#and he essentially told me i was stupid and then said ‘spread love not hate xo’ BESTIE UR SHOW CASUALLY HAS CHARACTERS USING SLURS

[thebluestbluewords]

anti-Valentine’s Valentine’s date

I tried SO HARD to write the adorable Jal prompt that I received for Jalentines day, and instead of cute all my brain wanted to write was angst. Set in approximately D2, it’s a 3k lead-in to a longer Jal fic that I’m probably not going to finish writing.

*

Mal kicks the door of the boy's dorm open with the heel of the stupid, impractical strappy sandals she's been wearing since before dinner. 

Or at least, that's what she tries to do. Instead, because her life is a curse and the very existence of high heels is a prison, the delicate silver heel of the shoe that Evie spent hours sourcing for her snaps off. 

Great. Perfect. This is just how she wanted the night to go. 

Mal pounds on the door with her fist instead. "Open up! I brought misery and disdain for the institution of love!" 

A thump. "And chocolate?" 

"No, I didn't steal any chocolate at all from my date with the king of Auradon," Mal says, as sarcastically as she can manage with one shoe on and the other broken to pieces in her hands. "Just let me in already." 

The door pops open. "You're late." Carlos informs her. "Evie already went back to your room." 

Wonderful. 

"I don't care," Mal informs him right back, and shoves her purse, which is tiny and lilac and stuffed to the brim with all the chocolate she could fit, into his hands. "I need this princess shit off my body yesterday. I am not cut out for valentine's day, that's what I've learned, and also Ben's going to dump me and I don't care."

"Woah. Uh. Maybe you should care--" 

Mal spins around to glare at him, and Carlos immediately throws his hands up. "I MEAN, your judgement is impeccable and we all hate Ben now!" 

Ugh. 

"I don't hate him," Mal snaps, yanking her earrings out and throwing them sort of in the direction of somebody's dresser. There's still enough empty space on the top for her to recognize it as a dresser, so signs point to it belonging to Carlos. "I hate love. And valentine's day. And dating."

"You said you hated froot loops yesterday." Carlos points out. "Because I took the last of them. So like, I'm gonna take this with a spoonful of salt here. Did your date not go well?" 

Mal rips the pins out of her hair with so much force that one of them flies into the mirror. It doesn’t shatter, which is a fucking shame. She would have liked to make an awful mess. "I hate love, and I'm going to die alone surrounded by the bones of my enemies. No, it did not "go well,”” She stops ripping out pins long enough to add air quotes, which are essential to the dramatic effect of it all. "He asked if I love him back, and I told him, again, that I don't know how to love people, and he made this horrible face and was so kind about the whole thing, and just-- ugh!" 

Carlos is hovering. "I’m…sorry?" 

"I'm sorry we ever came here." Mal spits, yanking her other shoe off and throwing it somewhere in the direction of Jay's shoe pile. "I don't-- I can't be a princess. I hate that I just-- I don't know how to do anything, and I hate when people look at me like I'm supposed to know what I'm doing, and there were all these cameras, and--augh!" 

"Jay's in the shower," Carlos offers. "If you want to bother him about it." 

"I want to hit something," Mal admits. It's not a perfect solution, but she's already feeling a little bit less like her skin is on too tight now that she's got her hair loose and wild around her shoulders and her earrings and stupid, uncomfortable, impractical shoes off. "I think-- d'you want to spar with us?" 

"Can't. Homework." Carlos gestures to the textbooks he's got spread out on the neater one of the boys’ beds. "I've got a test tomorrow and if I fail I'll have to retake the class." 

Mal leans over so she can see the textbooks. It looks like history, maybe. Something with a lot of dense text and no visible math problems. "I can't imagine you failing any test, furball." she says, meaning it. How well they thrived on the isle of the lost isn't a perfect gauge for how well they're doing in Auradon, but school is school no matter where they are, and Mal can't remember her little nerd ever failing a test.

 Carlos goes even tenser at her attempt at reassurance. "First time for everything." 

"Still, you failing?" Mal scoffs. "We're in Auradon, not Wonderland. Not everything is upside down and inside out and topsy-turvy. Or whatever Allie’s sayings are.. You'll be fine." 

"I'll be better if I study. Sorry. No sparring for me tonight." 

Ugh. Mal rips another pin out of her hair and throws it towards the mirror with the others. "Suit yourself. I'm going to go bother Jay into letting me beat the shit out of him."

Carlos flashes her a little half smile. "Have fun."

“Oh, I will,” Mal assures him, and spins around to go invade the sanctity of the boy’s showers. 

The short, barefoot walk down the hallway to the boy's bathrooms gives Mal critical time to think about her plan of attack. She's wicked and awful, naturally, but she's also not especially interested in getting shouted at by a teacher for being out of bed and in the boy's showers tonight. She's had enough of being shouted at by adults who think they know better than her. She's not some Auradon girl to be controlled, so she's simply not going to get caught. 

Which means she's going back to the boys room. 

At least she'll remember to grab some different shoes this time. 

"Fuck off, Mal," Carlos calls through the door when she knocks a second time. "You can't steal my shoes." 

"I can steal whatever I want, actually," Mal corrects him, opening the door and barging in, as is her right as their fearless leader. She is Mal of the Isle, and she's not a prize to be won or a princess to be wooed. She's going to steal whatever shoes she likes. "Jay's shoes don't fit me right." 

Carlos throws a pen at her. "Neither do mine, you're just delusional about the size of your own feet. At least take my sneakers if you're going sparring. I hate when we have to dig out the poison kit after hours." 

Mal sticks her tongue out at him. Her shoes are all perfect, and she's also perfectly aware of the size of her feet, which are currently half a shoe size smaller than the one Carlos wears.  As such, their shared approximate size gives her the right to steal his shoes whenever the princess ones she's been dressed in are too much for her to manage, physically or mentally. . "I'm taking the ones with spikes." 

"Are not." 

"Are so," Mal says, diving under the bed to where he keeps all four pairs of his shoes lined up. "I'm going to add more spikes while you're not looking. Poison-tipped ones. Razor-sharp." 

"Use porcupine quills, they're barbed." Carlos says helpfully, making absolutely no motion to get up and defend his shoes.

Mal shoves aside the fallen textbook, grabs the hoodie shoved under the bed for later, and ah. There’s her prize.  Boots (with spikes), dress shoes, cleats (more spikes), and there at the end, sneakers. 

"Fishhooks," Mal suggests. "The giant ones that rip holes when they come out. And I'll dip them in bleach powder so it burns the whole time they're inside." 

Carlos shudders. "Gross." 

"You're gross," Mal rips her dress over her head, and does not wince at the popping noise the shoulder seam makes. Evie can fix it again later, or they can burn it. Whichever. "I'm taking your clothes too."

"Wash the bloodstains out before you put them back." 

Shirt. Pants. Hoodie. Sneakers. 

Ill-gotten disguise on, Mal flashes him a thumbs up on her way back out the door. 

“Hey,” Mal calls out, keeping her voice intentionally low. She’s got the hood of Carlos’s stolen hoodie pulled up over her hair, and she’s relying on the sight of a familiar size-shape-color-scheme to deter anyone from looking too closely at her. Not that there’s many students around the boy’s bathroom at 9pm on Valentine’s night, but still. She’s not exactly looking to get caught. “Jaybird?” 

There’s no noise in the bathroom except for the irregular drip of a shower head that hasn’t been turned off quite hard enough. All the money in the world, and Auradon Prep still doesn’t have showers that actually work how they’re supposed to. 

It’s ridiculous. If Mal were in charge of the school budget she’d be putting all the money into showers. A hot shower and a  fireplace in every dorm, so that none of the students have to feel cold if they don’t want. That’s the budget priorities Mal would have. Warmth, and then food. The dining hall could stand to leave leftovers out longer after meals. 

…princesses don’t think about food. She’s been around Evie long enough to know that one. Princesses are tiny and perfect without even trying. Princesses eat salad and fruit and don’t order fries with anything. Princesses are the sort of people the king is supposed to be dating, and Mal is never, ever going to become that sort of person. 

“Mal?” 

Mal does not jump. She just— startles. Just a little. “Hey.”

There’s a smile playing at the corner of Jay’s mouth. “Hey yourself. I thought you’d be out with Ben still.” 

“You know price charming,” Mal waves a hand. “Had to have me home by midnight or else he was afraid I’d turn into a pumpkin.” 

“It’s nine thirty.” 

“Localized curse. The younger you are, the earlier it thinks you should be home. We picked nine, just to be safe.” 

“You can just say you had a bad date, killer,” Jay says. “I’ll be your alibi. You need a shovel?” 

Mal snorts. “It didn’t go that badly, give me some credit. I just freaked out when he started talking about love. While we were on a date to talk about love.” 

Fuck. 

A lot more of the evening makes sense when she frames it that way. None of the bullshit they’ve found online talks about dating the king of the entire country, but there’s a lot of website with mind-numbing names like psychology today and buzzbees news that make it very clear how important Auradon brats think nonverbal communication is. 

She went on a date. On Valentine’s Day. 

With Ben. 

“…Killer?” 

Focus. 

“Fuck off.” Mal snaps reflexively. “I’m fine. Just. Plotting.” 

Jay dodges around her for a pile of fabric, which reveals itself to be his Auradon-blue team hoodie. “You wanna plot somewhere a little better?” 

“What I want is to go home, but I’m not going to get that,” Mal says thoughtfully. “I was going to ask you to spar with me, but if you’ve got any better ideas I’m open to hearing them.” 

“Breaking and entering.” Jay says immediately. “We should blow this place. There’s that all-ages club in town—”

“If I have to touch another human being I’m going to scream.” 

Jay touches her arm deliberately, a sustained pressure that doesn’t even read as touch, just comfort. Mal drinks it in like he’s pouring the comfort directly onto all the jagged, awful pieces of her soul. “I’m not a human being?” 

“Shut up. You’re mine, it’s different.” 

“You’re mine, then.” 

There’s a piece of her heart that fits perfectly again the broken edges of his. Mal couldn’t let go of Jay if she tried, not for anything in the world. Not for her mother breathing fire at them, not for Fairy Godmother insisting that it’ll be good for them to make other friends, and not for a stupid holiday that says she’s only supposed to be tied to one person, and not even the one holding on to her right now. 

“Sure.” Mal agrees, because she can’t put words to the enormity of feelings she’s experiencing. Villains don’t have feelings, but she’s reformed now, and it’s harder to describe the feelings with words than it is to have them. “We can sneak out, see what trouble we can find.” 

“You’re all the trouble I need, killer.” Jay says, too honest. “I’ll take you out of here whenever you need. Wherever you want.” 

“Sap.” 

“Princess.” 

“Do I look like a princess to you?” Mal leans back to gesture at herself. The sweatshirt she stole isn’t Auradon-blue like Jay’s. It’s an old one, ratty in the way that all their old isle stuff is, and nearly transparent at the elbows. The seams are held together with Evie’s neat machine stitching, but the thread is three different shades of red and grey all mashed together, and there’s a hole in the edge of the hood that’s exposing the soft inside of it. Her sneakers are a size too big, and laced tight to compensate. Her hair is still a mess from the violent undoing that she’d subjected it to, and she can’t be bothered to try and tame it, not when her chest is bursting with feelings that don’t have any place to go except for out of her body, in tears or screams or whatever violence she’s able to inflict that will drive the awful right feeling out. 

“The prettiest princess in all the land,” Jay says, and jumps back before the words are even out of his mouth, out of the range of Mal’s swipe. “C’mon, killer. You’re the fiercest baby dragon I know. Come out with me. We can find trouble somewhere better than this.” 

"You're trouble already," Mal grumbles, but there's no bite to the words. She wants, wholly and completely, to be somewhere else. "The gates are locked for the night, you know." 

"No problem. Besides, you can just say you're on an important errand for the king and get through all the school security." 

"I could," Mal agrees. It's not like she's afraid of a little misplaced power when she can wield it. "But it's more fun to sneak out." 

Jay's grin is a bright flash in the darkness. "Hey, I've got a stupid idea." 

Mal grunts. "Shoot." 

"I could toss you over the fence." 

"The twenty foot fence." 

Jay shrugs. "It's more like twelve feet. At least according to the build specs." 

"Which you came across..." 

"Totally legally. They're in the library, if you know where to look for 'em." 

"You're impossible," Mal sighs. "Okay, once you toss me how are we getting you over?" 

"I'll jump." 

Over the twelve foot fence. "Sure, and when you break your leg falling back down?" 

"You'll magic me back together again. Humpty-dumpty this shit." 

"I don't think you actually know that rhyme."

"I know your rhymes," Jay shoots back. "You've got magic for levitation in the spellbook, yeah?" 

"I don't have the spellbook with me, wise guy." Mal points out. "I'm not even wearing my own shoes right now, what makes you think I memorized magic that'll get us over the fence?" 

Jay's eyes are too bright. She's going to have to use a spell just to hide him, and the magic will burn her out, and they'll get stuck on the wrong side of the fence, and-- that's what she would think, if she were Jane, or someone will less awesome magic powers. She's Mal of the Isle, and she's got this shit under control. 

"Dragon magic," Jay says cheerfully, like it's not late and they're not doing something totally against all of the rules they're supposed to be learning by sneaking out to the city. "I trust you, killer." 

"I could kill you," Mal grumbles, but she raises her hands and lets the magic gather there, blue-green sparks catching on her fingertips as she pulls the spell out from her mind. "Make this boy as light as air, hop the fence without a care." 

The magic falls over Jay in a net of shimmering sparks. They absorb in after a second, but the look suits him. Mal spares a thought for her sketchbook, which is tucked away in her locker with the rest of the books she hasn't had the time to touch in weeks, and the drawing her fingers are itching to make. "You can hop it now. You'll be light enough to jump over the fence with a regular leap." 

"Sweet!" Jay turns and drops to a knee. "Hop on." 

"Piggyback? Seriously?" 

"No better way to hop it together. Unless you'd rather I throw you over."

It's dangerous, and not just physically. Mal's been doing a pretty fucking good job at squashing down the feelings she's not supposed to have for her best friends, but this... 

She's emotionally illiterate, but Jay's offer to take her out tonight is like a picture book. Or one of those furniture instructions that doesn't even have language, just pictures to follow. 

He cares about you, Mal's traitorous brain whispers. More than your boyfriend does. 

Ugh. 

"Don't do anything stupid," Mal says, even as she's the one climbing on. "The spell should be good for a few leaps, but--" 

"Can't hear you, too busy blowing this place!" Jay grunts, pushing them both upright. "Let's fuckin' go--" 

"Don't--" 

"Hup!" 

Well. At least they're on the other side of the fence now, even if they crashed directly into the school holly bush on the landing. 

"Oww," Jay groans. "Might need a little more practice on that spell. I think there's something wrong with your magic assist on the landing." 

Mal yanks a leaf out of her arm. "There is no magic assist, dumbass. I tried to tell you, but somebody decided to go full steam ahead without listening to my warning. We're over now, and that's what matters." 

Jay mumbles something unintelligible. She can only assume it's rude, given the circumstances. Ugh, holly leaves are not the hot new accessory of the season, not even when they're doing a levitation act and sticking with a single thorn into her nose.

 "Speak up or shut up, jaybird." 

"I said--" It's impossible to tell in the darkness, but it looks like he might be blushing. The school grounds are supposed to have automatic lights, but a little wire cutting took care of that for them, and they're sneaking out under cover of darkness tonight. Mal's good at knowing her crew, but she can't be sure. "I, uh, you're important. To me." 

"Don't get mushy on me." 

"I'd never. Just. We're sneaking out together, and I wanted you to know, I'd never commit crimes and misdemeanors with anyone else." 

"Liar." 

Jay flashes her a smile, but he's doing the thing where he's got a hand tangled up in his hair, and it makes him look heart-wrenchingly sincere. "Yeah, but not to you." 

Oh, gods. "Don't go having feelings on me," Mal says, swallowing down the wobble that wants to creep into her voice. "I can't handle it. Not tonight, please." 

Just like that, Jay's posture melts into something different. Not quite his usual confidence, but something closer to normal. "Sure. No feelings. I can do that." 

"I don't--" Mal scrubs a hand over her eyes. "I didn't mean that you can't have feelings, just. I can't be the one to handle them tonight. I'll do whatever you want tomorrow, just-- can we just go be somewhere else tonight? I can't handle all this lovey stuff." 

Jay's shoulders melt even further. Mal can't look him in the eye, she can't, she won't-- 

He's smiling. His hand is so, so warm in hers. "Killer." 

"I'm sorry." 

He shrugs. "Whatever. You're allowed to have a bad night. I'll take you out, we can forget this ever happened tomorrow. Easy." 

"You should have someone better," Mal cries, and the horrible realization that she's crying sets in. "I don't want feelings for you!" 

"shit," Jay whispers, so quietly that Mal is sure she wasn't supposed to hear it at all. "Dragon, we don't have to do feelings like the Auradon brats. You can just be mine, and I can be yours, and we don't have to do any of the mushy shit that's freaking you out. We can just run away." 

"Together." 

"Yeah. Unless you spelled somebody else over the fence while I was distracted." 

Mal wipes the sleeve of her stolen hoodie across her nose. "Ugh, no. I don't use magic for just anybody." 

"See, there you go. I'm honored to be worthy of your magic, your royal evil-ness." 

“Fuck off,” Mal groans, and then before she can lose her nerve she steps close enough to cup his face in her hands. There’s no magic this time, but Jay’s skin is hot and soft under her palms, and it feels like there should be magic between them. “I’m the worst girlfriend in the world, so I won’t ever put you through that. I’m selfish, and I’m flaky, and I can’t say that I love you, and I can’t ever promise that I’ll be able to say it.” 

Jay’s face is a thundercloud. “Did Ben say you needed to say it back?” 

“No, but— Ben’s not here right now. That’s the point. He’s not the person I run to when everything in the world is too much for me to handle. Ben’s sweet and all, but he’s not who I want to be with when I’m upset. Can you imagine what he’d say if I suggested running away from the grounds?” 

“What ho good chap, let me summon a car to escort you from the venerable grounds of our fine institution,” Jay picks up her thread, mocking. “And yeah, I guess when you put it that way, it’s pretty silly to think about Ben taking care of you.” 

Mal sucks in a breath. “Exactly. He’s sweet, but I don’t know how to deal with sweet, and it feels like the pressure of it is killing me. You know how to push back when I’m being a monster, and I don’t know how to fit that into one of the relationship boxes I’m supposed to use here.” 

Jay tips his head into her hands. “We could make our own box.” 

“We could.” 

“I wouldn’t ask you to be my girlfriend.” 

Mal leans in. “I know,” she tells the space between Jay’s parted lips. “I know.” 

[sorryiwasasleep]

Just got hate crimed by Disney+

[eternal-armin]

the demon you summoned

BY THE GRACE OF THE UNHOLY BEINGS I LOVE I GOT IT BACK IM SO HAPPY

the reader sold their soul to the demon [char] to accompany them across turbulent lands to the great cities, rumored to have huge markets and incredible buildings. but reader is weak and cannot protect themselves, so they instill the help of otherworldly forces.

slight fantasy au heavily inspired by insomniac production's demon armin series (i love it so much i love their work hh)

maybe i should make this an actual drabble series

───── ❝ jean ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ you summoned a demon of pride to help not only with your state of mind, but with a venture across your lands ༻✦༺ you were very unhealthy and multiple people in your village suspected you wouldn't be able to make a journey to the larger cities ༻✦༺ this was essentially your last resort ༻✦༺ you were fully prepared for jean to reject your proposal; you were willing to give up your soul just to visit the cities for one day ༻✦༺ seeing how pure your soul was, jean was more than happy to escort you to your destination ༻✦༺ along the way, jean was compassionate to you ༻✦༺ he would ask you questions and you would respond. the more he knew about you, the more he rued the time when he would have to kill you to complete the pact ༻✦༺ the way that your eyes light up when you talk about your passions and your dream to leave the one place you ever knew ༻✦༺ the way you yawned and leaned against him when you began getting tired ༻✦༺ the smile you got whenever you saw something new and went to examine it ༻✦༺ the way you would look at him when he explained what it is, astounded by the knowledge that he held, and that he was honorable enough to share with you ༻✦༺ every time he protected you from any death or injury, you thanked him. jean was unused to it at first, scoffing. then it made his heart warm every time ༻✦༺ both of you were becoming more and more nervous along the way for very different reasons ༻✦༺ when you arrived, you hugged him and thanked him one last time ༻✦༺ jean wanted to cry ༻✦༺ you were so happy he couldn't possibly ruin this for you, ever. ༻✦༺ he pulled you aside for the time you thought you were going to die. instead, he hugged you, and told you how he felt

───── ❝ sasha ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ demon of greed and gluttony, famed to expose any hidden information and protect the operator if given a good enough offering ༻✦༺ you prepared an initial offering of the best foods your village had to offer, all of which were passed down through generations ༻✦༺ she was fairly impressed to see the spread specifically for her, and so was happy to devour the majority of it while you posed the rather simple pact; in exchange for your soul, sasha would protect you during the month-and-a-half-long journey across the country ༻✦༺ for the effort sasha would be putting in, she demanded a fair amount of food and your soul, depending on its condition ༻✦༺ your soul was far more than enough ༻✦༺ sasha dreamed of you becoming part of her retinue, always with her to provide her whatever food she could ever desire ༻✦༺ your cooking skills were certainly developed enough ༻✦༺ sasha was somewhat surprised by the sheer amount of dangers you were susceptible to ༻✦༺ it wasn't entirely surprising. she wasn't usually summoned for these types of things. in fact, she wasn't often summoned at all ༻✦༺ even though sasha was constantly asking you questions, you answered with eagerness and waited patiently if she had to explain something. it was rather impressive to her honestly ༻✦༺ you would make dinner for the two of you, and while sasha ate, you often fell asleep against her shoulder ༻✦༺ seeing how comfortable you were with her was heartwarming ༻✦༺ and she hated it (for the most part) ༻✦༺ when she asked why the big cities were so important to you, you were kind of surprised that she cared ༻✦༺ she was surprised she had asked in the first place ༻✦༺ but seeing the passion in your eyes, she couldn't possibly extinguish it ༻✦༺ at the same time she still needed that soul ༻✦༺ "[y/n]. i have an important proposition. please... hear me out. you have made me feel things demons were never meant to feel. i.. i love you. i love you and i need to have you. but i need to have your soul, too. i need both and the only way i can have both is if i turn you into a demon. you- you can stay here. stay on earth, live your life. but i need to love you. i don't think i'll ever love anyone else."

───── ❝ armin ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of knowledge and strategy ༻✦༺ it was a fair idea to summon armin for passage, but not for protection. however, cunning strategy can be the perfect defense ༻✦༺ that was your point of view going into the ritual ༻✦༺ he was surprised you asked for his assistance when you could've summoned a demon of treachery to protect you, however respected your reasoning ༻✦༺ in exchange for the beautiful soul you had, he vowed to protect you across the dangerous midlands, and provide you with knowledge as to what you should avoid aswell ༻✦༺ he was like an authority figure for a while. telling you what to do and what not to do, asking you questions in the voice of a principal ༻✦༺ but you always answered those questions with warmth ༻✦༺ "i've heard stories about the outside world, especially about the cities, and about all the different people and food and everything. i wanted to experience it, even if it was just once. just once is enough." ༻✦༺ to armin, it was both heartwarming and heartwrenching ༻✦༺ he knew he was going to be the one tearing you away from the dream you loved so dearly ༻✦༺ armin was a little softer with you from then on, turning into a good friend you trusted enough to fall asleep in his lap ༻✦༺ you were so excited you couldn't sleep for a few days beforehand ༻✦༺ you asked if you could hug him ༻✦༺ when he said yes, you didn't let go for hours, and you were smiling the whole time ༻✦༺ armin was in constant internal turmoil for the next few days until the lights were within reach ༻✦༺ he couldn't do anything to take you away from here ༻✦༺ and he knew he wouldn't live long if he devoured your soul ༻✦༺ "you can grow old here, live the life you dreamed of, with everything you've ever wanted. i will give you anything you ask. and when you die, i can turn you into a demon. we can live together. all you have to do is say 'i love you too.'"

───── ❝ levi ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of war and battle ༻✦༺ for physical protection or vengeance, one of the first demons people tend to go to ༻✦༺ you treated him more with respect than fawning over him in awe, which automatically had him respect you more in return ༻✦༺ you explained professionally what you needed from him, and what he would receive ༻✦༺ you offered him both your soul, and to serve eternally under him until the last white dwarf died ༻✦༺ seeing your desperation, and your willingness to give up everything you've ever had, certainly spiked his interest in your... pathetic case ༻✦༺ he accepted the pact and you left the village in the dead of night ༻✦༺ levi was rather impressed to see a human taking care of themself well. after all of the pacts he had been in, he had developed a strong sense that all humans were rather... stupid ༻✦༺ your poised exterior would fade slightly whenever you read the yokomerfe a ohemfo, the one book you had about the outside world. it was replaced with a beautiful, childlike wonder that he felt profoundly drawn to ༻✦༺ he would gaze at you the entire time you read by campfire light ༻✦༺ why the everloving hell is he finding a human beautiful in any capacity ༻✦༺ the more levi got to know you, the more intrigued he became ༻✦༺ not just in the life of a human, but in you specifically, and he had no idea why ༻✦༺ he realized why soon after but didn't want to accept it ༻✦༺ however, the way it made him feel...? he couldn't just forget it ༻✦༺ he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took your life and your freedom from you for eternity ༻✦༺ so the day before you arrived, he brought it up ༻✦༺ "i do not wish to complete this pact. i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i had to take away your soul and make you a servant. i'm doing neither. you can live your human life, and you can choose whether to die and go to heaven, or to live forever as a demon by my side. if you go to heaven, i cannot exist without you by my side."

[poutybinz]

warnings: first time sex, playful banter, size kink. yeonjun’s got a big dick.

“yeonjun it’s not going in.”

“what do you mean, it totally can fit! it’s not even that big!”

“...are you listening to yourself at all?”

you let out a frustrated sigh, rolling your eyes as you let your legs fall back into the bed. you had been laying with your legs spread for entirely too long while yeonjun had tried to inch himself inside of you, but to no avail.

he would get a couple of inches in before it would either hurt, or just be too uncomfortable for him to go any further. you had truly tried everything! lube, fingering, yeonjun even bought you a toy to try and help to open you up a little more.

and yet, here you were. yeonjun’s 7 inch hard cock staring you in the face while he stood pouting, trying to hide his disappointment at not being able to fuck you.

“c’mon, can’t we try again? maybe we need a new position.” yeonjun was determined, and you couldn’t blame him. you did feel bad for essentially blue balling him everytime he wanted to have sex, but it wasn’t like you could help being tight. most guys go on and on about tight pussies, nobody talks about being too tight.

you couldn’t do anything right, you swore it.

you grunted as you sat up, massaging your sore inner thighs. “what other position? anyway you put it, it still feels like you’re burning me at a stake with your godzilla dick.” yeonjun snorted out a laugh and you bit back one of your own. “but seriously babe! we’ve been trying this for days at this point, there’s gotta be something.”

yeonjun plopped down next to you on the bed, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you close to give you a kiss on your neck. “i don’t wanna be pushy but fuck, i’ve been fantasizing about fucking you for months. you gotta know this is killing me.” you sighed softly, his soft kisses causing goosebumps to break out over your skin. “i just get so close and then it doesn’t work, all i wanna do is claim you. want everyone to know this is mine.”

his hands inched closer and closer towards your core and instinctively your thighs opened for him. when his fingers came ghosting over your warmth you gasped, hiding your face in his shoulder. “everyone knows it’s yours, stupid, you won’t let anyone live it down.” yeonjun hummed a small laugh as he drug his index finger up your core until he got to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in slow circles. “you love it when i’m possessive, don’t give me any of that.”

his voice was deep and rumbly in your ear and you found yourself somehow bucking into his hand, holding onto his arm. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t want him inside of you, it was like your body was craving it sometimes. but even you couldn’t get anything to fit, sometimes your one finger was too much.

you hated it. truth be told, you just wanted to be wrecked by your boyfriend and his giant dick. was that really too much to ask for?

“let’s...” your voice slurred a bit and you could feel yeonjun’s prideful grin. “lets try a new position. you lay down and i’ll try...and sit on it.”

maybe it would be easier if you could control your own pace.

yeonjun practically scrambled in place, taking no time to lay backwards. you were truly amazed at how he was still hard, his cock red and angry resting against his abdomen. there was something to be said about his love for you, but you’d think about that later.

‘focus on the task at hand. operation: capture the lochness monster.’

you climbed on top of him. hovering over his crotch for a moment before taking his dick in your hands. “i’m gonna go slow...” you said to no one in particular, rubbing the head of his cock over your entrance a few times before slowly lowering yourself on it.

“just relax...relax and don’t think about it too much.” yeonjun ran his fingers up and down your thighs, lower lip trapped between his teeth as you sunk down on him. his head went in easy, but the rest of him was the issue.

you had gotten couple of inches down before the uncomfortable feeling of being impaled showed up, and your face twisted in accordance. “fuck...fuck, why does...why’s your dick so fuckin’ wide, this makes no sense. who needs a dick this big.”

“i don’t know if you’re insulting me or not, but it’s not that big. you act like you’re sitting on an eggplant.”

“well why don’t you try stuffing a 7 inch rod inside of you and see how it goes?”

“wait, wait. look.”

you blinked at him before looking down at your meshing bodies, noting that you had gotten way further than you ever had before. in fact, you nearly had him all the way in! your mouth hung open in shock, staring at it for probably entirely too long before looking back at yeonjun who was grinning at you.

“that’s...it’s never gotten this far.” you commented. yeonjun nodded, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist. “you’re almost there, baby, just a little bit more. why don’t you try working yourself down on it?”

you found yourself clenching around him, something your body did involuntarily whenever yeonjun would tell you what to do, and the sharp inhale that accompanied it let you know that you were definitely doing the right thing. so, you leaned forward a bit and rolled your hips, steadily fucking yourself with his cock.

“that’s it...fuck, you look so hot like this.” yeonjun’s hands slid upward from your waist towards your back and you leaned down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. for the first time, it was actually starting to feel like sex. it wasn’t uncomfortable, nor did it hurt; but there was this faint burning pleasure lit in the pit of your stomach that was only burning brighter with every kiss and touch from yeonjun.

the way he groaned desperately into your mouth, his hands grasping at your ass while you kept grinding down onto him, it was intoxicating.

with a final moan of his name, yeonjun was fully sheathed inside of you. and it felt incredible.

“holy shit, it’s in. i cant believe it.” you were breathless, lips ghosting over his. “i feel like you’re in my stomach.” yeonjun’s eyes fluttered and it took everything in him not to start fucking into you right there.

“you have no goddamn idea how sexy you are.”

you licked your lips and shot him a cheeky smile, placing your hands on his chest before sitting up. “gonna ride me, dollface?” yeonjun looked entranced, staring up at you with reddened cheeks and lidded eyes. it made you feel just as attractive as he always told you you were, and suddenly you got this burst of confidence.

so you lifted yourself up a little only to sink yourself back onto him, and the chorused moans between the both of you let you know you were finally doing it right.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 11

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Plot? What's that? I only know domestic fluff

She really didn’t know what to think when Tim asked to move in for a second time the next morning.

On the one hand, it felt like she was taking advantage of him. He’d seen her get shot and she doubted he’d really thought rationally since.

On the other hand… he essentially lived there already and it would do a lot to alleviate the anxiety the both of them had...

She rubbed her eyes -- ha, as if she hadn’t been awake the whole night to make sure he hadn’t had nightmares -- for an excuse to look away while she thought. What should she do? She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him to move in, she knew that was clouding her judgement, but even if she recognized her bias it wasn’t easy to just put it aside.

She sighed lightly and lowered a hand from her eyes. Tim looked really cute after having just woken up with his hair all messy and his eyes half lidded and one of his cheeks slightly flatter where he’d been resting his head against her and who can really say no to that face?

… well, Marinette supposed that would allow both of them to relax a little...

She let her hands drop to rest on top of his.

“Sure, darling. If you want you can move in… but, if you ever want to move out, I won’t stop you. Just ask.”

He cracked a tiny smile. “The only time I’d ever move out of this place is if you were changing apartments.”

She snickered. “Where I go, you go?”

“You have no idea,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You bats and your dumb cryptic sentences. Would it kill you guys to ever say a single thing directly?”

“Yes. I’m pretty sure that I would drop dead on the spot.”

Her lips twitched. “Oh yeah? Heart attack or sniper?”

“Can’t tell you. I would drop dead on the spot.”

“Damn. Foiled again by the… mystery cause of death!”

The smile on Tim’s face brightened and he looped his arms around her. “You’d save me.”

“Oh? And miss out on my chance to get that rich boy money you probably gave me in your will?”

He schooled his face back into a serious look. “I see. I’ll have to write you out of my will, then. Make sure you bring me back.”

“Nooooooooo! My scheme! Ruined! Now how will I become a millionaire without trying?!”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, his face purposefully smug and hers pinched into a frown…

And then they broke character, giggles falling from their lips and smiles lighting up their faces. She tipped her head forward until it rested against his chest. He squeezed her tighter.

Then, to her surprise, he flopped back on the couch, pulling her with him. “Alright, sleepy time,” he said cheerfully.

“Darling --.”

“You didn’t sleep last night. Sleep.”

She pressed against his chest until she could sit up just enough to glare at him. “I have super strength. May not be as strong as Connor or anything but I can definitely get away from you if I wanted.”

“Of course.” A smug look made its way across his face. “But you wouldn’t hurt your darling, would you?”

She glared harder despite the slight reddening of her cheeks. His smirk didn’t waver.

Marinette huffed and dropped back down. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

She didn’t respond to that, instead just grumbling ‘pillows don’t talk’ and letting herself finally nod off.

~

Having two perfectionists trying to figure out the layout of a limited living space might not have been their brightest idea. They should have, at least, gotten someone to help.

Instead they had brought out Marinette’s tape measure and mapped out the entire apartment on a sheet of paper and then made tiny shapes for the furniture. Now, they sat at the table, obsessively moving pieces around.

It could have been worse, of course. Neither of them were the type to hoard things. He wasn’t all that concerned with anything other than his clothes and his laptop. Marinette only cared about her clothes, video games, and baking tools -- all of which could be tucked away in the provided closets and cabinets with ease. If needed they could probably get by with nothing but a dresser and a pull out bed each.

So, yeah, their own personal living styles weren’t the problem…

It was their work. Who knew their workaholic tendencies would be their downfall (besides everyone, of course)? She needed a lot of space for her fabrics and mannequins to make sure nothing got damaged. Tim would need a lot of space for his supercomputer if he didn’t want to make the long trip to Bristol every night.

Speaking of the trip to Bristol! He needed a place to put his motorbike and his suit. Shit. He could find a place to park his bike if he tried, but… he started cutting out a piece for the suit.

Marinette saw him adding more stuff and her head hit the table.

He snickered a little and poked her hair until she, however reluctantly, picked her head back up to send him a halfhearted glare. He smiled, reaching over and plucking the tiny square of paper from where it had stuck itself to her forehead. A blush spread across her cheeks.

Then she happened to glance down and her annoyance was back in full force.

“We didn’t think this through,” she said.

His smile became more strained as he looked down at their map. “Moving sounds so easy on paper.”

“Maybe it’s easier for people who don’t have such complicated lives.”

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m quitting.”

“Aw, but then I’ll lose my patrol buddy! I’ll have to do everything with your siblings instead.”

His nose scrunched up. “God, no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, you love your siblings.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re the worst.”

She looked like she was going to argue, but then she tipped her head and nodded. “True.”

He snickered.

Their smiles disappeared quickly as they looked back at the layout of the apartment. Could they even fit all their stuff?

… wait, actually, could they?

He started shuffling things in and he realized that, if they wanted to have space to walk, there wasn’t enough room. No wonder they’d had so much trouble finding a layout that would work. It was literally impossible. They needed more space.

She hesitated slightly. “... what if we bought out the apartment next to this one for work? It could even double as a backup in case you ever decide you want to have a place of your own again.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Can we do that?”

“You’re rich, you could probably figure it out.”

He rolled his eyes. “I mean, yes, we can technically kick out the people next door but I’d kind of prefer if we didn’t displace random families.”

“I mean… we could always…” She made a stabbing motion.

He couldn’t laugh at that. Laughing at that would be bad. So he wouldn’t do that.

“Bean -- Mari -- no.”

“I’m just saying! We’d even get the apartment at a discount!”

Okay, he might have laughed a little.

… they didn’t end up stabbing anyone but, hey, if the family next door happened to get some huge scholarship courtesy of The Wayne Foundation that they didn’t remember applying for with the stipulation that they would have to move districts... then they just so happened to have a lucky break. Good for them.

Which meant that they only really needed to buy a desk, a dresser, and a bed.

So they went to Ikea! A boring place where no shenanigans ever happen!

… well, no shenanigans ever happen if you’re not a pair of vigilantes that bounce bad ideas off of each other like they were playing a particularly intense game of Don’t Let The Balloon Touch The Ground and the entire world would blow up if they dared to lose.

Speaking of things that touch the ground, the resident dumbasses should probably have kept their feet firmly planted on it.

Marinette squinted down the escalator. “Oh, they’re definitely going to kick us out.”

“Definitely,” he agreed.

“Maybe arrested.”

“Maybe that, too,” he said brightly, checking the pot over his head to make sure it wouldn’t come off.

“... the PR team is going to hate us,” she warned him.

“Absolutely.” He could feel the gaze on the back of his head, telling him that the employees had noticed them and, quite likely, knew what they were planning. “Ready?”

A grin spread across her face. “Of course.”

He smirked. “Good, because they’re coming.”

She glanced back at the employees making their way over to interfere.

“Threetwoonego!”

He pushed off with his foot, relishing in her indignant yelp, and grinned widely as he started the very bumpy ride that was snowboarding down an escalator. He’d thought he’d be more or less okay because he had been a skateboarder but it turns out that boarding down moving stairs is very different from boarding down flat planes. He let loose a string of curses as he struggled to hold the plank of wood to his feet and not die a very painful, very stupid death.

Marinette came whizzing past him, eyes wide and the tray she’d been using as a board somehow missing.

She met his eyes briefly and flashed a grin.

And then they crashed.

It was about as painful as one would expect. Tim was glad that he’d thought to give himself a pot-helmet-thing because it had cracked down the middle and he didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t done that.

And he was the lucky one. He got out with a few bruises and a better appreciation for his own life. Marinette was nursing an arm that looked like it was trying to imitate the escalator they had just slid down, lips pressed together tightly as tears threatened to escape.

He carefully crawled over to check for any other injuries that might have been less noticeable.

She grinned up at him, either because he was currently checking to see if her teeth were all in place or to be smug. What she could currently be smug about, though, he had no clue…

“You’re so stupid,” he told her, just in case she wasn’t already aware.

Her smug grin remained even after he had removed the finger from her mouth. “You’re just mad that I won.”

“... sorry?” He hadn’t even been thinking about their impromptu race, too concentrated on the whole ‘making sure they hadn’t just died’ thing, and it took a moment for his brain to catch up. Then he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, won a pretty new cast, maybe.”

She snickered. “You had to cheat and you still didn’t even win. How does it feel to suck?”

“Probably still better than it feels to have a broken arm.”

She sat up. “It’s fine, I’ll live.”

He snorted. “You bet you will. I’m going to bubble wrap the whole apartment.”

“You can’t babyproof the place! We don’t even have kids yet!”

Before he could question her use of the word ‘yet’, the employees managed to get their attention. They were trying to get down the currently very broken escalator and the one that was currently going the wrong way for them. Despite this, the two of them had only a minute max before they reached them.

Marinette and Tim locked eyes.

“Run?” She suggested.

He was already getting to his feet. He dropped a business card for the employees and turned to her.

He grabbed her good hand and they sprinted out of the store, smiles lighting up their faces and laughter spilling from their lips. The poor employees hadn’t stood a chance of catching the two vigilantes, even injured as they were. They knew the city like the back of their hands and were able to weave in and out of side streets and alleyways without much thought.

Once they were sure that no one was following them -- leaving a store unattended in Gotham was a terrible idea and Tim had left a card for them to call -- she tugged him to hide between two buildings.

They squeezed into the tiny space and leaned into each other for support while they struggled to catch their breath. Her good hand came up to grip his shirt. He rested his forehead against the wall above her.

She lifted her gaze to his and he wished she hadn’t because he’d already been out of breath enough before she’d done that but now here was staring into her blue eyes, the corners crinkled in a way that had become so familiar to him over the past few months, and god… all he could think about was all the stories that described how time stopped when you fell in love… and how those stories couldn’t be more wrong. He would have hated for that to happen because if time stopped then he would have to see that perfect smile of hers in anything but real time and he doubted that it would have looked nearly as beautiful without the way her shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter or the slight fluttering of her lashes or the steady pinkening of her cheeks.

She finally gave a little puff of laughter. “What?”

He blinked once, trying to bring himself back to what was going on. “Oh, I was just thinking…”

“Oh? Don’t strain yourself.”

He smiled. “I was just going to say something nice but instead I’ll insult you on your stealth. You’d be a terrible criminal, laughing during your getaway.”

She rolled her eyes. “You laughed, too.”

“Yeah, but when I did it it was super cool and professional.”

“Ah, I see. How could I not have noticed it before?”

He snickered. “Well, if today has proved anything, it’s that you are not, in fact, the world’s greatest detective.”

She grinned. “You were the one that put the pot on my head originally.”

“You came up with the idea to go down the escalators like that.”

“You agreed.”

“You -- I -- shut up,” he complained, sending her a glare.

She smiled at him until he pretty much had no choice but to smile back, letting his head fall the last few inches to press his forehead against hers.

Her hand gripped his shirt a little tighter.

He moved his hands from the wall to her waist.

They stood there, letting time pass them by, searching each other's eyes for some sort of answer to the question neither of them could bring themselves to ask aloud. He bit his lip, trying to swallow down his anxiety.

Her eyes flicked to his lips, her own parted as if to say something, before she seemed to think better of it.

She closed the gap. His heart skipped a beat at the feather-soft feeling of her lips against his and he let his eyes flutter shut. She teased his lip out from between his teeth with her own.

And then she pulled back just slightly.

He opened his eyes just enough to see her shy smile and the blush lighting up her face.

“You… you really have to stop doing that. They’ll get chapped --.”

He pressed forward again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was far more desperate than the last. She gasped quietly and he took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth. The hand fisted in his shirt slid up to wrap around the back of his neck, dragging him even closer. He pressed her back against the wall, a hand trailing up to tangle itself in her hair, trying to reach more --.

She brought her bad arm up to cradle his face and then yelped in pain.

He jumped back. Right. Broken arm. Looks like a staircase. Not good.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh… let’s get you treated.”

~

Marinette ended up with a pink cast and an order to stay home for at least a week.

She pouted, resting her head back against the couch as she watched him shuffle around in search of his second shoe (it was tucked behind her back, but he didn’t need to know that). “I’m not a child, you guys can’t just ground me,” she complained for what felt like the millionth time.

Tim rolled his eyes. “We all have to do it when we break bones unless it’s an all hands on deck situation. Been like that since even before I was Robin.”

“But B goes out with broken bones all the time!”

“That’s different.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“It is. If there is a situation where B can be a hypocrite he will do it”

Marinette scoffed. “And you’re allowed out because…?”

He started counting off on his fingers. “None of my bones are broken, my job requires me to leave, I don’t get in trouble 9/10 times I leave the house… should I go on?”

“Last one is a lie,” she mumbled.

“No, I only get in trouble, like, 8/10 times I leave.”

It was hard to maintain her glare. She settled for sticking her tongue out at him like the mature adult she was. He returned it, despite the fact that he was also an adult according to the law.

He grinned and came to sit next to her on the couch. She shifted around until she was leaning against him instead of the couch, legs tangling with his.

He didn’t say anything about the blatant attempt at trapping him there with her. Instead, he leaned closer to her face and said: “Speaking of leaving, do you happen to know where my other shoe is?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why do I get the feeling that you already know where it is?”

He snickered. “I know you, Bean. So, can I have it back?”

“Hm… I don’t know…” she said, twirling his tie around her hand.

He let her pull him down for a kiss. She giggled against his lips as his hands ghosted over her in search of the missing shoe. She kept her good hand at his collar as a kind of silent promise that she wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- move the shoe, even throwing her bad arm around his neck just in case.

He pulled away a few moments later, squinting at her suspiciously. “I’m beginning to suspect I’ve been tricked.”

Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “Me? Trick you? I could never.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, where is it?”

She glanced at the time and smirked. “I guess you’ve earned it…” She pulled her foot out from between the couch cushions to show him the shoe she had hastily slipped on when he’d gotten close.

He scoffed lightly and slipped it off. “Y’know, if I had literally one of the most common fetishes in the world that wouldn’t have worked.”

“But you don’t, so it did,” she chirped with a cheeky grin.

“Guess that’s true…” He pecked her lips one last time before pulling his shoe on and she grinned as she watched him head to the door.

Only to stop a little short because of a knock.

He raised his eyebrows and glanced back. “Are one of my siblings coming over?”

She pressed her lips together thinly to keep herself from laughing. “It’s not any of their normal times. I just figured that, if I had to be home alone all day and couldn’t really do any work because my stupid cast, I should at least keep busy while you were gone.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He stepped forward and opened the door to reveal a delivery guy with three giant boxes. The furniture they had ordered from Ikea had arrived.

He signed for them and then turned to glare at her. “You planned all this so I couldn’t go.”

“I mean… you could always leave me here to do them myself.” She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. “Of course, my broken arm will make it a little difficult but I’m sure I’ll manage.”

She had been stared down by Batman in full kevlar, she could handle the glare Tim gave her in his slightly messy work suit.

Then, he sighed. “Do you have a backup plan?”

“Obviously. Don’t think you’ll like that one as much.”

He scowled. “You’re really this determined to not be home alone?”

“Oh, no, this is about getting B to allow me out. Trapping you and your siblings here is just a means to that end.”

“You’re going to be trapping my siblings here, too?”

She grinned. “Yep. They show up all the time, might as well use that.”

His shoulders slumped a little.

She giggled. “If I have to stay inside all the time then so do you guys. It’s the rules.”

And, so, she reached for him until he pressed a short kiss to her lips.

Then, they got to work. Or, rather, he did. She had been relegated to just sitting nearby and helping him figure out how to build it.

She took a few pictures for their public accounts as necessary: a picture of him with three screws poking out of his mouth while he tried to figure out the weird L-shaped tool he’d been given, a picture of the two of them staring at the instruction sheet with confused frowns on their faces (taken by Tikki), Vanelope enjoying the boxes the stuff had come in, what was definitely not a thirst pic of Tim, and then the finished furniture in the apartment.

It was there, right before she was about to post it, that she realized that she hadn’t actually publicly followed any of the Waynes. She squinted at her bio, which proclaimed that she would only follow people she genuinely liked, and then at the ten people she had followed. The internet would notice if she suddenly followed eight more people.

“Darling?”

He peeked an eye open from where he was relaxing on the couch and then raised an arm for her. She took his hand and smiled a little when he pulled her into his lap so he could hug her like a pillow.

Then she pulled a more serious look to her face. “Do you want to go public or not?”

He buried his face in her neck. “Sure.”

“... not even gonna think about it?”

He shrugged. “They’re going to suspect it no matter what. Especially since we were goofing around in an Ikea of all places and you’re uploading pictures of me helping you with furniture.”

She nodded slightly. “I know, but I don’t have to upload them.”

There was a long silence as they considered their options.

Eventually he just sighed and tightened his grip on her. “I’ll go with anything you want to do, Bean.”

She relaxed slowly and, hesitantly, she sent him the photos. “Here, you can upload them, too. Might as well make it public on both of our accounts.”

He picked his head up slightly to check out the pictures. She felt his lips curl into a smile against her shoulder at the picture of Vanelope. “This one is nice.”

She snickered. “All cats are cute, obviously it would make a nice picture.”

He hummed his agreement. “No offense to you, you’re cute and all, but the cat definitely wins the cutest here.”

“I’m not offended at all. We could never beat that.”

Then, she got an idea.

“Except… maybe… want a picture of us kissing for the reveal?”

“I’ll take any excuse,” he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes even as she felt her face warm. “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me, dumbass.”

Now it was his turn to blush. Yay, revenge.

… also, it would be cute for the picture if they were both a little red for it.

She twisted in his lap to press a kiss to his lips. His hands came up to cradle her face. She threw her bad arm around his neck, fingers threaded in his hair.

Her camera clicked. They ignored it.

[blewink]

heated // kth

warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, fingering, daddy kink, cum play?, you get the jist

word count: 3.1k 

a/n: hi its been a while ! i hope you’re all still here, schools a bitch but i still love writing :) send in a request if you’d like :p also let me know if you’d like a part two bc i have many ideas

-blue

You always hated mock debates because your professor would always place you against your biggest competition, Kim Taehyung. Even though you two were on the same team, you both were top of your class since middle school and always trying to be better than each other. And oh so lucky for you, you were now at the same college and both on the debate team. 

“Ms. Y/N”- your thoughts were interrupted by your professor, who was sitting in the first row of seats in the empty auditorium. “You and Taehyung to the podiums please. Your first topic is global warming and how it affects the younger generation.” You were confident in yourself and usually you never doubted your senses. As you walked up to the podium, a chill ran up your spine, it was abnormally cold in the auditorium and the short uniform didn’t help you at all. 

The bright lights filled the stage, providing the slightest bit of warmth. You looked to the  other podium, seeing Taehyung already looking back at you, you scoff and roll your eyes, looking back down at your paper which you had already begun writing notes on. “Do either of you need more time to prepare?” Your professor asks, you both shake your heads in response, “Okay Taehyung you may begin.” You gulp, sure you were good but so was Taehyung, and his handsome face didn’t help you either- wait what?

“Global warming is an ever growing issue that impacts the entire world, but more so for the incoming generation, as they are the ones who will be needing to tend to the dirty world that the older generation left behind.” God he’s good. He continues, 

“The younger generation now has to clean the mess this older generation has left behind-” 

“My opponent here is simply restating what he just said, so I’ll take it upon myself to continue. This younger generation essentially has no more childhood because they now have to come up with ways to make sure they have a livable future,” You take a short look at your notes, “A great factor causing global warming is carbon dioxide emission. We now see more of the younger generation taking this into consideration and we see more of them riding a bike or walking to places rather than using a car.” 

While speaking, you can feel Taehyung's eyes burning into your body, making your cheeks heat up. You glance at him and he’s biting his lip, making you quickly look forward to your professor. He always did this, trying to make you flustered and make you trip on your words. It worked the first couple times but you eventually became accustomed to it, this time being no different. 

A couple minutes passed and the debate went smoothly, however it took a heated turn at some point and you two were practically at each other's throats. This topic was something you were very passionate about, as it was the whole reason you were going to school for. So when he mentioned that big corporations' emissions levels didn't have a real impact on global warming, you were quick to fire back at him. 

You completely ignored everyone's looks at you as you were eager to make sure Taehyung knew he was in the wrong. You were quickly interrupted by your professor, “Y/N that's enough, your point was proven. Please take the rest of the hour to calm down in the rest area in the back room.” He points behind you and you quickly apologize and make your way behind the curtains and into the back hallway.

You hear some mumbling behind you and footsteps following yours. You turn and of course, it’s Taehyung. “Hey y/n, you good?” You take a deep breath before answering him, “Yeah I’m good, just what you said wasn’t right.” You finally make it to the back room and lay across one of the couches in the room. You hear him sit on the couch just across from yours. “How could I be wrong though? I did my research and it said that big companies don’t contribute as much CO2 emissions as common people.” Is he really still on this? You were getting pissed off, “Did you really come in here just to piss me off more?” 

You sit upright to face him, he has a smug look on his face, meaning he was up to no good. “Baby, you have got to loosen up, you’re too cute when you’re all flustered.” He gets up and walks to the door and locks it before walking back over to the bookcase. Your cheeks flush at the pet name, “You’re not doing this to me again,” You get up and walk over to him, “You’re not gonna pretend to flirt with me just to distract me from the debates.” 

His fingers trace the book spines, making you wet you panties a bit, fuck you and your stupid hand kink. He hums, “Well, for one, the debate is over and there's nothing to distract you from. And second,” He pauses and faces you. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close to him, your faces are meer centimeters away now, “Who said I was pretending?” Your eyes are wide and you can’t believe a word he says. You back away from him, laughing, “You’re kidding right? Alright who set you up to this?” 

He laughs at your response, his voice dips lower than usual, “You are so oblivious, aren't you baby?” The pet name and his deep voice make your knees feel weak and you let out a small whimper. You quickly cover your mouth and pray that he didn’t hear that. His movement freezes and you look over at him, he laughs again, “Did you like that? Hmm?” His eyebrow cocks up, but you stay in place and quiet. 

He walks toward you and you step backwards until you feel a table hit your lower back. He presses his whole body against yours and brings his lips to your ears, “I asked if you liked what I said, I’m gonna need a response from you.” You nod but it seems to not be enough for him, he grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you up and places you on top of the table. His hand reaches for your chin and he forces your eyes to meet his, “I need you to say yes or no, do you understand pup?” The new name makes your knees impulsive close but his body between your legs blocks them. “Yes.”

“You need to tell me if you want to stop because if you don’t, I won’t. Do you understand me?” You quickly reply ‘ yes.’ His lips dive into yours, his saliva tastes sweet and his tongue deepens the kiss. His hands quickly untuck your dress shirt and he carefully unbuttons it, his hands travel to your breasts. He gives them small squeezes, making you moan into the kiss. You pull away and unclasp your bra, revealing one of your biggest secrets, your nipple piercings. 

You earn a gasp from him and your face goes warm, “No point in being embarrassed baby, you’re absolutely stunning.” He ducks down and sucks on your nipples, which were hypersensitive. You’ve soaking through your panties at this point, he stops his actions, “Wait, do the piercings make them more sensitive for you?” You nod, forgetting the vocal rule, which it seems he did too as he continues his actions. His teeth lightly tug at the barbs, making you moan. You slap your hand over your mouth, remembering you aren’t too far from the main stage. “No no no, I wanna hear baby.” Feeling careless you move your hand away. 

He pulls you off the table, eager to hear your noises again, “Take your skirt off for me baby” You unzip your skirt from the side and let it drop. He removes his tie and dress shirt and he unbuckles his belt, quickly ridding himself of his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. His cock was very visible and pressed against the fabric of his boxers. “Lay on the couch for me.” You do as you're told. 

He comes up to your face and quickly kisses you, he moves to your neck, then trails down to the hem of your panties. He spreads your knees apart, and traces the wet spot on your panties, “Awe did my little pup ruin her panties?” His finger barely grazes the fabric on top of your clit, “Only because of daddy’s words.” You both freeze and you immediately start to apologize, “I’m sorry let’s just pretend-” He stops you, “No it’s okay. Daddy likes the name.” He winks at you and pulls your panties off. 

He drags his finger down your slit and slightly presses into your hole. The teasing makes you whine, “More daddy.” He looks back up at you, “Tsk tsk, we must not have manners huh?” “Wha-” A hard smack to the side of your ass cuts you off. You let out a choked moan, “Mmm little pup must like that.” He pulls your hips up and turns you over, on top of his lap. His hand rubs your ass before he gives another hard smack. He gives about five more before the pain turns into pleasure. “Look at you such a little mess, your poor little pussy is leaking all over the couch. Such a dirty little pup aren’t you?” You finally realize your pussy was indeed leaking, your inner thighs felt cold and you felt yourself dripping. 

“Please daddy, touch me.” His hand was now cupped over your cunt, “Thank you for using your manners, where would you like daddy to touch you?” You press against his hand, “Clit, hole anywhere, please” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he complies. You’re still laid over his lap and he spreads your legs apart and rubs your clit with small and slow circles. “I wanna see your little cunt leak some more, that okay with you baby?” You nod your head, “Yes daddy.” 

His movements slightly increase in speed, making your body shake in pleasure, you feel more of your juices leak out of you. “Fuck baby, you get so fucking wet, all for me isn’t that right?” “Yes daddy, all for you.” He plunges two fingers into your needy hole with ease, you immediately clench around him. His fingers fuck you at a moderate pace and he then adds a third and soon a fourth. His fingers are long and press against your sweet spot. His other hand rubs your clit, “So close, keep going” His fingers keep pumping in and out of you, “That’s it baby, cum for me. Make daddy proud.” His words send you over the edge, your orgasm pummels your body. His fingers ride you through your high, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. 

You sit up back on your legs. You notice the obvious wet spot on the couch, Taehyung gets up and rids himself of his boxers. He sits back down and pats his lap. You notice his size now, he’s long and thick but you know you can take him. You straddle his lap and you can already feel the tip of his cock pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Take it when you're ready,” You want to tease him so you take his cock and rub the tip along your pussy, coating in your juices. You bring it back to your hole and you lower yourself slightly onto the tip, barely taking him. He’s quick to notice your teasing and gives a slight smack to you ass, “Don’t be a brat, take the cock like it’s yours-” You lower yourself completely, cutting him off. 

His hands immediately go to your waist and you moan because his cock is pressing directly on your sweet spot, you whisper into his ear, “Holy fuck, I could literally cum right now you’re so big.” Your sentence ends in a squeak as your body shivers. Your cunt is still completely stuffed with his cock, you lift yourself slightly and fall back down. His grip tightens with every time you come back down, “How the fuck are you still so god damn tight? Did I not prep your little cunt enough?” You shake your head, “No you did fine, just fuck me” 

He flips you onto your back, “Oh I’ll fuck you alright.” His hips immediately snap against yours, the fast pace makes you hold onto his shoulders. Your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping fills the room, “That’s right, such a good pup for me. Taking my cock so well aren’t you?” You nod. He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking lightly and licking. He grabs one of your legs and brings it to the side of him, his cock goes deeper than before and abuses your poor sweet spot, “Gonna cum.” His cock pumps in and out of you, “You gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby?” Your nails dig into his skin and your body buzzes. 

You feel something wet splash onto your inner thighs and look down, “Did you cum?” you ask, a little confused. “Not yet baby, that was you. You can squirt?” A shocked expression covers both your faces, “I guess so, no one has ever made me cum like that.” A slight blush fades on your cheeks until you realize he still hasn't cum. He grabs your hips as though he’s ready to get up but you whisper in his ear, “I want you to cum in me.” 

Not a second passes and his hips snap against yours, giving you a hard thrust deep inside you, making you shiver in overstimulation. He continues and his grunts get higher in pitch indicating he’s close. You purposely squeeze around his cock and say, “Fill me up, please, I’ll do anything. Please-” You gasp as you feel his hot seed spill into you. He doesn’t stop until he milks himself completely. He pulls himself out and his seed quickly follows after, and you quickly lift your hips, attempting to avoid making a mess on the couch under you. 

He quickly gets up and heads to the bathroom on the other side of the room, grabbing some paper towels, wetting a few. He quickly walks back and places some under your bottom, you assume he’s going to wipe off your cunt but he pulls your hips down, making his cum spill out of you. You shiver at the sensation, but Taehyung’s fingers quickly spread his cum all over your cunt. He scoops a bit from your leaking hole and he brings his fingers to your mouth, you comply and suck his fingers clean. “Good girl.” The praise makes your cunt squeeze, allowing more of his seed to spill out onto the paper towels. 

You then feel a cold towel wiping between your thighs, cleaning up the mess created. “Jesus, I’ve never had a load this big, I swear, sorry it’s such a big mess sweetheart.” There’s genuine concern coming from his voice, making you blush a little. “It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He cocks an eyebrow up but his eyes are still glued to your cunt, “So my baby’s taken loads this big before?” You close your thighs out of embarrassment, but Taehyung’s quick to open them back up, “Answer the question.” You shake your head, “Not by a guy, I just have toys that do” 

The confession makes your face burn red and Taehyung hums and quickly finishes cleaning you and the couch up. You both quickly get dressed as best you can before Taehyung continues the conversation. “Listen I do like you, like a lot. I’m not trying to make this a one time thing.” You feel relieved knowing it wasn’t a one time thing, knowing someone like him doesn't come around too often, “Well it’s a good thing I’m not either.” He grabs the sides of your face and kisses you gently on the lips. You kiss him back and let your eyes flutter closed. It’s more intimate than the ones before, you’re the one to pull away for air. His lips are pink and covered in saliva and you can assume yours are too.

“So what are you doing after this?” You’re still trying to fix your skirt, by flattening the front, “Well nothing really, just the tournament tomorrow” He grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, “How many toys do you have baby?” You bite your lips and it takes you a second to recall you every growing toy collection, “Quite a bit.” He hums, seems like he likes doing that, “Well why don’t you take daddy to your apartment and do a little show and tell for him, hmm?” Your cheeks go red again, despite him already having been balls deep inside you. “What exactly do you mean my show and tell?” He brings you closer to him, “You tell daddy about your toys, then you show me how you use them.” You’d never shown anyone your collection before, but it made you excited. You quickly opened the door and tried to walk as quickly as you could back to the stage, as it was the quickest way back to the parking lot. You weren’t expecting anyone to still be there but your professor called out your name just as you two were about to leave the auditorium. You quickly turn to Taehyung to ask him, “Did you give me any hickies?” His eyes widen and stare at your neck. Amazing, how lucky could you be. You quickly pull your hair out of your ponytail and try to cover your neck. “Hey Professor Yu, did you need something?” She comes closer to you before saying, “Did you and Taehyung figure things out?” You quickly nod, “Yeah it was a simple misunderstanding.” Taehyung quickly interjects, “You could say she just needed to scream it out.” Professor Yu’s face twits in confusion, “Well good, I can’t have my two best kids at each other's throats. Speaking of, you look like you might have bumped into something there.” You laugh it off and say it was just make up you were trying out in the backroom, which for some reason she believes. “Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow morning at 7am sharp. You two have fun until then.” She turns away and Taehyung quickly shouts, “Don’t worry we will!” You jab your elbow into his side, “Jeez could you be more obvious?” He laughs at you but drags you out by the arm to your car, “We better get home quick, it’s gonna be a long night.”

[nightshade-minho]

-Inferno-

Warnings: public sex, insinuated break-up, cheating (kind of), fingering, oral (f. receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, Master!kink, degradation, humiliation, size kink, light dacryphilia. 

Wc: 3k+

Note: (@chanonymous told me this Minho gives off Black Widow vibes- and I just had to write another superhero!au. Minho’s alias in this is Black Widow, but he isn’t really affiliated to or similar to the Marvel Black Widow in any way. Y/n’s alias is DragonClaw, and she’s a dragon-shapeshifter with pyrokinesis. I know this is the second Y/n I’ve written with pyrokinesis- I’m sorry, I just love fire hhh-)

Why?

Why did the universe hate you so fucking much? 

It was torture enough being one of only two female superheroes at this year’s Annual Gala. It didn’t help that said female superhero was The Peacock, aka insufferable, bitchy diva- who was currently on the stage, that melodious, lilting voice of hers flooding through the speakers.  You watched as the men around you fawned over her, listening eagerly as she regaled everyone with yet another one of her self-centred tales. 94% made up, you were sure of that. 

“There’s no way she’d be able to beat up 50 gangsters with her powers.”

And there it was. His voice. Him. The real reason for your anger and frustration tonight. 

You carefully ignored him, hating the way he was seated right next to you at the table. How did this happen? There were currently 50 tables in the venue, more than enough to accommodate every superhero in the state. But of course, your rotten luck had landed you right next to him.

“I just don’t understand. Isn’t her power looking pretty, or something like that?”

You gritted your teeth, still not looking at him. However, the awkwardness of his unanswered question lingering in the air became too much to bear.

“It’s Allure. Her power is Allure.”

“Meaning?”

You rolled your eyes, answering reluctantly.

“Supernatural beauty that can be used to manipulate, distract and hypnotize.”

‘So...basically, looking pretty. Huh. That’s a cool superpower, being so beautiful that people can’t help but do what you say.”

You stayed silent, your eyes observing the seated audience, all of them absolutely enamoured by the beauty on stage. You’d entertained him enough.

“I think you’re prettier, though.”

That was it. You whipped your head around to face him, breath slightly hitching in your throat as your eyes met his. “Shut up.” You hissed. “Stop trying to talk to me.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking. 

“You know why. I don’t like you. That’s why.”

“Come on, Y/n. No one here knows about our...history.”

You glanced around, putting a finger up to your lips. “Why don’t you scream my real name a little louder? I don’t think the Grand Master heard you.”

“Look, just because you used to be a supervillain once doesn’t mean you still are so-”

You were sure he was doing this on purpose. You quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, shooting a look of apology to the dude opposite you, who turned to look. As soon as the man turned away, you glared at him.

“Look, Minho.” You seethed, your voice dripping with venom. “I’m not the only one with dirty secrets here. If you don’t shut up, I’ll stand up right now, and tell everyone who really caused that wildfire in California.”

“It wasn’t my fault-” 

“Yeah, right.”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed your hand, wrenching it away from his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been saying sorry ever since that day. Although I’m not the only one who should be apologizing, and you know it just as well as I do.”

You turned away from him, choosing to ignore him once again. The pain was still fresh, the emotions still raw. You remember how devastated you’d been that night, how you’d wanted to murder everyone in sight. Instead...you turned a new leaf, and chose to reinvent yourself as a superhero. Usually, tragic incidents and heartbreak lead to the birth of a supervillain- in your case, it was the opposite. You’d felt so miserable and dejected that you became good. 

And the man sitting next to you was the cause of it all. The fact that he had the audacity to sit there and flirt- especially knowing everything that happened between the two of you? It made you want to bury him six feet deep.

You fiddled with the spoon on the table. “How...how is she?”

“Who?”

“You know, her. Your girlfriend.”

“...girlfriend?”

“Spitfire.”

“Oh. Her. Um, she’s fine.”

Minho was lying. He hadn’t seen Jiwon- Spitfire, since that fateful night. Somehow, though, the lie had come out before he could stop it.

He watched you nod slightly, your face still turned away from him. 

Fuck, why did I do that? What was I expecting? That she’d be jealous? That she’d beg me to leave Jiwon? That she’d fall at my feet and ask me to take her back? Stupid.

Minho shook his head, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and tried to focus on the woman speaking. But..he just couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting to you. He wished he could take the mask covering half your face off..wished he could see your beautiful eyes staring into his again. 

Wished he could kiss you just one more time...

***

The next few minutes passed by in silence. You were about ready to walk up on stage and strangle the woman, droning on and on. She seemed to go off on tangents constantly, the story growing longer and longer until you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

The rest of the audience clearly didn’t share your views, their gazes filled with adoration and wonder. Well...everyone except...

You turned to Minho. He seemed to be lost in thought, his stare fixed on the blank wall. 

“Hey? Earth to Minho?”

He snapped out of his reverie, turning to look at you. His eyes widened as he realized you were talking to him.

“Shh. Black Widow.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a silly alias.”

“Like Dragonclaw is much better.”

“Hey! Dragonclaw is a very cool alias.”

Minho rolled his eyes as you shoved his arm playfully, your heart growing a little lighter. 

Okay. Just...forget about the past. Talk to him, even if it’s only to keep yourself from dying of boredom...

And so you did. The two of you started talking. He moved his chair closer to yours, telling you what he’d been up to for the past three years, discreetly whispering. 

“Okay, okay. Enough about the missions, tell me more about Spitfire! What’s she like?”

“S-she’s...cool. Very...fiery.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and smiling. “Do you have a thing for superheroes with pyrokinesis or something?”

“Uh...yeah, I guess you could say that.” He winked, noting how your face turned a light shade of pink. Hmm...

“Though...she’s nothing, compared to you. You were really...hot, especially in bed.”

You sneered at him. “That was a bad pun. Seriously, you could do better than that.”

“Oh, what a burn.”

You cringed, pressing your lips together. “Never mind, this was a bad idea. Even listening to Peacock’s speech is more bearable than this...”

“No, wait- I’m worth your time, I promise.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Maybe it was the way you puffed your lips out, or maybe it was your challenging tone...either way, Minho couldn’t help it. Before he even realized what he was doing, his hand was on your thigh. 

Your eyes widened a little. “W-what are you doing?” You stuttered.

Courage, Minho. “I know of a way we can get rid of the boredom...”

“You do? And w-what might that be?” You swallowed, feeling a slight streak of arousal shoot through you, despite his minimal touch. 

Minho’s confidence grew as he observed your flustered demeanor. His hand slowly crept up your thigh, a delightful smirk spreading across his face as you bit your lip, your sudden shyness turning him on. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Do you want this, kitten? Tell me to stop before it’s too late...”

You shuddered as he called you that pet name. He hadn’t called you that in years...

Minho took your silence as a yes, his fingers creeping up higher until it reached your zipper. He slowly pulled it down all the way, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. 

His hand slipped into your pants. Your breath hitched as his fingers reached your clothed clit, the pad of his finger running over it.

“How does that feel, kitten?”

You struggled to speak as he started rubbing you in circular motions. “It f-feels...good...” You choked out.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.” 

You heard a clatter as a fork fell to the floor. You twisted your head, Minho shrugging. “Oops. I dropped my fork...”

Your eyes widened as Minho slipped off his chair, crawling under the table. Looking around frantically, you realized that no one had heard the loud noise, Peacock’s glamour still captivating them- they were essentially zombies. 

Honestly. Did she not know how to turn the sexiness off, at least to be professional-

Your line of thought was interrupted as you felt Minho pulling down your pants, down to your ankles. Oh, right. 

So much for professionalism. 

You felt him spread your thighs apart, fitting himself between them. A few seconds passed before his breath ghosted over your clit, his fingers coming up to rub you through your panties.

You clutched the edge of the table, sweat forming on your forehead as his fingers slid aside your underwear. He ran two digits through your soaked folds, humming to himself. “Still as wet and pretty as ever...”

You shifted slightly in your seat, eyes darting here and there. This was so risky. Your eyes went up to Peacock, your brain unable to comprehend her incessant chatter as Minho pressed a kiss to your clit, his fingers circling your entrance.

You let out a soft whimper, leaning back against the seat as he pulled you forward a little. Placing your palm over your mouth, you muffled your moans as he wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth. 

He let out an appreciative moan at your taste, pushing a finger into your drenched pussy and trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. Minho could barely believe that this was actually happening- he wanted to pinch himself, but both his hands were currently occupied. One was busy gripping your thigh, the other drawing little moans from you as his fingers went deeper.

“Fuck...you taste so good...” He mumbled against your pussy, tongue coming out to lap at your folds. You could do nothing but groan helplessly, his mouth alternating between sucking on your clit and licking at your pussy, fingers fucking you through it all.

Your legs shook as you realized you were about to cum. You pressed your hand over your mouth, trying your best to not let out any sounds. You felt your high build up- flames of pleasure sparking at you...until it was all gone.

You frowned as Minho pulled away from you, confusion filling you as he tugged on your leg. Quickly looking around you, you bent down to lift the tablecloth and make eye contact with him.

“Come down here.”

“W-what? P-people will definitely noti-”

“That wasn’t a question, it was an order. Do as I say, or you’ll regret it, kitten.”

You whimpered softly, your heart beating faster as you lowered yourself to the floor. Minho quickly pulled you under the table, adjusting the tablecloth behind you before turning to you. 

Smirking at you, he palmed himself, eyes watching you hungrily as he crawled over you.

“Minho...this is a bad idea. I’m already on thin enough ice as it is-”

“Shh...” He traced his finger over your chin, down to your zipper, slowly pulling it down. He licked his lips as your chest was exposed slowly, leaning down to nibble at your ear. 

You stared up at him with glassy eyes, throwing your head back as Minho’s lips made his way to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to leave a hickey.

“M-Min...”

“Hmm?” He breathed against your neck, his fingers pulling the zipper all the way to your navel, staring at your bare skin. 

“Please...”

“Please, what?”

“I w-want...you...”

He chuckled. “I thought you were scared. Superheroes should be brave, you know?”

You frowned up at him, his infuriating smirk making you want to slap it off his face. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

He frowns. “That’s no way to talk to your Master.”

“M-master?”

He nodded, mouthing at your chest and wrapping his lips around your soft nipple, sucking gently. 

“Looks like you need to be taught a lesson, my little slut...you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

You opened your eyes as you felt the head of his cock against your pussy, moaning softly. Minho stared down at you, jaw clenched. He couldn’t wait a second more.

His hand made his way to the back of your head, gripping your mask, breathing hard. “Can I?”

You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, please...just...need you in me.”

He slowly took your mask off, tossing it to the side as his eyes took in your face fully, breath hitching in his throat. You were just as beautiful as he remembered.

It was too much to handle. Eyes still fixed on yours, Minho steadily pushed his cock into your pussy. He groaned as he felt your walls hugging his length tightly, going deeper until his tip hit your cervix. 

“You’re so fucking tight...how are you even taking this big cock?”

He growled, clutching your waist as he moved you up and down on his cock. You moaned, his solid girth filling you up perfectly. You felt weak, shivering as Minho started thrusting slowly, loving the little whimpers falling off your tongue.

“You’re so...so big...”

“I know. And you’re too small, so easily ruined.”

“Please. F-faster-”

“If I go any faster, I might destroy this tiny pussy.”

You whine, slinging your arms around his neck, an innocent expression on your face as you pouted at him. “Please, Master? Want to be...s-stretched out by you, want my pussy ruined...”

He stared down at you with dilated pupils, a low groan in the back of his throat as this new side of you came out. 

“You’re driving me insane...” Minho sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder as his hips met yours with each thrust. “What a little whore, so needy for cock that she’d let herself get fucked under the table in a room full of hundreds of people...”

You felt the humiliation rise in you as his hands stayed on your waist, firmly pounding into you. “You like being a little sex toy for Master? Like being used as his personal cock sleeve?”

You nodded desperately, swallowing as Minho chuckled, one of his hands coming up to grope at your breast, thumb stroking your nipple slowly. 

“Well, I love fucking this little pussy open-” He cut himself off with a groan as you clenched around him, spurring him on and making him go harder.

He shifted a little bit, causing his dick to hit your sweet spot dead-on, drawing a long whine out of you. 

“Shh, kitten, you don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on under here, right?”

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Minho grunted, leaning down, face hovering over yours. You held his gaze for a few minutes, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Minho was the first to break. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours, a sharp contrast to the harshness of his cock plunging deeply into you. He deepened the kiss, tongue meeting yours as he held your cheek. The kiss quickly became messy, as his hips went faster.

“M-master, ‘m gonna cum...” You mumbled against his lips. Minho pulled away, his eyes turning darker as he observed the tiny teardrops gathering in your eyes. 

“Aww, is my cock making the little baby cry?”

You whimpered, the tears spilling past as you squirmed, hating the way he’d stopped thrusting. 

“P-please, wanna cum...please! Want Master’s cum filling me up...”

“Fuck, I’ll give what you want, fucking slut.”

His eyes moved over your tear-streaked face, groaning as he lifted your leg up over his shoulder, enabling him to go deeper into you. He began fucking into you, his pace ruthless as he worked towards making you cum, his other hand coming down to rub your clit.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm approaching, your hands tugging at his hair and making you moan. 

He pecked your lips. “Cum, baby...cum for me.”

You whined, unable to hold it anymore as he pinched your clit. The white-hot pleasure made you cry out, Minho groaning as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you. The overstimulation slowly set in as he fucked you harder.

“Fuck-”

His hips stuttered as he chased his own high, cock twitching inside you. A few thrusts later, he came with a groan, spilling his seed inside you.

You watched Minho, moaning softly at the feeling of his cum pooling deep in your core. His chest heaved as he panted, collapsing on top of you. You hummed, your grip in his hair loosening as he lifted himself off you slightly, eyes searching yours.

“How did that feel?”

“F-felt so good...” You paused suddenly as a thought hit you, now that the pleasure had worn off. 

“Wait...Minho...you just ch-cheated on-”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes.”I didn’t, Y/n. I was lying. I haven’t seen her since that night. Trust me...cheating’s something I’ll never do again.” He whispered, thumb stroking over your wet cheeks.

You looked up at him, filled with emotions that were familiar, yet also new. 

“Give me another chance, Y/n. Please.”

You thought about it, sighing as you nodded. “Okay...but we’re going to take things slow.”

He let out a small laugh, eyes drifting to the spot where you two were connected. “Bit late for that.”

He pulled out slowly, watching as his cum seeped out of your entrance. He used his fingers to part your pussy lips, groaning softly under his breath at the sight of your stuffed pussy.

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed through the speakers, startling you. You hadn’t even realized that Peacock had stopped talking.

“And for the next speech, Dragonclaw! Come up onstage, and share with us your report from the last few months.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you sat up, half-naked and filled with cum.

Minho smirked at you. “Go on, then.”

[thoushallnotfall]

God Bless the Children of the Beast - Part 8

Previous // Masterlist

Pairing: The Dirt!Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Notes: Ugh, this one was a chore. I had to rewrite a chunk of it since I changed my mind about some stuff…it was a whole thing.

I am playing chess with so many plot elements right now and some of them are like so freaking long game; like hang with me this is gonna be one of those updates that makes sense 8 updates later. Like I am laying the ground work for the bigger picture I swear it’s all relevant and my narrative choices will make sense later. (probably)

1984 is almost over… 🙃

Warnings: N/A (I don’t think anything majorly bad happens in this update?? So used to them at least doing drugs…)

1984

After your fight with Nikki, the atmosphere on the set of the video shoot had been less than stellar. It’s a wonder you all had managed to finish filming at all.

You were angry at Nikki for what he’d done and for putting you in an awkward position with Tommy, and in turn Nikki was trying to avoid you as much as possible. Then, you felt guilty about keeping the whole thing a secret from Tommy, which made you feel awkward around him; so it was easier for you to just try and avoid him all together if you could.

Tommy was trying to calm Roxy down after meeting his parents, and he was kind of pissed at you for laughing at the whole ‘groupie’ comment his mother had made. Normally you’d be upset about this, but it actually worked out in your favor, since you were trying to avoid him anyway. Still, how long could you keep this up? How long could you keep your distance from your best friend? How long could you lie to him, even if you knew it was for his own good?

The shoot done, you’d all retreated back to the hotel. After a long, hot shower, you called Razzle. You talked to him most nights now; some days it was only a few minutes, just to check in, see how the tour was going, make sure everyone was doing okay before he and his boys went out to party and you and yours did the same. Other times, the two of you stayed on the phone for hours, talking through the night. You had seen the long-distance bills from the hotels when you helped Doc with the paperwork–they were outrageous; but you didn’t care. It was worth it.

You had debated whether you should tell him about what was going on with you and Nikki, just so you could get it off your chest. Normally, if you had an issue like this, you would go straight to Tommy, or in the past Nikki; the fact that they were both at the center of the problem meant you had no one else to turn to. You could talk to Vince or Mick–under normal circumstances you would trust them enough to confide in them, but this issue was delicate; what if something happens and they accidentally told Tommy? You couldn’t risk anyone else close to you finding out and telling him. But then trusting someone new was, for lack of a better word–scary–and you weren’t sure if you were ready to put that level of trust in Razzle yet.

When you called him, you hadn’t really planned on telling him; you were just going to have a normal conversation. But he’d picked up on it immediately; he could tell something was wrong just by the tone of your voice. When he asked you about it, you realized you wanted to trust him, and you decided to take a chance and open up to him.

It felt good to talk. Not just to tell him about the situation, but to tell him how you felt about it. Razzle listened, telling you he honestly wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, but that he was there for you, and you only had to call if you ever needed anything. Just listening was enough; just being there was enough.

And you really did love him for that.

—

After the shoot, there had been a noticable change in the dynamic of your group. No one wanted to talk about it, but the difference was obvious. You could barely stand to be around Nikki; between your anger at his actions with Roxie and his increasingly rude and inconsiderate behavior towards everyone, you found yourself fighting with him more and more each day.

Then there was Tommy. He and Roxie broke up, so that was one problem solved; but just like he always did after a breakup he was extra clingy with you now that she was gone. He wanted to hang out all the time, and that had caused some problems. For starters, while Roxie may be gone, you were still dealing with the weight of the her secret sex with Nikki, and knowing about it made being around Tommy awkward for you. You tried to suck it up and act like nothing was wrong, but it was obvious something was on your mind, and you wished Tommy would just give you some space so you had more time to process everything.

Then, there was the other issue that had come up between you. You had made it clear to Tommy you needed some time to yourself every once and awhile, and he seemed to agree, in theory. Then, in practice, would still bug you whenever he felt like it. Sometimes, he came to bother you in the middle of your phonecalls with Razzle. The few times this had happened, things had not gone well.

Tommy would insist you hang up and spend time with him. You would of course tell him no, saying you would hang out with him later. Usually, he would leave, pouting like a child. Later, he would spend the whole time complaining about Razzle; which annoyed you to no end–and you made sure to tell him so. That would only pissed him off more, and you two of you would both leave angry.

The last time he came in while you were on the phone, he’d been high, or drunk–or both–and when you refused to hang up he’d come over and done it for you. You’d gotten into a huge argument–something that had never happened before–and you made him leave, locking him out of your room.

Ever since your fight, Tommy had been walking on eggshells around you. He knew he’d fucked up, but he didn’t know how to fix it. You knew he couldn’t do anything; he’d apologized, but you were still upset. You just wanted to get away from all the drama–from Tommy, from Nikki–where you could relax and you didn’t have to worry if someone was going to yell at you for something or if you were going to get into another argument.

You weren’t essential to the band, it had occurred to you that maybe you could just go home for a week or two; take a little break? The guys wouldn’t love that idea, but no one could argue that things weren't strained right now. You could use some time apart. You hadn’t been away from them since they’d become a band–you’d all been living together the whole three years since they’d formed Motley Crue. It would be strange to be away from them after being together for so long, but then again some distance was starting to seem like exactly what you needed. And they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder; maybe taking some time apart would help heal the rifts forming in your most important relationships. Even if you didn’t love the idea of being alone, it would be worth it to get away for awhile.

As you drop your bags in yet another empty hotel room, you spot the phone on the nightstand, and an idea suddenly occurs to you. A crazy idea; maybe a great idea, or maybe a totally stupid one. Either way, the boys will absolutely hate it.

You pick up the phone, dialing the number and giving instructions to the receptionist on the other end as you sit on your bed.

“'ello beautiful.” Razzle greets you, and you smile.

“Hey Nic, how’s it going?” You ask, twirling the spiral cord around your finger.

“No' too bad; the boys and I jus' go' back.” He answer.

“Oh, that’s good.” You say, biting your lip, unsure of how to proceed.

“Is everythin' awlrigh'? You sound upset again.” He asks. “More trouble wif your brofa? Or is it Tommy this time?” You sigh, grateful he brought it up so you didn’t have to.

“Um, well I mean yeah, sort of, but, that’s actually not what I called about.” You say.

“Oh?” He asks. “Do tell.” You take a deep breath.

“I was wondering what you would think about me maybe coming to stay with you?” You ask, nervous. “Just for a little while.” You add hastily at the end.

“You wan' to come wif me? On tou'a?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah; I, I mean if you and the band don’t mind.” You reply.

“Of course I don’t fuckin' mind!” He says, clearly excited; and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “But wha' about the Crue? Won’ they be angry you’re off tourin’ wif another band?”

“I’ll handle the boys.” You assure him, smiling into the receiver.

—

“The fuck do you mean you’re leaving?” Nikki asks as he looks at you, your bags at your feet.

“Exactly what I said; you need it in writing?” You snap.

“Would you stop being a fucking bitch for five seconds and explain to me what the hell you think you’re playing at?” Nikki spits back. “You can’t just fucking leave!”

“Newsflash Nikki; you don’t fucking own me! I can do whatever the hell I want!” You shout, throwing your arms up.

“Okay, okay can everyone just chill out for a second please?” Vince asks.

“Stay the fuck out of this Vince.” Nikki sneers as he looks over at the blonde. “This isn’t any of your fucking business.”

“Don’t fucking yell at him!” You say, scowling at Nikki as he looks back at you.

“We’re gonna get kicked out of the lobby soon.” Mick comments absently.

“Y/N please don’t go.” Tommy begs. “We can talk about this.”

“I’ve made up my mind Tommy.” You say firmly, crossing your arms.

“Where you gonna go, huh?” Nikki asks. “Back home? You live in my house y/n! You can’t go home–I won’t allow it!”

“'Allow it?’” You repeat in a mix of anger and disbelief. “God you have been such a fucking asshole lately! What the hell is wrong with you?” You yell back at him, exasperated. “And for your information no, I’m not going home; I’m going to stay with Nic.”

“Nic?” Nikki looks at you confused. Then, realization spreads across his face. “Oh hoho! You’re going on tour with Razzle and the rest of those fuckers in Hanoi Rocks!”

“What?” Tommy scowls. “You’re going on tour with another band?”

“I’m going to stay with my boyfriend, who is currently in a band that is touring.” You try dodging the question with a half-truth.

Technically Razzle wasn’t your boyfriend yet–but that was only because the two of you didn’t have time to talk about it over the phone before you had to leave to catch your flight. You expected that’s where things were headed though, since you were going to be touring with him now, so it wasn’t a total lie.

“Boyfriend? Since fucking when?” Tommy shouts.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” You snap, taken aback by his sudden change in tone. He had been so desperate and kind a second ago.

“So what? You a fucking groupie now y/n? Huh? You just gonna hop from one band to another whenever it’s convenient for you?” Tommy asks, clearly pissed. You look back at him like you’ve been slapped in the face. You clench your jaw as tears start forming in your eyes.

“Fuck you Tommy.” You whisper, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“Y/N–” He calls out to you, but you ignore him; grabbing your bags and heading out the door.

—

You stand outside waiting for your taxi as the tears continue flowing down your face. It was all too much, and as much as you hated people seeing you cry, you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Nikki was changing. It had been happening for awhile, but you had tried to ignore it; made excuses, played it off. Now there was no denying the truth: the brother you knew, who hurt himself to save you from your mother and her shitty boyfriends, who went hungry so you could eat, who took beatings to protect you–he was disappearing. This new Nikki was someone else, someone dark, and controlling. Someone who didn’t care about hurting the people he cared about–even you. You saw less and less of the Nikki you knew everyday, and you worried one day you’d look at your brother’s face and see a stranger staring back at you.

Then there was Tommy. That sweet, simple boy you meet three years ago. Your best friend. There was more to Tommy than that now–maybe there always had been, and you just never saw it. You didn’t understand how Tommy could be so sweet, then act so cruel. You didn’t understand why he got this way about Razzle; it’s like ever since you’d started seeing the other drummer, it had brought out the worst in Tommy.

As you stand under the awning waiting for your taxi, tears still staining your cheeks, you hear the doors to the lobby open behind you. You turn and see Vince and Mick walking toward you. You quickly wipe your face on the back of your arm and smile up at them.

“Hey, sorry you guys had to get stuck in the middle of that.” You say, doing your best to sound cheerful.

“Not the first time we’ve been in the center of a public shitshow; though usually there’s more nudity involved.” Mick says, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. You know he’s trying to cheer you up, and honestly it works. A small giggle escapes your lips.

“We can still fix that if you want to y/n.” Vince says, winking at you. “I’m always down for a little public nudity if you’re involved.”

“I’d like to not get arrested tonight; but thanks anyway Vince.” You say, smirking at him. He shurgs.

“Your loss.” He replies, looking away. After a moment, he looks back at you, a more sincere expression on his face. “By the way y/n, I wanted to say…” He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at the pavement awkwardly.

“What?” You press. It was unusual for Vince to be at a loss for words. He sighs, then looks back up at you.

“I just wanted to say you shouldn’t listen to Nikki and Tommy–they were being real assholes, and they were wrong.” Your eyes go wide as you stare back at him in shock. You knew Vince and Mick felt bad for you, but you hadn’t really expected them to openly take your side against their bandmates.

“Look, you’re not a bitch, and you’re definitely not a fucking groupie, okay? I mean if you were then I think I got fucking jipped.” He says with a laugh. You’re too surprised to laugh at the joke, not that it was that great to begin with.

“With jokes like that it’s amazing you ever resisted his charms.” Mick comments, and that manages to get a laugh from you. “He is right though; those two were total shitheads and I don’t blame you for wanting to split. You deserve to be happy, and if that frilly English shit makes you happy, then I say go for it.” You’re taken aback by the sincerity in Mick’s words. Vince comes over and puts a hand in your shoulder.

“Look, try not to worry about what Nikki and Tommy said, okay? They’re just pissed because they’re used to having you all to themselves, and they don’t like the idea of having to share you. So go have fun with your English boy toy, and just know we’ll be here if you ever get homesick.” You look back at the two of them, and you feel your heart swell so full it aches.

Nikki and Tommy had been the people you were closest to since the band formed; Nikki was your brother, your rock, your oldest friend. Tommy had quickly grown to be your best friend, your closet companion, the person you trusted most. But you couldn’t forget how much you loved Vince and Mick; they were your brothers just as much as Nikki and Tommy were. You had been through so much with both of them, and just because you were having problems with Tommy and Nikki, you didn’t want to punish Mick and Vince for that.

You feel tears well up in your eyes as you grab hold of Vince, hugging him tightly as you bury your face in the crock of his neck.

“Thanks Vinny.” You say as you squeeze him tighter. “I appreciate it.” You let him go, and his cheeks are flushed as he looks away.

“Yeah, whatever.” He says, and you laugh, whipping your eyes. You move over to Mick and wrap your arms around him.

“Give us a call every once and awhile so we know you’re not dead.” He says, and you laugh as you pull away.

“Yes dad.” You reply sarcastically, and he scowls. You smile, moving to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. His eyes go wide as he stares back at you in surprise. “I promise I’ll call as soon as I get there, okay?” He looks away.

“S'all I’m asking.” He mumbles.

“Hey, why does the old man get a kiss?” Vince whines, and you laugh.

Just then, the taxi pulls up to take you to the airport.

“Well, looks like my ride’s here.” You say, trying to mask your sadness by turning away from them. You move to get your bags, but Vince grabs them before you can. He winks at you, and silently moves to toss them in back of the taxi.

“It’s not forever; I’ll see you guys again in no time.” You say cheerful as you look at Mick, who just nods in response, looking lonely. You take one quick glance back at the lobby doors, before turning to the taxi.

“Thanks for grabbing my bags Vince; maybe there’s a gentleman buried in there somewhere after all.” You say, smirking.

“Don’t hold your breath sweetheart.” Vince jokes, smiling; though you both feel the sadness behind it. As you pass him, you lean in and give him a quick peak on the cheek. You smile as Vince laughs.

“There, now you’re even.” You say, before getting into the taxi. You shut the door, waving out the back window as you watch the two of them get further and further away.

[a-dorin]

aftershock | maul

word count: 2.121k 

warnings: angst, cursing, professor/student relationship, age gap 

a/n: i know it’s been about a little over a month or so since i last updated this series, but here we are with a new chapter! the first seven can be found here, whether you want to start from the beginning, or need a refresher! thank you all for the endless love & support on this series. it truly means so much <3 enjoy :))

you can find the ardor playlist here! 

summary: after a singular phone call, it takes every fiber of your being to maintain your composure. however, you’re not the one who explodes. 

“what was that all about?”

his eyes narrowed, brow furrowing, “you eavesdropped, didn’t you?”

clenching your jaw, you shake your head, desperate to fight the tears springing into your vision, “you told me that you had zero interest in the position in the first place. all of the sudden you’re all buddy-buddy with fucking palpatine. what do you really want, maul? are you going to accept the position if you get it?” 

“(y/n),” for a second, your fury dissolved as you noticed the defeat inflected in his voice, “please, we just got into it last night. i really don’t want to go through that again.”

his hand rested on his temple, fingers rubbing soothing circles into his crimson flesh as he stood in the doorway of the refresher, leaning against the frame. letting out a shaky breath, you fought to maintain your composure, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry, maul.”

“sorry?” the zabrak’s lips curled into a sneer, growl bubbling up in his throat, “sorry for what? are you apologizing for being so fucking selfish about this? i would have at least expected a ‘congratulations babe!’ or some bullshit like that before you hounded me with all of these questions. and before you pester me about the subject any further, yes, i am going to take the position if it’s offered to me.”

“b-but you love being a professor.. you love teaching,” you trailed off, the words broken with sobs, “i thought you despised palpatine.”

“i’m also almost thirty-two years old,” he countered, venom seeping into his words, “i have to make a decision about my future before it’s too late. i was led to believe that this would be an exciting new opportunity for me. not only would i be earning more, but i would be the one able to make change instead of the one yearning to make the change.”

“well congratulations,” you mumbled under your breath, “i hope you’re happy.”

“i am,” he nodded, his eyes smoldering embers, “i’m proud of myself for making it this far in the application process when dozens of other professors and other faculty applied.”

“i think i’m going to go for a bit,” swallowing thickly, you sucked in a breath, “i’ll just text you or call you later.”

“okay.” 

“just okay?” pausing for a moment, you just stared at him, a fresh batch of tears blurring your vision. 

“yes,” he growled, “just okay. go. leave, since you want to so badly.”

a sob bounced off the walls of the hallway as you scurried out of his apartment, strands of hair plastered to your heated cheeks. a part of you was hopeful, urging you to look back. to see if he was there, chasing after you, pleading for you to stay. 

inhaling a shaky breath, your head tilted a few degrees, swiveling towards your shoulder. 

in that moment, your heart nearly shattered, a gut-wrenching wail erupting from your lips. 

the hall was nothing but a stretch of an endless array of doors, the sterile light flickering, the hum of the elevator whirring through the building. 

the zabrak was nowhere in sight, leaving you in the hall, all alone, with nowhere else to go. 

no one else to turn to but the empty space around you. 

******

“so,” a togruta settled into a stool, folding her arms across the table, “was there a reason you called me?”

your gaze flickered towards the viewport, sheets of rain pounding against the pavement, citizens fighting their way through the monsoon, headlights and taillights of cars glowing in the night, “i wanted to apologize, ahsoka.”

“and you didn’t invite barriss?” her eyes widened, lips pursing, “or, was that on purpose?”

“i have an odd feeling about her,” you muttered, bringing a mug of hot chocolate to your lips, “i was at ma-- i happened to be at his place tonight and i eavesdropped on a conversation.”

“from the look of it, it wasn’t a good conversation,” a frown crept onto the togruta’s lips, “listen, (y/n), i was never that upset over your relationship with maul. i guess i was more frustrated with the lies. if you were honest with me from the beginning, i would have been a lot more supportive.”

“i guess i was nervous,” the words were barely audible as you swirled a spoon around in the mug, avoiding eye contact, “i didn’t want anyone to know because of the risks. if he got fired, or terminated, or whatever it is that would happen, i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

“hey,” her hands crept across the table, resting on top of yours, “i’m your friend, (y/n). you can trust me. what’s most important is that he makes you happy. i know how cliche and stupid it sounds, but it’s true. and i mean it.”

“i didn’t know ahsoka tano was such a sap.”

“only for my friends,” your heart swelled, brimmed with joy as you picked out the sincerity inflected in her voice, a small smile stretched across her lips, “by the way, how is he? we just haven’t spoken to one another in a few days so i wanna know how things are going. is he a dreamboat? i wanna know everything!”

“we’re fighting right now.”

“oh shit,” ahsoka breathed, “i’m so sorry i didn’t mean--”

“no,” you shook your head, “i’m not sure if i can tell you what it was about, though.”

“oh come on. you have no idea how much gossip i hear from the saber team, along with my dad and his rugby boys. i don’t kiss and tell.”

fidgeting in your seat, you drew in a deep breath, “well, it’s not any shock that president palpatine is retiring after this year, as it’s a well-known matter on campus. but, he’s in the process of selecting a replacement. it just so happens that my boyfriend is one of those candidates.”

“does he really want that kind of position though?” ahsoka queried, sipping on her own coffee, “i mean, i wouldn’t want to be the president of a university or college. it seems like a pretty stress-inducing job.”

“that’s what confuses me,” fingers drummed along the table, your head propped against your hand, “he said that he was never really interested in pursuing the application. palpatine just pretty much applied for him. he got a phone call a couple hours ago stating that he was one of three finalists.”

“oh shit,” ahsoka breathed, “what are you going to do if he does get it?”

“we might have to break up.” 

“do you really think so?” her voice faltered, “i mean, yeah, he would be president but you are a junior. you only have one more year. you’d only have to keep things under wrap for one more year, essentially. after you graduate, you wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.”

“do you know how strange it would be that the president of the university is suddenly in relationship with a student? especially one that recently graduated?”

“i guess you’re right,” the togruta leaned back, slinging an arm over the back of the stool, “so tell me, why didn’t you invite barriss?”

“so now you’re asking me the hard questions?” you teased. 

“she’s my friend,” she shrugged, “did something else happen that i wasn’t aware of?”

letting out a sigh, you bit your lip, “well, when maul was on the phone, palpatine mentioned that an anonymous source filed a report that maul and i were involved in a relationship beyond the classroom. yeah, there were instances in the classroom where maul and i flirted, but it was nothing too drastic. not anything substantial enough to bring it to palpatine’s attention. there are only three people who know, including you, ahsoka. there’s this inkling in my head that perhaps barriss was the one who filed the report.”

the togruta’s eyes narrowed with intrigue, “and you don’t think rex had anything to do with it?” 

“he wouldn’t have. i know he wouldn’t have done that. not to me, not to anyone, for that matter. he isn’t the type to spread rumors.”

“rex is a good guy,” ahsoka mused, “as much as i would hate to admit it, i think you’re right.”

“you think barriss snitched?”

ahsoka stuck out a hand, “to her, it wasn’t ‘snitching.’ in her mind, it was the right thing to do. she’s all about valor and righteousness, in every aspect of her life. the moment her suspicions were confirmed, she would have addressed it to the proper authority.”

“but why did she wait until now? why not inform palpatine months ago in october, when things first started?”

“maybe she knows about his application,” the togruta fished her phone from her hoodie, thumbs gliding across the screen, “she works in the same office as palpatine, as an intern.”

“so that means she would have received word about the applicants before anyone else.”

“exactly,” ashoka nodded, “she would have known before any other department because she fucking works there. what a conniving little bitch.”

“ahsoka!”

“sorry,” she grumbled, focus still fixated on the screen, “that shit just pisses me off. your relationship with maul wasn’t bothering me. i’m not sure why she snuck behind our backs like that. if i was aware of her plan, i would have told you right away.”

“wait, was it that easy to tell that maul and i were dating?”

“i knew the day after that party,” her eyes gleamed with amusement, “trust me, it wasn’t difficult to see that the two of you were hooking up.”

“well great,” you rolled your eyes, sinking into your own sweatshirt, “i bet the entire psych class knew.”

“i’m sure they did,” she shot you a wink, “do you want me to talk to barriss? she doesn’t know that i’m here with you. although, i’m not sure how much i could pry from her before she catches on or shuts me down.”

“don’t worry about it for now,” you waved a hand, “i’m just relieved that you don’t hate me.”

“hate you? i could never hate you for something as silly as dating your professor.”

“you were certainly irritated that day you confronted me about it,” you remarked, the buzz of your phone against your thigh piquing your curiosity.

“i was just caught up in the heat of the moment.”

plucking your phone from your pocket, your throat tightened as the notification illuminated your screen. 

i’m so sorry for lashing out. can we talk? please?

“is loverboy on his knees begging for forgiveness?” ahsoka leaned over the table, her forehead nearly brushing yours, “oh shit. how predictable. are you going to go over there or--”

“i’m not sure.”

“maybe you should,” the togruta nudged you gently, “maybe you guys will kiss and make up. and then maybe some more--”

“ahsoka.”

“sorry, sorry,” she snorted playfully, “i’m just trying to help lighten your mood.”

“the rain outside is no help.”

“i bet,” her voice softened, “do you wanna come back with me to my place? you’re more than welcome to stay the night. barriss went home for the weekend.”

“i’d like that. if i’m not wrong, rex is with the guys tonight. i would much rather not come to an apartment full of guys.”

“guys are gross anyways,” the togruta’s nose wrinkled, “well, do you want to head out? you can borrow my comfiest sweats, take as long as you want in the shower, and even eat all of my snacks. oh! we can find a movie on netflix or hulu!”

“i would love that,” your lips curved into a broad grin, “i’m so happy that you forgave me, ahsoka.” 

the togruta’s smile mirrored your own, “of course i’d forgive you. i missed you, (y/n).”

“and i missed you.” 

“let’s go out into this monsoon,” she chuckled, slipping out from the stool. 

rising to your feet, you followed her lead, chirping a goodbye to the barista at the counter. throwing your hood over your head, your heart lurched as the smell wafted into your nostrils. 

the hoodie clinging to your frame was far too big, draping to about mid-thigh, the color an inky black, university logo stitched in royal blue and pearly white lettering, spanning across your chest.

the scent of his cologne lingered, faint traces of cinnamon and other heady spices. 

maker, did your heart ache. 

and gods, did you want to be wrapped up in his embrace, snuggled against his chest, watching the rain fall, pattering against the viewport, cozy and content from the thick waves of body heat. 

but he made a choice. 

and that choice carried consequences. 

his harsh words were like an earthquake, shaking you to your core.

bringing nothing but aftershocks along with it.

******

tagged:  @sapphicstars  @maulieber @starflyer-104 @alwayshappysith @doobiwankenooku  @magicalkitkat12  @dartheldur  @princessayveke @multifandombtch  @spaghetti-666  @lis-ard  @swimmingsloths @sithmando  @mother-0f-monsters @bonniewinchester @bonesaldente @maidofsionis @bespectacled-bunny @arsonistvoyager @tinalbion @nottodaysatan-8866 @vei-saretti @maybe-your-left @isabewwwa @aki-iko @corrupt-fvcker @ranoutofideas71 @giveusbackourbucky @lonelyhxx @zabrak-cuddles @obiorbenkenobi @lilith-alistar @laorme34 @obiwankenobiness​ @elegantdeergladiator @lydiainthenetherworld @javierpenaspinkshirt​ @the-516th​

[wtfevenismypage]

Pretty Face Skinny Waist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

request: Hey if it’s not to much (and your comfortable writing it) could you do a male reader x Reid where the reader is a agent from a different agency and he has to work with the team and at first he and Spence don’t get along but they eventually are like “hey your not that bad plus your kinda cute”

Warnings: Language, very brief mentions of smut, sassy reader

You weren’t a big fan of working with other agencies, you hated it actually. But when your boss came to you with a request to work with a team of profilers (One of them being your hero David Rossi) you were ordered to accept. 

So adjusting the purple tie around your neck for the millionth time that hour, you haul your ass through the elevator and into the big bullpen of agents. Immediately eyes darted to you, which made you chuckle.

Yeah, you better look at me.

You think while walking to Agent Hotchner’s office, smiling kindly when you see him. “Good morning Agent Hotchner.”

“Please, Hotch is fine, take a seat.”

You nod, setting your bag on the floor next to the chair as you sat down, crossing one leg over the other and tucking your left hand under your thigh, the right one planting itself on your side.

“I believe that you could be essential for a case we’ll begin working soon. We profiled that the unsub may be hard to interrogate, so we’d like to have you come in to interrogate him when needed.”

You nod, ready to go along strictly to talk to Agent Rossi about his books. And show off just how good you were at your job, but hey, the latter doesn’t matter right now.

“Alright, but you need to know how I do my job. I lie and manipulate to get the information needed, but I’m not a heartless asshole and I won’t change how I work for you and your team sir.”

You kept your voice calm and unwavering, a smirk plastered on your lips, which he returns with a cautious chuckle.

“I hope you don’t change at all Agent Y/L/N.”

-

-

-

-

-

Which leads to you standing a few feet away from a round table as a Miss Penelope Garcia presented the case.

“I like her! At my agency everyone is so bland and we all hate each other, You I likey.”

You said when the presentation ended, smirking charmingly at the sweet and charming woman. She smiled back.

“Thank you, who are you I don’t know you.”

She said, making you stifle a laugh as Hotch stood to introduce you.

“This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N. He came from another agency in Nebraska. He’ll help with interrogations.”

You bowed dramatically, lifting your head as a squeaky voice rang out.

“Why do we need another person just to interrogate?”

you’ve heard of Dr. Spencer Reid, he fascinated you naturally, his age and brains combined shocking you initially. Plus, he’s kind of just nice to look at.

“cus’ doc, I can get any information I need. I was trained for years specifically for interrogation. I am the best of the best.”

He rolls his eyes, clearly, your sarcastic charm wasn’t rubbing off on him. 

Oh this one will be fun.

“Humble too huh? Ladies must go crazy over you.”

“Ladies and men. Don’t worry you’ll fall for it soon boy wonder.”

You caught a taller, more muscular man chuckle as you finish your sentence.

“Wheels up in thirty.”

Hotch said while you and Spencer glared at each other while the others made eye contact, silently communicating with each other.

This is going to be interesting.

On the jet was no better, you spent half of the trip talking to Rossi about his books in excitement, and the other half was spent poking and prodding at Dr. Reid’s nerves. 

You really wanted to see him explode, to see an outburst from the calm man, but eventually you took a break, passing out in the seat across from him. 

Spencer looked at you, pure annoyance seething off of him while you slept.

“You seriously couldn’t have chosen a single other person in the universe to bring along? I can understand eight languages and can speak four, yet you choose him.”

He complained, making Hotch suppress a smile as Morgan laughs out loud.

“He’s exceptional at his job. He once made an unsub admit to everything he did withing five minutes.”

“And?”

“The unsub had been in the interrogation room for three days before hand.”

Spencer went silent. Maybe you were good at your job but holy hell you were so fucking relentless. He knew you wanted a reaction, but you weren’t the only persistent one. He refused to be the first to break.

You awoke when the plane landed, stretching and picking up your bag, smirking at Dr. Reid. You didn’t say anything though, giving him a bit of mercy before ruining his day again. 

Agent Morgan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, starting a teasing conversation between the two of you.

“So you like picking fights huh?”

“Not picking fights, just poking fun.”

You responded with a teasing smirk in Reid’s direction.

“Yeah yeah whatever.”

-

-

-

-

-

The first day on the case was simple, you went with Rossi and Reid to ask the Family of the victims questions, and you found this to be the best way to show off your skills.

You spoke to the family so softly it threw Spencer for a loop. Just a few moments ago you were cranking up screamo music just to annoy him, and now you spoke with such kindness. You were careful with your words and even hugged a mourning little girl who wanted to hug her father one more time.

When you walked back over, Spencer caught a look of guilty sadness in your eyes, but you quickly hid it with a lopsided smile.

“Told you. Best of the best.”

You walked away, all the information you needed stored on a little notepad with Reid and Rossi walking next to you to the cars.

-

-

-

-

-

Over the course of the next week, Spencer was thoroughly peeved. You just loved pushing him to the edge, and then leaving him alone only to rile him up again. At some point he had gripped you by your tie and yanked you up real close to his face, sneering as the eye contact never broke.

“What’s up doc? Did I make you upset? Oops.”

 You whispered low enough for only his ears, he wanted nothing more than to put you in your place, than to just shut you up with his lips. but you two were in front of the rest of his team, and that would be inappropriate wouldn’t it?

 “Watch your tone Y/L/N.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you.”

That was all that was needed to shut you right up. You got flustered, cheeks going rosy pink as you stammered with your words.

For a whole day you avoided him, because every time you saw him after that your mind went blank.

But you returned to your sassy self the next morning. Teasing him, making fun, and even tugging at his tie gently.

He snapped to say the least. 

After you pulled his tie again, he quickly stood, dragging you away from his team and into a nearby bathroom. He shoved you into a stall, locking it and pushing you against a wall.

“You really wanna go there?”

“Hell yeah doc.”

-

-

-

-

-

On the morning of departure, you didn’t make too many snarky comments, since you worked in Nebraska you were taking a separate jet to your agency while the others went home.

“Well, this has been an extremely enlightening and joyous experience, don’t miss me too much. ‘specially you doc.”

You said with a genuine smile directed towards all of them, but mainly Spencer. You truly were going to miss the punk.

“I’ll be sure to try.”

You chuckle, gently punching his arm before walking onto your jet, waving and taking a dramatic bow one last time before walking into the small area, watching as the door shut and the pilot introduced himself.

-

-

-

-

-

Even in Nebraska you missed him. You weren’t lying when you said your team was bland and that you all hated each other, it was torturous without a certain doctor.

It had been several weeks and you cursed yourself out multiple times a day for not giving him your number. 

“How fucking stupid can you be Y/L/N? You fucked him for fucks sake and you don’t give him your number?”

You muttered to yourself while you walked up to your boss’s office, reading an article of his on your phone.

“Agent Y/L/N. How would you like to work with the BAU again?”

Your boss asked when you walked into the office, making a wide smirk spread across your lips.

“Hell yeah.”

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 8: Second Chances

Chapter summary: Aftermaths of the Wolf’s escape & two painfully, oblivious pining idiots. 

Warnings: mention of stitches, old scars. (3502 words)

28 October 2019, 2330 "Alexis" and "Alex" | Codename Aces CIA with SAS and Urzik militia Sakhra, Urzikstan

    "Stop moving," Alia grumbled exasperatedly for the fifth time. Her nimble fingers were supposed to make stitching up Alexis' gnarly forehead gash easy—if she could stay still. Then again, nobody could sit still through that without anaesthetic.

Begging for a distraction, Alexis' teeth scraped against her pale lips and her fingernails subconsciously dup deeper into Farah's arm with every stitch.

"I don't know why you do this without painkillers," Alia mumbled absentmindedly, every movement meticulous. It went unanswered, for Alexis refused to supply the 16-year-old with more horror. A few more stitches later, the young girl leaned back and smiled.

Thank Heavens. High pain tolerance, sure, but needles... Alexis was wise enough to stay far away.

Alexis' impatiently patted the medical gauze, nodding at the decent patch-up. Of course the Marines had professional medics on deck, but when Alexis awoke, she felt responsible for Alia's red-rimmed eyes and loud sniffles. So, pain be damned.

Alia scowled, swatting her nosy hand, "No! Do you want an infection?"

"I am older than you," Alexis reminded.

"Yes. More stupid too."

Bewildered, her neck craned towards Farah, jaw-slacked at the commander's blatant shrug in agreement. Overwhelmed by the thunderous support, "This is a mutiny of some sorts..."

"Uh-oh, your boyfriend is coming," the young girl loudly announced. Her accusation reeled stares from closer bystanders.

Heat found its way to Alexis' cheeks, spreading under Farah and Alia's teasing grins. Dizziness soon trickled in, forcing her to blink rapidly in an attempt to concentrate past the nasty headache. "Alex is not my boyfriend."

"Did I say it was Alex?"

Farah huffed, bumping fists with the younger. The conniving duo displayed megawatt smiles when Alex and Kyle came into hearing distances. Holding a box of ration packs, Kyle gestured for them to take their pick. That knocked their smugness off.

Alex plopped beside her, eating out of his rations. "Tell me you feel better," he more than demanded, giving her battered state a once-over. His eyes lingered on her forehead.

"Am I supposed to lie?"

A shadow flickered past his face, "Should I bench you?"

"Yes, if you wish to die in your sleep," her quick movements to snatch away his wristwatch communicator intensified the pain. "Although blunt force trauma is not as deadly as this headache."

"Crack another joke and I'll deliver you to Price," Alex threatened at her lightheartedness. Though his menace soon faltered at her radiant grin.

"Boss is not in a good mood," Kyle chimed in.

"Mutiny..." Alexis mumbled. "Fine, no more jokes about concussions."

The group chatted about their game plan for tomorrow when a rude growling stomach sounded. It certainly didn't go unnoticed by Alex, who willingly gave up his rations. Packaged pasta had never tasted better, she mumbled gratefully, "Have I ever told you how amazing you are?"

Alex laughed, "Now I know you hit your head too hard."

"Would you be open to the idea of getting matching injuries?"

"Are you flirting with me?"

"No, it's just in season," Alexis shook her head, bemused. "Shut up and eat your veggies, you're giving me another headache."

The scorching look of triumph was clear in Farah and Alia's expressions and for the same reason, she purposefully evaded their eyes.

"I thought the CIA frowned upon dating in the circle?" Kyle asked casually.

The unexpectable question forced her to choke, coughing loud enough to render someone patting her back. Alexis flushed at his concern, aware of the stutter in his pats. Both CIA agents were red, and boy, were Farah and Alia having a field day.

Alexis prayed her face was the usual controlled indifference. This wasn't the first time someone mislabelled their friendship, so why was this suddenly a big deal? "Yup. They hate it."

Kyle's lips formed an 'o' upon realisation, "Sorry, I thought you two were..."

Alex cleared his throat, "That's a popular opinion."

"Maybe everybody has a point. You did call her baby–" Alia cheekily added.

You little...

Alexis gently slapped a hurried palm against her mouth, muffling the jocular giggles from the young woman. It didn't stop her from cheekily winking at the group. Other than the two in cynosure, the others wore matching grins.

Perhaps they were playing matchmakers, but right now, her priority was to dig herself a hole.

From the unreadable look on Alex's face, he felt the same. When Alia tried to wrestle out of her grips, she thought the reddish hue on his face was a figment of her imagination. Yet if it wasn't, he sure didn't spare her the glory with this knowledge, as his head swiftly lowered to observe the hardwood floor panels.

Witnessing him this taciturn was a rare sight. Before she could entertain her illusions that maybe her friends were onto something, Price yelled for Kyle.

The tension in the air snapped.

"Get some rest. We need energy to catch the Wolf tomorrow," Farah gave a friendly side hug, saving Alex from Alia's nagging reminders about her stitches. He replied with a salute.

And then there were two.

"She's awfully like you," Alex smiled. Spitfire personality, dauntless and stubborn.

"Hopefully not, I'm a horrible person," she joked wearily, eyes losing in a battle against the slurry languor that washed over her. Coupled with the splitting headache, she wrangled between climbing upstairs to find a bed or staying here. The latter almost won until she was hoisted up.

"Don't bother, you're not walking," came Alex's reply and she obliged. When she reopened her eyes, Alex had already sat her down a bed to unlace her boots. She carelessly slithered her sweaty top off her skin.

They squeezed into a tightly-confined shower, sighing in bliss as warm cascades of water enveloped them, splashing the warfare away. Her arms looped contentedly around Alex's neck as he started to wash her blood-crusted hair, careful to shield her head wound.

"Hi," Alex wore a suspicious smile.

She sighed, "Here we go."

"Damn right. You have an immaculate talent for making people worried."

"Why thank you..."

Goosebumps raised as he silkened down her arms, tracing the red streaks clearly shaped from her nails. The way his dark eyes fastened on her made her heartstrings twitch nervously, "You could have died."

She laughed humourlessly. "You think too little of me."

"I'm serious, never do that again. You run into anything you can't handle..."

"I had him under control," she retorted.

"Clearly not enough."

"The bastard got to me. My fault, okay? I messed up. I don't need another reminder," she snapped, and the hands in her hair stopped. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Sure you did," he nodded, not in the slightest offended. The fact that someone managed to one-up her caught his attention instead, "What did he say?"

Now Alexis suspected he could read minds. "Why did you think he said something?"

"Call it a hunch."

Alexis sighed, not fond to revisit her failure. "Alex..."

That was her warning, and he took it. "Just saying, I've never seen Price that worried."

She closed her eyes and shook her head dismissively, "He's just annoyed he'll have to answer to Maddox and Forbes. I'm a prized possession."

The cubicle echoed with their laughs.

Alex worked past the scars that littered her body, leaving trails of soap bubbles. He could pinpoint them with his eyes closed, yet with today's new additions, he had more to commit to memory. His thumb brushed over a spot on her upper right thigh, smirking at the slight shudder he induced but more so at the memory.

Was she nervous?

Hearing Alexis' hoarse voice confirmed his suspicions, "Remember this?"

"'course, you took a bullet for me," Alex said, still glazing over the raised bump.

August 2016, Brazil. 30 grand bounty over their heads. They played a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the entire city. A mercenary almost tore through his kneecaps until she knocked him out of the line of fire.

A charming smirk reappeared, "Few things say "I love you" like a bullet to a non-essential area."

She snorted, punching his chest. Cloudy mist floated around them, the water was too hot, almost scorching. Or maybe it was his warmth, she guessed. Her mind was foggy, only thinking how much endurance she had to not bask in the feeling of his coarse hands.

Then again, she was a soldier. Willpower was all she got.

Maybe not, her hormones decided. As hard as she tried to toss the raunchy thoughts, Alex made it difficult. Especially his arms... she was a real sucker for strong arms. The temperature was sweltering and with their bare bodies practically pressed together was not aiding.

"Switch," was all she said before she forcefully flipped them, leaving her under the running water—hoping it would clear her mind. Hasty fingers weaved in his wet hair, her turn to bathe him.

"Nasty scar," she picked up their conversation, "Scares people away."

"Maybe you should revaluate your definitions of a partner," Alex scoffed, "Scars are god damn sexy."

"In theory, I must be sexy as hell."

Hm. You have no idea.

The bullet scrap on her arm healed nicely by now—still an open wound, though it no longer hurt when she raised her arms. Useful to know, as she foamed his hair. Her gaze traced the numerous tattoos across Alex's body, eventually landing on his chest.

Her favourite tattoo of his—a butterfly.

Butterflies are the universe's proof that second chances exist, this stuck with her ever since she read that somewhere in a digest.

A similar tattoo rested along the sides of her ribcage, accompanied by an eye on top of it. The idea struck her when she finally made Lieutenant. It felt symbolic, a parting gift to her old life.

She always had a sneaking suspicion Alex wanted a matching tattoo but was too afraid or embarrassed to say it. He'd chat her ears off about parallel tattoos, as if she didn't pick up on it. So it was no surprise when one day, he suddenly showed up with a butterfly stuck on his chest.

It was a sweet gesture and thus made her way more resolute to not jeopardise their friendship. Tattoos were sacred to a man like Alex, who never stood a chance against Command. He'd make sure to find something he loved in every location he went, and inked it. His way of establishing control over his job—by remembering parts of the good.

Her finger skimmed past his butterfly before grabbing the showerhead to drown his hair clean. They were two people engrossed in good memories among warfare. And it felt liberating.

That was until she noticed he was looking at the prominent area on her chest.

Burnt flesh, the size of his palms, staring back at them.

The entire atmosphere shifted. A shiver of glacial magnitude rushed from her toes and her heart sank. The scar's jaggedness made her feel even more self-conscious.

Hot poker on her skin, an iron branding from the mob. If she closed her eyes, she could envision the exact scene. Fear not, if the mental baggage wasn't enough, there was a physical one.

"You deserve the best, you know that?" She didn't know which irked her more, the sympathy in his tone, or that he placed her on a pedestal.

I'm damaged goods, the thought fed her demons. So why do I deserve the best?

She peered at the man in front of her, every word earnest. He'd say it a million times and yet she wouldn't believe him.

Perhaps it was the head injury or hormones, but her eyes soon welled up with tears. Within seconds, what started out as small sniffs transformed into full streaks of tears. The tears blended into the stream of falling water but it was unmistakable.

The sight broke Alex's heart. Shattered it, really.

Silently, Alex switched off the faucet and dressed her. Every step jerked new tears that stained his bareback. At her quiet sobs, he berated what an idiot he was for reminding her.

The contact of soft mattress made her flinch. With tear-stained eyes, she gaped at the man who Omar Sulaman promised to kill and it almost made her whimper pathetically.

The malice thoughts stopped whispering when warm touch on her face descended her back to reality.

Alex.

"Yeah?" She hadn't realised she said it out loud.

"Stay with me," she implored. His head was already nodding, but it didn't satisfy her.

A hand shot out anxiously, "No, not this. You can't ever die on me." Her sudden request puzzled him. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said. "What happened, Alexan– Alexis?" Her birth name sat heavily on the tip of his tongue, almost escaping in his concern.

Over time, she'd built a reasonable resilience from Alex's relentless questionings, yet today her defenses lowered. "Back there... He said he'd kill you, he'll make me watch," she swallowed the rising bile. "And I let him go... Fuck."

Alexis felt like an utter failure. Not only did she fail to extract information about the stolen gas, but more people would suffer as a result of the Wolf's escape.

Losing the usual silver lining from her interrogations made her dangerously close to spiral out of control. In her mind, she unjustly tortured a man. And it was vile—even if that man was Omar Sulaman. Now, she found the line between her and her torturers blurred.

Though she didn't specify, Alex placed two and two together. "The Wolf?"

She merely nodded, still gripping his arm painfully like he'd slip away. The desperation her pleads carried haunted him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," He saw red, only able to suppress his anger by making this promise. Without hesitation, he levelled their faces together, mumbling reassurance of I'm not going anywhere.

In the moonlight, Alex could still see the faint tint of pink that stained her nose—he compared it to the pink chrysanthemums he saw earlier today. How could anyone still look this enchanting while sobbing was a mystery to him, though he was staring right at the answer.

She never ceased to amaze him.

"I'm with you, okay? Always." This sentence never lost its genuineness. He'd do anything for her—the world begins and ends where she says so.

She felt his lips move against her ear, and her racing heart slowly composed itself from his assurance. Losing composure was uncommon for her, but even in this exception, she was sagacious enough to know the air between them had long changed.

Refusing to play host to her desire, her head stay lowered. She opted to wipe her tears and joked about how she didn't want his ghost to haunt her, hoping a distraction would alleviate her pounding heart.

Despite her prayers, Alex tilted her chin upwards to meet him, "Never happening."

They were so close. "Even when you're a ghost?"

"Mhm. I'm pretty hard to shake."

"You'd definitely be one of those annoying ghosts... With no sense of boundaries."

The magnetic allure of her lips called to him. On its own accord, his thumb ghosted ever so slightly over her parted lips, stealing a sharp breath from them both. They were dead silent.

And something in Alex warned him to reduce his voice to a whisper, afraid that he might scare this moment away, "Boundaries... You want it...?"

Everything was electrified. His touch, his gaze. Alexis worked hard not to crumble under his intense stare.

Then it happened, his gaze fell on her lips. She definitely didn't imagine that.

"Do you?" she deflected. Mildly embarrassed that her voice had the abraded texture of stone against stone.

Even when her lungs screamed for air, Alexis still forgot to breathe. She was busy listening to the angel and the devil warring inside her, pleading to her rationality. It was clear which side won when she closed her eyes.

Her world was pitch black. Senses put into overdrive. The touch along her jawline felt like it burned. She thought if this was what being set on fire felt like, she'd gladly pay the price.

His breath fanned across her nose. And then their noses touched.

Alexis felt horrible for her overworking heart, rapidly pumping oxygen to her brain—she certainly dared not to breathe, terrified to screw this up. Maybe there was a screeching voice inside her head, but it was fogged by her desires.

Tingles rushed through her when his lips brushed her own, the velvety feeling of it already so addictive. Alexis closed her eyes, waiting for the impact, and then–

A sharp knock forced them both apart.

She almost got whiplash from how fast she turned to the door, making her clutch her head in pain. The silhouette of Kyle Garrick stood in front of them, head still bowed while reading a prescription off a medicine tube.

"Nero- no, Neosporin," he cluelessly recited. "Antibiotic cream." When Kyle finally raised his head, a look of doubt crossed his face upon the flustered duo.

He awkwardly tossed the tube to Alex. "Okay... Weird vibe. Alia said to apply it or else."

"Thanks, Garrick," Alexis grimaced at her slightly pitchy voice, "Um. Get some rest, yeah?"

"Mhm. As you were..."

The door closed after him. Tensed at the shuffling sounds behind her, her brain replayed the scene much to her protest.

"Still want me to stay?" Alex said in a low voice. She hadn't realised she was still staring at the empty doorway.

What was that? She never loathed her noisy thoughts more than this moment. Oh fucking fuck, shit. I'm so stupid.

No... Why am I embarrassed? He initiated the stupid kiss! She reasoned, digging for some form of consolation to find the courage to snap around, preparing herself for what might come next. But she wasn't expecting the smug smile he so proudly wore. She then wondered if she should feel relieved or nervous.

But as a wave of dizziness forced her to grab a handful of bedsheets, she inwardly spoke gratitude that she didn't have to decide.

What was this? What were they, really? Too many questions and too little answers.

"Come on, it's past your bedtime," Alex pulled her back into the bed and started to administer the medication on her cheek wounds. Today was already a heck of a day, and with the soothing circles rubbed into her skin, she surrendered to her tiredness.

"Night..."

Upon her steady breathing, Alex tossed the tube across the room and it landed accurately on his vest with a soft thud. His finger outlined a path from her forehead and hovered hesitantly above her lips. The very same one he should have already felt.

Thanks, Garrick.

A frustrated sigh escaped him, loud enough to make Alexis nuzzle deeper into him, an arm draped over his waist.

He laid back down, replaying their scenes from earlier. A bolt of lightning might as well strike him now—maybe that would explain the bursting feeling in his chest.

"Wow," he mouthed in realisation. "I'm a damn idiot."

Years ago when she tipsily ended up on his doorstep desperate for him to take the pain away, he willingly obliged. No denials that he had the biggest selfish reason to say yes.

Fuck, it was a strange feeling to finally get all that he dreamt of. That night, he was too busy planning a confession in his head to sleep. But by dawn, the demons inside him questioned if he truly deserved someone like Alexis.

Someone like her? For him? It was too good to be true. His mind raced with the "What ifs?"

"What if our jobs clashed?"

"What if I put her in danger?"

"What fucking if the long distance fucks everything up?"

Their friendship would be in shreds. And she was one of the– the most important person in his life. No way would he lose her.

So he pushed her away—looked her in the eyes and lied. For Heaven's sakes, he wanted to punch himself. And he knew he made the right decision because when their friendship took a hit for a few weeks, the loneliness was unparalleled.

He didn't want to feel that way again. Ever.

Alex might have kept their friendship, but at the cost of everything. He liked to picture how different things would have been, if not for his cowardice. He thought about it frequent enough to imprint a permanent gnaw in his heart.

Now, here it was. A bloody second chance. His second chance.

Alex peered down to the butterfly tattoo on his bare chest, smiling. The universe's proof, alright, he whispered, "Gotcha."

The night ended with Alex falling into dreams of the woman he loved.

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n:        they're such stupid fools... & omg i hate this chapter so much idek. btw what do yall think alexis’ real name is?

taglist: @flyboidameron​​ @wanderlustgiant​​ (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 10: Hattie

The night is but young.

❃❃❃

“Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” Hattie asked, squirming as she repeated her question for what seemed like the thousandth time.

“For the thousandth time, no, I’m not done yet. Stupid three thousand word count.” Cait groaned, slouched over their desk. “I swear, the day I graduate, I’m gonna kick Professor Rook square in the junk… boring old bastard… ”

“Sorry, time’s getting away from me.” Hattie apologized. “You’re still using that trick I told you about?”

Cait shrugged. “Even if I don’t count it as I go, it still feels like I’m never gonna finish it.”

The two had been spending the entire evening in their dorm room; Cait had been working on their assignment since the moment the Armilde sisters had left, and Hattie had been trying to keep herself busy by dusting, staring outside, dusting again, and even going as far as to read a lesson they hadn’t yet covered in class.

Tossing the Modern Remnant History textbook to her side, Hattie fell back on her bed spread-eagled, disappointed at the evening so far. She regretted how she had never really fostered a social life outside of Haven Academy— or much less her team, for that matter.

She had grown up as a ward of the underground Sisterhood, mostly keeping to herself and her small collection of fairytale books back then. Having dwelled for so long down in the habitable mine tunnels that the Sisterhood called home, she had recently found herself wanting to explore the world outside more often, if only to make up for lost time.

Those extracurricular lessons with Professor Gormlaith don’t count, she mentally noted.

Hattie didn’t have many friends, either— ironically, the happy-go-lucky girl could be a lot more introverted than extroverted at times. She knew a few students in their year by name, but not enough to warrant anything closer than a “hello” in the hallways. Plus, she didn’t find it to be much fun going out without her friends, which essentially consisted of LLAC and pretty much nobody else.

Well, there is CMYK, she thought to herself, remembering the team of now-second-years that they had tutored in the previous semester. I bet ol’ Mallow or Kara would have been free at this hour… but they’re all over in Vale helping with the set-up for the Vytal Festival, lucky dogs.

And since Lillian and Amaryllis were out doing their own things, she was left cooped up with Cait, who had been taking their time in writing an essay she had already finished.

“…Don’t you have anywhere else to go, Hattie?” Cait asked, glancing over their shoulder.

Hattie turned, wilting slightly as she did. “Should I leave you alone?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” Cait replied. “I just don’t want you to feel stuck here with me, y’know? You could go if you wanted to.”

Hattie shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t really wanna. I’d prefer to wait for you rather than leave by myself.”

“Fair. Are we going somewhere after I’m done, anyways?” Cait said, turning back to their writing.

“I don’t know. I mean, Ammy said we can come down to her boyfriend’s family’s charity event, but it sounds kinda formal.” Hattie said, then shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for formal tonight.”

“So you don’t have a plan for this evening?” Cait inquired.

“I was kinda hoping you had that part sorted out,” she said with a lopsided smile. Having hung out with them the most, Hattie had always left the ideas up to Cait— they did always know where to go for a fun time. Also, she tended to worry that she’d make a big plan and it would turn out to be a flop.

Lost for any follow-up, she wondered aloud, “What do you think Detective Yuen and the old guys are up to now?”

“Probably living their nice and worry-free adult life.” Cait said sarcastically.

“Do you think we should give them a call? You know, check up on them?”

“Nah. I’m sure they’re doing fine on their own for one night.”

Hattie grabbed her Scroll from the far edge of her bed and waved at Cait, sticking out her tongue. “I’m gonna do it anyways! What if they’ve finally found the bad guys or something?”

Cait rolled their eyes. “Whatever you say…”

***

Sardion paced back and forth in Yuen’s office, his gaze fixed on the vinyl floor. The day had been yet another bust— Rudyard had hung back at Yaara’s house, while Sardion and Yuen, with little else to do, had returned to the precinct.

“I’m just saying, don’t you think we should give LLAC a call?” Yuen suggested. “They’re part of this investigation too, and we could really use some help right now. Plus, they might see something we’ve overlooked.”

“They’re having a night off, Yuen. I’m sure they have better things to do.” Sardion replied. “You don’t want to tire the young’uns out before they even graduate, right?”

“Maybe.” Yuen sighed. “Hear anything from Rudyard?” 

“Not yet, but he said he’d call if he found anything to go on.”

***

Rudyard stared up to the inky heavens, taking in the starry night sky from Yaara’s old lawn chair, a half-empty bottle of beer loosely grasped in his fingertips.

In the backyard of her humble home, the Huntress had cultivated a small flower garden. In the back of his mind, Rudyard reflected on the visits he had paid her, how she had meticulously tended to them every day; thoroughly watering them, rooting out any weeds, gently humming while she kept her garden impeccable.

Now, seeing as their owner had been dead for a week, the garden had slowly begun to die as well. The bright petals and leaves of the flowers had begun to fade and wilt from a lack of water, and weeds had taken over a small patch of dandelions.

Rudyard rose to pick up a rusty old watering can on the back veranda, then filled it up with a nearby hose. As he let the water trickle down onto the garden’s parched soil, he let out a long sigh— after all she had done for him, it was the least he could do. Eventually emptying the can, he opted to go back inside, as the night air started to grow colder.

Searching for a spot where the police hadn’t tagged or taped anything of interest, he made himself comfortable in a reclining chair in her personal study. Looking around, a single book lying on her desk caught his eye, the tip of a torn sheaf of paper stuck in the pages halfway through. The title on the cover read Eternal Blue Sky, luminescent gold font on a pastel blue background.

“Of course.” Rudyard chuckled to himself. “You would have hated this, Yaara, leaving a book unfinished.” Absentmindedly, he picked up the book and opened it up to the bookmarked page.

He paused.

Written on the scrap of paper in what was unmistakably Yaara’s handwriting was a short message; 1100 apr 23 for further details - stored on hosaki comm log 1138.

“April…?” Rudyard muttered, squinting at the writing. He remembered that April 21st had been the starting date of the last mission on her and Berilo’s record, and it had been marked as remaining within city limits.

He had never heard of a place called “Hosaki” anywhere in Mistral City.

Frowning, he tucked the sheaf of paper into his pocket and rose from the chair, reaching into his pocket. “Wonder what Yuen’ll make of this.”

He paused, fingers fumbling inside an empty pocket.

“…Where’d I put my Scroll?”

***

“Do you know of any other places they might have escaped to?” Sardion asked as he took a closer look at the map of Mistral spread over Yuen’s desk, doing his best to focus despite his inner restlessness slowly clouding his mind.

“Besides the forest, nothing, and if that’s the case then they’re likely long gone by now.” Yuen said, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe the Manju-Shage District, but I doubt it. The whole thing’s cordoned off by a tripwired security fence. There’s no way someone could’ve broken in without us knowing about it.” She continued, tapping her fingers against the armrests in mild frustration.

“Well, maybe they could’ve snuck in, if they had the right Semblance for the job. At this point, I’m ready to try anything if it means we might find a lead,” Sardion paused, sharply exhaling, “Any step we take, no matter how small, is at least a bit closer to the whoever’s behind this.”

“True.” Yuen said, glancing up at him. “After all, there’ve been times that thugs occasionally get the great idea to break in and squat there, to lay low or whatever… you want to check it out, just in case?”

“Might as well. I’ve already got my weapon on me.” Sardion shrugged. “I’ll call up Rudyard first, see if he’s up for it.” He pulled out his Scroll and sent a call to Rudyard’s contact.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. A small buzzing hum came from beneath a stack of papers on the right of Yuen’s desk. The Huntsman and the detective exchanged confused looks, before realizing what was making the noise.

“Oh, for the love of…” Sardion muttered, sticking his hand underneath the stack and pulling out a Scroll— Rudyard’s own. “Perfect time to forget this, you freakin’ cueball…” He stuck his Scroll back in his jacket and tossed Rudyard’s onto Yuen’s desk.

“Okay, well, that’s a bust… like I said before, we could call up LLAC.” Yuen suggested.

Sardion was inclined to disagree with her, given that it had been the students’ night off— calling them in for duty at such an hour wouldn’t be the most gracious move. However, he figured that they’d best bring some backup, if only to cover more ground if nothing else.

“Alright, go for it.” he said.

Yuen took out her Scroll and pulled up Lillian’s contact. “Here goes. Hope for the best.”

***

“Why do I always have to be the one to make the food?” Rosario asked, swinging her now-empty basket from one hand as she walked alongside Lillian down the cliffside path.

“You’re a great cook, and I can’t even season my food correctly.” Lillian replied. “Do you remember the last time when I tried to make instant ramen unsupervised?”

“Point.” Rosario said. “You did literally set a pot of water on fire. I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty certain that violates every law of thermodynamics that there is.”

Lillian nodded. “See?”

“Riiiight.” Rosario drawled. “Imagine what adult life would be like. Every night, it’ll just be me greeting you, ‘Welcome home, mi amor! What do you want first? Dinner? A bath? Me?’ And then you’ll go, ‘I’ll have you for dinner in the bath!’”

“I know you’re trying to make fun of me, but you’re drooling, Rosario.” Lillian said, giving her girlfriend a flat stare.

Rosario flushed red, wiping the corner of her mouth. “I am not.”

Lillian snorted.

***

“Damnit, her Scroll’s turned off.” Yuen groaned. “Her sister’s offline as well.”

“Thought so. They have private lives too, you know.” Sardion shrugged, slinging his coat over his shoulders. “C’mon, might as well see if any airships are available and just get this over with.”

Yuen rose from her chair. “Fine. I’ll leave them a message if we do find anything.” Just as she was about to follow Sardion out, her Scroll suddenly vibrated in her coat.

The profile picture that displayed the caller wasn’t Lillian— rather, it was the Lazuli kid calling her.

It’s something, I guess. Yuen thought to herself, swiping to accept the call.

“…Hey, Detective Yuen.” Hattie chirped up on the other end.” How’s it going? It’s Hattie from, uh, Team LLAC. Uhm, we just wanted to check in, and—” She continued, stumbling slightly over her words.

“As a matter of fact, I’m glad you called.” Yuen replied. “Listen, Sardion and I are going to investigate a possible lead down in the old Manju-Shage District, and your help would be very much appreciated.” She hesitated before continuing. “That is, if you’re not already preoccupied.”

***

On the other end of the line, Hattie’s face lit up as she heard Yuen’s invitation. For the moment, she managed to suppress the urge to whoop and cheer out of deference to the still-working Cait. “Nononono, no problem. We’ll be there right away, Detective,” she said, struggling to contain her excitement as she ended the call.

It took her a few seconds before she was able to produce words, since all that was coming out of her mouth were muffled joyful squeaks. “…Cait?”

“Gimme a sec.” Cait replied, holding up a finger.

Hattie paused, her smile falling slightly.

“Cait.” she repeated, her tone becoming  normal.

“Wait, I’m almost done.” Cait said, focused on their computer’s monitor.

“Cait!” Hattie repeated for a third time, her voice rising slightly as she grew irked by their dismissal.

“I said wait, Hattie.” Cait said, still not turning around. “…’Make sure to provide footnotes along with citations’? Aw, what the hell’s the point of that?” they muttered to themself as they reviewed their essay.

Hattie scowled darkly, thoroughly annoyed at the brush-off. After a moment, she tiptoed up next to her teammate’s shoulder and leaned in towards their ear as close as possible.

“CAAAAAAAAAAAIT!” she screamed.

“AUUUUUUUGH!” Cait screeched, jumping up from their seat in shock as they spun around to face her. Their brow contorted, startled and frustrated at the girl’s outburst.

“WHAT?!” they snapped.

Hattie’s expression morphed into a tooth-bared cheshire grin, her attempt at emulating Cait’s own habit.

“I know what we’re gonna do tonight~♪.”

[caps-lockdown]

3 AM

Hello lovelies here is my entry for @justkendings 1K challenge! If ya’ll couldn’t tell I’m trying to branch out and try some writing challenges this year.

Prompts were “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.” and “I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?”

Thoughts are in italics. It’s also my first time writing a complete AU so be kind. Alright here we go!

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader Modern Neighbor AU

Words: 6,310 HOLY CRIPES THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Warnings: Swear words, booze and tons of fluff. Some crude humor. Tony, Bucky, and Sam being impatient and grumpy.

Summary: You’re a Nanny by day and a diner waitress by night. Steve is a first responder who gets off late. You both live in the same apartment building. Insert cavity inducing meet cute here.

It’s in Y/N Y/L/N format. I own nothing but my mistakes/no beta.

A/N: I imagined this like an episode of Friends, so I took a couple of lines from the show as little Easter Eggs, lemme know if you find them. And also know I don’t own friends but I’m super obsessed and what can I say? No one told me life was gonna be this way.

Enjoy!

Saturday, 3 AM

You were certain you were going to fall asleep standing up. The elevator creaked to a stop on the 23rd floor of your apartment building and you zombie dragged your body down the hall. 1-A and screaming kids? Nope. Five-B complete with another wannabe Broadway superstar warming up their vocals to Britney Spears? You live in New York city. There’s one on every floor. You looked across the hallway when you reached your door at 3-C where 7-D sat. You’ve lived here for almost two years and have never met the inhabitants of the two bedroom across from your two bedroom. Not that you had tons of time. You were a Nanny during the day most days, and on nights like tonight you worked at a Diner.

Almost there. You could hear the siren call of your bed, a tired smile at the thought of a hot shower for your screaming feet spreading across your face as you lazily jammed your key ring into the door. You glanced at your wrist watch.

2:50 AM

Your shift at the diner aptly named “The Night Owl” had run a tad bit on the long side tonight, a gaggle of high school theater kids flooding your tables at the tail end of your shift. They were riding the high of their opening night of “Footloose”, demanding cheese fries, milkshakes, and whatever amount of Marge’s meatloaf was remaining from the day. You brushed off a piece of the aforementioned dinner special from your apron, slowly pushing the door open. Not that your attempt to be quiet did any good, the tell tale squeaking of the ancient hinges announcing your nearly KO’d arrival.

Sam was in the living room in less than a minute after you shut the door, a slightly grumpy look on his face.

“Long night?”

“Almost thirty teenagers Sam,” You fell into the overstuffed recliner, reaching to take off your sneakers when there was a soft knock at your door. “Shit, I hope I didn’t wake the neighbors.”

“Relax Y/N, I got this.” Sam walked his own groggy body to the door, looking into the peephole before shaking his head and opening the door with another loud squeak.

You leaned to catch a sight of the person, your heart momentarily stopping as your gaze fell upon the most perfect looking man you had ever seen. Please let him be a neighbor.

Blonde hair sat messily atop his head, still slightly damp from a shower that you no doubt wished you could have been a fly on a wall for. If the tight blue t-shirt that was one flex away from ripping off this walking Adonis was any indication, you would have happily offered to hold the loofa for him too.

“I am so sorry to bother you at this hour. I live right across the hall, in 7-D and I was wondering if I could borrow a cup and a half of sugar from you?”

Sam stared at him, his face void of any emotion. “Sugar? Seriously?”

“Yea you see it’s a coworker, a friend really, birthday tomorrow and I said I would make a cake for him, but ah…I forgot to buy sugar before my shift. I’m a first responder and so when I got off work everything was closed. So you see I heard your door open and thought if I could ask you before you went to bed then I had a decent chance.”

Sam’s face remained stoic. “Dude. It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s 2:58,” You replied coolly, pulling your roommate back and replacing him. “A cup and a half of sugar is no problem at all. Give us two shakes, k?”

“Thank you SO much,” The tall drink of water gushed, you giving him a small and peppy “No problem!” before making your way to your kitchen. You always managed to keep extra essentials in the pantry, your fingers easily finding your spare bag of sugar, taking note of the half full open one. “Go back to bed Sam, I’ll handle it.”

“Be careful Y/N, I’ve seen this horror movie before.” Sam warned with a wary look at the man before walking into his room and shutting the door with a THUD.

You handed the full bag of sugar to the man, enjoying the warmth from his hands as they brushed yours. “Sorry about him, it’s way past his bedtime.”

“Your boyfriend was right to be grumpy. It’s stupid early.” You chuckled, “What? Did I say something funny?”

“Sam isn’t my boyfriend, he’s my roommate. Truth be told most of the time I want to kill him. I imagine that would be multiplied ten-fold if we were actually dating.”

“I understand.” He shuffled his slipper clad feet on the floor for a moment before snapping his eyes to yours. “Uh thanks for the…the sugar. I only needed…”

“We have plenty, and I hate measuring things at 3 in the morning.”

“Actually it’s, “He checked his cell phone, “3:14”

Cheeky. “Then you better get to baking that cake then huh?” You smiled at his flustered appearance when he hastily nodded,

“Right, thanks again!”He turned to walk into his own open doorway. A dark haired man with a goatee you hadn’t noticed before stood in a gold and red bathrobe, trying to get a look at you around his brick shithouse built dwelling mate. Probably his partner. Damn it all. You shut the door with a defeated sigh. Figures.

The door to Steve and Tony’s apartment had the terrible habit of slamming shut, the hinges like its neighbor shot but in different ways. This morning was no different. SLAM

Steve nodded to his roommate after throwing the lock.

“Who’s the babe?” Tony asked, mischief floating in his eyes as Steve fought the urge to roll his own into the back of his head.

“Obviously our neighbor Tony. She was kind enough to lend me some sugar to bake Bucky’s cake.” He held up the bag for emphasis. “See?”

“Well shit Steve if you just wanted some sugar all you had to do was ask…” Steve fake gagged as he walked past his roommate, the older man throwing his hand to his chest in mock hurt. “What I just don’t do it for you anymore? You gotta go get your sugar from other women now? Am I not enough?!”

“There is too much to unpack there Ton, so please, for the love of everything holy, just go to bed.”

“Fine. But don’t expect me to wait up for your cheatin ass!”Steve pinched the bridge of his nose as Tony swayed his hips back into his room, “Next time ya see her, get her number for me?”

“Fat chance asshole, I saw her first.” Steve waved off his roommate sticking out his tongue before Tony shut the door, shaking his head and redirecting his focus to the task at hand.

It was going to be a long morning.

Saturday, 1 PM

“RISE AND SHINE YOU BEAUTIFUL MESS!”

You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up in the living room. How had you fallen asleep on the couch? And when did you fall asleep on the couch? You reached for the outstretched coffee cup Sam handed you, the hot green tea sloshing in its container as you brought it to your mouth. “I see you watched the season finale of QVC. Worth the hype?”

Your middle finger was met with a pained expression, “Oh Y/N, that is obscenely un-ladylike. What would your poor mother think?”

“Well she’s been dead seventeen years Sam, so I imagine not a thing.” You smiled tightlipped at your roommate who shook his head.

“Ya always gotta play the dead mom card?”

“Hmm that depends,” You spoke to the screen in front of you, “You gonna keep wearing too tight tee shirts and pants in a last ditch effort to get a girlfriend?”

“You wound me my lady. You cut me so deep just now.”

“Whatever, don’t you have work?” Your eyebrow raised when he shook his head.

“Nah foreman gave us the weekend off since we’re ahead of schedule. Don’t you got the kids today? Or the Owl?”

“Nope I don’t got either til Monday. I’m taking the kids to the Zoo when they get back from their family reunion.” You chuckled into your cup, “I’ve actually missed the little fuckers.”

“Well you have been their nanny for the last three years. What’re ya gonna do when they’re grown?”

“Sidney isn’t even in middle school yet Sam cut me a break. I got another four years, easy.”

 “Well what should we do with our new free time?”

“How about we go to the park? Grab some lunch, enjoy the sunshine. Tonight we can binge Golden Girls and drink way too much wine and order take out? My treat?” Sam seemed to ponder for a minute before nodding,

“For once you actually know what you want so who am I to say no?” You threw a pillow at him from the couch which he dodged with ease.

“Gotta be faster than…”

The second pillow didn’t miss as you squealed and ran to your room to get ready.

~~Meanwhile in 7-D~~

“No…too corny…no….not corny enough…”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a pile of sticky notes in a crumbled heap next to his desk. Writing a simple thank you note to your neighbor shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t been so incredibly attractive that he forgot to human. He never even introduced himself! He didn’t even ask your name! Tony said to cut himself some slack because it had been so early but Steve’s ma would hang him out to dry if she knew he had been knocking on some beautiful woman’s door at 3am.

He needed a nap.

The cake was baked and already frosted, sitting pretty ready for the big night tonight. He had used some of the sugar to make a nice coffee butter cream to ice the dark chocolate cake. Steve was super thankful you had given him the whole bag, or else Bucky would have gotten an unfrosted, sad cake. That would have definitely demoted him from “Best friend status”.

As if on cue his phone vibrated with a text message from his now a year older friend in a group chat for tonight.

Get some sleep old man, we got a long night tonight. –B

Yea yea I’m goin, sucks I have to sleep during this beautiful day though –S

This weather is freaking weird. Nearly sixty in MARCH? –B

Yea and global warming isn’t real. >.> –T

On that note I’m passing out, still on for 7?-S

Yep-B

Correct, sleep well boo thang! See you soon! Have sweet dreams of me! XoXo-T

How can I when you’re a living nightmare?-S

Steve rubbed his eyes, slapping his last written sticky note on the new bag of sugar before going to his room and passing out for a few hours.

Saturday, 6:30 PM

You and Sam had a lovely time walking central park, stopping at your favorite pizza place for lunch and just spending time catching up. You’ve been best friends since high school, and with both of you being on such odd hours most days it had become pretty difficult to enjoy the moments in between. The two of you were laughing your asses off as you made your way to your door, six bottles of wine swinging in bags at your sides.

Tonight was going to be exactly what you both needed.

Sam looked down when you nearly tripped over a block on something outside your door, “What the hell?”

You lowered yours to the floor, where a new bag of sugar sat, along with an attached sticky note. Thanks again for the sugar, Sugar.  The cake is sure to be a big hit. -Steve

You beamed as Sam reached down to pick it off the floor. “Looks like 7-D has got a sweet spot for you.”

“Oh Sam shaddup.” You groaned, shutting the door behind him. “He’s just being nice.”

“Yea sure, you gonna ask mister Sweet tooth out?”

“We both know I never will Sam, I’m too nervous about that kind of thing.” A defeated sigh left you as you sat back down on the couch and began setting up for the evening, “’sides, I think he’s batting for the same team. A very handsome man was waiting for him this morning.”

“Oh honey I’m sorry but there is a chance he’s like a screen door in a hurricane?” You tilted your head in confusion when he grinned, “Swings both ways? He assumed we were dating, so why should you assume they are?”

“Because they’d be the cutest couple in the whole damn building?” You laughed bitterly, setting the remote down on the table while the opening credits started playing. “Now will you call out for Thai already? All the wine shopping made me a starving Marvin.”

“You got it dude!” Sam agreed, hopping over the couch with a loud “WOOHOO” and landing next to you, picking up one of the many take out menus on the coffee table. “Usual spot or we looking to be adventurous this evening?”

“I so don’t have the strength for new tonight Sam, you know what I like.”

Sam saluted you before pulling out his phone, you turning down the volume as he ordered food.

Yea, exactly what you needed.

Sunday, 3 AM

“Sam….Sammy….” You whined, holding the broken corkscrew in a tipsy sadness. This was my favorite wine opener.

“Aww man, that was my favorite wine opener!” Sam echoed your thoughts, both of you giving your old friend a moment of silence before you ceremoniously dropped it into the trashcan.

“Our only wine opener.” You said with a sigh. Sam followed suit.

“What now? We still have two bottles to go through!”

Your eyes widened at your bright idea, rushing for the door as fast as your wine-soaked body could carry you and throwing the door open. You winced at the loud creak, hoping one day you’d remember to WD-40 the hinges. Your smile dropped when no one answered the door across the hall, turning back to Sam with a disappointed shrug. “No one home. I guess we’ll have to quit while we’re ahead.”

“That’s quittin talk!” Sam slurred, using the doorframe as a post, drifting off into thought as to how you could obtain a new corkscrew at this hour.

That’s when you heard it. An obnoxious laugh flooding the hall from the elevator, followed by loud, fumbling footsteps and a lot of cuss words.

“Jesus…Bucky…You’re such a damn lightweight anymore…What…what happened to you?” You recognized the brunette from earlier this morning, the blond god helping him hold up a dark haired man as they made their way towards their door. “Oh great and now the hot girl in 3-C is standing outside our door and we look like shit. Thanks Barnes.”

You took in their scraped and slightly bloodied appearance with a shocked expression, Sam wrinkling his nose at the smell of blood. “You guys look terrible. Rough night?”

The other half of 7-D winced when you stared at him, “We’ve been in worse scraps than this. But yeah, wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.” He gave you a soft, split lip smile. “What can I do for you beautiful?”

Your face burned up at the compliment, although you were positive the wine wasn’t helping matters. “Do….dddo you have a corkscrew? Ours broke.” You stammered, and followed it with a “What happened to you three?”

“Oh you know how birthdays parties and booze go.” Steve gave massive side eye to the man in the middle, “Someone didn’t want to share his cake I made him, sadly the rest is history.”

The drunk man in question had the good sense to look somewhat guilty as he sloppily threw his head up to look at the man, “JAMES DOESN’T SHARE FOOD!” He affirmed in a loud voice before dragging his gaze to you, his eyes widening in surprise. “Damn you…you weren’kidding Steve….she IS a babe.” The man attempted to wink at you with a black eye, you shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “My….my name’s James but everyonecallsme Bucky. But you….you can callmewhatever you want sweets….”

“Alright Pal, let’s get your dumbass inside.” Steve gritted out with a clenched jaw as you darted out of the way. “And we got a couple corkscrews, so you can borrow one, no problem.”

“I got a screw she can have…” Tony muttered, barely missing 7-D’s free arm, letting go of Barnes in the process. He landed face first on the floor with a wham.

”YoU….YOu…ASShole!” Bucky spat angrily into the floor, trying in vain to pick himself up, “What…whatthefuck did I EVER do to you?!”

Tony scoffed, “Please, you want the short list or the long list?”

Laughter bubbled out of you and Sam while the blond quickly went into the kitchen and dug through drawers. He was back in a flash, holding out a wine opener that looked…

“That’s the same one we had!” You laughed, taking it from him while running your fingers over his as he released it with a small shudder. “You’re a life saver Steve!”

“I do what I can,” He replied with a chuckle.

“Hereally is a… lifesaver sweet thang.” Bucky said and you looked down to see he had managed to roll himself over in his inebriated state, staring at the two of you with a dreamy expression, “You two….wouldmakegreatlooking babies.”

“And I think that’s our cue.” Sam said with a tight lipped smile. “Thanks again dude, we’ll get this back to you ASAP.” You didn’t hold back your disappointment when the blond nodded.

“Take your time, and don’t mention it.” He looked at you, blue eyes making you want to drown in them, “Have a good night 3-C.”

“You…you too Steve.” You managed to get out before being dragged out of the doorway by your roommate. You stared at him when he shut the door and threw the lock, walking over to the unopened bottle with newfound purpose. “What the hell was that about?” You jumped slightly when the door across the hall slammed shut.

“They were making me nervous Y/N, I don’t like the way they all talked to you.”

“Steve isn’t like the others Sam, you need to stop being so overprotective.”

“That Bucky dude was one sentence away from getting a second black eye.”

“You’re a big baby. Now get to pouring that wine! I gotta see what Dorothy was going to say to Blanche!”

“Yes ma’am.” Sam rolled his eyes before uncorking the bottle. “Anything else ma’am?”

You had already hit resume on the t.v, grabbing a handful of stale popcorn and throwing most of it in your mouth, making a face at the pieces that fell to the floor. You wasted no time snatching the glass from him before the two of you sat on the couch, continuing your binge.

~~Meanwhile~~

“You NEED to ask her out Stevie!” Tony whined, holding the ice pack to his head. Steve shook his head, throwing Bucky a bag of frozen peas. Which he didn’t catch. Steve should have figured as much.

“I don’t NEED to do anything Tony. So shaddup already.” He warned, Bucky cocking his head in confusion.

“Why not? You said she ain’t dating her roomie right?”

“Doesn’t mean she ain’t seeing anyone else.” He admonished, getting really tired of his friends poking their noses into his personal life. Again

“What do you have to lose if she is? She’s insanely hot dude, at least get on a first name basis with her!”

He still hadn’t gotten your name. Shit.

“Alright mister Casanova, and just how do you suggest I do that?”

“Go ask to borrow something.” Bucky suggested, a little more sober than he had been a couple hours ago. Which wasn’t much, but any progress is progress.

Steve pulled a face, “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot.” He smiled brightly, standing to stretch and accidentally knocking off the hideous “Better latte than never” coffee mug Steve had been too nice to throw away. He had gotten it as a gift, the eyesore coming from a female patient whose life he had saved a couple years ago. It was a nice thought, but the bright green and hot pink polka dots weren’t really his thing. “Oh no! Whatever shall we do!”

“You dick!” Tony glared, pointing to the shards of ceramic that littered the cheap hardwood floors, “We haven’t bought a new dustpan yet!”

Bucky tapped his temple, pointing to the door. “Looks like you’ll have to ask the hot neighbor.”

Steve checked his phone. 4:30 AM “No way, it’s too fucking early.”

“They still might be up.” Bucky shrugged, padding his way to the door and opening it with a dramatic flourish. He cupped his ear, leaning into the hallway. Steve heard your giggle fit from the other side of the hall, small smile creeping its way over his lips. How Fortuitous. “Could I be anymore right?”

“Alright you win this round.” Steve wiped his face with his arm, careful to avoid his split lip as he walked into the hall, but not before hip checking Bucky. “Jesus I hope she doesn’t think I’m a creep.”

He lightly knocked, hearing a small yelp on the other side followed by a gruff “I swear if it’s 7-D again I’m gonna…”

“Lay off him Sam, he’s hot and has been nothing but sweet. You rather it be the bitchy land…”

Steve jumped back when you pulled the door open, having a bit of difficulty with the new amount of wine you’ve consumed and hanging onto it as the SQQQQUUUUUEAAAK made you wince. You really needed to get that fixed. “Steve, hi…your ears burning? We were just talking about you!”

Apparently you couldn’t whisper when you were drunk. Steve found it adorable.

“No I uh, didn’t hear a thing. I got a weird question.”

“I got a weird answer.” You deadpanned, right before erupting into a fit of giggles. “Shoot”

“You got a dustpan? Bucky broke a mug and we haven’t had a chance to get a new one since the stove incident a few months back.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “How do you leave a dustpan on a stove?”

“Hangover Breakfast.”

“Ah. Say no more. You wanna step in for a sec?”

“Uh yea, sure.” Steve stepped into your space and immediately felt like he was home. All of the décor on the walls, the perfectly coordinated knick knacks. Hell even your curtains matched.  It was an elegant take on pastels and spring themes. A lovely antique bird cage with flowers hung in the window. Stunning shades of blues and purples covered the furniture and windows, offsetting the gray colors of the couch, chair and tables. “Your space is amazing.”

“Thanks, it’s all Y/N and her HGTV obsession. Thankfully it’s all seasonal.” Sam laughed, emptying his glass. “You want a glass of wine while you wait? She usually doesn’t take long but we’ve had quite a bit to drink and right now I’d bet money she forgot which closet it’s in. We only have the one but her drunk brain sucks ass.” As if on cue the two men twisted their heads at the sound of you clamoring through the small closet.

“Nah I’ll pass. I’ve had more than enough for tonight. Thanks though.”

“I FOUND IT!” You emerged from the depths of Narnia, hair a mess and shirt rumpled holding a bright pink dustpan. The guys won’t him live that down, he could already hear them now. As if reading his thoughts you offered an apologetic smile, “Sorry bout the color.”

“It’s fine, you’re an absolute angel. Thank you.”

“Hey anytime, you’re quitelovelytolookat.” You got out in one long breath, eyes wide as you hoped he didn’t catch all of that. Wine made your sober thoughts flow out of your mouth a lot easier, which was always embarrassing.

“You’re quite attractive too Y/N.” Your eyes remained wide as you stared in panic.

“How did you…”

“Easy there no need to freak out, I’m not a stalker.” Steve chuckled, throwing his now dustpan clad hands in defense. “Sam told me. Like two minutes ago.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, Sam rolling his eyes. This was so cute he wanted to puke. “Well I should get back to the guys before they figure out a way to burn the building down.”

“Right…” You gave a half smile, careful to get a good eyeful of his perfect ass as he left. The door shut with a loud creak. “He’s really cute Sam.” Sam made a face when his door slammed.

“Then do what NORMAL people do and, “He gripped your shoulders, giggles falling out of you as he gently shook you with every word, “Ask. Him out!”

“I barely know him Sam.”

“That what dates are for. Although with your track record you might as well just ask to borrow something after an hour. “

And with Sam’s brilliant idea lodged in your head you decided to do just that.

5:30 AM

Crreeeeeak

Your slightly less than sober self tiptoed into the hall, attempting to listen to the guys arguing over movies before knocking on the door. Steve answered the door in record time.

“Whatcha need Sweetheart?”

“You got any extra bags of popcorn? We’re out.”

“Sure thing, hang on.” You accepted the bags gratefully. “Anything else?”

“Favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Blue….ok bye!”

“Bye”

Slam

Creeeeeeeak

6:30 AM

Slam

Knock

Your turn to open the door with a Creeeeeak

“Yes?”

“You got an iron?” Steve asked sheepishly, Tony, being slightly annoyed at the interruption of movie time poked his head into the hall.

“Why do you need an Iron? We have an Iron! I’m the Iron Man in this apartment!”

“She might have one not covered in cheese grease.” Steve said pointedly, Bucky looking guilty from opposite of Tony.

“That happened one time months ago! I bet it still works fine!” You gave the men a sympathetic glance.

Steve looked pleadingly at you. “Please.” You nodded, walking past a slightly irked and sleepy Sam to dig through the closet, returning promptly with an iron. “Thanks Doll, what’s your favorite movie?”

“Casablanca. You?”

“Pride and prejudice…” Your heart melted for .5 seconds before he quickly added “And Zombies.”

“Gotcha. Well, have a good morning. “

“Yea you too Y/N.”

Creeeeaaaak

Slam

7:30 AM

Creeeeeak

Knock Knock

Steve rubbed at his eyes before perking up at the sight of you in pjs, sleepy look on your own face as well.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a blowtorch around here?” You asked casually.

Steve looked stunned. “Uh….One, should I be concerned for Sam’s well being?” You quickly shook your head. “Alright…Two, why do you need a blowtorch?”

“Crème Brulee” You laughed at his reaction, his eyebrows so far into his hairline they almost got lost into his hair. An exaggeration on your part but it was still definitely a sight. “Relax, I’m mostly sober. Just hungry.”

“There is no way your custard could have set by now.”

He noticed how you looked impressed before shrugging as if it were nothing, “It has when you own a blast chiller. Being employed by two world renowned chefs has its perks.”

“I guess. Hang on.” You managed to catch a glimpse of Tony and Bucky partially glaring at you from the living room.

“I’m not keeping you guys up am I?”

“Only meant to go to bed four hours ago.” Tony snapped before grinning, “But if you come in and cuddle with me til I fall asleep I’ll consider us even.” He winked and you felt slightly self conscious for standing in a doorway in a tank top and shorts.  

“Tony, go to bed. No one is keeping you out here.” Steve tossed across his shoulder before handing you the handheld heat device. “One blowtorch. “

“Thanks Steve. Want me to bring you some?” You asked innocently, cradling the blowtorch like a newborn. Bucky cleared his throat. “I think Tony and I deserve some for putting up with you two all night.” You gave a deep sigh before nodding slowly.

“Done. I did plan on bringing you some anyway, for being so nice to me. And like a belated birthday present.” Bucky’s eyes almost bulged out of his head, whipping it over to Steve at such a speed you thought it would pop off and get carried out of the window.

“If you don’t marry her I call dibs.” You held up a finger before heading back to your apartment, the door being left open for the simple fact that Sam had threatened to smother you. His hangover was coming in hot, and he was always so cranky when he had one. You put the finishing touches on the small ramekins, using the blowtorch with skilled hands. The parents of the kids you sat most of the week had taught you a thing or two after all. You carefully set them on a tray and along with a French press of fresh coffee, bridged the gap between your two doors once more.

You set the tray down on the coffee table in front of three sets of hungry eyes. “I hope you like it!” You said cheerfully, taking a minute to soak in the childlike wonder that graced the three men’s faces. They took no time digging into the confection, Bucky and Tony making nearly identical moans at their first spoonful.

“I take back all the bad things I was thinking about you.” Tony got out before moaning again, “This stuff should be illegal.” You shook your head, slowly backtracking through the door.

“I’m glad, but I should be trying to sleep now. I hope you all have a goodnight…I mean morning.” You rushed back to your apartment with a loud crrreeeeeaaaak.

“She’s perfect.” Steve gushed after nearly inhaling his dessert.

“If only you had remembered to ask her out.” Tony muffled out, going to town on licking the inside of the small bowl as if there were any stray pieces of burnt sugar remaining. “Now it looks like I’m going to have to. Really have to twist my arm.”

Steve looked at your closed door in disappointment. “Shit.”

8:00 AM

Slam

Steve raised his hand, waiting a moment to knock. He’d been an annoying asshole all night to his roommates, not to mention yours. He should just call it a night but he desperately needed to ask you out before he lost his nerve. And before Tony had a chance to. He lightly rapped on the door, holding his breath while the door creaked open. But you didn’t answer.

One extremely pissed off and extremely hungover Sam Wilson did.

“Someone better be dying 7-D.”

“Oh uh no…sorry I was uh…” Steve trailed off, looking for a way to cover his ass from the obvious wrath coming his way. “Spit it out I don’t have all day.” Sam warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

“DoyouhaveablenderIcouldborrow?” Steve shot out, the mumbled jumbled mess making Sam quirk a brow, crossing his arms.

“Come again?”

“Sorry, “ Steve cleared his throat before starting again, “Do you have a blender I can borrow? For Bloody Marys? The guys are gonna have a wicked hangover and I thought I’d be nice and make them when they wake up.”

“A blender seems like the exact opposite of what they need with a hangover  but what the hell. If it gets you out of my hair.“ Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes, “Hang on.” It took Sam ten seconds to retrieve the contraption and all of its matching parts. Steve would have been impressed, if he hadn’t felt so bad.

“One blender. Now let me die in peace.”

“Thanks…?” “Sam. Sam Wilson.”

“Sam.” Steve tried the name on for size with a wide smile. “Nice name.”

“Don’t push your luck Steve, Y/N may have fallen for that pretty boy crap but I sure as shit won’t.”

“I don’t suppose you two will want a Bloody Mary later?”

The door was already closing, Sam speaking into the shrinking crack with indifference. “Not unless it’s made out of sleep. Goodnight 7-D”

Steve thought his was the only door in the hallway that could slam.

Sunday, 3PM

“Y/N we need more toilet paper!” Sam called from the closet next to the bathroom, you hastily scribbling the words down on a post it note before grabbing your keys.

“I’m on it! If you think of anything else, text me!” You rushed out the door, not noticing you had forgotten to grab your apartment keys on the counter. You always carried two separate key rings, in the highly likely scenario of someone trying to mug you. Sam looked at them, wheels beginning to turn.

~~In 7-D~~

“I’m going out to get some celery!” Steve called, grabbing his keys and slipping on some worn sneakers, “If you need anything just message me!” Slam

“Today’s the day I change the locks.” Tony said confidently, retreating to his room briefly to grab the new set. He had been waiting for both of them to be home, but with the way Steve had been with Y/N all night he had a score to settle. Groaning at the sound of the trash man outside he pressed the once frozen bag of carrots to his head, walking out and past a comatose Bucky on the couch. Tony glared. Asshole can sleep through anything.

He was counting on it.

4:15pm

You were extremely concerned when you reached the apartment building and realized you forgotten your keys, temporary panic set in before you remembered two things.

One, Sam was still home.

And two, he was a light sleeper.

You practically sprinted down the hall, paying no mind to the tall blond that was slapped against his own door in defeat, random items along either side of the doorway. As you neared your own door you noticed a small pile of items had migrated outside as well, a bright orange sticky note attached to the oak door.

“They’ve locked us out.” Steve said with a groan, bag holding celery and coffee hitting the ground with an unimpressed thud. “They’re punishing us for this morning.”

“No way!” You bit out, knocking on the door angrily, “Wilma! Open this retched door if you ever want to take a shit again!” You looked down at the ground, finally acknowledging the objects. “What the hell is all of this?”

“It the things we borrowed from each other last night.” Came the blonde’s response, you recognizing the bright pink dust pan, French press, and Iron. Among other things he had asked for in the early hours.

“When did you borrow my blender?” You asked pointedly, noticing how Steve’s face turned a slight pink.

“This morning. I got Sam.” You mouth made a perfect O shape, taking the sticky note off the door. What he said-Sam

“This note makes no sense.” You whispered, scratching the crown of your head, looking up to Steve to see his blush deepen. “What’s this about?”

“Uh….here.” He handed you his own crumpled up note.

You can come in when you’ve grown a pair and asked her out –Tony

“Oh.” You stared at the note, shifting your weight from foot to foot while your hallway partner studied your face as if it was the first time meeting you. He jumped in surprise when you looked up again at him with a beaming smile, “Well how about lunch?”

“You’re not hungover?” He asked curiously, you scoffed.

“Please, I’m no rookie.”

“Lunch sounds great Y/N,” Steve beamed his own mega watt smile your way and held out his arm, “You ever been to Kay’s?”

“I looove Kay’s!” You gushed, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall, but not before yelling loudly. “IT’S A DATE! NOW YOU GUYS CAN PUT OUR STUFF BACK!”

The three men were happy to do it, thankful for some more peace and quiet. Even if only temporarily.

Six Months Later, 3 AM

Crreeeeaaaak

“God damnit.”

Your eyes shot open to the sound of your apartment door opening, waiting for the infernal door to scream in protest before it was shut. But that never came. Instead the sound of power tools and more cussing filled the air for a few moments before the sound of rattling metal and plastic containers flooded your ears. Curious, you threw on some slippers and opened your door, walking into the living room.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Steve Rogers replacing your door hinges.

“Good morning handsome.” You called, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his solid middle, “You’re busy this morning. Long shift?”

“Nothing major, “ Steve moved so his arm came to rest around your side, “figured it was time we got this fixed. Especially since I live here now.”

“My hero,” You snarked, “whatever would I do without you?”

He snickered, “Probably kill Sam by now.”

“Yup.” You grinned when he let out a loud bark of laughter, “And now it’s just another thing you can hold over him when you see him and Tony this afternoon for brunch.”

“Copy that. Their apartment or ours this time?”He questioned, itching to get his hands on you.

“Theirs. So we have plenty of tim..”  He gripped you tight and cut you off with a kiss, you responding immediately. Steve sighed and picked you up effortlessly while you wrapped your legs around him. He pushed the door shut and tossed the lock over with ease, walking both of you back to your room.

Both doors closed with a soft click.

The end.

Tagging: @kaytizzle @giggleberts @cuffski @pies-wands-and-more

[gamz2311]

Lights Out- An Adam SacklerxReader One-Shot

Written for @kylosupremeimagines and the Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy it! Happy Valentine’s day!!!

Warnings: Cursing

“Adam, we have got to go grocery shopping.” Y/N shouted from the tiny kitchen apartment that she shared with her roommate Adam Sackler. 

“Oh fuck that.” Adam responded from the other room where he was… building something? She couldn’t really tell- all she knew was that it was loud and very annoying. 

“I’ve done the grocery shopping every week for the past three months, it’s your turn!” She said, the annoyance with her roommate clear in her voice. Suddenly the loud banging sound stopped and Adam appeared in the doorway. 

“I know and you’re so good at it. You know if I go I’m getting yogurt and beer. Yogurt and beer only.” He said, giving her a face that she already knew she couldn’t say no to. 

“Alright. Fine.” She said rolling her eyes.

“Kid, this is why you are my best friend and the best roommate.” Adam said gripping her waist with a friendly squeeze. As much as she wanted to stay irritated with him, she knew it wouldn’t last long. She could feel the smile spreading across her face as she looked at Adam. 

Y/N had known Adam almost all of her life. They had done community theatre together as kids and by the time they were teenagers, they were practically inseparable. When Adam left to move to the city, they had stayed in contact, seeing each other when he came home to visit. She had never thought about moving to the city, content with her life in the small town she loved. 

However, that had all changed when she found herself at a crossroads. Her boyfriend of 2 years had dumped her, her job had become monotonous and boring, and most of her family had moved out of the area. One night she called Adam, mainly to complain, when he quickly shut her down.

“If you are so unhappy then do something about it.” He said, leaving her speechless and annoyed.

“What?” Her voice came through the phone harshly and quickly. 

“I said if you are so fucking unhappy then DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!” He made sure to over emphasize the last few words to really hit his point home. “Your boyfriend was an asshole, also- told you on that one. You’ve always hated your job, and everyone has moved away because where we grew up suckssss.” Y/N sat there on the phone speechless. She knew he was right, but there was no way she was going to admit it. 

“It’s not that simple, Adam.” She started before he interrupted her again.  

“Yes it fucking is. Stop being so dramatic. Want a change? Move to the city. Hell, move in with me. I could definitely use help with the rent.” His response was so blunt that it threw her for a second. 

“Are you serious?” The tone in her voice quickly changed with her response. 

“Hell yeah. It would be fun to be roommates.” And just like that- Y/N found herself leaving the life she had always known to move in with her lifelong friend. It was very surprising to her how easily she adjusted to living in the city. She found a job she liked quickly and settled into the bustling city life. Adam was a great resource, letting her know what she needed to do and what was essential to avoid. 

Being roommates with Adam wasn’t as bad as she thought it might be. Sure, he did random, loud projects at all hours of the night and brought home women pretty frequently, but overall he was respectful of her space and made her feel safe. 

There was really only one weird thing that came from “being roommates” and that was this weird tension that had developed between them. They had fun and things were great, but there seemed to be this draw, some invisible tether that made her want to be close to him. Sure, she had a crush on him as a kid but it was childish and she knew it could never develop into anything. However, there was something about living in these tight quarters, sharing so many domestic moments that made her almost feel those stirrings of desire and love deep inside. 

“So, when are you going shopping? I’m starved.” He said, as she rolled her eyes and slugged him in the shoulder.

“I’ll go tomorrow, ok?” Falling onto the couch, she looked up at him. “Wait, why would you only buy yogurt and beer? You don’t even drink!” 

“See, that's how absolutely shitty I am at shopping kid.” Shrugging, he left the room and within minutes and started his loud project again. “By the way,” he yelled over the jarring sounds of metal hitting wood. “I’m going out with Hannah tonight. Some party at one of her stupid friend’s house.”

“I thought you two weren’t together anymore.” Y/N yelled back, feeling jealousy settle deep in her stomach. 

“We aren’t, but you know…” He started to say, before he was interrupted. 

“I get it. You can stop there.” She knew he was going to say that they still fuck around, and she just couldn’t stomach hearing it again. Making her way to her room, she fell back on the bed. Having no plans of her own, she decided to spend the evening doing what she loves: watching Chris Evans movies and eating the chocolate she had hidden in her bedside drawer so Adam couldn’t get to it. 

She was halfway through Gifted when suddenly the electricity went out. Scrambling out of bed, she grabbed her cellphone.

“Adam? Are you still here?” Y/N called out. Her door had been shut and Adam didn’t always tell her when he was leaving. 

“I’m here! What the fuck happened?” Adam said. She could hear his steps coming closer to her but she still couldn’t see him even with the glow of her cell phone. Within moments he was beside her, his face illuminated by the phone. A towel was wrapped low around his waist as he had clearly just gotten out of the shower. Water glistened off his chest and she could feel her cheeks start to redden. 

“I have no clue.” Her response was quick, trying to move past the moment of temporary awkwardness. They looked at each other for a minute before she turned to her phone, looking for information. He watched as the look of shock spread across her face. “Apparently the whole city is out! Look at this picture of Times Square.” He peered over to her phone screen. 

“Oh damn.” He said in his low, slow voice. “Well it looks like you are stuck with me for the night. I’m not leaving in this mess. I can only imagine how fucking crazy its going to be out there.” He shrugged. “Can I borrow your phone to get to my room so I can put clothes on?”

“Where is yours?” Y/N asked. Adam didn’t really answer, just shrugged. She followed him into his room and handed him her phone. 

“Now- no peeking.” Adam joked and again Y/N was glad that the lack of electricity covered the blush that was now spreading across her body. She rolled her eyes and turned to face the doorway. Within moments he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. He handed her back her phone and they stood there. 

“So- what are we going to do?” He asked. 

“Uh- I have a few candles in my room. We could light those in the living room so I can save my phone battery.” She skeptically suggested. Adam seemed to approve of the plan, so within 30 minutes the living room was lit up with candles and the two of them were relaxing on the couch. 

“So…” Y/N said.

“So what?” Adam responded.

“What do you want to do?”

“Well sitting here in silence fucking sucks, lets play a game or something?” He said.

“A game? How old are we?” She teased, elbowing his side. 

“Oh, you prefer the silence? Then by all means let's continue…” He said, stretching his legs out in front of him and closing his eyes. 

“I was teasing! What game do you want to play?” She sat criss-cross on the couch so she could face him. 

“Truth or dare.” He said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. 

“We aren’t in 9th grade…” She started to say before he interrupted her. 

“You already played the “we are too old to play games” joke- come on- just do it.” 

“Alright, alright.” She said as he turned to face her. They started playing truth or dare, keeping things simple. Before long they were cracking each other up trying to be as goofy as possible. As the night went on they would play truth or dare off and on, their truth and dares getting more and more bold. She couldn’t tell if she was just imagining it, but it seemed like Adam was moving closer and closer to her. His truths and dares seemed to be more risque, making the moment seem more and more intimate. However, it was impossible for things to be too serious with Adam around. 

“I dare you to flash the window.” Adam said.

“Easy!” Y/N responded, turning towards the window and raising her shirt. 

“Very nice, you’ve gotten much better at this game since high school.” Adam teased, placing a hand on her leg as she sat back down. “Remember that night at Claire’s house?” 

“Oh god. I’ve tried really hard to forget that night.” Y/N put her hands on her face, covering her clear embarrassment.

“I haven’t. That night was very interesting.” Adam said with a laugh.

“Yes it was. At least the parts I can remember. Ugh, I’ve never been that sick before in my life.” Y/N said, leaning her head against Adam’s shoulder. “What a crazy night.” She expected Adam to make some retort about how idiotic she looked that night but Adam was silent. “Earth to Adam?” 

“How much do you remember?” He asked

“Huh?” She responded. 

“Remember how we made out that night?” Adam said.

“Oh my gosh. As much as I have tried- no I have not forgotten that night.” She said with a laugh. 

“Hey- why are you trying to forget? I’m a great kisser!” He said, faking offense.

“We were drunk and in Claire’s older brother’s closet.” She retorted back. “It smelled like gym shorts.” 

“Is that all you remember?” Adam said, and Y/N almost felt like he moved a bit closer to her on the couch, his hand sliding up her thigh. 

“I mean the smell was pretty overpowering…” She laughed. Somehow her response seemed meek, like she wasn’t sure exactly what to say. 

“Why was that the only time we made out? We’ve been friends for so long, you think it would have happened again.” Adam said, making Y/N feel like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“I don’t know.” She said quickly. “Hey, I’m starved, you want a snack?” Y/N went to stand up, but Adam’s hand kept her in place.

“You already know we don’t have any snacks, so why are you trying to leave? Does this make you feel uncomfortable?” He leaned closer to her, the space between them disappearing. 

“Uh.. I, I mean- no of course not. We are friends, we can talk about making out. That's not weird, like come on, no big deal. I mean…”  She started, feeling the warmth of his skin as he slid his arms around her. They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them growing exponentially. 

“Truth or dare?” Adam said, sitting close enough to her that she could feel his breath as he spoke. 

“What?” Y/N said, almost feeling breathless as her senses felt overwhelmed. 

“Just answer. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” She whispered. Adam didn’t really answer, instead he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers, wordlessly daring her to kiss him back. 

She did, intensely and passionately. It was like all the tension that had been hanging around them since she had moved in had exploded. They clung to each other, exploring each other’s mouths. It wasn’t long before she felt herself starting to giggle against his lips. 

“What's so funny, kid?” He asked, giving her a look. 

“I just can’t believe that happened. We aren’t even drunk. This is so crazy.” She said through a laugh. 

“Sometimes the things that are the most crazy seem to make the most sense?” He said with a shrug, before pressing his lips against her again. She allowed herself to be over taken by him, his mouth on hers, his hands feeling like they were touching every part of her.

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what this meant, and she didn’t really care. She was going to enjoy every moment of having him this close. She couldn’t help but think that she had never thought power outages were romantic, but this night was surprising her in more ways than one. 

[hexlikesramennoodles]

For @granpappy-winchester, inspired by Cherry!Billy.

*

*

*

The music was turned down low, the lights dimmed; the festivities’ last stragglers wandering off to either pass out or fuck in whatever spare corner they could find. Robin’s friends had turned the living room into an island of refuse, cigarette butts buried behind the sofa cushions, empty bottles gathered on the coffee table like dominos, cold pizza crusts lining the pot plants. The shattered window had been sealed with excess rolls of duct tape, and yet Steve still felt the wind on his nape; a chilly, autumnal wind, with the knifelike threat of winter in it. He couldn’t see Billy, but he could hear him breathing; shallow and hoarse, as if he’d been walking on a steep upwards incline—or smoking an entire carton of cigarettes, which he did nearly every other day.

“Looks like we’re the last ones standing, Harrington,” Billy said.

The pantry door stood open, the single bulb inside flickering, spilling sallow light across the linoleum. Steve followed the emphysemic rattle of Billy’s lungs; he had memorized the sound, apparently. He knew the way Billy moved, the way he smelled, the shape he took in the darkness; like reaching for a wellworn light switch, you were confident it would be there when you did.

He was struck by the surreal domesticity of the scene: Billy Hargrove, sitting at his kitchen table with the sole of one boot planted carefully on the seat of a chair—Steve’s chair. He was, at nearly four o’clock in the morning, eating a bowl of cereal: balancing the bowl atop his fingertips, slurping noisily from it as one would with soup; Steve’s bowl, Steve’s cereal.

“No one else could keep up,” he added, after a pause.

Steve said nothing.

(He would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined something like this—wished for it, even—Billy, eating breakfast in his kitchen the morning after, sneaking up behind him to wind his hands around his waist, his jaw whiskery with stubble and his voice sleepy, hazy, asking: what’s cookin’, good lookin’? The answer, Steve imagined, would be French toast, because that was what he had cooked for Nancy. Because Nancy had always stayed, the morning after.)

“Be honest,” Billy said. Both boots were resting on the chair, now. His legs had fallen into a wide V, seemingly casual, but Steve knew better; like a wellworn light switch, Billy was extremely predictable. “If it were you and me—if we were the last two people on Earth, what do you think we’d be doing?”

Steve said nothing.

(Billy never stayed. Billy was here one day and gone the next; he could be gone for weeks. He refused to shower at Steve’s, refused to even touch the spare toothbrush Steve had left for him in the bathroom; if Steve went as far as to offer him breakfast, Billy would laugh in his face. He had learned not to ask, and so he said nothing.)

“Or even—even before the asteroid hits,” Billy said. He was watching Steve closely, the whites of his eyes shining, a little frantic. Setting the cereal bowl down, he dangled his empty palms between his legs; a vague suggestion. An invitation to look, come closer, see for yourself. Steve tried not to look.

He tried to say nothing.

“The asteroid,” Billy repeated, nodding. “Or the nukes. Or a biblical flood sent by God, the Russkies, the fuckin’ Chinese. I’m talkin’ about the end, Harrington. Of everything. When the volcano erupted above Pompeii, you wanna know what the people did? Have a city-wide orgy, right there in the streets.”

“You’re drunk,” Steve blurted out.

(His anger was cold and clear and pure, like the depths of a mountainside stream; for once, he could see all the way down to the bottom. He knew what he was going to do: tell Billy to take a hike. Tell him, get out. No one wants you here. It had all seemed so easy, before; when he’d had something else to protect—the kids, Nancy. Steve was never as good at protecting himself. As a boy, he would forget to look both ways before crossing the road; he had assumed the drivers of the cars could see him. Too willing to see the good in other people.)

“Fucking,” Billy said clearly, in an infuriating, teasing tone, “is the best thing there is. It’s what makes life worth living. That’s what we’ll be doing, when the world ends. We’ll be balls to the wall, going at it like rabbits.”

His smile had unfurled like a sail, wide and white. Steve didn’t return it. Billy was making a pass at him; he was also mocking him for his stupidity, his weakness, his gullibility. Somehow Billy making a pass at him and Billy mocking him with each exhale always seemed to be one and the same. It was the only reason he was here; the only reason he seemed to exist, in Steve’s opinion. “Billy. You’re drunk.”

“I’ve only had one beer,” said Billy.

He stared at Steve, blinking, unmoved. Expression colorless, implacable, erased smooth. You never saw the change happen; Billy would be smiling, laughing even, his face flushed and his gaze bright and sharp—and then he wouldn’t be.

(Steve didn’t even know if he was real, sometimes. He was still wondering if this was one long, feverish dream he had yet to wake up from; a bad fucking trip. Billy was both the high and the crash; he could be both loving and tender, and cruelly dismissive. The ups and downs were hatefully addictive, poisonous, yet Steve couldn’t bring himself to stop. Billy knew. He knew how much Steve liked the chase, the competition. Like they were back on the basketball court again, just the two of them, the world narrowed to the size of a fishbowl.)

“Baby,” Billy said, spreading his legs wider. “Don’t you miss me?”

Steve said nothing.

(Deep down, he knew that it had been Billy who’d thrown the brick through his window. Steve remembered waking to the explosive decompression of shattering glass, the sound of an engine; he had memorized what shape the Camaro took, as well: a blistering roar in the night. As if the sound was the hellish manifestation of Billy’s own rage, burning as hotly as a falling star, burning itself out. Why had Billy done such a thing?

Why did Billy do anything?

Because he could. Because he wanted to.)

“You broke my window,” Steve said abruptly. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Billy would use them as an opening, find a way to shift blame; he would sweettalk Steve, soothe him, make him forget about being angry. Until it happened again. And again.

“I what?”

“Our living room window,” said Steve. “You threw a brick at it. It’s gonna cost me and Robin, like, two hundred dollars to get a new one. Why? Why are you so—”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Harrington.” Billy was frowning, his lower lip jutting out. He looked like a sulky schoolboy. Steve was too calm; too still. Billy hated stillness, people who walked too slowly in the street; he hated the quiet, which was an unknown variable. Billy preferred being in control; they grappled for it, locked in an eternal struggle for power, as all rivals were. It was vicious, petty; it could also be soft, but that was rare. In elementary school, Steve had played war games during recess with the other boys, shooting at them and declaring himself king when he was the only one left, the last boy standing; the rules were not so simple as adults.

“I want you to say that you’re sorry,” he said. “Can you do that?”

Billy rolled his eyes, huffing. “Fi-ine.” He was theatrical with his movements, letting Steve know how ridiculous he thought he was being, how much of an unnecessary fuss he was making. The Queen of Sheba, getting his royal panties in a twist. That’s what he called Steve sometimes, smiling and snide: the Queen of fucking Sheba. What, you want me to kiss your feet, Your Majesty? “I’m so-rry. How was that, pretty boy? Are we friends again?”

“Is that what we were, before? Friends?”

“ ‘Course we were,” Billy said, too quickly, too comfortably. “I’m everybody’s friend.”

Liar, Steve thought. Billy didn’t have any friends, apart from Steve. If you could call what they had friendship—it wasn’t, Billy could say it was until he was blue in the face, but he was lying, he lied so easily—a moot point, either way. Billy didn’t have friends. People swarmed to him in droves, like moths blind to the lethal electricity, the sharpness of his teeth, all the better to eat you with—they weren’t his friends, but means to an end. They gave him booze, weed, a place to sleep when he had nowhere else to go; sometimes, they gave him sex. Of that, Steve had no doubt.

(He thought he’d known what he was getting himself into. Billy had warned him. You’re just a warm hole to me. Did Steve even have a right to be angry, when he had seen the bullet coming from a mile away, had goaded Billy into pulling the trigger himself?)

“Baby,” Billy said; he sounded breathless again, perfectly contrite. His lips were as dark as ripened cherries. Steve thought he knew what the lipstick was called. Little Red. He knew where Billy had hidden it, too—in the glovebox of his Camaro, where he also hid his porn, rolling papers, and condoms. On anybody else, such a color would look whorish, cheap. Steve had watched Billy put it on, his mouth puckering as he stared at himself critically in the rearview mirror; after dabbing the bullet onto the center of his lips, Billy had smacked them together, fingering his hairsprayed curls until they bounced; he had done this in the same haughty way Steve had seen girls do, the beautiful, untouchable girls they’d both gone to high school with. I’ll kill you if you tell anyone, Harrington. I mean it. I’ll break your fucking fingers.

Steve hadn’t told anyone. The lipstick left pinkish smears on his neck, his nipples, his cock. It had occurred to him that Billy was attempting to rewrite some essential part of himself; plucking his eyebrows, curling his hair, stripping the hard external coating of his masculinity away. Steve wondered if Billy, as a child, had ever played dressups with his mother’s clothes. If he did, his dad had probably beaten him for it.

(You’re a better fuck when you’re angry, Billy had told him. He preferred Steve’s anger to his softness, as if the only emotions Billy understood and could navigate were fury, pain, and grief. A child, trying his mother’s clothes on for size—trying on the lipstick, the eyeliner, the lady’s perfume he filched from the SALE! counter at the drugstore—furtively and when no one was looking, as if to do too much, too overtly, would endanger him.)

“Say you’re sorry,” Steve said.

Billy opened his mouth, perhaps to argue at first—if he ever apologized, it always came with a disclaimer—then his expression changed, sharpened. The chair toppled to the floor as he slid into a standing position. His fingers scrabbled for his belt buckle, suddenly clumsy; it was Steve who slid the leather through the loops of his jeans, folding it up and laying it next to the cereal bowl. Without the belt to hold it in place, Billy’s jeans sagged, looser than usual, making it easy for Steve to pull the denim all the way down his legs. He could see the paler skin of Billy’s pelvis where his tan didn’t reach, and, cutting into his hipbone, a delicate scrim of red, shiny satin.

Billy was wearing panties.

“You got a hot date tonight, baby?” Steve demanded.

“I wish,” replied Billy. “The asshole never returned my calls.”

He was leaning on the table using his forearms as leverage, his head angled over one shoulder; his gaze was relentless, unnerving. So glaringly blue.

“So, what,” Steve murmured, his thumb grazing the edge of the red satin. Billy regarded him coolly over his shoulder, his eyes rebellious slits. Ready to bite back, at any given opportunity. “You decide to smash his window with a brick? Like that’s something any normal, sane person would do?”

“You were ignoring me,” Billy insisted. “You were rude, Harrington.”

His lip continued to jut out; it looked swollen, obscene. He sounded so reasonable, so wholly convincing, that Steve almost believed what he was saying—he wanted to. He wanted to bite into the cherry of Billy’s lower lip, taste him, let his juices flow down his chin.

“In other words,” he said, “you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

One thumb became a thumb and a forefinger, pushing the panties up and away; baring Billy’s soul. He took note of Billy’s thighs: thick with muscle, but lusciously soft to the touch; he’d shaved.

(The image of Billy with one foot perched on the edge of the bathtub and a woman’s razor in hand floated into being, unbidden. There was something about the ritual that had always seemed erotic to Steve; maybe it was the privacy of it, the unknowability of femininity—how many times had he and Tommy been caught by their teachers trying to sneak into the girls’ locker room, if only to see what went on behind closed doors? In that sacred state, Billy would be completely naked, at his most vulnerable.)

“Fuck you,” spat Billy. “You think you’re too good for me? Huh? You ain’t shit, pretty boy. Don’t get too big for your britches—”

He moaned angrily, his arms spasming as Steve shoved the blunt head of his cock between his legs, plastering his chest to Billy’s torso; there came the subtle snarl of tearing satin, the panties falling to pieces between the tight friction of their bodies, grinding, so close—a fact neither of them would register until later, until it was over.

“Don’t put this on me,” Steve said, pressing his mouth to Billy’s neck. “You told me, remember? You told me that you don’t care what I—what anybody—thinks.”

“Fuck you,” said Billy. Desperately, as if he had realized that he was on the losing side; as if this was his last resort. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

Steve drove forwards, using the silky, slightly sticky corridor of Billy’s thighs like a glove, like his own fist around his cock. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he was fucking Billy, really fucking him; Billy was slamming his hips to match his pace, his cheek flattened against the scratched surface of the kitchen table and his wrists crossed behind his back. He mewled when Steve caught on his perineum, his spine bowing into a parabola of pleasure, outrage, or both. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck me. Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. His moans were loud and brash, performative; obviously not for his own benefit. Steve hated that. Billy thought he was the smartest person in the room, but he didn’t know how transparent he was, truly.

“Shit, Steve,” Billy was panting, biting his lip. When he reached around to take Steve’s cock in hand, Steve saw that his nails were painted the same cherry color as his mouth. It nearly did him in, the sight of his cock moving through the cage of Billy’s fingers, all that debauched red. “You make me feel so good. So fucking good, like this.”

He mewled again when Steve wrapped a hand around his throat, digging his fingers ruthlessly into his air supply; Steve saw the blonde curls drop, the hard, clenched arch of Billy’s spine giving way like a snapped power cable. His Adam’s apple strained under the pressure of Steve’s hand; the false sounds issuing from his throat had ceased. Steve was coloring Billy in; filling in the uncertain lines, making him seem more lifelike. The lipstick was getting everywhere, feathery vibrant slashes of it on Steve’s palm and knuckles, as if he’d been fingerpainting; adding shade and depth and nuance, marking Billy, marking himself.

“Steve,” Billy said. His voice was hushed, remote. As if he were dissolving, liquefying like one of those hard candies that came in the plastic wrapping, especially susceptible to heat; turning into sugared sludge, sweet enough to make your teeth ache. They were merging into one another. “Steve, honey. Look at me.”

His eyes, latching onto Steve’s face, his mouth. He knew how much Steve needed eye contact during sex, how much he craved it. The shreds of intimacy he scattered like breadcrumbs, because he enjoyed watching Steve get on his knees for them; begging, like a dog for scraps. They were merging, holding hands.

“Sorry’s—sorry’s just a word you say,” Steve grunted. He watched Billy’s fingers, the gemstone flashes of his painted nails as he pushed between his legs, slowly at first, then sharply, brutally, as if he were stabbing Billy, or exorcising him. “It doesn’t—ah—it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just you telling me what I wanna hear.”

He drove forwards and forwards, losing sight of the painted nails as he came, his eyes slipping shut and cock bucking, spurting between Billy’s thighs. He might have heard a moan, a curse. Billy’s legs were trembling; his shoulders had slumped forwards, as if he were concussed, or praying. Their come dripped steadily onto the linoleum, pale as churned egg whites; dreamily, Steve reached down and caught some of it on his fingertips, ignoring Billy’s reflexive shudder.

(He tried to remember where he was, where he had been before Billy had come into his life; he had been at a party. Robin’s party, or had it been Tina’s? They all looked the same, after a while: the same music, the same clinging miasmas of marijuana and free beer and unsafe sex; the same leftover cigarette butts and pizza crusts in the pot plants, the cheese hard as dried chewing gum.)

Billy whispered, “It’s not my fault you’re so easy.”

Mists of sweat hovered between his eyebrows, his upper lip; his hips had slowed to a lazy, languid roll. Billy smiled, looking like an insolent cat, the cat that got the proverbial cream. Then he rose, his hair falling in fuzzy cumulus clouds around his shoulders, and kissed him. Steve’s reaction was pained, immediate—he told himself that he didn’t want to be kissed, he didn’t want to have anything to do with what Billy considered intimacy; he wasn’t anyone’s experiment, damn it, he didn’t want to be fed Billy’s scraps—the taste of the lipstick was waxy, alien, as was the way Billy was licking into his mouth: using too much tongue, making a mess, bloodying him with the color. Steve knew how it would look, when he finally pulled away: like they had cannibalized each other. Like Billy had torn his heart out, dripping, and eaten it.

[letterstodaphne]

Dear Daphne, 

It’s been a while since I wrote actual letters, but it's just so much easier to write on laptop. Of course it will be in your liking to know that the aesthetics still remain simple yet elegant, I won't ever to anything different. 

Anyways, the whole world is going insane right now and you probably would go just as mad as me watching the blatant lies and incorrect or non-verified “scientific” studies (more like methodically wrong simulations) Mr. Shorty tries to sell as the only truth, he received from his “experts” whose names he won't tell. Your best friend from the 2008 epidemic is now back on top as Germanys apparent only intelligence. Whereas back then it was Tamiflu which promised to reduce a severe development it’s now Remdesivir. You know, rewatching the news back then and comparing them with now.. it’s pretty similar but yet slightly different. 

Whereas back then almost nobody did publish actual numbers or countings, now they escalate with daily updates and drive people insane. Watching people denounce and insult each other for months becomes tiring. At the same time I get really annoyed about the fact that everyone who does offer critique - which is essential in a scientific discourse - became ridiculed or mouthdead instantly. Everyone who offered critique was entitled as a conspiracist or stupid, no matter if they were right or wrong.

Not to forget the audacity to cut off our essential rights for a month. Like I really mean the most basic of the basic rights to p.e. going for a walk in the local gardens. I mean we both would definitely still go to Schönbrunn for a walk and just pay the fee. 

By the way, you’d be so proud of me. I got straight A’s in basic and advanced statistics.. even though multivariate are killing me. Still, I actually know what scientists are talking about when showing their ‘exponential’ graphs. And when even I (with profs approval) see mayor errors in the stats, it really was badly made. But why not, it’s just so easy to follow the truth one makes up themself. 

I won’t ever forget how Shorty threatened the country with about more than 250k deaths, because his “experts” did bad maths. They seriously calculated 8mio*0.37 instead of 0,0037. The 0.37% were in percent and they literally just forgot to convert. You’d like to know of the 0,37%? It’s from Hendricks field study of one city which was exposed to a super spreading event and the majority got infected. Of course I am aware that this study has flaws. But nevertheless they could actually test households and 60% of the cities population about the virus’ behaviour. But you know I am way too lazy to recount all results. The most important part in my opinion was the newly calculated lethality between ca. 0,37% (+/-0,1%) - compared to sessional Influenza which has a lethality between 0,2-0,4%. And I know of course that wE HaVe A VacCiNe against influenza. Nevertheless only 8% of the whole austrian population got this vaccine so stfu, it makes more sense to compare both stems in this regard than with any other. And the other important conclusion was, that the number of non recorded infections may be way higher than calculated. Which is good, means that the actual lethality may be even lower. Today 25% of the persons who got tested are without any symptoms, but you know they only test ~9k ppl a day. So the thesis of a higher dark number is really plausible. 

People really love to put words into my mouth I’ve never said, whereas I only state that some measurements actually endanger the (mental, financial, etc.) wellbeing of others more than the virus. Does it sound cruel? I hate it here. 

Evil Duffy is helping out at her local suicide hotline and she told me about the significant increased calls she’s receiving. Meanwhile stuff got better, but between March-May it apparently was really bad. By the way Duffy is doing pretty good, she quit her gang and it was the best to happen to her. She’s flourishing. I love it. Don’t be jealous, we still are just friendly enemies.

Well in case you’re wondering about the recent happenings here, it’s almost as if nothing really happened. Except that the clubs are officially closed but parties won't ever stop, will they? Martin got caught in April and had to pay a 5k fee. 5k are for him like?? nothing. Of course rich people are not really affected by rules. And no, I hate him although I had to visit them since Ivana is pregnant. No one ever would’ve thought that her tiny body is once again 6months into pregnancy. 

Travelling became tiresome and troublesome. But it’s getting better in Europe. I wonder when intercontinental flights will be regular again. After my last BKK I gave up my LR license. I don’t care if I won't be able to redo the license anytime soon, this was pure torture. They literally imprisoned us for 6 days in the hotel room. No room card. No balcony. No fresh air. Only room service and bad wifi. I am not one to complain so easily about work but this was beyond my comfort zone. For my sorry ass it’s only short range all the way. I’ll gladly do every nightlight of SS4. Still better than the regional fleet, Bless their poor souls. And about the service I don't want to talk. It’s trash.

Yeah work is pretty bad, we’re actually just waiting when the company will begin to fire us. But since we’re on shortwork they are legally not allowed to to so, yet.

My studies are going badly as well, I couldn’t find the interest in anything lately. I just finished the i.p. seminars and wrote the respective scientific papers, but that's it. Only 15ects, a shame. Well.. two gradings are still not finished yet but I am sure I passed anyways. 

Seems like I was mostly venting and complaining about my recent life, but you know.. I am so mad at everything. Maybe I should start fencing once again.

I promise the next letter will be kinder,

en garde!