid? Up without a word, didn't even bother to ask if you wanted him to get up.

Joining the other people standing, holding on to the railing and you're quickly deciding you don't like the distance. He watches as you stand to your feet, nose brushing against his chin. “Sit,” Gesturing to your now empty spot, earning a raised brow from him. 

“Come on, Yn. Your feet are gonna hurt. Just relax,” He tries to lower you back into your spot, but you're moving to the side with a shake of your head. “I'll be fine. Just sit,” Catching the stubborn glint in your eye, just begging him to argue, he chooses to drop it. Switching spots with you and sinking into the empty spot.

Not even a second after he's settling into the cushion, you're dropping yourself onto his lap. Arm wrapped around his shoulders, legs between his. Bum pressed firmly into his thigh. “Did you really think I was going to stand?” You laugh. He doesn't even look the least bit surprised, eyes rolling – but you catch the smile on the corner of his lips.

His hand finds the outer part of your thigh, holding your body steady as the car jostles. He doesn't move it even after the machine has settled, has even taken to tapping out a rhythm against your skin.

It's nice. Your new favorite song.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:17

You had to hand it to the guy, Kim Namjoon knew how to put a date together. Pure perfection from beginning to end, you're not sure if it's his careful attention to detail or the small possibility that he wanted to impress you... you've decided to go with the latter.

The entirety of dinner was spent talking about everything and nothing. Actually getting to know each other aside from the surface level, 'I make good music and you screen it while balancing your massive crush on me,'. He was telling you about the time he first met Yoongi: second year of high school, Yoongi was a really cool Senior, the type of cool guy that everyone knows, but like doesn't talk to anyone. He found Joon making out with some cheerleader in the band room, her hand down the front of his jeans... and made it all of his business to tease him about it for the rest of the semester. 

Never would you have deemed Joonie as the type to take part in such excessive PDA, and although he insists it was not his idea... well, agree to disagree.

You were even telling him about the first time you got blackout drunk, which resulted in you being banned from every last Shake Shack. The only thing you remember from that night was getting in the car to head to the club, already started pre-gaming beforehand. But as Jungkook likes to tell it, you were a melting pot of 'types of' drunks. 

Started the night trying to fistfight the bouncer, after only fifteen minutes in the club, which resulted in you... and all of your friends being kicked out. Went from not-so-discreetly trying to mount your boyfriend at the time, Jackson, to crying on the bathroom floor Shake Shack all before you were puking in the booth, after swearing (a million times) that you 'weren't gonna throw up'.

Followed by a screaming match between you and Hoseok as he apologized a thousand times over to the employee he had to call over for the mess, trying to assist her while she tried her best to keep a smile on her face. Jungkook carried you to the car, full-blown had to haul you over his shoulder as you screamed curses at your brother.

You don't remember any of that, though. Next thing you remember from that night after getting in the car to leave, was waking up to the sound of loud video games, hanging half-naked off the side of Jackson's bed.

You're more embarrassed than you though, telling that story out loud. how bad you used to be. That was the worst of it, but the other times weren't too great either. Of course, you've calmed down a bit. Really tried each and every time you were sent away to clean up your act. And you were good for a few months after you came back, and then you were not.

Surprisingly, Joon doesn't look disgusted when you tell him. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not. Either he's extremely understanding or he was expecting your most embarrassing story to be something of the sort. You hope for the former but suspect the latter.

In reality, though. Namjoon found himself trying to figure out just what could've been going on in your life that you felt like any of that would help. He now knew with you there was always something hidden, a reason to your behavior that you oftentimes liked to brush off. Must've been bad. You probably had a hard time.

The highlight of the night, though, was hands down the play. You're not even sure if he knew what it was about when he chose it, but you were falling in love from the moment the current went up. Characters so vivid and engaging, dealing with real-life shit all while living in fear of the darkness that looms over their tiny village.

It wasn't hard for you to get totally immersed in the show, laughing along, getting upset, crying. And Joon stays seated by you the entire time, holding on to your hand. Not so sure when he picked it up, but he hasn't let it go in a while. Not that you were complaining. You liked the tiny shocks that followed every brush of his fingers.

He smiles when you laugh, laughs when you get upset, and wipes your tears when you cry. You're so sure, he missed the entire show.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:20

“You know, my best friend's an actor. Kinda a big deal at his agency... I could talk to him?” Joon throws in casually as the two of you make your way out of the theater, talking as he tosses his empty popcorn carton into the garbage. As if he didn't just drop some life-changing news.

You've heard of his friend, Kim Taehyung. Was an extra in his very first big drama role, a historical one where he faced an untimely death. The two of you never crossed paths and shared zero scenes together, but it was still pretty cool. To you. He didn't know you from a hole in the wall and the last thing you'd do was act like anyone's biggest fan.

But, this? What Namjoon was offering... that could be huge. The start that you needed and you wouldn't even have to go through your father. You could do it all on your own... kinda. “Oh! That would be amazing, Joon!? Why didn't...”

As quickly as the excitement hits you, it's being knocked right out of your body. The job that you already have and everything else that surrounded it. No way could you accept this. “Actually,” You're forcing a smile for Namjoon to see, “Let's put a pin in it. I want to focus on the company,” You wonder if it sounds as robotic as it feels.

“Why? You hate that place?” His hand has found yours again, arms swinging slightly as you walk. There's this curious look on his face like you're not making any sense. And you're not.

Why wouldn't you jump on the first chance to ditch that hell hole? The opportunity was right in front of your face, so why wouldn't you take it? You must be an idiot. Stockholm Syndrome? “Can I tell you a secret?” You're whispering despite the fact it's just the two of you on the street.

“Sure,” Gently, he's pulling you just a bit off of the path. Figuring whatever you have to tell him might be something he wants to sit down for, so he's getting comfortable on a bench, tugging you down beside him.

Not once letting go of your hand. “Hoseok is putting out an album in a few months. He's been juggling that and work-work. The time when my dad came down to talk to me... about the whole Hyungwon thing, he said he'd tank the album if I didn't start acting right,” That actually does surprise Joon, eyes going wide as a barely audible gasp leaving his lips.

You can just about guess what he's thinking, 'what kind of father...?'. And the easy answer was, yours. Your type of father would. Your type of father has. “That's why I need to stay focused. I can't screw up, he's been working so hard. I wouldn't be able to live with myself I ruin everything for him. Again.” That was a story for another time.

“Yn. That's fucked up. Does Hobi know?”

Scoffing, your eyes roll automatically. “Of course not and don't tell him. He thinks our dad is the best. 'Strict, but the best'.” Your tone changes slightly to mock his deeper voice. “Thinks he's hard on me only because of how I act and while I know that doesn't help, that wouldn't change anything. We're all just pawns in his game. His stupid Legacy.”

It's weird because you don't even sound sad. Just numb. Like you've accepted that this was how the way things were and this was how they were going to be. He wished there was something he could do, stand up to your dad for you, tell him all the things you're afraid to. But that would be stupid, for him and for you. It wasn't his place and he'd only make it worse. No matter how badly he wanted to just step in, there was really only one thing he could do.

Your hand is much smaller in his, soft and cute. Nails painted a pretty deep blue to compliment the yellow of your dress. Squeezing softly, he's lifting his lips into a smile for you to see. And since he's been trying to take your advice and stop thinking so much, he's lifting your hand. Pressing feather-like kisses against your knuckles.

The gesture so sickeningly-sweet, you're not sure if you should puke or cry. Or both. He's looking up at you, smiling really wide before he's moving closer, lips finding your forehead making you feel warm all over. Butterflies holding a wrestling match in your stomach and you might just burst into tears.

“I can't interfere with your family. Especially when you're not asking me to. Just know, if you ever want to start doing what you really want I'll support it. I'll support you.” You feel the pressure building behind your eyes, the thickness in your throat. All over three stupid words that you had no idea you've been waiting to hear.

It's overwhelming. Desperately fighting back the wetness that teases your waterline. With a hard blink and a huff of air – you're pushing a smile onto your face. Aware of how fake it looks, but it'll have to do as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” You're grinning, hand patting his knee before you're hopping up from your spot beside him on the bench.

A hand extended down to him. “Come on, dessert on me!” You giggle because it feels right. And he takes your hand, allowing you to pull him from to his feet. Tugging him along behind you with your face pointed to the night sky. Not saying anything until you're sure your voice won't break.

And even then it's a quiet mumble, “You've earned something sweet.”

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 21:59

Your hair has gone up. Revealing the slope of your neck and the shimmer on your collarbones. And as you predicted, Joon watches you through the entire process. Lips wrapped around your ice cream cone, holding it in place as your hands move quickly to pull your hair out of your face. His gaze dropping to your mouth as you lick mess the treat his left from your lips.

Hook. Line. And sinker. 

“Do you have any weird kinks?” You don't even look at him when you say it, focus on creating a peak on your ice cream cone.

Joon's choking a cough out around his shaved ice, eyes blinking hard as he clears his throat, lifting his gaze up to you. “Excuse me, what!?” An easy laugh falls from your lips, shoulders shrugging slightly. Taking pride in how easily you could fluster. “You know... weird kinks. Things that get you going, but are kinda weird,” 

“Like a fetish?” You're shrugging, barely interested in the choice of word. “I'm sure there's a difference, but for the sake of this. Sure,”

He had to have something, there was no way he didn't. Everyone had something and you refused to believe that he was even composed and well thought out in that area. There had to be something that made him lose his cool. Had to be.

“Uhm,” He's clearing his throat, cheeks seeming to grow darker the more time you spent staring at him. “I wouldn't say it's weird, but I like...” His attention falls to his dessert, twirling his spoon around in the frozen shavings. Would you think it was too weird? Consider it a deal-breaker and decide to not talk to him again. You probably wouldn't even care, there wasn't much that you cared about he was finding.

But, you could surprise him. And what if... wait, why was he even stressing about this in the first place!? “Why are you even asking me this?” Such a random topic interrupting your peaceful silence staring at the water.

Again, you lift your shoulders in a shrug. “I'm curious. Here, I'll tell you mine.” You pause to flash a breathtaking grin up at him. “Put your hand up,” Joon doesn't even hesitate to lift his palm, heart stuttering when you're pressing yours against his. As if you're comparing sizes and he can't help but curl his fingers down into the space that's left.

“See that? What you just did? Drives me crazy. And also...” Hand dropping from his to lay flat on his chest and on reflex his muscle is tensing, pecs jumping underneath your touch. It's actually so sexy you contemplate dropping to your knees right then and there. You suppress the urge, but don't make any moves to lifting your hand. “Big hands? And muscles. Phew. Throw in a pair of cute dimples and it's over,” 

It's obvious at this point that you're literally referring to him, not intentionally of course. He just happened to check every last one of those boxes. “Why's that?” He's staring at you with these eyes that you've never seen before. Dark and filled with want.

You liked it.

“Makes me feel cute and small, I guess. Like if you... or any guy, but let's just say you, were to use your big hands to pick me up and hold me there while we-” His eyes go wide when he catches on to the end of your sentence, rushing out a frantic, 'Oh okay, I get it!'. Watch as you bursting into a fit of giggles.

He ignores you, taking to peering around the bridge, checking for anyone within earshot that might've heard what you were about to say. Only to find that you two were the only people out here. Unless he was worried about judgmental glares from the birds, you were fine.

“So...” He's starting only after he's done his full scenery check. “You like feeling small, then? That's interesting,” Forever impossible to read, no idea what he meant by interesting, but as always you were running with it.

Steering this night, which had been an amazing date, in a direction that was a little less PG. Brow arched and a smirk playing on your lips, you move into his space. Hand sliding down the front of his body, meeting his waist. Holding a soft grip on the fabric of his sweater, you rise onto your toes, nose just inches from his.

“And? What do you plan to do with this information?” Could swear a small gasp falls from his lips, feeling your free hand tug on the long drawstring of his pants.

There are a million and one thoughts running through his mind right now. Every last one of them revolving around you. How good you look underneath that skirt, how good you smell standing this close to him. The way he could see the faint freckles on your cheeks, faded from your makeup. Yet, through all of his mangled thoughts, there's one that stands out amongst all of them.

You're so beautiful.

And not in the ways that you'd think. Yes, your face fit the standard, and the confidence you carried yourself with was more than deserved, but there was more. Beautiful underneath all of that and he could see it and even with this new stiffness tenting at the front of his jeans, it's all he can focus on.

Soft giggles fill his ears, coming from you realizing the way he was staring at you. Not saying a single word, just looking. “You're stalling. What's yours?” Taking a step back, you allow him a chance to breathe. Just barely noticing the twitch of his arm, ready to pull you close to him again.

“Okay, fine.” Joon's saying with a roll of his eyes, not the annoyed one that you've grown used to. It's playful, cute paired with the smile on his lips. “I like...” Large hand reaches out, landing firmly on your hip, effectively catching you off guard but he doesn't even give you a second to react before he's twisting your back toward him.

A shiver dancing down your spine as the tips of his fingers gently trace the link in the middle of your back. Actually having to bite down on your lip to keep from any noises slipping out in response to his light touch. “That. It looks sexy,”

Now you know how he feels when you tease him. Breathless and flustered all because he touched your back!? Come on, it was about time you got your shit together. Turning in his grasp, your features morph feigning confusion. “You like backs?” 

“No! Not just backs. I Mean the dip... and if there's dimples back there. That's always a plus,” He says with a shrug, but you know exactly what he's doing. It was your game, basically invented it.

But judging from the flutter in your chest, he was better at it. “I have dimples back there,” It sounds dumb to your ears, like 'duh, he knows that stupid.. that's why he said it,' but you can't think of anything else to say. Thoughts clouded with how good being touched by him felt and coming up with ways to get more of that.

And he's moving as if he's read your mind, arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling your body to him with this newfound boldness that has a shocked gasp falling from your lips. “I know you do,” His voice is so deep and so sexy, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. You could spend hours just listening to him talk, no doubt. God, you needed to get it together.

“Oh, yeah? You've been sneaking peaks?”

He nods. Like, doesn't even bother to try and hide behind some half-assed explanation why he might've noticed, just owns it. He's so hot. “I'm very observant,” His words have you wondering what else he's noticed about you. How much time did he spend just 'observing', as he liked to call it.

You could figure that out later, there were much more pressing matters at hand right now. Kissing him. Through with the back and forth, you needed to feel his lips against yours. The fragmented memory of the first and only time was quickly fading, you needed something fresh.

With your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, you lean into him. Chin tilted up and eyes slowly falling closed, you're just inches from his mouth when that deep voice of his is breaking through. “Are you gonna kiss me?”

“Wow, you are observant,” Breathing out a laugh, you're nodding eyes lifting to find his. He even looked good from this close. “Wait.” His quick movements startle you, a not so cute squeal filling the night air as he bends to lift you, effortlessly wrapping your legs around his waist.

You're both laughing, like side aching chuckles. And you're certain you've never seen him like this before. Eyes forming crescent moons as loud snickers fall from his grinning lips. He's pretty. You're so dazed by that simple fact that you don't notice the way his laughter has died down into soft breaths.

Not until silence is falling over both of you and he's leaning up to press his lips against yours. Large hand lifting to tangle in your hair as he kisses you.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:29

And he doesn't stop kissing you. Not on the train home where you sit on his lap and he swallows every last one of your whines. Not on the walk to your place where he keeps his arm around your shoulder, occasionally leaning down to press kisses against your cheeks. Even stood at your doorstep, you're still like teenagers who just discovered making out.

“Do you want to come up?” You're murmuring against his lips, sentences barely coherent through the push of your lips.

He's registering your words a few moments after you've said them, pulling back to reveal the worried expression on his features. Doesn't say anything, though. Like he's stuck between taking you up on your offer and whatever concern is plaguing his mind.

And then it's hitting you. “Hoseok's out with some girl. Just in case you're worried about that,” You don't miss the way his face relaxes, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Pulling a blase expression, moving into your space again. “Why would I be worried about that?”

Eyes rolling, you let out a laugh. “Oh, my mistake.” You mock, turning to unlock your front door. Joon is following steps behind you into the house, no sign of Hoseok in sight. Not like he'd really care, on Namjoon's part. Just give you an ear full about how your actions would affect the company.

So, you're glad he's out. In no mood to hear any of that tonight. “Do you want a glass of wine?” Namjoon is following you into the kitchen, nodding along to your words.

He just can't seem to take his eyes off you. Followed your movements from the pantry to the cabinets all the way to the island where you poured alcohol into glasses for the two of you. Watched the way your lips tickled the neck of the bottle, sucking up the droplets that had spilled, dark eyes finding his the moment you're pulling back.

Daring him. To do something. Anything. Joon knew he needed to be bold. Impulsive. Throw caution to the wind and deal with the consequences later. It's how you got what you wanted all the time and right now, he wanted you.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he's rounding the island. Closing the space between the two of you. Hand cupping the side of your face as he wraps an arm around your waist. His gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, rhythmically. “I don't want wine,” Your heart hammers in your chest.

“What do you want?” You ask, although, you already know the answer.

He takes to showing you rather than telling you, using the grip he holds around your waist to lift your body onto the counter. Stepping into the space between your legs before he's covering your mouth with his. 

This kiss is much different from the others, no longer testing the waters. There's determination behind each movement of his lips. Both hands gripping your waist, pulling your body forward until his hips are pressed to yours. His tongue slips past his soft lips to graze your bottom lip. And you're opening up for him without a moment of hesitation, fingers tangling in his messy locks, and pulling – a low groan emerging from the back of his throat.

He's pushing his body flush against yours, hips lifting rightly and you feel the twitch of his cock through his sweats. Sweet moans fall from your lips with every roll of his hips, deliberately pushing down desperate to feel more of him. Your senses are filled with him. The taste of his tongue, the sweet smell of his cologne, how good it feels to have him pressed up against you.

Strong hands roam around your body, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight enough to have it inching up the smooth skin of your thighs. Gently cupping the back of your neck to hold your head steady as he licks into your mouth. He can't seem to make up his mind, greedily wanting to touch all of you at once.

You're meeting everyone of his upward thrusts with a downward roll of your hips, moans growing louder between the two of you with each brush of your most sensitive parts. And you want more. Legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, you needed more.

“Fuck, princess.” He's gasping out, not leaving a moment to spare for you to marvel at the pet name that fell from his lips so easily. His mouth makes steady work on your neck, suck red blotches into your skin as the palm of his hand moves down the front of your body. Sneaking underneath the hem of your skirt, your body jolts when he's pressing the tips of his fingers to your slit through the soft fabric of your panties.

Pretty moans fill the room as he teases you, fingers tight in his hair. Heady becoming heavy for your shoulders as the pleasure he's ensuing washes over you. “Namjoon,” You're gasping, hips bucking up when he's pressing his fingers against your sensitive clit. Above the cotton, but each stroke has electricity cruising through your veins.

He chuckles as your whines become more insistent, hips following the movement of his fingers. “That feel good?” Head bobbing frantically, your legs spread wider for him. So sure, you're soaked all the way through from the way he's palming roughly at your panties. He's confirming your thoughts with a groan and a breathy, “You're so fucking wet,”

“Please, Joon. More.” Panting as your hips lift up toward him. He's grinning wide, pressing a soft kiss to the skin of your neck before he's nudging your panties out of the way. “So greedy,” He teases, at the same time his fingers find your clit. He's pressing lazy circles into the sensitive nub, taking his time despite the needy roll of your hips. “Tell me what you want,” Dark eyes travel up the length of your body to your face, you don't even bother to mask the moan that slips at the sight.

An experimental finger teases your entrance, sneaking in past the first knuckle before quickly pulling out and repeating the same action. If it wasn't for the solid stiffness pressed against your thigh, you'd guess that he was torturing you for the hell of it. But judging from the steady rut of his hips, he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

You couldn't wait any longer, though. This moment has plagued your thoughts since the first time you were meeting him. What it would be like to be with him like this. Have him fuck you. You'd surely die if it wasn't now. “Fuck me,” The words come out more whiny than you originally intended but, hey. “Please, Namjoon.”

“Soon, princess.” He promises, sinking his middle finger into your tightness. Eyes flickering between your bodies so he can watch the way the single-digit disappears within your walls. So fascinated with the movement of his own fingers and egged on with your pretty moans, he's quickly pushing another finger in.

Namjoon's mouth finds yours, swallowing every last one of your hushed moans as he fucks into you. Scissoring you open with his long fingers, free hand tugging at the bottom of your top until it's around your waist, tits spilling out. He's groaning against your lips as his palm cups you from underneath, thumb lifting to brush against your nipple.

His head is lowering until he's able to latch his lips around the hardening bud. His sharp teeth graze over it slightly, gentle tongue washing over the slight pinch of his bites. You're whimpering at the feeling of his thumb pressing into your clit, back falling against the cool countertop as your hips move in tandem with his fingers.

It's not long before he's nudging a third finger past your walls, lips moving to mouth on the other side. Thumb moving expertly over your clit while his fingers provide such a delicious stretch, you're squirming beneath him. Searching for something to grip onto as the pressure begins to build in the pit of your stomach.

You take to tugging his hair, pushing his face against your chest as your back arches off of the counter. Wanton moans filling the room, you're being so loud but you can't find the strength to quiet down. Not while he's making you feel this good. And then all at once, he's pushing in deeper, fingers curling and brushing against that rough patch of skin hidden deep inside of you.

“Oh, fuck! Don't stop, don't stop.” You're chanting over and over, hips rocking into his palm and Joon has no plans of stopping. Not when you sound like that, each whine and whimper shooting straight to his cock. He feels the way your walls flutter around his fingers and he's quickly lifting his head to watch your face.

There's a sheen layer of sweat on your forehead. Eyes rolled back as your lashes flutter, lips slightly pursed. Jaw falling slack, a breathless gasp slipping at the same time he feels a gush of wetness surrounding his fingers. Incoherent mumbles of thanks fall from your lips as your body shakes. He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, thrusting slowly until your words are dying down to soft breaths.

Opting to give you the time you may need to regain your composure... which only lasts a few seconds before you're sitting up. Arms and legs pulling him toward you. “Fuck, that was so good.” You say through a laugh, mouth finding his in a sloppy kiss as you work to pull his sweatshirt from his body.

Joon follows your lead, working on tugging his sweats out of the way. Your soft hand meets his, gently pushing it out of the way and dipping into the front of his boxers. Palm closing around his thick shaft and your eyes are going wide, fingers not being able to meet around the base.

“Holy, fuck...” Your hand drags over his length, more so measuring him than anything. Excitement igniting in your chest the longer it takes for your hand to meet the tip. Which is leaking with precum at this point, you feel it when your palm finally covers the tip and then use it to make moving your hand back down easier.

His hips follow the movement of your hand, attempting to fuck into the opening your palm created. Spaced out as the pleasure slowly clouds his mind. He looked so good. Chest and stomach flexing as he moves, shining underneath the dull kitchen lights. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched, making dimples appear at the sides of his mouth.

Your free hand slides down the front of his body until the tips of your fingers are brushing against his balls. Massaging them underneath the slight pressure while your wrist twists over his cock. “Yn, baby. Wait... fuck,” His hips are stuttering to a stop, hand reaching down to still the movement of your palm.

“I won't last,” A soft pink dusts his cheeks as he looks up at you, eyes glossed over and barely focused. He's letting out a breathless laugh before he's leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I wanna fuck you first,”

The admission is waking up something entirely different inside you. Something you can't easily place and are in no mood to decipher. Instead, you grin, returning the kiss to his lips before grinning. “Fuck me, please.”

That's all he needs to hear before he's taking a step back from you, not giving you a moment to feel his absence before he's sliding you from the counter. Hands on your hips to turn your back to him, his large hand resting on the middle of your back. “Bend over,” Voice deep in your ear, you'd very much walk off the edge of a cliff if he was asking you like that.

You bend forward without any protest, the cool granite pressing against your exposed nipples. Joon holds a hand just above your ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock – guiding himself toward your aching core. His thick head nudges against your tight hole and you both gasp as you swallow him in.

He takes his time, allowing you to feel every inch as he slips in. And you don't miss the way his thumb has moved to rest in the indent just above the swell of your ass. Pulling your body toward him with his grip. His huffed breath tickling your back the moment he's bottoming out.

Palms formed fists beside you, concentrating on your breathing as you get used to the feeling of being stretched this way. Slowly, he's pulling out until the head is catching at your entrance then he's pushing his way back in, your body sliding up on the counter with the movement. The stuttered movement of his hips slowly shifts into a steady rhythm that has a string of moans falling from your lips.

Strong, bruising thrusts into your backside paired with the gruff groans that escape his throat. He's so deep, the tip of his cock nudging against your g-spot with each thrusts forward. “Fuck, look how perfectly you take my cock, baby.” He groans, eyes glued to the way your lips are wrapped around him.

All you can muster back in response is a weak whine, a garbled cry of big he was... or how good he feels. Mind nothing but mush at this point, the overwhelming pleasure from the way he was fucking, softening your brain. Either way, he takes the incoherent noises as a compliment, speeding up the snap of his hips.

You all about lose it when he's reaching down to grip your hair, lifting your body onto his, keeping a steady movement of his hips as he reaches around you to find your clit. Rolling it between his knuckles until he's feeling that familiar squeeze around his shaft. Soaking up every whimper and every cry as he brings you closer and closer to release.

“You gonna cum again for me, baby?” Gasping out, your head bobs up and down, back arching in hopes to steal more than what he was willing to give you. “Please, make me cum.” He can feel the way your walls flutter around him, the whine in your voice. And since he's inclined to give you whatever you want, Joon's angling his hips in a way that he knows will make you cum.

And it's not long before the pressure is snapping in the pit of your stomach, loud cries filling the room as your hips lift into a shake. Walls clenched so tight around his cock, it's enough to nudge him over the edge. He fucks into you with great fervor, leaning your body back onto the counter as his hips snap against yours.

Thrusts becoming sloppy and untimed as he feels himself falling apart, an odd mixture of curses and your name falling from his lips as he feels his body tense. He's pulling out as a hurried afterthought, hand acting as a lame substitute for your wet core as he strokes himself to completion. Spilling onto your back with a strained groan.

And then the kitchen goes silent, nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths and the hum of the fridge filling the room. Neither of you says anything, both trying to come back to your senses. A few moments pass before he's hearing the soft sound of your giggle, body rising off your stomach to turn and face him. He looks so dazed and fucked out, cheeks flushed and eyes blown. Hair a mess and breath ragged. He looked so hot.

A hand finds the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the soft hair there. Joon's grinning when his eyes find yours, an arm wrapping around your waist. Pulling you closer, because it never felt like you were close enough. “We just fucked,” You state the obvious, can't find it in yourself not to.

It was nice. You liked it. You liked him. Everything about him, you just found yourself liking. His laugh. His smile. How easily he was annoyed. The cute dimples. The sound of his voice. You liked him.

“Yeah, we did.” He's replying, a little breathless but he still manages to lean down to capture your lips with his. A short kiss that has you leaning up, silently asking for me. He denies you with a cute shake of his head. “Let's go upstairs. I wanna go down on you,” Okay, bold Joon was something you were definitely going to have to get used to. 

He's twirling you around when you don't move to lead him, large hand dropping to tap against your ass cheek, pulling a giggled squeal from your lips. “Ah!” You're laughing when he's reaching to do it again, instead taking hold of his hand. Fingers easily intertwining as you tug him behind you.

His back pressed to yours, cock growing hard against your backside as you lead him up the stairs and into your room. The sound of laughter only growing between the two of you.

Yeah, you liked him a lot.

MAY 10TH, 2020 | 23:58

Your body is warm against his, back pressed to his chest. Soft moans filling the air as he holds you close, pushing into you, chasing yet another release. This time in your bed. With you in his arms and it feels different. It feels nice. It makes him wonder... what's next? If there's something more for him to hope for.

He wanted to be with you, to put it simply. Never would've imagined it'd be you, but now he can't imagine it being anyone else. But things just sometimes worked out that way. Namjoon wanted to be yours, but in turn, he wanted you to be his.

Somehow, he felt like that might be the tricky part of it all.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Game Over

Based On: “When You Sleep” by Mary Lambert

Summary: Frat!Harry only wants you when he’s drunk, and you’ve finally had enough

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

Here I was for the third time this week pulling up to a frat party in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be here, but, just like all the other times he had too much to drink, he needed me. Usually it takes a great amount of pushing past drunk underaged college kids to find him at these things. But this time, as soon as I reached the yard of the house, dimly lit by an array of neon party lights, I spotted a mop of curly brown hair, hunched over a bush.

“Yo! Harry dude! I thought we agreed no more puking in our bushes?!” Some frat guy was yelling at him from the porch. Harry’s only response was to flip the guy off and grin while using the bush to hold him up. “Finally! Your baby sitter’s here” The guy half-joked noticing my arrival.

Harry turned around to face me a little too fast, and he stumbled forward nearly falling. I tried my best to support him but there was no chance. I by no means would consider myself “small” or “petite”, but compared to Harry’s 6-foot, broad shouldered stature, he was too large.

“Hey! What’re ya doing hur?” Harry drunkenly slurred semi-regaining his balance.

“Haz, you called me, remember?” Normally I would’ve been embarrassed calling him anything but his name. But I’ve done this enough times to know, in the morning, he won’t remember any of the words exchanged tonight.

It took nearly an hour to get Harry back to my dorm room. Our new personal best. It’s not that I live far from the frat house, it’s more the process of getting Harry here. The trip usually goes something like, helping Harry stumble to the car, pulling over at every traffic light so Harry can throw up, finally making it to his apartment (which is past my own apartment), Harry begging me to help him to his front door, Harry realizing he “forgot” his keys, Harry asking if he can just crash at my place instead, me driving Harry back to my apartment, helping Harry stumble into my dorm.

It took about the third time of this routine being repeated for me to realize the coincidence of Harry forgetting his keys every time he went out, got shit faced, and called me to come pick him up, wasn’t so much a coincidence. And even though it was the same thing every time, I never skipped the step of driving to his apartment, because I knew it meant he’d have to verbally ask me if he could stay with me. And in some sick way, I got off to hearing his lips form those words. It was something so small, but something that meant so much to me. And he knew that. Drunk or not. I knew what the morning would bring, but for the night, I’d listen to Harry’s slow, peaceful breathing as he slept.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Harry attempting to tip-toe around, collecting his things before I’d wake up. And just like every other morning, I lay perfectly still, letting silent tears hit the pillow, while I listen to the boy I love try to pretend he was never here.

LATER ON CAMPUS

“Hey (Y/N), what did I miss in class today?” I swiveled around in the library chair to face the person who was speaking to me.

Before even facing him, I recognized the voice as a kid from my Biology class, who also happened to be from my hometown. We weren’t necessarily friends, but we engaged in small talk every once in a while. Although I knew who it was before I turned around, I didn’t expect Harry to be standing there with him.

“Oh, uh, not too much.” I focused as hard as I could on my classmate to keep from looking over at Harry. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I was too embarrassed to look at him. “I can send them to you if you want.”

“Sick! Can you email them to me right now, so I can print them right quick?” I wanted badly to make up some excuse for why I just had to leave and send the notes later, so I could get far far away from Harry. But when I opened my mouth, “Sure” is all that came out.

The guy sat at the computer across from me, and Harry sat down next to him. I fixed my eyes on the computer screen and tried to steady my shaky hands enough to hurriedly send the notes. All the while Harry continued to stare.

As soon as the notes were sent, I logged off the computer and packed up my things. In order to get out of the library I had to pass Harry and the guy, and it was just my luck that the guy had gotten up to go print. As I passed Harry, he grabbed my wrist stopping me. I finally looked into his green eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare like he had already been doing.

“What?” I asked getting uncomfortable with the intensity he was looking at me with. He just shrugged in response.

Once Harry noticed his friend walking back to the computer, he quickly released my wrist, and turned around, as if nothing had ever happened.

Things have been this way with Harry since I met him. Since the day I became his. He knew I had a crush on him, and it gave him some sort of ego trip. Even though he knew I already wanted him, he wanted to make sure it would stay that way. So, whenever he felt like I wasn’t paying him enough attention, or he thought my yearning for him was slipping away, he’d throw me a bone to keep me begging. Initially I made the mistake of thinking this meant that by some chance, he wanted me the same way, but he proved time and time again (through his actions and his words), this wasn’t the case.

And after months of taking whatever treatment Harry would give me. I finally snapped. It happened one night at a party. I was drinking, and I didn’t know he’d be there. I spent the night avoiding him. I was afraid of what drunk me may say or do once I got around him. When he entered a room, suddenly I had somewhere else to be. When he needed another drink from the kitchen, suddenly I wasn’t thirsty anymore. When he wanted to join on the beer pong table, suddenly I was bored of the game. And Harry noticed.

I was on the second floor of the house on my own, exhausted from dodging Harry all night. I leaned my back against the wall of the hall after the stairs reminded me just how buzzed I really was. I guess Harry spotted me heading up stairs because I heard footsteps on the stairs, before he appeared at the top of them. Without saying anything, Harry glanced over his shoulder, before walking and standing directly in front of me. He put an arm up on either side of my head, trapping me between him and the wall.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” he said too casually for our position. “Are you mad at me or something?” This took me by surprise.

“What?”

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.” Again, his tone was way too casual for the things he was saying. But honestly, that’s always how Harry played it.

“You mean living my life? Enjoying the party? Not worshiping the ground you walk on?” Harry’s only response was a smirk. That’s when I started getting angry. “Look I’m too drunk to even be having this conversation with you right now Haz, so can we ju-“

“What’d you just call me?” Harry questioned raising an eyebrow at me. I froze. I was so drunk and emotional that I had accidentally let it slip. But upon processing the look on Harry’s face as something almost resembling distain, my embarrassment turned to pure anger.

“What do you want from me Harry?!” anger was thick in my voice as I pushed him backwards further from me.

“What are you talki-“

“No. Don’t you dare do that! Don’t act like you’re clueless. Like-like you haven’t been playing games with me since we met!” He said nothing. Instead he just stood staring at me. An emotionless expression painted across that beautiful face.

I wanted to stay angry. I wanted the fire burning inside of me to push me to finally walking away from this toxic man. But seeing that there was truly nothing there, the anger fizzled out to simple exhaustion.

“Look, we both know you know how I feel about you. And we both know you don’t feel the same way. But you play with my head. You flirt with me just long enough to wrap me around your finger. And then silence. Just like I never existed. That is until your hold on me starts unraveling again. It’s just some big twisted game for you. It’s like when you can’t have my attention, you suddenly want it.”

“It’s no-“

“I’m not done. For once in the history of whatever the fuck this thing with us is, it’s my turn to talk, and your turn to just listen. And I want you to listen good, because this is the only time I’m ever going to say.” I waited for some sign from Harry to let me know he was really paying attention.

He nodded so I continued.

“I can’t keep being a pawn in your torturous game Harry. It’s not fair to me. You’re breaking me apart and you don’t even care. The thing that hurts the most Harry,” I fought the tears for as long as I could, but the alcohol made it nearly impossible “is the fact that I know I could make you so happy. I would do everything in my power to give you the world. Hell, I basically already do. But you’re so blinded by “not wanting to be with me” that you don’t even realize how good I am for you. How good I am to you. If you stop telling yourself you’re not allowed to love me, I guarantee I’d make you fall. But if that’s not what you want. If you really, truly don’t even want to give me a chance, I’m done. I’ll have to walk away before you finish draining what little of me, I have left. And if that’s what it comes to, I’m begging you, please just let me go. No more games.”

Harry just stood and, like he so often did, stared. Blank. I felt like I was frozen in that moment and all the air had been sucked from the room. Unfortunately, I could feel myself began to sober up as I stood in anticipation of Harry’s response. I wished like hell I was still drunk, because maybe it would’ve hurt less when Harry finally spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he began backing away back towards the stairs. “I’ll leave you alone.” And with that he spun on his heels and trotted back down to the party.

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

[wandas-sunshine]

Strike Three

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Your first mistake was telling your family that you were seeing someone when you were just as single as ever. Your second mistake was asking Pietro to fake a relationship to keep your family off your back. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a mistake.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

You didn’t have the best track record with relationships, you knew that. Even if you didn’t know, your family would have made damn sure to inform you. You knew they only fussed so much because they loved you, because they wanted the best for you. But they were such a headache sometimes.

You were going bonkers now. Your mother was becoming overbearing with her insistence that you needed to hurry up and settle down, and your sister was positive that she could handle the whole thing for you. She herself was engaged, so your mom agreed that she probably knew how to steer you back down the proper path.

And maybe it was the exhaustion of hearing them try to arrange a good relationship for you, or maybe the panic of listening to your sister talk about her new coworker (who was a very impressive man, don’t you know?), but for some reason, you went and said something so painfully stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

That was nearly a month ago, and your entire family was pestering you for more information. You felt bad avoiding their calls, but you were bluffing and you had barely gotten out of that conversation alive. Your sister was bringing her fiance to Christmas, so of course that meant you were expected to bring someone as well.

Avoiding conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend was growing difficult. You’d been holding out hope that you would find someone by the time the holidays rolled around, but no luck. A real boyfriend would have been ideal, but your frantic attempts at finding someone to play the part also yielded no success.

You had of course contemplated faking a breakup, but that would only further their idea that you couldn’t handle your own love life. You had dug a hole that you just couldn’t climb out of.

So with one week to your family’s Christmas gathering, you were sitting on your best friend’s bed with your head in your hands.

“I am so royally screwed, Wanda. Stevie is going to force me to go out with some accountant or one of Adam’s firefighter friends, and my mom’s gonna make me marry him. Then what?” You wailed. She laughed, finally looking up from her phone.

“Who’s dating an accountant?” Pietro’s voice made your complaints die on your tongue. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With him standing there having heard about your pathetic predicament, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N) apparently. If they don’t find a date to Christmas with their family.” Wanda answered him. You groaned again. “They told everyone that they have a boyfriend, and now they have nobody to show.”

“I’ll do it.” He offered so nonchalantly that it took a second to process. Then you’d sat up so fast that you got dizzy.

“For real? You’ll do it?” You clasped your hands together in a silent plea, and Pietro shrugged.

“Why not. Text me the details,” He left you shouting your appreciation after him as he made his way back to his own bedroom.

A week passed by, and you had confirmed your plus one. You kept the information you shared minimal, just giving his name and saying that you hadn’t wanted to say anything until you were sure he’d be able to come. You were nervous about the whole thing, a whole list of things that could go wrong playing on an endless loop in your head as you tapped against your steering wheel.

A few moments passed before he finally came out with his suitcase in hand. Three nights at your parents home with your sister, and your friend who you’d somehow coerced into pretending to date you seemed like a nightmare. But Pietro’s presence was calming. He sat his bag in the back and settled into the passenger seat. He had the brightest smile on his face.

He buckled in and sorted out the music as you started on the drive back to your childhood home. The quiet between the two of you lasted a while before he broke it.

“So what’s our story, cupcake?” He smirked and turned the music down, looking over as you spared him a confused glance.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, you know. How we met, how we got together. The story we’re gonna tell our kids one day.” Your stomach flipped. What were you getting yourself into?

“Um, I guess we met through Wanda,” You started, keeping your eyes on the road and gripping the steering wheel tightly so you didn’t have to focus on how strange the whole conversation felt.

“And I saved you from some drunk creep at a party,” He started. “I took you to iHop-”

“And we’ve been together ever since!” You finished with a laugh. It was mostly true, everything he mentioned had happened, just not exactly like that. It made you feel a little better knowing that you weren’t lying to your family, just...rearranging the truth.

“See, baby, we’re gonna be just fine,” The sound of the pet name flustered you much more than you were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Okay. But if we’re gonna make it, there’s gotta be rules.” You warned him. He motioned for you to go on. “Rule number 1; No saying I Love You. Rule Number 2; No kissing. Not under any circumstances. And Rule Number 3; No catching feelings.”

“Easy peasy,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why you were so paranoid. There was no way he was going to let them set you up with one of their awful picks for you. No, you deserved better than that. So he’d follow your rules, and he’d save the day if it killed him.

The rest of the drive consisted of him playing music, and the two of you joking around like nothing was any different than it had been from the beginning. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stuttered when he’d jokingly call you by those stupid affectionate names, or the way your cheeks burned under his attention. The tension and worry lingered, thinly veiled by his stupid knock knock hokes and classic rock.

It was mid afternoon by the time you pulled into your parents driveway. You were helping Pietro unload the boatload of presents you’d brought along for your family when your older sister came racing out of the house. She squealed and bundled you up into a tight hug like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“You brought a boy,” She noted as she stepped back, hugging herself against the cold. You bit your lip and nodded a little.

“Stevie, this is Pietro. Pietro, my big sister Stevie.” You stepped back and glanced at Pietro. He had the most dazzling smile on his lips, one that made your stomach flutter. And Stevie certainly seemed charmed enough.

“So you really do have a boyfriend. I was beginning to think he was fake,” She teased. You and Pietro shared a look and he seemed to be barely stifling his laughter. You glared, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. “They barely told us anything about you. I can see why they were keeping you a secret, if I didn’t have Adam I’d be stealing you away.”

“Well, good thing we’re here for a couple of days. You guys can get to know everything about each other. But can we pretty please get this stuff inside before it gets nasty out here?” You begged, readjusting the armful of gifts you’d grabbed. Pietro huffed and took them easily.

“I can get them, don’t worry.” He insisted. You hesitated a little but he was already following your sister inside. So you grabbed your bag from the back and closed the car up to join them inside.

Once you walked in, you were met by the smell of baked goods wafting out the door. You kicked your shoes off and set your bag down by the stairs. Your family had already stolen your boyfriend- fake boyfriend- by the time you slipped into the kitchen.

“Your favorite kid just got home, but all you care about is the new boyfriend, huh?” You teased, sliding up to hug your dad, then your mom. Pietro sort of liked the way it sounded when you said that. Boyfriend. He knew he wasn’t really the boyfriend, but it was a nice thought.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome,” Your mom chided, giving your shoulders a squeeze. Your face flared hot and you glanced at Pietro.

“Don’t worry about me. Your family is great, they’re already trying to feed me.” He smirked. Truthfully he seemed oddly comfortable in the role, but you were glad he wasn’t freaking out. Of course for the sake of not having to date someone with a stick up their ass. But the fact that he was giving you his usual laid-back grin didn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you two go up to your room and get settled in. Dinner will be done soon. (Y/N), your old room is all set up for you two.” Your mom cooed, turning back to the food she was working on. You glanced towards the stairs.

“He’s sleeping in my room? With me?” You asked, glancing between faces. You were used to sharing a room with your sister on the holidays and whatever guys you brought along were usually put into her old room. You supposed that changed now that she was properly engaged.

“Well duh. Adam’s sleeping in my room when he gets here.” Stevie answered. You gave a tiny nod. Made sense. You grabbed your bags and nodded for Pietro to follow you upstairs. He gave a smile to your family and let you lead the way to your bedroom.

Once the door was shut, you groaned and leaned back against it. Once again you were asking yourself the same question. Just what had you gotten yourself into. The idea of pretending to be in love with Pietro was one thing. But now you’d be sleeping in the same probably too-small bed for three nights. That must have been crossing some sort of line. You could sleep on the floor. It was hardwood but you were pretty sure you’d survive it. Or maybe you could take turns.

“Piet, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think they’d put us in here together.” You sighed. Pietro was too busy perusing your room to really think too much of it. There were still a few pictures decorating the back of the door of you and your family and friends. A couple band posters were left up, and there was a stack of books in the corner. “But now that Stevie and Adam are actually engaged...I’m sorry.”

“Chill, it’s no big deal.” He sat at the edge of your bed and you nodded. It was nice seeing him settle so easily into a space that used to be strictly yours. You supposed it wasn’t so bad to share it with him.

The evening passed much faster than you had expected. The worst part was dinner. Your future brother-in-law had shown up which helped to ease some of the tension. But nevertheless your family was all over Pietro. He reached over and gave your hand a squeeze as you sat down, and you knew he’d never let you down.

Throughout the meal, he complimented your mom’s cooking. He talked about his classes, and about being on the track and field team at his college. Within minutes he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

The most startling part was just the way he talked about you. The way he’d just look at you for so long that it would make your throat go dry, or the way he’d beam when asked about the two of you.

“I just knew when I first saw them that no one else could compare. I love them,” He’d said. And he’d looked at you like he never wanted to look away. Your stomach did somersaults and you’d focused on the mashed potatoes you were poking at.

Strike one.

Once dinner had come to a close, you and your sister worked at clearing the table. Your mom ushered the boys towards the living room to relax while the three of you worked on cleanup. You carried an armful of dishes into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter and drawing up some dish water, but not before flashing Pietro an apologetic smile. He just winked and slipped away.

You stared into the sink, watching the suds as they foamed up. Maybe asking Pietro along was a bad idea. Your dad was becoming pretty buddy-buddy with him, and your mother seemed to adore him already. Your fake breakup was probably going to be harder for them than it was for you.

“So,” Stevie set a last stack of dishes on the counter and smirked. “Pietro is really something, huh?”

You chewed on your lip, giving your full attention to the dishes you were scrubbing clean.

“He’s sweet. And he seems pretty in love with you,” Your mom added. And just like that your heart was leaping back into your throat. Who knew Pietro Maximoff was such a good actor? And who knew you cared so much?

“Yeah, he’s pretty great isn’t he?” You smiled, a sick sort of despair clogging in your chest. “Too good to be true,”

With the three of you working together, the cleaning went by in a jiffy. Soon enough you were settling in the living room with the others. You sat on the couch beside Pietro as they all continued their discussion.

You tried not to tense up as he pulled you closer by your waist without so much as a glance. You slowly relaxed and snuggled even closer. Your head rested against his chest like it was meant to be there, and your arm found its way around him. He was warm, that was all, and he smelled nice...You were selling it, nothing more. Just selling it, even as his fingers moved to play with your hair.

“It’s getting late. You four had a long day, we should all get some rest.” Your dad decided. And with the way you were half asleep in Pietro’s arms, you couldn’t argue.

He carefully maneuvered you off of him so he could stand up. You weren’t sure when the two of you had started holding hands, but yours was clutched firmly in his, fingers intertwined as he pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon baby, you’re sleepy.” He mumbled. You nodded and said your goodnights to everyone before letting him lead you up the stairs. You slipped into your room and dug through your bag for your sleep clothes. Once you’d pulled them out you glanced up at Pietro. He chuckled and turned his back.

Once the both of you had changed, you laid yourself down, watching and waiting for Pietro to join you. The silence as he climbed into the bed was heavy, both of you deep in your thoughts and being exceptionally careful not to cross any lines or take up too much space. You were hyper aware of every breath you took, and of every miniscule brush of skin.

You did not have feelings for him. Sure he was handsome, and considerate. Not to mention how funny he was, and the way he fit in with your family better than anyone else you’d brought home. But it was cliche. He was your best friend’s brother. He was Pietro for fucks sake. Falling for him just wasn’t in the cards.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or moving a muscle all night, but you woke up in a mess of tangled limbs. He’d slung his arm around your waist and nestled into your chest, and you had flipped your leg over his. He was warm, and you could feel his breath tickling against your neck. That alone had your heart rate flying through the roof.

You were careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed. He shifted and you froze until you were sure he’d fallen back into his deep slumber. You took a moment, just admiring him all sweet and conked out, his hair a mess and a tiny bit of drool slipping past his lips. Gross. But adorable.

You got ready for the rest of the day and slipped downstairs to find your mom and sister back in the kitchen working on a breakfast spread. You leaned against the door. You could hear Adam and your dad chatting from the living room.

“Want a hand?” You asked. Your mom smiled at you.

“We didn’t want to bother you guys. Where’s the other lovebird?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was too late to hide your smile.

“Still sleeping. I thought I’d let him catch a little extra shut eye.” You explained, moving to help set the table while they cooked. Nobody said much after that, just talking about all of the family gossip you’d missed out on while you were away.

Meanwhile, your mind was drifting to all the ways you could make this up to Pietro. You didn’t have the opportunity to think much on it as he came down the stairs.

He was still tired, you could tell. But his hair was wet from a shower, and he’d changed into a charmingly ugly sweater that clashed with his usual vibes. It was endearing, you couldn’t deny that. He moved to stand by you, arm wrapping around your waist and his hand landing on your hip.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” You teased. He laughed quietly, but then he pouted.

“You left me.” You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“You just looked so peaceful. Plus I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet.” You dodged away from him as he tried to grab at you, giggling and stealing away into the kitchen again to grab the platter of pancakes. Your mom and Stevie shared a knowing look that you disregarded.

Breakfast, much like dinner, had gone without a hitch. The two of you bantered the way you always did. He stole a bite from your plate, and you took a drink from his cup in retaliation. As he finished eating, his hand found yours. You gave him a puzzled look, and he simply slotted his fingers in between yours.

The conversation lasted until everyone was finished. Then everyone was ushered to the living room for the gift opening. You and Pietro were still hand in hand when your mom stopped you in your tracks. You were about to question why when Pietro guided you to face him by your hips. Your hands pressed against his - rather firm - chest.

“Mistletoe,” He whispered. Your eyes flicked up, then back to his.You were suddenly very warm. You had rules, and this was seriously not fair. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Both of you were fairly willing to call that good. Stevie, however, was most certainly not.

“That’s pathetic. Give him a real one. It’s Christmas, (Y/N)!” She argued. You looked at her, then back only to find that he hadn’t looked away from you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s Christmas.” He half-teased, hoping to ease some of the building tension. You thought on it, considering shattering what was left of your rule into pieces. But before your flustered mind could come to any sort of decision, you were being kissed.

You curled your hands into the front of his sweater, and melted against his lips. They were softer than you’d expected, and the kiss was much less demanding than you had thought it would be. When you pulled away, he brushed his thumb over your jaw.

“Sorry,” He whispered. You shook your head, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. The urge to feel his lips against yours was a little too strong, and who knew what you’d do if he kept looking at you like that. You pressed your lips together like you could forget his taste.

“Don’t be.”

Strike two.

The gift exchange was exceptionally uneventful after the mistletoe ordeal. Your mind was still wading through the fog when your mom opened the last of the gifts. You were all about to sort everything out and pack your gifts with your things when Pietro spoke.

“Oh, I almost forgot something. Stay put.” He carefully freed himself from where you’d been leaning against him and headed for the stairs. You sat patiently, sharing curious looks around the room. You hadn’t talked about presents.

He only took a moment, coming back with a small box wrapped neatly in pale blue paper. You figured that was Wanda’s doing.

“Here. I don’t know if you’ll like it but…” He passed you the gift, and you smiled at him. You stared at the little box for a long moment before you finally took off the paper. You didn’t notice all the attention shifting to the two of you as you took the lid off.

“Oh my god, Pietro,” You gasped, your hand moving to cover your mouth. Inside was a stunning silver bracelet with several little charms on it. You carefully picked it up and worried each charm between your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t need to. Look, this one is for that iHop trip, remember? And this one is for the when Wanda introduced us at the beach. And this one is for the butterfly exhibit you made me take you to. Oh, and this is for this trip, see?” He rambled. Tears pricked at your eyes and you giggled. You were in so deep, and the bracelet must have cost him a fortune.

“Put it on me?” You looked up at him and he nodded. There was a pause as he took the bracelet from you and fastened it around your wrist. You admired it with a lovesick grin.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke firmly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Piet.” You slid your hand into his and he looked down at how nicely your hand fit into his. Like you were meant to be.

“I don’t want this to end,” He locked eyes with you again, praying that you really understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to build up the confidence to confess all over again if you didn’t. But he didn’t need to worry about that. You lifted your hand to cup his cheek.

“Then I’m yours forever, Maximoff.”

Strike three.

And there was so much to talk about, but in that moment none of it mattered. Not when the pretending was finally over, and you were having the best Christmas of your entire life.

[chiliiscereal]

So my friend has been on and off lately.

I decided to write this for me cause I needed it.

Requests are open!

Chosen last

Summary:

Readers friends only invite them to things if they have no one else to go with. Reader keeps their mouth shut about it and just guesses that this is how friendship works. One day they meet the turtles and April, and for once they’re not chosen last.

Pairing: platonic turtles x reader

(Implied female reader but I’ll do my best to avoid pronouns! Sorry if a she/her slips out)

“I couldn’t find anyone else to go with me so do you want to tag along?”

“I had a plus one and everyone else was busy.”

“No one else can make it and I don’t want to be lonely. Wanna go with me?”

“Sorry I guess I forgot to invite you!”

“What do you mean you were there? I could have sworn you were somewhere else... huh poor memory I guess.”

“Sorry! There’s no room for you to come with! Next time for sure though!”

All of those were common things you’d heard before.

You weren’t exactly sure if it was a normal thing in friendships. It must be since no one else mentioned it.

Still, it hurt that you weren’t prioritized. You were always the last thought. Last minute.

And you always said yes.

Someone needs you to be their plus one for the dance so they don’t look bad?

There you are.

Someone needs a wingman for this boy they like?

You’re already on your way.

It’s not that you minded.

You just wanted to be... appreciated.

You just wanted them to see you.

Maybe they would if you kept trying.

Maybe they would if you made them a homemade gift for each birthday.

Maybe they would if you always answered back their texts right away.

You thought you needed to earn the right to be appreciated.

You realized how wrong you were when you met the turtles.

————

You brought your jacket closer around your body, shivering.

Of course you had to walk home! Alone! In the dark! In the RAIN!

Apparently it was too much to ask for a ride home after hanging out. There wasn’t enough room in the car!

Of course.

Just like every other time, asking to come along was too much.

You shivered again as rain dripped down your back.

“This sucks.” You groaned.

You eyed every dark alley way. You’d read enough fanfiction to expect some cringey creepy man to come out and attack you.

But what DID attack you was completely unexpected.

“LOOK OUT!” A voice shouted.

You didn’t even have time to flinch before something landed on top of you. The weight of it brought you to the ground with a shriek.

“Sorry about that!”

That wasn’t a ‘something’ but a someone!

They scrambled off you quickly.

You stood up and whipped around, rubbing your aching head. “What the hell were you doing?! Do you do parkour on the rooftops or something?!”

Ugh, today just wasn’t your day.

Finally, you glanced up.

They... they clearly weren’t a human.

Green skin...

Orange dots?

A... a shell??

And an orange mask.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

The creature gave you a sheepish grin. “Umm... hey! Yeah... maybe.. possibly... I was doing parkour on the roof...?” He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the sky, a blush forming across his face. “I was on my way... my way to the comic con!”

He must be looking for a way to leave.

You weren’t ready for that though. You still needed to know what he was! And possibly his name!

You inched closer, holding your phone closer. Just in case. “What... what exactly are you?”

His eyes were on the floor now, as if your words had made him... upset.

“Sorry if that offended you!” You responded immediately. Ugh why did you word it like that? You didn’t mean it as if you thought he was a monster! “I just... I’ve had a really confusing night, my mouth runs faster than my brain, and I just got body slammed into the cement!” You rubbed the back of your head again.

He seemed much more satisfied with this answer. “Well... I don’t think you’d believe me...”

You eyed him up and down. “Dude, I think just looking at you would be enough for me to believe you.”

He let out a small laugh. “So ummm... yeah. I’m a turtle?”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think I see that.”

Well this was a strange turn of conversation.

Why not?

It’s New York after all.

He shuffled nervously. “People aren’t really supposed to know about it.”

You waved him off. “Psh, I don’t have anyone that would want to hear it or believe me anyway.” You stepped closer, your grip on your phone loosening. “Honestly, that’s pretty cool! I didn’t know people like you existed!”

It hurt but it was true.

Your friends would think you were making stuff up for attention.

“MIKEY!”

The new voice cause you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Three people, just like this guy, landed by his side.

One with a red mask and build like a tank.

Another with a blue mask and strange yellow stripes.

The last one had a purple mask and a staff of some kind.

“Are you okay, little man?” The red one asked worriedly. “You just took a huge fall!”

“I swear you’re gonna be feeling that a week from now.” The blue one snorted, resting his SWORD on his shoulder like it was a baseball bat.

“I estimate it’ll be closer to three weeks.” The purple one corrected, tapping a device on his wrist.

You stepped back.

There were more people like... Mikey? Was that his name?

Well, might as well find some way to get into this conversation. You weren’t gonna let the most interesting thing that ever happened to you slip away.

“You’re name’s Mikey?” You asked, the three surrounding the orange masked turtle jumping.

“Human!” The blue masked one shouted.

The large red one shoved Miley behind him. “Hi! Uh... we... we were just on our way to Comic-Con!”

“Guys-.” Mikey tried only to get Interrupted.

“Could you help us find our way?” The purple one joined, cutting him off.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice try. I already know you guys are turtles.”

“Dang it Mikey!” The blue one shoved Mikey. “You just gonna spill our secret to everyone you meet in New York?”

“She deserves to know!” Mikey squeaked. “I messed up a flip and body slammed her into the concrete!” He turned to you, eyes hopeful. “And... she didn’t seem scared of me!”

This stopped the other boys.

Mikey shoved them all away from him. “These are my brothers! Leo,” he pointed at the blue one, “Donnie,” the purple one, “and Raph!”

You waved awkwardly, eyes landing warily on the largest one.

These guys didn’t seem as sweet and trusting as Mikey.

Donnie was looking you up and down for any sign of a threat.

Leo has his sword out.

Raph has his tonfas ready in his fists.

Maybe it’d be better to just leave.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” You shook your head to further emphasize your point. “I was just walking home anyway. All of this...” you spread out your arms, “was a complete accident.”

Mikey gave you a toothy grin. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He turned to his skeptical brothers. “She seems nice! She could be just like April!”

You kicked at the ground sheepishly now that the attention was back to you. “You can just go and I won’t tell anyone.”

“We can’t just let you go.” Donnie scoffed.

For a split second, you thought they were going to kill you for finding out their secret. Or kidnap you. Something bad.

“Not with that whole situation.” He gestured to your forehead.

Curiously, you reached up and touched it.

Your fingers were wet with blood.

Go figure.

“No, it’s fine, really.” You assured them. “My apartment isn’t too far-.”

“Please, it’s fine.” Raph waved you off. “It’ll make up for this bonehead over here.” He loosely jabbed his thumb in Mikeys direction.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to say yes so badly.

“I don’t know, you probably got plans.” Leo shrugged, putting his sword away. “It’s a Friday afternoon, after all.”

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“No, I’m actually free.” You offered. “I actually don’t even have a medicine kit at my house-.”

“Alright let’s go!” Mikey grabbed your wrist excitedly and lead the way, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence.

————

You only meant to spend ten or fifteen minutes there, tops.

But after Donnie had your head taken care of Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to play a video game.

You couldn’t say no.

Then, after an hour of the Lou jitsu game, Leo wanted to know if you wanted to check out his sword.

You felt like you had to say yes.

It’s not every day you get to see a sword!

After accidentally getting portalled to New Jersey and FINALLY making your way back, Donnie wanted to know if he could borrow you.

He needed to fix his computer and he needed your smaller fingers to reach the back for him.

Saying no just wasn’t an option.

After almost exploding the poor piece of technology, Raph wanted to know if you knew April O’Neil.

You heard them mention her earlier but you didn’t know they meant THAT April. You’d seen her around before but never really talked to her. Who knew she’d be involved with mutants from the sewer?

He invited April to join them as well.

He thought some human company and someone who would make you feel more normal about the whole situation would make you more comfortable.

He was right.

April was AWESOME.

You hadn’t realized how loud and how fun she could be!

She talked to you about how she met the turtles and every little adventure they went on!

You hoped, secretly, that you could be a part of newer ones.

Eventually, the time came for you to leave.

You were sad of course, but you felt happier than you had in days.

You left with five new numbers in your contacts list and a baked green bean casserole from a rat.

Maybe you should get body slammed into the concrete more often.

————

“Wanna go to that party with me after school?” Your friend asked casually at the lunch table. “Dana couldn’t go with me and everyone else is busy. I need a plus one!”

You smiled as you responded to a meme Leo sent you, your friends words going in one ear and out the other.

“Y/n.” She asked again.

Still no response.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and straightened up. “What?”

“You and I are going to a party after school.” She informed you. “We should probably pick out our outfits right when it ends. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you but you can just walk-.”

“Oh,” you picked your phone up again, “sorry, I have plans.”

This got her to stop. “You have plans? But you never have plans?”

Your other friend snickered. “Yeah, you’re a hermit! You never go out or do anything!”

You blushed furiously. “I’m going to my friends house to watch a movie, okay? I’m not a hermit.”

“A friend, huh?” One of them rolled her eyes. “How come I’ve never heard of them before?”

“I just met them last month.” You picked at your shirt nervously. Why weren’t they happier for you?

“Them?” Another repeated, shocked. “You have more than one knew friend?”

“Yeah.” You straightened up a bit. “Them. They’re super nice but they don’t go to our school.”

The first one rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, think what you want. But I need you to sit with me and Jake at the park tomorrow so he can compare-.”

You didn’t even let her begin to finish her sentence. “I’m busy that day.”

“Again?” She gaped. “Seriously?”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” Another scoffed.

“Why is it so unbelievable that I’d be busy?” You glared at them, clutching your phone protectively. “You’re all busy all the time! Why can’t I be?”

They glanced at each other with knowing looks.

“Because you barely talk to anyone! No offense, but you can be really boring.” The one next to you shrugged. “What even is your friends name anyway? You’d have said their name if they were real.”

You felt your face heating up.

Boring?

Quiet?

“His name Mikey.” You grumbled. “And maybe I don’t talk because none of you give me a chance!”

“A boy?!” The one in front of you gasped. They didn’t even acknowledge any of your other words. “Please, how could you score a boy?”

“He’s probably really ugly, no offense y/n.” One chuckled as if she were joking.

You had enough. “You know, I’m feeling a little crowded. I’m gonna go sit somewhere else.”

“You don’t even have anyone to sit with! You’re a hermit, remember?” One girl called out to you.

“I do have someone to sit with.” You growled, heading for April’s table. You should have started sitting with her a long long LONG time ago.

“Alright, see you Monday I guess.” Was the reply.

The way they just blew it off... UGH. You wanted to punch something.

“Hey, what brings you to the cool kid table?” April grinned, shoving Dale over to make room. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your other friends?”

You managed to shove away the buzzing anger in your head, replacing your frown with a matching smile. “Nah, there’s not enough room for me AND their egos.”

April snorted, assuming you were joking. “Well there’s always room for you here!”

Those were words you’d waited too long to hear.

—————

You still saw your old friends and occasionally filled in for them when they needed an extra.

But you denied their offers more and more.

For once, you knew what it felt like to be prioritized.

“Hey we’re gonna watch a Lou Jitsu movie, wanna come?”

“I saw this glass painting trend online and I thought you’d want to come over and do it with me!”

“I heard this song and I thought you’d like it. Here’s the link!”

“Check our this hilarious meme!”

“Dale and I are gonna go to that shin dig. I don’t know if that’s you’re thing but you’re welcome to join us!”

What a refreshing change of pace

Let me know if I should make a part two!

[keewriting]

Cove x MC - One Shot #1

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

The crescendo of rain hitting your window woke you from a peaceful slumber. It didn’t often rain this hard in Sunset Bird, especially not during the summer. You felt a pang of disappointment that your typical summer pastimes were not viable on a day like this.

You rolled groggily out of bed and sighed, wondering what Cove thought of the unfortunate weather situation. Knowing him, he’d be even more bummed than you — then it hit you! The list!

You scrambled over to your messy desk and opened the biggest drawer, which you affectionately called the “junk drawer.” This was the home to everything of value that didn’t have a specific place in your room. The actual value of the items in the junk drawer was pretty questionable. From old gaming devices and batteries, to loose papers that could maybe be useful someday.

With everything shoved out of the way, you uncovered the beacon of hope for this gloomy day. A small spiral notebook with a shiny turquoise cover, speckled in tiny yellow stars. You and Cove started using this notebook on rainy days for games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. There were years of games in this notebook, nearly every page filled with games and doodles.

You sighed wistfully as you turned the pages and reminisced about each game. Your first ever hangman game with Cove occurred on a particularly hot day. Yet, playing paper-based games became a rainy day tradition for you two. You went out and bought a special notebook just to keep them all in one place.

During your first hangman game with Cove, he settled on the phrase "you are cute." You couldn’t decide if that was the most Cove-like thing he’d done or if it was boldly uncharacteristic. You blushed at the memory and smiled gently.

Remembering your mission, you snapped out of the Cove-induced trance. You began flipping pages faster until you landed on one containing a list. On the last rainy day you and Cove suffered through, he had the idea to make a list of things you two could do to pass the time. It seemed he could only handle so many games of hangman and tic-tac-toe.

You each took turns writing something you would want to do on a rainy day. There were even corresponding doodles scattered on the page to illustrate each activity. The stark difference between your handwriting compared to Cove’s stood out to you today. His was relatively neat compared to your chicken scratch.

Rather than continuing to dwell on your poor penmanship, you looked closer at the items on the list. There were a total of 14 entries. You skimmed past each one with a focused scowl on your face until you landed on number 12: ear piercing. This was one of your suggestions, and one that didn’t come easily. You went back and forth in your head before writing this one. Considering how you would ask your moms for permission, what other people would think, and how Cove would feel about it. At the time of writing it down Cove seemed on board, for you at least. He was apprehensive about getting one himself, preferring to avoid the conversation with his dad.

A sly smile formed across your face. You decided that at 13 you were old enough to take control of your own body, regardless of what your moms would think. You emphatically shut the notebook and hopped up from the desk chair that you had slumped into earlier.

With a newfound energy you began quickly getting ready. You pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and rummaged through your closet, looking for your yellow raincoat and rainboots. As cliche as they were, you quite enjoyed the look. You could really use the brightness on such a cloudy day. You remembered to shove the small notebook in your back pocket.

You bounded down the stairs and out the door, calling out your goodbyes to whoever was still in the house. You paused under the awning to pull your hood over your head before walking carefully across to Cove’s house. The rain was still coming down hard and the street was slick with rain. With how clumsy you were you couldn’t afford to rush over and slip on a puddle.

Once you reached the Holden’s door you removed your hood and knocked confidently. Mr. Holden appeared momentarily to open the door, his face lit up when he saw you standing there.

Mr. Holden: Y/N! Hey, buddy. How are ya? Come on in!

You stepped inside with a smile and began wiping your feet vigorously on the door mat.

Y/N: Good morning, Mr. Holden. Is Cove around?

Mr. Holden: Sure is, he's surely tucked up in his room still. Why don’t you leave your boots and coat here and you can go wake him up.

You grinned at the thought as you pulled your coat off to give it to Mr. Holden. You slipped off your boots and thanked him as you tip-toed over to Cove’s bedroom door. You considered your options, truly unsure of what he could be up to behind closed doors. After some quick deliberation, you opted for loudly barging in while singing his name.

Without another moment of hesitation, you turned the knob and in a sing-songy voice, called out to him

Y/N: CoooOOoooove, rise and shine!

Cove’s sleepy figure stirred gently at the sound of your voice. He blinked open his eyes slowly and rubbed his hands through his seafoam green locks as you stood over him beaming. Finally, he uttered his first words of the day.

Cove: Y/N? What are you doing here so early?

You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to make Cove blush and start to sit up.

Y/N: Do you hear that? Outside?

Cove paused for a second before looking past you out his window. His expression dropped and he groaned.

Cove: Rain…

You scooted closer and crouched so your faces were level. You smiled deviously and noted how his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened.

Y/N: Cove, today we will fulfil our destiny.

Before he could utter a word, you shifted to retrieve the crumpled notebook from your back pocket. Cove slid up more, clearly intrigued. You turned to the right page and faced it towards Cove while pointing decidedly to number 10.

Cove: Ear piercing… oh yeah! You want to do that one today?

You nodded enthusiastically, hoping Cove would still be on board for this idea. You knew it was a one-sided activity, but you could use his support since it would be your first piercing.

Cove: The mall has a piercing booth, right? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?

Y/N: The mall is exactly what I had in mind!

Cove: Cool. So, how are we getting there?

For the first time since early morning, you felt defeated. Your shoulders slumped and you looked down at your hands. At 13, you might be old enough to get a needle through your ear, but you still couldn’t operate a vehicle. The mall was also too far to walk to, you remembered the time Kyra drove you all to the mall for a visit. Noticing how down you became, Cove spoke.

Cove: I could… ask my dad to drive us there. He isn’t working today. I’m sure he’d say yes.

You instantly perked up and turned to Cove with an open-mouthed smile.

Y/N: Really? Really. Really? Would you?

Cove chuckled and nodded. You wrapped around him with a tight hug the instant his head jerked upward. Your face planted on his chest. You exhaled loudly as you listened to his rushed heartbeat. After you pulled away, Cove got up and smiled nervously, flustered and ready to get the day going. You sat patiently on the bed while Cove got ready and asked his dad about driving you both to the mall.

Once he returned to his bedroom, he wordlessly flashed you a smile and thumbs-up combo. You followed him out to the front door where his dad was waiting with your coat. You accepted the coat and slipped on your boots. Cove had no rain protection, but you decided to stay quiet, knowing he preferred minimal layers.

You all headed out the door into Mr. Holden’s car. Cove sat in the backseat with you even though he typically preferred to ride shotgun. You felt special that he would rather keep you company. A startling question from Mr. Holden interrupted your pleasant thoughts.

Mr. Holden: I hear you plan on getting an ear piercing today, Y/N. Is that right?

Your mouth fell agape and you looked over to Cove, who upon noticing your expression became concerned. You realized you didn’t tell Cove about your plans to keep the ear piercing a secret from your moms. Now that Mr. Holden knew, it was almost certain he would casually bring it up to your moms. Not willing to reveal your sneaky plans, you spoke confidently.

Y/N: Yep! I’ve been wanting one for a while.

Mr. Holden: Hey, that’s great. I bet it’ll look really cool.

You looked over at Cove and smiled at him, hoping to relieve any confusion or concern. He returned the smile, but still appeared deep in thought. The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Mr. Holden dropped the two of you off and notified you of his return in 3 hours.

As soon as you were alone, standing at the entrance of the mall, Cove turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You looked up at him sheepishly and noticed his shrewd expression.

Cove: What was that about? That face? Should I not have told dad about the piercing?

Cove’s perceptiveness toward all your quirks was a blessing and a curse. The smallest look on your face could be a dead giveaway to him. You knew he would feel guilty for ruining your plan, but there was no point in trying to hide it from him.

Y/N: I didn’t get permission from my moms to get a piercing.

His eyes widened as his arms dropped to his sides.

Cove: Oh my God, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry. Are you going to be in a lot of trouble? I don’t want you grounded all summer. We won’t be able to hang out as much. Maybe we should get smoothies and tell everyone it was a joke—

You cut off his rambling, not wanting him to tire himself out so early. Although you appreciated his concern, especially regarding your ability to spend time together.

Y/N: It’s okay, Cove. Really. I totally forgot to mention it when I told you this morning because I was so excited. They would have to find out somehow, right?

Cove: I guess. Can I make it up to you, though? I’ll buy you a smoothie anyway.

Y/N: Well, I could never say no to a smoothie from Cove Holden.

You smiled at each other and continued into the mall. You walked with purpose toward the piercing booth. Your stomach was turning with eagerness and nerves. Cove’s long strides matched perfectly with your short but quick paces. He looked at you with a comforting smile as you closed in on the booth.

The piercer at the booth was an older teen with an assortment of piercings on their own face and ears. They chewed gum loudly as they took down your information and set you up on the cold, hard piercing chair. While they put on gloves and prepared the tools, Cove inched closer to stand next to you.

Cove: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Nervous, excited... very rebellious.

Cove hummed in acknowledgment. You felt his hand brush the hair behind your ear. He gently pinched the now exposed top of your ear. You felt goosebumps travel across your skin at the touch.

Cove: This is where you want it, right? What was it called again… a helix?

You felt your face get hot, pleased that he remembered, and surprised that he was so casually touching you. You managed a quiet “mhm” before the piercer sauntered over to you.

Piercer: Alright, kid. Where do you want it?

Cove shifted out of the way as you pointed to where he had touched. You explained to the piercer that you wanted a simple helix on your right ear. As the piercer was marking your ear, you looked at Cove with pleading eyes.

Y/N: Cove, can I hold your hand?

A distinct blush spread across his cheeks but he didn’t hesitate to position himself next to you on your left side. He offered you his hand and tried to smile reassuringly. You took it gratefully and practiced different levels of squeeze pressure. You didn’t want to accidentally hurt Cove. His hand was hot and familiarly comforting.

Piercer: Ready?

You looked straight ahead and tensed up. You felt your heart pounding in your throat, annoyed that you were so nervous about something you definitely wanted to do. You felt Cove’s eyes on you, a reassurance that he would always be there for you.

Y/N: Go for it.

The piercer lined up the needle and stuck it through your ear in one quick motion. The pain was sharp and quick. You winced and instinctively tightened your grip on Cove’s hand. He squeezed back gently and you could hear a slight sympathetic groan escape his throat. A throbbing soreness replaced the initial sharp pain. You sighed as the piercer removed the needle and inserted a simple silver hoop.

Cove: Y/N? Are you okay? How did it feel?

You looked up at Cove and met his concerned gaze. Without letting go of his hand, you offered a small smile.

Y/N: It definitely hurts. But having this helped wonders.

You lifted his hand and gestured to it with your eyes. His smile reflected a mixed sense of pride, embarrassment, and relief.

Cove: I’m glad… Here, let me get a better look at it.

With your hands still intertwined, he helped you hop off the piercing chair. You faced him and turned your head to the side so he could see the piercing.

Y/N: How does it look?

Cove smiled widely with eyes bright.

Cove: I like it. You look amazing, Y/N.

Although Cove instantly seemed to regret his phrasing, you felt thrilled. Knowing that Cove was into it made facing your moms later seem a little less daunting. You hoped he could be there to help back up your decision.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. And thanks for being my stress ball.

Cove: Anytime. How about that smoothie I promised?

You bounced excitedly with a loud “Woo!” You finished the transaction with the piercer and listened to their spiel about piercing care. Soon you were off to the smoothie stand with Cove.

Y/N: Do you know what combo you’re going to get? Same as last time?

Cove hummed thoughtfully. You wondered if he was also remembering the time you stole a sip from his smoothie. He never ended up finishing it after that. You felt a pang of guilt and decided you would let him keep the smoothie to himself.

Cove: I think I’d like to mix it up. There were so many great options to choose from.

Y/N: Right?! I would love it if I could just add all of the fruit and berries. Make a super smoothie concoction.

Cove scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. You chuckled at his reaction and gently nudged his arm. He nudged right back with a warm smile planted on his face.

You each placed your order with the smoothie attendant. Cove paid for both. You felt appreciative of the gesture, knowing he wanted to make you feel better about your foiled plan. His consideration for your feelings made you feel warm inside, even though you didn’t blame him at all for the mishap.

Cove picked up both smoothies and handed you your order with a smile. As you continued your walk through the mall, you took a long, deep sip and then exhaled loudly.

Y/N: That really hit the spot! Thanks, Cove.

Cove simply nodded as he continued to sip at his smoothie. For a second you thought his lips wouldn't move from the straw for the rest of the trip, not willing to risk losing a drop to your sneaky mouth. But then, he broke free and smiled with a wince.

Cove: Brain freeze.

You burst out laughing, relieved that he would actually be available to talk to you.

Y/N: I know a trick for getting rid of a brain freeze! Here, look at me.

Cove faced you quizzically. You opened wide, turned your face upward, and pressed your tongue up to the roof of your mouth. His gaze dropped to your mouth while his own mouth fell open. An obvious blush spread across his face and he nodded. You wondered if seeing the underside of your tongue was a little too scandalous for Cove. You closed your mouth into a cheeky smile.

Y/N: Try it. I promise it works.

Cove turned away from you and tried your trick with his mouth firmly shut. He sighed in relief and immediately took another sip of his smoothie. That earned another laugh from you. He smiled at you sweetly with a mouthful of smoothie.

The walk continued pleasantly for a few minutes. You laughed, and teased, and joked with each other comfortably. You both reminisced about the last mall trip you had with Lee and Derek, even though it was only a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Cove’s pace slowed and he came to a halt. When you turned back to look at him, his expression lost in thought. He absentmindedly picked at the side of the cup with his nails. You noticed tiny indentations marked across the styrofoam cup.

Y/N: Cove? Is everything alright?

Cove breathed out and walked towards you gently. He extended his smoothie towards your face. His face red and his eyes glued to the smoothie, refusing to meet your gaze.

Cove: Would you like to try mine? I think it’s delicious. I think you would like it.

Stunned, and a bit apprehensive, you thought deeply. You didn’t want Cove to miss out on the rest of his smoothie again. But this time he was offering. You wondered what changed, and hoped this wasn’t more piercing-related guilt.

Y/N: If you’re sure, I would love to. But promise me you’ll finish the rest.

Cove’s eyes snapped to yours and it was his turn to feel stunned. You never revealed to him that you knew he never finished the smoothie last time. He looked embarrassed, but you had to be sure he wouldn't throw it out again.

Cove: I— yeah. I’ll finish it.

That was good enough for you. You wrapped your lips around his straw and took a big sip. The flavor was different to yours, but still satisfying. You kept your eyes on Cove while you pulled away from his smoothie. He slowly raised the smoothie to his own mouth and took a quick sip, all while looking desperately to the side.

Y/N: Success!

Cove let out a nervous laugh, glad to have made that much progress. He was still blushing while you continued your trek. You wondered if his face would ever return to its normal color as long as that smoothie was in his hand.

You finally made it back to the entrance with Cove. His dad would be returning to pick you up in a few minutes, as promised. You both threw your empty smoothie cups into the nearby trash can. You looked out the glass doors and noticed the rain finally stopped falling. There might be a chance to enjoy the outdoors with Cove before it was time to face your moms.

You decided to wait outside. He stood next to you and sighed.

Cove: I’m sorry again.

Y/N: It’s okay, I couldn’t have asked for a better rainy day partner. Thanks for doing this with me.

You inched closer and smiled up at him. He grinned back, convinced that everything would be okay. You waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with your own rebellious actions.

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Sole Finds Their Pre-War Teddy Bear

The set up:

Scavenging wasn’t as easy of a job as some made it out to be. Sanctuary was running low on spare materials and had searched for someone willing to go out into the junk piles of the wasteland and bring home materials that could be turned into something useful.

That’s how Sole and their companion found themselves picking through piles of what appeared to be garbage, climbing over refrigerators long out of service and cracking children’s toys. Skeletons of lives past, remnants of individuals who wouldn’t be remembered in a world that left them behind. Sole stood at the top of the pile, a hand over their eyes to scan the wreckage, when they spotted something they thought long gone and took off running.

Cait:

Though she’d refuse to admit it later, Cait started when Sole took off, scrambling down from their perch at the top of the junk pile, dead set on a goal she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Their vision had locked onto something and it appeared they weren’t going to stop until they got what they wanted. “Hey! Where the hell do ya think you’re goin’?” Cait scrambled after them, boots slipping over car parts and rusted metal as she fought to keep up.

Her shout didn’t stop Sole, though they did skid to a stop at the bottom of a pile, tossing scraps of metal aside without a care in the world. Cait kept her distance to avoid being caught in the crossfire and only stepped forward when Sole straightened up, something clutched tightly in their hands. Nearly slipping and grouchier than before, she picked her way through the mess to stand in front of Sole and rolled her eyes. “Ya really nearly killed yourself over that garbage?”

Sole looked up, their expression vulnerable and a little bit guilty. Gently, they brushed some dirt off the teddy bear they held, though it didn’t do much to fix it’s battered appearance. Somehow Sole looked even more haunted, like they were seeing into a world Cait had barely a grasp on. “This is mine.” They whispered.

“What?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I didn’t think… how the hell did it survive?”

Cait’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Fockin’ hell, that thing’s more durable than most people.”

Sole laughed, though their mind still seemed so far away as they traced the edge of the teddy’s ear with the tip of their finger. Cait moved closer to them, swearing harshly when she nearly slipped and fell again. One of its eyes was missing and the threads were coming loose from it’s face, but there was something about Sole’s affection for it that made Cait see something cute. “It’s survived, I’ll give it that.” Her tone was begrudging, but deep down, she knew if someone ever tried to take that thing away from Sole, there’d be hell to pay.

Curie:

Curie’s worry spiked when Sole nearly slipped and fell. The potential for injury was great amongst the piles of garbage; who knew what laid under a poorly supported tarp. Concern running high, Curie climbed her way after her runaway companion, carefully testing each place for proper support before putting her weight on it. The going was slow and by the time she reached their side, Sole had already found and dug out what they were chasing after.

It was a teddy bear, covered in grime and layers of dirt from being out in the Wasteland. “I’m sorry, Mx, but what is the significance of this… thing?” It was difficult for her to hide her distaste at the object, which could barely be seen past the filthiness.

“It used to be mine. Still is, I guess. I never thought I’d see it again.” Sole’s voice was barely above a whisper as they cradled the stuffed animal like a child.

“The garbage?” Curie was confused.

“It’s not-” Sole pressed their lips together, suppressing their distress.

The possibility of their teddy surviving the war was unbelievably low, and yet both of them had managed to beat the odds. They were overcome with a wave of emotion. Something so fragile and seemingly insignificant to everyone else had managed to survive and they had never identified with something so much since they had awoken in this nightmare.

Curie managed to pick up on the mood despite her confusion and folded her hands together. “There’s a river just down the hill if you’d like to clean it off.” She stated quietly.

Sole nodded, smile a little watery, and looked up at Curie. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. Lead the way, Curie.”

Danse:

“Soldier! Don’t be so reckless!” Danse shouted after them, struggling with whether or not to go after them. Climbing in wreckage wasn’t the easiest in power armor.

He watched them charge down the side of the garbage pile, skidding to a stop at the bottom and beginning to rip the piles apart with no regard to how it may affect the stability of what they were standing on. Danse huffed, having never seen them acting like that, and began making his way over to them, careful to place his weight in stable areas, lest he become part of the metal scrap in the piles. He was beyond astonished to see them bent over a teddy bear that seemed to have gone through the wringer. “Is this what you took off over.” He scoffed in disbelief.

“This belongs to me.” They whispered, still crouched over it, nearly shaking.

Danse failed to understand what they were saying until they looked up at him with teary eyes. It didn’t just belong to them, it belonged to them before the war. He suddenly understood their reaction, and was flustered at the way he’d reacted. He should’ve known Sole wouldn’t take off over something insignificant, especially without communicating to him. He looked over to the horizon before glancing back down at them, where they were stroking the teddy bear’s fur, mesmerized. “Put it in your backpack. We still need to work while we have daylight.” Too harsh, he thought. “We can clean it up when we get back to Sanctuary.” A little better.

Sole grinned up at him and wiped a stray tear off their face, inhaling as they stood and hugged it tightly to their chest. They muttered something to themself before swinging their backpack to the side and adjusting the teddy bear “comfortably” in it. Danse looked away to suppress the affectionate smile that crept across his face.

Deacon:

“Oh, shit. Why are we taking off, Boss?” Deacon was a little alarmed at their sudden movement.

In an attempt to keep up he nearly slid and ended up on his ass. He waved his arms comically for a moment to keep his balance and remain upright before charging after them just as recklessly. He wasn’t one to question why someone was running. The wasteland was a run first, ask questions later type of place, and he’d survived so far with that policy.

When they skidded to a stop and began digging, he stumbled to slow down and came to a stop behind them. He couldn’t quite see over their shoulder, but when they let out a victorious shout and the scraps stopped flying, he leaned forward. They were clutching a teddy bear. “We aren’t gonna get much spare cloth from that garbage, I’ll be honest, Boss.” He said skeptically.

They stood and whirled around, a broad grin on their face as they held the teddy bear out. “It’s mine!” The joy on their face was contagious, but he was still confused.

“What do you mean?”

“From before the War! I can’t believe it survived.” Their tone turned to one of wonder as they rubbed their thumb over where one of its eyes had fallen off.

Deacon couldn’t help his chuckle. “It is cute, I do have to admit. Let’s get it cleaned up though.”

Gage:

“What the fuck?” Gage’s head snapped towards where Sole had taken off, tracking them through the crumbling piles of garbage that scattered under their weight.

He groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes as he looked up at the sky. He’d sworn they were smarter than the last Overboss and yet he could almost predict them slipping and breaking their neck over whatever they were chasing. God knows it couldn’t be that important. With a huff, he dropped his cigarette and began slowly following after them.

Maybe it was the way they were desperately tossing junk aside, or the fact that he’d never seen Sole act like this, but he was almost wary of coming up behind them. He wasn’t trying to take a shard of glass to his good eye. He waited for them to stop scrambling before he came up beside them and caught a glimpse at what they were holding. “A fucking teddy bear? Are you kidding me?” He rolled his eyes, trying to find patience somewhere in the back of his brain.

“I… Gage this is mine.”

“You- what?”

“It’s mine. From before the war. I’ve had this since I was five.”

“How the hell did this fucker live longer than most people do?”

Sole laughed and hugged the teddy bear tightly. Then, they held it up next to him, Gage dodging to avoid being touched by the filthy stuffed animal. “You guys look exactly the same. Teddy bears covered in dirt.”

“You better move your ass before I kick the shit out of you.” He grumbled, pushing past them to hide the slight flush on his face.

Hancock:

“Hey! Sole!” Hancock was frozen in place, mildly stunned by their reaction to whatever they’d seen.

Yanking at his coattails as they got caught on a sharp piece of metal, he began the trek to catch up to them. Luckily, they stopped not far from where they’d taken off, kneeling in a pile of discarded clothing. Pieces of clothing were tossed behind them carelessly before they stopped and grabbed something. Hancock caught up to them shortly after, boots slipping against the slimy hood of a car before he made it down to stand next to them. “What’s going on Sole.”

They turned and stood and began looking between him and the teddy bear expectantly. “You could’ve cracked your head open runnin’ over here, Sunshine. For a piece of grimy trash?”

Sole shook their head and flipped over a tag to show him before they looked back up, even more expectant. “It was mine!” The tag on the bear’s ear was nearly shredded, but once pushed together, had their name in smudged handwriting.

Hancock felt like an ass for calling their teddy bear a piece of trash, but to be fair, they had never argued when they saw previous teddy bears laying on the side of the road as they travelled. He sucked in a deep breath. “Sorry about calling it trash, Sole. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I probably would’ve too.” They laughed, their fond gaze still turned to the teddy bear.

“Hey! We should get a matching hat for the bear. It can be the mascot of Goodneighbor.”

Haylen:

Haylen groaned, struggling to keep up with Sole once they’d taken off. She already was slightly behind, on the other side of the mountain of trash as they scrambled their way down, and was fighting to not get her foot caught and go tumbling down into the piles. She managed to get to Sole’s side without major incident, though she was sporting a new scrape on her palm by the time she stopped next to them.

The sun was already starting to set, but it wasn’t hard to see what Sole was holding so cheerfully in their arms. A teddy bear, covered in dirt and God knows what else. “Christ, Sole. You could’ve gotten hurt and I can’t carry you back home. Why the hell did you do that for garbage?”

“It’s not garbage. Haylen, this is mine.” Sole looked up at her with an expression Haylen had never seen from them before.

“What do you mean?” Her tone softened.

“It’s mine. I had this before… before.”

“Oh, Sole.” She sighed, kneeling and putting her hand on their shoulder.

They blew out a shaky breath, turning the teddy bear over to examine it carefully. Haylen reached over and brushed some of the loose dirt off in an attempt to clean it despite the obvious staining. It didn’t do much, but Sole turned and smiled at her appreciatively. “Put it in my backpack so it gets home safe, okay? We have to keep moving, though.”

MacCready:

At least they weren’t standing at the top of a hill, possibly the worst place to be when a trained sniper could be looking for a target. However, he couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head as they took off towards wherever, seemingly blind to possible danger. With a grumbled “I don’t get paid enough for this” he started to go after them.

It was a bit of a hike and by the time he reached them, he was sweating. Once he stopped he leaned against a rickety storage cabinet, fingers mentally crossed it wouldn’t topple over and take him with it, as he stared down at the teddy bear in their hands. With a huffed breath, “What was that.”

“Sorry, I just-” Sole stared in wonder at the little bear. “I thought this was gone forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“This was mine. Pre-war. I… it was a gift for my third birthday and I thought I’d never see it again.”

Something about the look on their face made him pause in his distaste for their impulsivity and the tattered cloth bear that rested in their grip. He sighed and dropped into a crouch next to them and took the teddy bear from their hands. He turned it over, examining the damage, and began brushing what he could off of the bear. It was disgusting, but salvageable. “Alright. I’ll get the sewing kit out once we get back to Sanctuary.”

Nick:

“Hey, kid!”

He watched them take off in disbelief, alarmed at what could be going through their head to go charging off so quickly. It was difficult to navigate the wrecked landscape but he managed to make his way across the landfill and get to where Sole was cradling something in their arms. With a reluctant curiosity, Nick leaned over and took a look. “You’re holding garbage, Sole.” His voice was unimpressed and confused.

“It’s not garbage.” They protested, meeting his glowing, yellow eyes. “It’s my teddy bear. I’ve had it since I was young!”

Nick tilted his head, trying to picture what the teddy bear could look like before the war had taken its owner too far away to take care of it. Despite the layers of grossness, he could see something Sole would label theirs affectionately. That thought stuck with him as he spoke. “Look at you, always finding those that need you. Should we go get it cleaned up?” 

Old Longfellow:

“What- ah, damn’t. Where are you takin’ off to, cap’n?” Longfellow’s voice was gravelly, carrying across the wasted landscape.

Sole paid no mind and kept running, determined to reach their destination at any cost. He felt his knee creak as he climbed over the rusty parts and pieces of pre-war buildings, remnants of lives past. He cursed under his breath, but kept climbing after them, hoping the creaking, shabby structures would hold together as he moved. Eventually, he got to them. “Really? For a piece of trash, Sole?”

Sole shook their head vigorously. “This is my teddy bear. From before the bombs. I… Jesus.” They looked up at him as if they’d had the breath knocked out of them.

Longfellow looked at it carefully, understanding that now wasn’t the time to be so brash. They reached out for a hand up and he gave it to them, gripping their arm tightly as they stood, careful not to lose their balance on the shifting scraps. Once they were properly balanced, they reached out, teddy in hand in front of them. “I want you to hang onto it for now, okay?” It was hard to say no to them when they looked at him like that. With grumbling reluctance, he took the teddy and settled it in his backpack.

Piper:

“Blue?! Be careful!” Piper yelled after them, preparing to follow them by heaving the strap of her backpack further onto her shoulder.

She’d spent more time than ideal dodging traders as she chased after Nat when they were younger, so she’d gotten skill in quickly finding the best footing. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace as long as she didn’t stay on one leaning piece of discarded trash for too long. Nimble as ever, it wasn’t long before she was stopping at Sole’s side.

They had dug in the pile of junk, dirt coating their hands with tiny flecks of rust for decoration, and pulled out a weak looking scrap of cloth. No, not just a scrap of cloth. It was a teddy bear, well worn and overdue by way too long for a good washing. “Sole, I can’t believe you ran like that for trash. What’s going on?”

“It’s mine.” Their voice was hushed, as if they were sharing a secret.

“From… no way.” Piper got a good look at it and yeah, it certainly looked like it had been around for hundreds of years.

“Yeah.”

They looked up at her in awe, a childlike grin on their face, reminding her of her own baby sister. With a reassuring smile, she patted them on the back. “No worries, Blue. We can get it back home and fix it up in no time, I bet. I’ve got some old recipes for stain remover we can try out, if you want.”

Preston:

“General? General!” He shouted after them, quickly moving into action to keep up with them.

Preston was never more than a few steps behind them at all times, and that wasn’t going to change now. Despite things sliding out from under their feet, Preston managed to continue finding the footing to leap after them, nearly colliding with their back as they slid to a stop and kneeled at the base of a pile. He got to his knees next to them to see what they were doing.

When they began prying something out from under a scrap of metal, he lifted it to ease their way, despite his confusion. They yanked out a teddy bear that may have been light at some point, but was now coated in just about everything you could find in the wasteland, and missing it’s tail. Sole let out a disbelieving laugh, their jaw dropped from the shock. “What’s going on General? What is this other than garbage?”

“It’s mine! Holy shit, I can’t believe it survived!”

“From before the war?” Preston’s own eyes widened.

Sole nodded eagerly, the joy from this miracle evident on their face. He’d never seen the General so elated and took it in stride. “Sturges should be able to work his magic once we get back to Sanctuary. We’ll keep it safe until then, okay?”

Travis:

“S-Sole?” Travis was hesitant to take off after them, unsure if any part of this was safe.

His steps were probably even more cautious than they needed to be as he made his way across the landfill, cringing every time metal slid against metal once he’d shifted his weight off of it. It was a good bit before he got to where Sole had launched themself towards, and by then, they’d already stood and clutched whatever they were holding to their chest. Upon further examination, he realized it was a teddy bear. “Uhm, is that… supposed to be a teddy bear? It looks like trash, to be honest.” 

Sole’s gaze caught him off guard when they looked up at him with excitement shining so bright it could rival the stars. He sucked in a deep breath and looked away, examining the teddy bear again. “It’s mine! Travis, I had this before the bombs dropped!” 

“Oh… oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call it trash-” He became flustered with himself, scratching the back of his neck as his face flushed red.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sole laughed quietly. “It does look pretty bad, doesn’t it? We should be able to fix it up, anyway. Nothing’s past saving.”

Travis relaxed in relief when they brushed off his comment and returned a small smile. 

X6-88:

“Mx. Mx!”

They’d taken off without a word after an already pointless mission. Impatience was thrumming across his body, all the way down to his fingertips, which twitched on the handle of his baton. Lips pursed in annoyance, he moved to follow them, taking his time, considering they’d stopped by the time he got moving. Sure, he was going to protect them, but if they were going to get themself into dumb situations by taking off recklessly, they could handle themself until he got there.

Once he’d made his way closer he started looking for what had set them off so badly. He couldn’t see anything of significance amongst the discarded trash. The urge to reprimand them rose in his throat, but he suppressed the insult. “What’s going on?”

“I found it! I can’t believe it’s still here!” They laughed, looking up at him with bright eyes.

When X6-88 looked down he found a tattered, nasty teddy bear looking back at him; seemingly the perfect representation of how he viewed the wasteland. “Mx, I don’t think this is an appropriate use of our time.”

“Six, you don’t understand. This was mine. Before the war.” Their tone pushed him to understand.

He paused. It definitely needed some help, but obviously this was something important that he was somehow struggling to understand. He really wasn’t one for anything sentimental, but he’ found that sometimes entertaining these ideas would play in his favor. This must be one of those times; Sole may get upset if he were to dismiss their determination to make him understand. “I’m sure we have something at the Institute to… repair this.”

[kikis-writing-world]

Whiskey Straight - The Dance (5)

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

You’re back home, safe in the arms of your husband, but you know it isn’t over. When the mysterious men call and give you your mission - hopefully the last you will ever have to perform - it’s not exactly within your comfort zone. You have to push through, get it done, and then life can go back to normal... right?

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Sexual content (stripping, dancing,) dubious consent of unwanted advances and kissing, light violence. It’s a pretty tame one compared to last time. If I missed anything, let me know. It’s been a while.

A/N: I am so, so sorry for how long this took, but I’m pretty happy with how it came out. Next chapter will be Jack’s POV, so I’m sure that will answer questions you’ve been having (and any that this chapter leaves you with lol.) And I hope to have it up in about 1-1.5 weeks. Definitely don’t want to make you guys wait as long this time. Enjoy!!

Series Masterlist  -  Prologue  -  One  -   Two  -  Three  -  Four  -  Five  -  Six  -   Seven

You woke the next morning sore, stiff and - most importantly - snuggled tightly into Jack. Your face was tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, your arm draped across his chest. His arms were wrapped tightly around you in return. Birds were chirping and you could hear a lawnmower running in the distance. You opened your swollen eyes, the bright sun diffused by the curtains but still lighting the room.

“There she is.” Jack’s smooth, quiet voice startled you. You hadn’t realized he was already awake. You lifted your head to look at him, seeing him smiling lazily down at you. His hand caressed your back, trailing up and down the line of your spine as the other gripped your hip.

“Time’s’it?” You mumbled, starting to turn to look at the clock but Jack’s arms closed around you, stopping you from leaving him.

He kissed your lips, gently and chastely. “I called in for both of us.” He explained, loosening his hold as he felt you relax.

“Why’d you do that?” You questioned, confused. Jack never took a day off work without weeks of notice and planning for his absence.

Jack chuckled. “Well, first you didn’t wake up with the alarm. Then you didn’t wake up when I called your name or shook ya. I figured after yesterday you needed some sleep.”

Your stomach dropped out at the reminder of yesterday. Being knocked out. The hood over your head. The interrogation in that big, empty room.

You shuddered, pressing your face back into Jack’s shoulder as you nodded. Jack rubbed your back soothingly as he hummed a quiet “thought so.”

You nodded, trying to keep yourself from crying at the mess you’d found yourself in. You desperately wanted to tell Jack what you’d done, beg his forgiveness and ask for his help, but you knew you couldn’t. All of the threats weighed heavy on your mind, keeping your lips sealed.

“You ready to talk about what’s got ya so shook up?” Jack asked gently, his large hand never stopping it’s slow, steady circuit up and down your back.

You kept your face pressed into Jack, keeping him from seeing your reaction as you tried to think up an excuse.

“I blew a tire on the way home from work.” You settled on, staying hidden as you spoke. “Bad part of town. Took the tow a while to show up.”

“Why didn’t you get a hold of me? I would have come to get you?”

“Too shook up, I guess? Wasn’t thinking straight.” You sighed. “Stayed with the car, kept the doors locked.”

You felt Jack nod his understanding. “Well, next time call me, okay?”

“I will.” You promised.

It was a quiet day. Jack had suggested the two of you stay in lounge clothes and snuggle up on the couch to watch movies together. Even as the sun started to dip lower in the sky, he suggested take-out for dinner. It reminded you of the early days of dating him, having movie nights in on days you didn’t feel like going out together. The slow, lazy day calmed your nerves, even if you couldn’t fully push the day before out of your mind.

You were clearing your plates and putting away the leftovers from dinner when the phone rang. It was the first time it had rung all day, which was strange especially considering Jack took the day off work. The fact that no one had called him to check in on something or ask a question was rare. While you didn’t know for sure it was for you, your stomach dropped.

“I’ve got it!” You yelled, stopping Jack in his tracks. He stood next to the table, watching as you frantically dried your hands on your pants as you ran into the other room to answer the phone.

“Hello?” You answered, anxious but trying to keep your voice even.

“Bourbon.” The voice was deep and robotic, the same type of voice that had badgered you with questions the night before.

“Y-yes.” You acknowledged, taking a few steps farther away from the kitchen where Jack waited.

“Listen carefully, these instructions will not be repeated.” The voice started, and you nodded, gripping the phone so tightly you could hear the plastic groan. “In exactly one and a half hours, at 9:00, you will go downtown to The Marriot Marquis. The front desk will have an envelope waiting for Bourbon. It will have further instructions. Understand?”

You bit your lip, rubbing your forehead with your hand. You just wanted this to be over with. Hopefully this one last thing would be it, then you could go back to your life. You never would have guessed months ago you’d be yearning for the old monotony. 

“Yes.” You confirmined.

“One more thing: Dress sexy.”

You nearly choked on air as your breath hitched in your throat. “What?” You barely resisted the urge to shout. You heard a click on the other end of the line, but you asked again “What do you mean?”

It took a moment for the tone to indicate there was no one on the other line anymore. You cursed under your breath as you hung up the phone.

“Who was it?” Jack asked.

“W-work.” You told him, cursing the stutter in your voice. “They need me to run in for an hour or two.”

“Really?” Jack frowned at you as you came back to the dining room. “It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“No.” You shook your head, avoiding making eye contact with him. “Sandy made a mistake on something and I owe her. Many hands make light work.” You lied.

“Alright.” Jack sighed. “Let me finish up the dishes then. Least I can do.”

“Leave them ‘til tomorrow. It’s fine.” You waved off his offer.

“If you say so.” He grinned, giving in easily. You knew how much Jack hated the dishes. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he passed you, making his way into the den and flicking on the TV. You heard him switch over to a football game and knew he’d be occupied while you got ready.

You opened your closet, pushing all your everyday clothes aside to look for something “sexy.” You couldn’t remember the last time you were trying to dress sexy. You used to pay attention to  fashion, treating yourself now and then to something new. It made you feel good, and it certainly reaped it’s benefits from Jack as well, but it had been a long time. Now when you bought clothes it was usually for work, to replace a blouse that had worn out. You had a few dresses in the back of your closet that you hadn’t worn in… you couldn’t even remember how long. That’s when you spotted the black, lightly shimmering fabric towards the back.

You pulled the garment out, staring at it. It had been one of your go-to “little black dresses” when you had been younger and still in need of such things. It seemed to be the only one that had survived the various clothing purges over the years. The neckline was a low V - not scandalously low, but certainly lower than your usual clothes. The sleeves went about halfway down your biceps, ending in a soft ruffled fabric that you knew wasn’t really in style anymore but not quite garish. The dress hit your knees, showing off a modest amount of leg. It wasn’t perfect, but short of going shopping for something completely new, it seemed like your best option. You hoped it still fit, grabbing one of your large purses and shoving the dress inside along with a pair of black heels. You grabbed a small make-up bag, throwing in the necessities - eyeliner, maskara, lipstick - and tossed that in the bag too.

You got dressed, picking underwear that would work with the dress, a simple black set that wouldn’t show underneath the dress. The panties were a thong that you couldn’t remember wearing in a while, but knew it would avoid any lines in your silhouette. It also would hopefully help you get into the mentality of being sexy, even if the dress wasn’t the hottest new style. You otherwise dressed as you normally would for work. 

You kissed Jack goodbye on your way through, although with his eyes on the game he barely even noticed. You made it out of the house and into the car with no fuss, now you just had to drive to somewhere you’d be able to change and get downtown in time. You still had an hour, so as long as you stopped along the way and traffic wasn’t bad - it should be fairly calm at this time of night - you’d be able to make it.

Your heels clicked against the floor of the hotel lobby as you approached the desk. You glanced around between the other people coming and going, wondering if any of them were involved with the mission you were on tonight. No one gave you a second glance, too invested in their own lives, their own business. You looked the part of belonging in the upscale hotel, having changed from the casual workwear into the dress in a fast food bathroom and doing your make-up in the car. With an hour and a half notice, not only was it the best it was going to get, but it was pretty damn acceptable if you said so yourself.

“Welcome to The Marriot Marquis,” the girl behind the desk greeted pleasantly. It didn’t do much to calm your nerves, not knowing what the next step would be. “How can I help you tonight?”

“I’m picking up an envelope. For Bourbon.” You barely kept your voice even, but you managed.

“One second, let me check.” She opened a drawer in the desk and flipped through for a moment before lifting a small manilla envelope with a sound of triumph. “Here you are, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” You took the envelope, forcing a polite smile at the girl before taking your leave.

You looked around the lobby for somewhere inconspicuous to open the envelope. There seemed to be people in all of the areas, but the decorative pillars along the wall of the lobby would provide some privacy. Glancing around cautiously, you opened the envelope.

You leafed through the items: a piece of paper with a handwritten telephone number and instructions, a plastic baggy with some kind of tiny computer chip inside of it, and a little envelope from the hotel with a room key and a room number written on it.

The instructions told you to wait until the concierge took his break at 9:05 and use his phone to call the number for further instruction. You glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing it was 9:03 - you’d thankfully gotten to the hotel on time, otherwise you might have missed his break.

You stayed by the pillar, trying to keep your breathing even as you waited for the man to leave his desk. The waiting was almost worse than the drive over. You tried not to let your mind race too much about the next steps, but it was practically impossible not to.

Thankfully you saw the concierge stand and leave his desk after only about a minute. A glance at the clock told you that he was leaving his station a little early. You waited a moment to make sure he wasn’t coming back before approaching the desk as casually as you could manage. The phone was sitting within reach, making it easy to call the number.

The line was answered, but no one spoke. The end of the ringing and the click of the connection was the only sign that it had been answered.

“This is Bourbon.” You whispered, holding your hand over the mouthpiece of the phone to avoid any eavesdropping.

“Listen closely.” The usual voice warned before continuing on. “The man inside the room is a suspected arms dealer. You will go inside the room and place the bug near the telephone.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you listened. The little computer chip must be the bug. You were about to ask how you’d manage to do that without getting caught, but he continued.

“You will be posing as a prostitute named Michelle. Tell him that his usual girl, Carla, is sick. If he likes you, he will tell you what to do.”

“Hold on, I can’t…” You interrupted. “I don’t have to… I can’t sleep with him. Do I have-”

“No.” You breathed a huge sigh of relief, but it was short lived. “He likes to watch. If you do not put the bug by the phone, your mission is incomplete and the deal is off.”

Before you could ask anymore questions, the line went dead.

Your hand shook as you hung up the phone, taking steadying breaths as you thought over the instructions you’d just been given.

He likes to watch.

What were you going to have to do, that he’d watch? It was one thing to have to sleep with him, but to perform for him was…

You felt like you were going to be sick, and luckily there was a sign pointing towards the washrooms in the lobby. You made your way towards them, as quickly as you could in the shoes you’d picked for the evening.

You closed yourself in a stall, leaning against the door. The bathroom was empty aside from you, and you could hear your gasping breaths echoing off the tiled walls as you tried to calm yourself.

You repeated the instructions in your head over and over. Place the bug by the phone. Prostitute named Michelle. Carla is sick. You soon found yourself outside of the stall, pacing in front of the sinks, running it all through your head. You wondered how long you’d been in there, but knew you had to stop stalling eventually. This man was expecting Carla… “Michelle” was probably already late.

You caught sight of yourself in the long mirror sitting on the wall. You stared at yourself hard. You didn’t look like a prostitute. At least, not what you assumed a prostitute would look like. You’d seen them on TV, never in real life- to your knowledge, anyway.

The ruffles along the sleeves of your dress had to go. You pulled at them experimentally, hearing a few stitches pop as you did. You took a deep breath and braced yourself as you pulled as hard as you can, the ruffled fabric ripping away from the body of the dress along with part of the sleeve. You tore the rest of the sleeve off and quickly repeated the action on the other arm. It was a good start.

The dress was too long, that was for damn sure. You gripped the skirt of the dress on either side of the hem running up your leg, pulling hard. It held together a bit stronger than the sleeves, but it still split as you tugged at it. You pulled it once more, trying to grow the slit you’d just created. You squeaked as it went further up your thigh than you meant it to, but you supposed it worked for the role you were playing. It wasn’t indecent enough that you would feel completely exposed as you walked through the halls to the room.

You adjusted your breasts, pulling them as high as they would sit inside your bra. Luckily the neckline of the dress was already low - you remembered the day you’d bought it, reasoning with yourself that the plunging neckline was socially acceptable on account of the rest of the dress being fairly modest.

You dug your lipstick out of your purse, applying it more heavily. The red made your lips pop much more than your usual style. Your eyes were already lined with the black eyeliner you had applied and you used some tissue to smudge the line out, making it seem smokier.

Finally, you took some water in your hands and used it to restyle your hair, pushing it back, away from your face and slicking it just slightly. You took a step back to look yourself over.

You looked nothing like the woman who had walked into the hotel, although that was probably a good thing. You looked cheap, especially with the slightly ragged alterations you’d made, which was also a good thing. You struck a pose, biting your bottom lip as you tried to make a sexy face. Honestly, it looked better than you expected, and it gave you a tiny boost of confidence.

You thanked whatever power was listening that you’d worn heels and decent underwear - although the thought made your stomach turn once more, wondering just how much more clothing you’d be shedding tonight. You didn’t think you could handle being naked in front of a man who wasn’t Jack. You prayed to that same power that it wouldn’t come to that.

Shaking the thought from your head, you took the bug from the plastic bag and snuck it into your bra, making sure it was safe and secure in place. With your hands at your chest, you saw your wedding ring glint in the light. You took a moment to stare at it, realizing the weight of what you were doing as you moved to slide it off your finger. It didn’t come off easily, having been on your finger for years without coming off. You had to wiggle it a little, but it came off into your hand. You slipped it onto your right hand, turning the diamond inside your palm. Now, it just looked like a plain band. It would do. With one last deep breath, you picked up your purse and left the bathroom.

It was easy to find the room, following the numbers until they led you to a set of double doors at the end of a hallway. It had to be a suite. You used the key to unlock the door and pushed it open.

It was dim inside the room, barely any light coming in through the windows on account of the rain outside and the only interior light coming from the fireplace. You could see the seating area, but there didn’t seem to be anyone there. You walked inside, taking cautious steps as you looked for the man you would be… well, looking for the man.

There was a large, open archway into another darkened room. You could make out the posts of a huge four-post bed, a few candles sitting on a ledge beside it, as well as the outline of a loveseat on the wall nearest to you. The table in front of it held an ice bucket with a bottle inside, a single glass next to it.

“Hello?” You called. You worried you had taken too long in the bathroom, and that the man had left.

“Hello.” A voice came out of nowhere, making you jump. You turned in the direction you’d heard it from and saw the silhouette of the man sitting near the far window. The candlelight didn’t make it far enough to light him, making it impossible to identify any of his features in the dark.

You composed yourself as you realized he was watching you. You tried to portray confidence as you set your purse down on the loveseat.

“Help yourself to some Champagne.” He instructed, his accent thick. It sounded European, but he hadn’t spoken enough for you to pinpoint where he could be from.

You kept your eyes on him as much as you could as you poured yourself some of the champagne. You could hardly stop yourself from drinking back the whole glass, needing some liquid courage to keep you going. It was already gone when you realized that it might not have been the smartest thing to do. You had no idea who this man was and he could have slipped anything into the bottle. You had drank too fast to even notice if it tasted strange.

You set the glass back on the table, walking further into the room. You stopped beside the bed, hoping your stance portrayed confidence and sexiness as you relayed what you’d practiced over and over in your head.

“My name is Michelle. Carla is sick, but she thought you would like me.” You were proud of how even it came out. The rehearsing had worked.

He was silent for a moment, and you could feel his eyes boring into you even if you couldn’t see his face.

“Let me do the talking.” He ordered, voice smooth. You bit your lip, hoping you hadn’t messed this up already. “Start by unzipping your dress.”

Your mouth went dry as you closed your eyes, wishing you weren’t too scared to have more champagne. You reached behind you, fumbling a little for the tiny zipper hidden in the fabric.

“No.” He stopped you, your eyes popping open. “Turn around. Do it doucement. Slowly.”

You turned around, glad that you wouldn’t have to keep your face straight as you pulled the zipper down your back.

“Good,” he praised as you moved. Goosebumps popped up on your flesh as you exposed more and more of your back to his gaze and the cool air of the room. The zipper was almost all the way down when he told you to slip it off.

You dragged it down your arms, turning to face him once more as it bunched around your chest. You pinned him with a stare that you hoped was more sexy than it was frightened as you let the fabric gather around your waist. You hooked your thumbs into the dress, pushing it slowly over the swell of your hips before it fell to the ground. The goosebumps were all over your body now and you fought not to visibly shiver. He praised you once more as you stepped out of the fabric bunched around your feet.

You clasped your hands in front of you as you waited for his next instructions, hands wringing together.

“Now slide off your nylons.” He told you.

You frowned, looking down at yourself. “I-I’m not wearing any.” You explained.

The man faltered in his seat, his shadow moving. It took him a second to speak again. “Now dance for me.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, looking up at the ceiling as you began moving your arms and shoulders, snapping along to an imaginary beat 

“No, no, no.” He stopped you quickly. “Dance sexy. Imagine your hands are the hands of your lover, let them touch you the way your lover would.” His accent, which you now suspected to be French, grew stronger as he instructed you. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark enough now that you could see his legs crossed and the way his chin sat on his hand, but still no defining features.

You nodded, closing your eyes as you started to move your hips. It was stiff at first, but as you rested your hands on your hips, you rolled them more fluently. You imagined your hands were Jack’s, sliding them up your waist as you rolled your body. You grazed over the swell of your chest teasingly, moving further up to rest on either side of your neck. As long as you kept your eyes closed, you could think of Jack. Think of the night before when he had made love to you.

You stepped outwards, widening your stance as you began to get into it, bending your knees as you swayed to an imaginary beat in your head. You placed Jack in the chair the man was in, trying to think back to the start of your marriage - the excitement, the want to please each other, the openness to trying new things. You imagined the look on his face as you mentally danced for him.

You ran your hands through your hair, rolling your neck before running your hands back down your body again. You teased the waistband of your panties, imagining the way Jack would have licked his lips at the prospect of you taking them off so soon, but you continued down your legs. You groped your inner things, squeezing the soft warm flesh.

As you rolled your hips, you turned your body so your back was to the man once more. Your hands trailed up over your hips, bracketing your ass as you swayed it back and forth in what you hoped was a tantalizing manner. You moved your hands lower down your legs, bending at the waist and truly putting your ass on display for the man. You felt the chip shift inside your bra, making you snap back upwards to stop it from falling out.

You looked over your shoulder at the man, seeing he was leaning forward slightly. It was working. Feeling emboldened by his interest, you took the post of the bed in your hand. You gripped it, rolling your hips forward as you leaned backwards, arching your back. You lowered yourself back to the ground, bending your knees as you climbed down the frame with both hands.

Once you were nearly on the ground, you bounced up and down slowly as if you were riding Jack. You let go of the post to cup your breasts, subtly checking that the bug was still securely in place. You could feel the tiny chip against your skin. It was a tiny relief.

Turning your attention back to the man, you dropped all the way to your knees, turning and crawling a few feet towards him. You didn’t dare get too close, but you hoped he was enjoying the show, the view of your cleavage.

You bit your lip as you sat back on your haunches once more. Starting at your neck, you slid your hands slowly down your body once more, highlighting all your curves. You closed your eyes, trying once more to imagine your husband in front of you.

You sat back before rolling over, landing a little clumsily on your knees again but facing away from the man. You crawled back towards the bed, making sure to sway your hips. You heard something clatter behind you, but when you stopped to look at the man nothing had changed except his posture. He was leaning in even further, seemingly enthralled in your performance.

You used the frame to pull yourself up to standing once more as you kept gyrating.

With your back to him, you used the post of the bed once more, almost imagining it to be a stripper pole. With one hand on it, you bucked forward and back. You ran your hands in your hair and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Now lie on the bed and close your eyes.”

The request had you stopping dead in your tracks, leaning up against the post. You took a shaky breath, remembering where you were and why you were here. You were here with a mystery man, a potential arms dealer, not your husband.

You sat on the far edge of the bed from him, back to the man as you tried to collect yourself. Your legs felt like jelly, and it wasn’t from the dancing.

“I… I thought you liked to watch.” You stuttered, staring at the phone on the nightstand. You briefly wondered if you could drop the bug next to it and bolt without him realizing what you’d done.

“Now lie on the bed and close your eyes.” He repeated.

You barely bit back a whimper, your eyes closing tightly. You took a deep breath before doing as instructed, scooting to the middle of the bed and closing your eyes as you laid down. The hotel bedding was scratchy against your skin, the sensation amplified with your sight gone. You listened hard for any noise, any clue as to what the man was doing next as you trembled.

You heard him moving, his clothes brushing against the chair as he stood. You tried to calm your breathing, trying to pinpoint his movements around the room. You heard him get closer to you, approaching the bed. He didn’t get on the bed on the side nearest him, instead you heard his footsteps, softened by the plush carpet of the room, round the opposite side of the bed. Your fingers twitched nervously as the bed dipped to your left.

He was silent, not speaking the whole time he moved. Your breath was coming in shallow pants, your nerves absolutely shot as you worried what he would do next. You were so incredibly vulnerable, laying on the bed in nothing but your underwear and heels.

You flinched as something brushed against your forehead. Soft, it trailed down the bridge of your nose. Despite your eyes being closed, you couldn’t stop the want to blink at the sensation. Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you forced your eyelids to stay closed.

The item trailed farther down your face, over your cupid’s bow and your lips. Breathing in, you could smell something floral, which helped you place the feel of the item. It was a flower of some kind trailing over your skin.

It lifted from your chin before reappearing on your cheek, smoothing over the globe and down your jaw and neck. Your lips parted as you sucked in a deep breath, both from the lack of deep breathing you’d been doing and from the sensation of the delicate petals hitting the sensitive pulse point under your jaw.

The petals’ touch grew feather light as he trailed the flower down over your breast, dragging it down the valley of your cleavage. It disappeared from your skin before it reached your stomach, which was already tense in anticipation of the tickle of the silky petals.

With the light brush of the flower gone, your nerves jumped once more. The flower on your skin had at least been context as to where the man was and what he was doing. You waited for his next move, worrying what he would do to you. You felt the bed shifting beside you as he leaned closer, causing you to hold your breath. You felt his breath flutter across your face a second before his lips pressed to yours. You barely held back your squeak of surprise, freezing as he kissed you. His moustache tickled your nose as his lips, softer than you had imagined, caressed your own, unmoving lips.

You unfroze after a moment, opening your eyes and looking back and forth for something, anything that would help you escape this situation before it escalated any further. The only thing you could see past the shadow of the man’s face was the bedside table next to you, the phone and a lamp sitting on it. The lamp looked heavier, but it was farther. You’d have to reach and see which you could actually get to.

You started moving your lips against his, bringing one hand up to his shoulder as you tried to distract him by participating in the kiss as you reached over with your other hand. You moved slowly, not wanting to alert him of your ulterior motives. You wanted to move faster, wanted to get this man’s lips off of yours. You were thankful he seemed happy taking his time kissing you, his hands and lips not wandering, not trying to explore your body any further.

You felt your fingertips touch the plastic of the phone, your arm almost fully extended. There was no way you’d reach the lamp without moving anymore than you already had. You closed your eyes tightly as you tightened your grip on the phone, preparing to attack. You would have taken a deep breath had you had the space, but you weren’t that lucky. Instead, you counted to three in your head.

One. Two. Three.

Your eyes shot open as you pushed the man back by his shoulder, swinging the phone towards him and hitting him in the face. He leaned over, clutching at his face with a loud groan. You didn’t hesitate, sitting up and hitting him over the back of the head once more.

He fell off the bed and you sprung up. As soon as your feet were under you, you delivered a swift kick to his ribs, an easy target as he was on his hands and knees.

“Bastard!” You screeched at him. He groaned again, cursing as he gripping his ribs.

You didn’t wait to see how incapacitated he was, rushing to where your dress sat on the floor. You picked it up, siling it back on as quickly as you could. You held it up, not bothering to fuss with the zipper as you ran towards your purse.

You started to run towards the door when you remembered why you were even here. You cursed under your breath, digging the chip out of your bra. You had to do this, it was the only way to be done with all this bullshit.

You ran back into the bedroom, avoiding the man as he crawled on the floor in pain. You gave him a wide berth as you passed, sticking the bug behind the lamp. Without even sparing the man another glance, you ran past him once more.

“Shit, darlin’. Wait!” The man drawled, having caught his breath. “Who taugh’ya to kick like that?”

The voice made you freeze, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste to stop running. The voice was nothing like the smooth European voice that had been directing you minutes ago. You knew that Southern drawl.

You turned, staring down at the man as he leaned back on his haunches, the candles catching his side and finally showing you his face.

“Jack?!”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl @thottiewinemom @phoenixhalliwell @sheerfreesia007 @and-claudia @weirdowithnobeardo @massivecolorspygiant @mrstaekim @chibi-liz05 @adrieunor @ilikechocolatemilkh @thirstworldproblemss @dynishot @diamond-doritos @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @eli-the-thinker @justanotherblonde23 @bbuckysbeardd @scribbledghost

(If you’re stricken out, it wouldn’t let me tag you. Let me know if there’s an updated URL. Or let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

[thefanbasewhore]

I loved your Javier preference can you do "You're not alone, I'm here." With Javier? 💞💞

Summary: based off the prompt list I reblogged. Javier is there for the new DEA agent after her first shoot out.

This is short, I'm getting ready to go to bed but wanted to fit a little something in. Enjoy! No use of Y/N.

Warning/content: Fluffy Javier, descriptions of shooting and killing. Reader is a young agent but her and Javi kind of have a thing.

Paring: Javier Peña/Female Reader

Colombia is beautiful, absolutely breath taking between the thick green forests, clear beaches and warm weather it's almost a dream. Family from the states would often stare how jealous they are of her, saying that one should be grateful for an opportunity like this.

But it was lonely.

Let's face it, being new anywhere sucks, the agents who have been here for years had their own clique, friends bonded by time and even blood which left her an unknowing outsider. While the other fellow DEA agents were grouping at a bar trying to forget the demons of the day she found herself alone every single night.

There's something about silence that makes chills creep up the devil's neck, the over thinking it entitles and she's has plenty of time personally witnessing how soul crushing it could be. After particularly rough days, seeing things that make her skin burn she would contemplate resigning, going home to face failure but at least have company again.

Two agents in particular are the only two who would bother talking to her. Agent Murphy and Agent Peña, desks only feet away from her own but she even thinks it's out of pure pity, they're nice men but work too much. Always busy, never around when the office dies and she's faced with the predicament of going home or staying longer at the office to avoid the insecure hours of silence that were bound to come.

"Agent." The words make her snap her head up away from the paper work scattered across the desk, peering into the dark swirls of brown, they match the curling hair at the base of his neck. "You ready to go?"

"Where?" The small dimples that pop through the patches of facial hair are enough to make anyone's knees weak, but luckily she's sitting, just admiring the beautiful man in front of her.

While she did believe it was only out of pity, she might have a teeny, tiny crush on him. How could she help it? Javier was hot headed, a fool with emotions, slept with a too many woman but was compassionate, smart, brave, handsome but most of all called her Hermosa.

She has no idea what it means, her spanish is shit but the way the words roll to perfectly from his tongue, the way his dimples peak smirking after they are muttered literally makes it hard to breath. Much like now, eyebrows raised in a teasing matter, a small chuckle falls from his perfect pout as he leans against the desk. "You didn't listen to a word I said did you?"

"I, um.." Hating the way her cheeks heat up she clears her throat, acting as if there's something stuck that causing the change of color in her face. "Was reading the report.."

"We need to head out to check a tip, meet you outside in ten hermosa." Theres thosd words again, she's completely speechless only nods a validation of understanding. She can't help as her eyes run down the back of his silhouette, a pink shirt stretches over his broad shoulders dipping into the curve of his slim waist then to his jeans that curve so perfectly over his -.

Shaking her head from the thoughts she stands, pulling her jacket over shoulders to joint Javier outside.

Javier is the perfect gentleman, opening the door to the car, asking if the air conditioning setting are okay not only once but twice not wanting her to be uncomfortable. Despite only knowing the man for a few months, and crushing embarrassingly hard, she felt more comfortable in this car then she did at her own home.

It's almost impossible to stop looking at him, one hand on the wheel, the other bringing a cigarette to his pout, lips wrapping around to take a large puff. His shirt is buttoned to the middle of his chest, even though it is scarce there are a few dark hairs that poke out from it, down his lean torso to his flattening thighs due to the pressure of the seat under him. He's looks so good, it's not right, he has to be at least ten or more years older but she wants nothing more than to lean against him, touch those lips with her own, run her fingers around the fatness of his bottom lip, feel his tongue poke out to suck on them.

"See something you like?" It's a tease, smirk that not only makes her cheek ignite but chest blush with pink patches. She's been caught, silent as her mouth drops to say something but Javier beats her to it. "I'm kidding, you should have seen your face."

"You're an asshole." The words are said with harsh tone, but with a smile and an eye roll that softens it up. "I was just actually wondering how many of those things you smoke a day, I heard they were bad for you."

The playful tone of earlier is gone, it's replaced by a lingering silence, a mix of anxiety and anticipation makes her stomach flip. The wall his cold against her skin but it helps hide her from the impending danger. Her breath is trembling, chest is expanding so fast she swears she can't breath.

It all happened so fast, Javier and her doing a sweep of the building then yelling, chaos erupting in the form of unforgiving bullets. Javier and her separated but him pushing her away from the danger only to face it head on himself.

One of them chasing and following her. While anyone would believe they would act heroic in the moment, run head first like Javi at the danger she couldn't, she ran up the stairs, hid in one of the bedrooms shooting the passerbys.

But now she realizes how much of a bad idea it was, trapping herself with the man only stands a few feet from her, a sickly smile matches his words as he points the gun at her. "There you are princess."

She's immobilized, pausing as eyes squeeze together expecting searing pain but the loud sound the echos the room has blood painting her face, body falling limp at her feet. Curled up in the most ridiculous position but eyes open wide with shock as Javier stands in front of her, gun still held high despite the dead man pooling blood on her legs, his own chest heaving with adrenaline.

She can't help it, the way the tears swell up, chin quivers no matter how much she tries to hide it. Javi's eyes never leave, only lower his gun, extending his hand for she can take it.

She reaches for it but the body the separates them makes her falter. "Hey -- look up, eyes on me. It's alright."

"I'm sorry. I ran away, I left you all alone." Word are breathlessly whispered with breaks, her lungs didn't want to work crushing her chest with deep sorrow. "I've never done this before."

Hands run over her face, feeling the blood smear across it, pulling her hand away to see the redness to meet the cause again before Javi is speaking again. "Eyes on me, take my hand."

The shift from the house to the car is blurry, between the tears and the blood it was nearly impossible to see anything, all she could think about was how slimy it felt against her pant leg, how the smell was almost metallically.

Javier had started the car, taking a drag of his cigarette and squeezing the bridge of his nose with the same hand. His eyes meet her again, noticing the blank stare directed at blood stained hands, Javi reaches over taking his jacket from the back seat to try and rub the blood away but it makes it worse, staining fingers a dark pink.

"I was the same way." Guessing it was her first time seeing a dead body but truthfully it doesn't get any easier, just starts to fade into normalcy. "Let's get you home hermosa."

"No --." The words are choked, loud as eye meet his with fear. Anything but the lingering silence home entitles, it would be a punishment not a relief. "Please, I don't want to go home. I am alone, I don't want to be alone."

Javi pauses to take in her words, eyebrows expressing confusion at the out burst. The way her chin quivers with uncertainty, tears push past eye lids if it wasn't for the situation he would tell her how beautiful she looks like this but instead slowly extends his hand to cup her cheek, moving closer to feel her warmth, thumb running over the highest point of her cheeks feeling them soak with a mixture of tears and blood. "You're not alone, I'm here sweet girl."

[marjansmarwani]

fading under dying light

3.9k || ao3

After a rough shift TK comes home to an empty condo and decides to go for a run to clear his head, to avoid being alone with his thoughts. But when he runs into trouble on his run it’s Carlos who comes home to find him, to save him. He just hopes he was fast enough, that he wasn’t too late to save the person that matters most. ------ Day 7 of Angst Week: Free Choice + “grabbed by the hair” for @badthingshappenbingo

--------

He hadn’t been able to save them.

Two brothers, 16 and 19, trapped in a car that had gone off an embankment and he hadn’t been able to save them. It didn’t matter that he had been able to go down to the vehicle without a problem, it didn’t matter that he and the fire crew had done everything they could. In the end, they were still gone. Two young lives ended far before their time; two fearful gazes that had held his own until the very end. He had seen the moment it had ended, he had been there still fighting against fate when their time ran out. He had been there for the moment that would shape a family’s new reality and he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

So, when he had arrived home to an empty condo and Carlos still had another 2 hours left in his shift, he had decided to go for a run. It was better than sitting alone with his thoughts — anything was better than that. 

So he found himself in the nearby park; the sound of his feet pounding against the pavement echoing through the cool night air was almost enough to drown out his thoughts. It was late and the park was nearly empty, which suited TK just fine. Being around people right now seemed unbearable. His crew - both fire and medical - had extended invitations, had offered to stay with him; to prevent him from being alone.  But being alone is what he needed right now. He needed this time to process, to sort through the thoughts swirling through his head. 

He had done everything he possibly could have to save those boys, he knew that. He knew that he wasn’t at fault, that he was in no way to blame for what had happened. No one was. It had been an accident; a tragic, awful accident. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe it wasn’t so much that he hadn’t been able to save them as it was the grief and guilt in the older brother’s eyes as he told TK in a low voice that it was all his fault. That he had taken his eyes off the road for one second, and that single second had made all the difference. Maybe it was that though TK had tried to reassure him that mistakes happened and that it didn’t make him a bad person he was almost certain that the older boy — Danny — hadn’t believed him. That he had died thinking that it was his fault, that he had killed his brother. 

Maybe it was the fact that TK had made so many mistakes of his own — mistakes far, far worse than looking away from the road — but he was still here and Danny and Ryan weren’t anymore. He had been given so many chances and they hadn’t even gotten one, and he couldn’t reconcile that idea in his mind.  

He had been trying since it happened. He had even said as much to Paul and Marjan when they had checked in on him, when they had caught him in a vulnerable moment. But no amount of logic or reassurance could make this better, nothing could make it make sense. That wouldn’t stop him from trying, though. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not see the skateboard in his way until it was too late. His foot caught the edge of it and sent him crashing to the ground where he lay as pain blossomed from throughout his body. He groaned and was about to push himself up to assess the damage when he heard footsteps. He froze for a moment, trying to get a sense of how many there were when a fresh pain ripped through him as a hand reached into his hair and hauled him up. He hissed in pain as the hand tightened in his hair, pulling him up to his knees so he could see the figures surrounding him. 

There were three of them and, as best TK could tell through his watering eyes, they looked young. No older than Danny. 

“Hand over your wallet and no one needs to get hurt,” the one in front of him instructed and TK shook his head. 

“I don’t have it on me,” he explained, “I don’t carry it when I run.” 

 “Why don’t I believe you?” the figure asked and TK shrugged the best he could. 

“I don’t know, but it’s the truth.” 

“Maybe we should just check to see,” the figure said to the companion standing beside him he nodded and lunged forward and TK felt a blinding flash of white-hot pain. 

“I don’t have anything,” he gasped again, “all I have is my phone and airpods. You can take them, but that’s all I have.” 

There were hands on him then and though TK tried to follow the movements it was hard when his head was a cloud of pain. It seemed like an eternity before a new voice spoke. 

“It looks like he’s telling the truth, all I’ve got is his phone and airpods, like he said.” 

The first figure shrugged and looked down at TK, “Then I guess that’s what we take. Let him go and let’s get out of here.” 

The hand gripping his hair disappeared and TK sagged forward without it to hold him upright. He crumpled to the ground, instinctively curling in on himself to protect his wound and prevent any further pain. But the sound of retreating footsteps told him that there was no need, the danger was gone and he was on his own. He pulled himself off the ground and looked down, trying to locate the source of the white-hot pain burning through his abdomen. 

He located a red spot, steadily consuming the gray of his shirt. He pulled up his shirt, hissing in pain as the material clung to his skin, to get a better look at the wound. It was a puncture wound, likely from some sort of blade, but it didn’t look too deep. He was only a few blocks from the condo, he could make it home and get a better look at it. Besides, they had taken his phone. He had no way to call for help. He was on his own. 

He pulled himself off of the ground gingerly, swaying for a moment on his feet before he found his balance. He took a deep breath and headed in the direction of his home, keeping a hand carefully pressed against the wound all the while. It wasn’t a far walk but he was moving more slowly than usual and though he had no way of knowing how long it had been, he was certain it was longer than the usual 8 minutes it took to walk to the park. 

He let himself in; thankful they hadn’t thought to take his keys, at least, before heading up the stairs towards the bathroom. He had to pause in the middle, gripping the railing tightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him, nearly toppling him on the stairs. He waited for it to pass before pulling himself up the last few stairs and entering the bathroom. He flipped on the light and was taken aback by the sight of his own reflection in the mirror.  

He was far paler than he should be and the bloodstain had grown to show beyond the hand covering the wound. He lifted his hand to see that the blood was now dripping at an alarming rate. Maybe it was deeper than he thought after all. 

He stepped closer to the counter, reaching for the medicine cabinet. If he could at least get it bandaged, if he could put some better pressure on it he should be able to buy himself some more time. He just needed enough time to figure out how to call for help without his phone. Or for Carlos to get home. TK had no idea how long had passed since he had set out for his run but he was sure that it had been nearly two hours; Carlos should be home soon. It would be okay. He just needed to handle it until then. 

He managed to pry open the medicine cabinet and fumble through it, hand landing on the first aid kit they stored there. He tried to tighten his grip on it, to pull it out, but his body wasn’t responding to him. Hypovolemic shock his mind provided, far too late to do anything about it. He had lost too much blood; his body was starting to shut down to preserve itself. He tried to grab the first aid kit again, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. There was nothing in there that could help him now. 

He got one last look at his reflection in the mirror — skin pale and face shining with sweat despite the fact that he could feel shivers racing through his body — before darkness began to encroach on his vision. He tried to tighten his grip on the wound, to put as much pressure on it as possible but he knew it was a lost cause. 

He had one fleeting thought as the darkness took over and he could feel himself sinking to the ground: though he hated the thought of Carlos having to find him like this he hoped desperately that he came home soon. 

He hoped that he got here before it was too late. 

------------

Carlos sighed wearily as he stepped up to his front door, pulling out his keys as he reached the threshold. It was late and his shift had been long, he was just happy to have gotten out on time. For a while, it seemed like it would never end. 

But it had and now he was home and all he wanted to do was convince TK to order some takeout and curl up on the couch with his boyfriend and possibly fall asleep in his arms. He didn’t think that was too much to ask. 

He barely looked around as he stepped inside, calling out to TK as he shut the door behind him, “Hey babe! I’m thinking takeout tonight, unless you had other plans.” 

There was no response and Carlos frowned as he pulled off his shoes. He glanced at the table beside the door to see that TK’s keys were there. 

“TK?” he tried again. “You here?” 

He didn’t get a response but a glance up the stairs showed him that the bathroom lights were on. Carlos grinned and headed in that direction only to freeze when his foot made contact with something wet and sticky. He looked down and felt his heart jump into his throat. 

It was blood, and there was a trail of it leading all the way up the stairs. Carlos stood and stared for a moment, rooted to the spot by horror before his mind caught up and put all the pieces together: TK was hurt. 

Carlos raced up the stairs the moment the shock faded; heart thudding in his chest. He barely took a moment to dwell on the growing horror at the sight of a larger puddle almost at the top. It was too much blood. Whatever had happened it was bad and he needed to find TK now. 

He reached the bathroom a moment later and careened through the open doorway only to freeze at the sight that met him: TK, sprawled on the ground in a small pool of blood. He wasn’t moving. 

Carlos crashed to his knees beside his still form, reaching out a shaking hand to feel for his pulse. For several moments he felt nothing and Carlos couldn’t breathe, the weight of dread and despair pressing on him from every angle. Then, by some miracle, he felt it. A slight beat under his fingers. It was weak and slow but it was there and in that moment it was the best thing Carlos had ever felt. 

He blinked to clear his eyes of the tears that had gathered as he reached into his pocket for his phone, dialing before tossing it next to him on speaker. He leaned forward to examine TK as the call connected and the familiar cadence of dispatch answered: 911, what is your emergency?

Carlos swallowed before speaking: “I just came home to find my boyfriend unconscious and bleeding. I think he’s been stabbed.” 

Because know that he was looking he saw it: a wound at the center of all the blood. It was angry and red and nothing he had ever wanted to see on the body of the man he loved but a sight he was all too familiar with nonetheless. He answered the rest of the questions on autopilot, providing his name and address and other relevant details but the majority of his focus was on TK. He had been next to him, touching him and moving him and he hadn’t stirred. Carlos was no medic but even he was well aware that was a bad sign. 

He desperately wanted to know what had happened. TK had sent him a text two hours ago to tell him he had made it home. He had been fine, but now he was bleeding in their bathroom wearing his running clothes and Carlos had no idea why. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed TK to wake up. Nothing else mattered. 

Soon there was commotion as a paramedic team showed up as well as some uniformed officers. Carlos told his colleagues what he knew, answered all the questions the best he could but his eyes never left TK. Through all the prodding and commotion he hadn’t stirred once and that more than anything else reignited the cold fear in Carlos’s chest. 

The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently and in no time they had him on a gurney, ready to head to the hospital. Carlos stepped away from the officer he had been speaking to without a word, silently following them down the stairs and to the ambulance. He paused at the door, eyes seeking the paramedic Captain who met his eyes and nodded, gesturing for him to climb in. 

He did without a second thought and watched with a heavy heart as they continued to work on TK, giving him fluids and starting a transfusion. 

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked quietly, desperately. His voice was thick and when the other paramedic — Megan from the 132, Carlos had worked with her on several scenes — looked up at him, her gaze was grim. 

“He’s going to give it the best he has,” she said eventually, “and from what I hear he’s pretty stubborn, but I’m sure you know that.”

Carlos nodded. TK was stubborn, more so than anyone else he had ever met. But there had also been so much blood on the stairs and the floor and god knows where else and he knew what that meant. He knew how precarious this situation was, he knew exactly how much danger TK was in. 

He closed his eyes as they raced towards the hospital, squeezing TK’s hand that he had been holding since he had entered the ambulance. Megan was right, TK was stubborn, but so was he. And if anyone thought that they were taking TK away from him, they’d have to go through him first. 

He wasn’t about to let him go without a fight. 

------------

When TK woke up, he wasn’t fully sure he was awake. 

Actually, when he wakes up, he’s not too sure of anything. 

He opened his eyes to see the dim light of dawn peeking through the window. Soft pinks and oranges paint the room and distantly TK wonders how he forgot to shut the curtains. He always made sure to shut the curtains after Carlos has a late shift. His boyfriend is naturally an early riser but blocking out the morning sun helped to make sure that he got an adequate amount of sleep after a late shift. TK went to roll over to make sure Carlos was still sleeping when he realized that he wasn’t in their bed. 

From there the pieces fell into place and the realization dawned on him: he was in the hospital. He frowned to himself trying to remember how and why. He didn’t think he had gotten hurt on shift and he was pretty sure it hadn’t been one of his usual kitchen accidents but he couldn’t figure out what it was, his mind was too hazy. 

He looked around the room and smiled fondly as he saw Carlos, asleep in the chair next to his bed, his head rested on folded arms next to his hip. He reached out a gentle hand to brush a curl off of his forehead, nearly jumping himself when his light touch caused Carlos to sit bolt upright, eyes frantically looking around the room. They seemed unfocused when they found TK looking at him, for a moment. Then he blinked and they cleared as relief flooded his expression. “TK,” he breathed, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek. 

TK leaned into the warmth of the touch and smiled at him until he saw the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. 

“Carlos?” he asked, voice weaker than he expected, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Carlos repeated incredulously, “what’s wrong? TK, you almost died. I almost lost you.” 

“What?” he asked, his heart rate picking up at the distress in Carlos’s voice, “What do you mean? What happened?” 

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Carlos said more softly. “I came home and found you passed out and bleeding in the bathroom. You had been stabbed, and it was pretty deep.TK, what happened?” 

His voice was desperate and TK frowned as he thought. His mind was still fuzzy, but bits and pieces were starting to come back to fill in the blanks left by Carlos’s words. 

“We had a rough call during my shift,” he remembered, feeling the pang of guilt and grief hit him all over again, “and I didn’t want to dwell on it so I went for a run. I was running in the park and I think a group of kids robbed me. They were just kids, Carlos, they couldn’t have been more than 19.” 

“But they stabbed you,” Carlos said darkly. “I think that graduates them from ‘just kids’, TK.” 

“They asked for my wallet but when I told them I didn’t have it…” he trailed off but judging by Carlos’s grimace he could fill in the blanks. “They’re just kids Carlos,” he told him again, “they have their whole lives ahead of them.” 

“But thanks to them, you almost didn’t.” Carlos pointed out, his firm tone shifting as choked out the last words, “you almost died, TK. I almost lost you. That goes well beyond kid stuff.” 

TK knew Carlos was right but the thoughts he had been running away from were back. He couldn’t stand to think that these boys, no older than Danny had been, were out of chances. He couldn’t stand the thought of their lives as they knew them ending over a stupid mistake. 

Carlos was studying him now. He knew that he was an open book to the other man, he had always been. Carlos reached for his hand and wound their fingers together, “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on,” he asked gently. “It has to do with the rough shift, doesn’t it?”

TK swallowed and looked down. “There were two brothers,” he whispered, just loud enough that Carlos could hear, “16 and 19. The older brother was driving. He kept saying that he had just looked away from the road for a moment, that it was all his fault. He made a mistake Carlos — a simple, stupid mistake — and now he and his little brother are both dead. They didn’t get a second chance.”

There were tears running down his face now, but he didn’t bother wiping them away. 

“They didn’t get a second chance,” he repeated, “and I’ve had so many. It just doesn’t seem fair.” 

He felt a hand on his face as Carlos wiped away the tears running down his face. “You’ve used those chances Ty,” he reminded him tenderly, “you’ve used them to become a better person, to help people. They brought you here and made you who you are. They weren’t wasted and they weren’t a mistake; I think they were fate.” 

“But why me?” he asked, voice thick with tears as he met Carlos’s warm brown eyes, “Why did I deserve it? Why didn’t they?” 

“I can’t answer that Ty,” Carlos responded sadly, “no one can. We don’t get a say in who gets a second chance. That goes for you, the brothers, and those kids that did this to you.” 

TK knew he was right. He knew that it was out of his hands and that regardless of what he said or did, the boys who had robbed him in the park would either be caught and punished out they wouldn’t. It was out of his hands. Carlos was watching him and TK was sure that he knew what he was thinking. 

“If that’s not enough,” Carlos said after a few moments, “think about the fact that they could do this again, and that the next person might not be so lucky. The next time it could be a loved one planning a funeral instead of sitting in the ER, because that’s almost where this ended, TK. You can’t protect them.” 

TK wasn’t sure “protect” was the right word. He just didn’t want to see three young lives altered over one mistake. He wanted to see them move past this, to grow from it, but he knew he had no say in the matter. He shifted his focus instead to Carlos who was here and who he could help. 

“How are you doing?” he asked him, shaking his head at Carlos’s objection. “Don’t give me that,” he insisted. “You have been waiting and worrying all night. You found me and saved me. While I am beyond grateful, I know if it had been me and it had been you, I would be a mess so don’t lie to me, Carlos.”

He held his boyfriend’s gaze, watching as it wilted and as Carlos took a deep, shaky breath. 

“It was the scariest thing I have ever faced,” he admitted. “I was a wreck the whole time you were in surgery. If it hadn’t been for your dad and your team, I don’t know what I would have done. But I knew you would be okay because any other possibility was unacceptable.” 

“Is that so?” TK asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” Carlos agreed. “Because if anyone tried to take you away from me they’d have to go through me first. I don’t give up easily; I learned from the best, after all.”

TK smiled and pulled at Carlos’s hand. He was still too weak for it to make much of a difference but luckily Carlos understood and moved closer. TK leaned in to give him a kiss: short, but full of love. He liked to think that it was a promise too, but just in case he said the words aloud. 

“And I would do the same for you,” he vowed, holding Carlos’s eyes and giving him a smile. “We’re in this for the long haul, you know. Anybody who says otherwise will have to answer to me.”