#brought on by: almost walked into traffic today (on purpose)

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them. 

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye. 

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration. 

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers. 

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress. 

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed. 

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead. 

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe. 

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done. 

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg. 

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed? 

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you. 

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him. 

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived. 

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way. 

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even. 

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again. 

He was out of sight before you could see a spark. 

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight. 

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume. 

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company. 

Great. 

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it. 

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all. 

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing. 

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.  

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern. 

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.” 

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so. 

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut. 

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.  

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum. 

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace. 

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head. 

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday. 

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door. 

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?” 

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides. 

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension. 

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily. 

A nod of your own sealed the compromise. 

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas. 

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot. 

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world. 

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench. 

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence. 

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground. 

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.  

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!” 

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance. 

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home. 

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm. 

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you. 

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes. 

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.” 

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way. 

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter. 

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[noowayybroo]

Bite Shift (Part 1) (ignore my bad names)

Characters: GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy

Warnings: Blood, Mentions of Assault + Violence, GN!Vampire!Reader, Corrupt Cop!Leon Kennedy. Mentions of / attempted non-con, biting n vampires n stuff (NSFW for violence's sake), Reader is AGAIN GN for purpose of inclusivity! None of the reader's age, job title, gender or appearances described also.

This fic is not for the faint of heart holy flip and Leon WILL get hurt in it. Leon is entirely inspired by @lipglossanon's Corrupt Cop Leon character and Character.ai Bot which are amazing n you should go look NOW!

FORGET THIS POST, JUST LEAVE!

In this fic, Our dirty little evil Leon will offer the reader a ride home (Out of the blackness in his heart), but instead of returning the Reader home, will attempt to have his way with them. Little does Leon know, the reader is a frickin' vampire, and absolutely makes him pay. I'm not a huge fan of Leon being anything but sweet, but here we get to make him pay!!! So rejoice!

I'm keeping this short as hell cuz I don't love the idea and I don't know what to do or how to take it seriously... Sorry!

It's 7:16pm (Oddly specific, I know) and you're making your way home along a main road by foot. It's been a busy day and everyone's seemed to have had some sort of issue, either with you or for you to resolve. You do love your job, you do, but waiting for it to get dark enough for you to head home without feeling uncomfortable under the sun's rays often gets... mundane.

The rain is pouring down through closely-knitted dark clouds, splattering heavily onto the road and pavement around you. This morning, much to your displeasure, the sky was bright and blue, not a speck of white nor grey against it. That leaves you, now, entirely unprepared. You hurry along the fairly busy road, holding the collar of your coat up firmly, trying to pull it to a close above your head with both hands. Otherwise, your mind is pleasantly empty, despite being preoccupied with your minor inconvenience.

The rhythm at which cars pass you on your 25 minute-or-so walk is comforting, and you often find yourself keeping tally of the quantities of each make you can see, or how many pass you, travelling in the same direction as you or otherwise. The drivers of each bicycle, motorcycle, car and lorry are fairly well-mannered, and whilst it has happened to you in the past, nobody's splashed you today... yet.

Admittedly, it'd have been nice to have brought an umbrella with you, for the sake of your own appearance and dignity. Overall though, it felt quite good to let yourself get swept up in the winds and drenched in the downpour after such an uneventful, samey day. You're around 10 minutes' walk from your home when you hear a car slow beside you. You worry for a second - perhaps it was someone looking for directions? Perhaps it was a mugging? (though it'd never happened to you, there was always the possibility.) Whatever it was, there were no turnings nearby, so it was certainly odd enough to notice by sound alone.

You turn on your heels and, depending on how you look at it, see something worse: A police car.

It looks brand new, as do the glittering blue eyes in the driver's seat, beaming back at you as his window rolls down. Inside the car seems to be a lone officer, pulled up quite close to the side of the road to let other traffic pass as he greets you. His long, silver hair is tousled across his face, lazily swept to the side of his young, seemingly innocent features. You wonder how he can focus on the road or on his work, having to flick or brush his mane from his view every few seconds, as he does before speaking:

"Heyy... I uhh.. I couldn't help but notice you walking alone in this rain, are you- do you need a lift? I can get the heaters on and we can warm you right up-", his voice is hesitant but determined, almost as though he's already decided on the outcome of this encounter. It strikes you as odd, to see a police officer patrolling these quiet roads at 7pm, but you don't mind him too much if he's keeping people safe. You stop, courteously, to hear him out and offer him a response.

"I'm alright, thanks. Just- uh... not long to go now!" You chirp reassuringly as rain dribbles down your face. You continue to walk, eager to get back home into the warm; into the dry. Whilst it may have been a little risky to be out here on your own, no attacker could be prepared for the means which you had to defend yourself, nor were you too weak to continue your walk, of which you'd already completed about 15 minutes.

The man seems taken aback somewhat, as if he'd entirely expected you to leap into his car, into his open arms, and allow him to take you wherever he'd pleased. His excitable eyes almost cutely rest on your figure, as your soggy clothes hug tightly to and weigh down on them, before he snaps himself out of his trance and gets back to pressing matters. Or rather, back to pressing you.

The low hum of his engine can be heard, as Leon begins to slowly roll alongside you, following you. His car is very close to you, probably to stay out of the way of the traffic in his lane, but it makes you feel slightly caged.

"It's absolutely pouring down, and you look like you're freezing", he persists, giving you another syrupy sweet smile. His voice has this eager edge to it; he really wants you to get in the car. You begin to have your suspicions about why he's so desperate. For a while you are silent as you keep walking alongside his car, thinking to yourself for a while about just how pure his intentions are, and what you might do about it if they're not. Meanwhile, Leon seems to be awaiting an answer. Of course, you don't yet know his name, which is suspicious, too, isn't it?

"Honestly, I don't want to trouble you sir.", you say, forcing a polite smile, although your slightly fearful and more so annoyed emotion shows in your raised brows and the twitch in the corner of your lips. "It's just about 5 minutes' down", you motion ahead vaguely.

Just when you think you've shook him, the officer's eyes light up - he's had an idea. You and Leon hadn't gotten off on the right foot, to say the least, and so you could only dread what his incessant mind had concocted. Meanwhile, you avoid eye contact, and continue to walk, picking up the pace slightly.

"Really?? I live that way too! I've just gotten off work, you see, and...", hm, sounds innocent enough, you think. "I'd hate for something to happen to you.", you hear him say, trailing behind you a little now as he leans from his window. Yep... There it was.

Whilst his voice is chirpy and innocent, his words certainly are not. They're laced with some kind of dark intention, or at least thoughts of such, and you find yourself wondering just what this man was up to. Seeing you being clearly quite taken-aback, Leon quickly spots his mistake and attempts to make amends: "I-I mean, I'm new on this job, right?? But the horrors- the things I've seen... There's... There's horrible people out there." He looks around, enacting scanning your surroundings for said 'horrible people', further trying to sell you his lie through his shaky voice.

All you can think of really is how easily someone else might've fallen for this, or been coerced into following the cop's orders. Here's where you become curious now: What exactly is he planning? Furthermore, how many people has he done this to? Were you his first? In truth, that would be very, very unfortunate for him. Would you be able to feed-

Your thoughts are abruptly halted has his car swerves in front of you, cutting you off as he stares at you through that window still. He's barely been able to take his eyes off of you. He's been studying you, examining you, he's trying to calculate how and when to pounce. His car has cut off your walk-way pretty definitely. If you want to get around him, it'll take about a minute of trudging up a grassy bank, or coming face to face with a relentless stream of cars. Knowing this, Leon looks victorious, he seems to think he's won.

What was his prize, though? At this point, you were quite disgusted by the man before you. Sure, he was cute, perhaps hot if you milked your imagination hard enough, but he was pressuring you, and perhaps others, and his intentions just seemed... off.

People who can't take 'no' for an answer...

Yucky...

You weren't sure if you were really planning to feed on him tonight, or if it was your curiosity and the slight burning rage growing within you, but you decided to hop on board. Slowly, reluctantly, you go to open Leon's front passenger door, leaving him gleefully grinning. You can almost read the "I did it, I actually did it!" on the front page of his mind. ...This as well as other thoughts he might be having as his eyes remain trained on you and your body as you climb in and remove your coat, leaving it on the floor before buckling up which earns you a giggle from him.

"It's alright, No worries about the coat" Leon smiles honestly, turning on his heating as promised to warm you up as he begins to drive again. He wears a warm smile as he continues down the road, giddy, like a child who's just stolen candy and gotten away with it. Behind that smile, there's something a little more black and calculating. He seems sly, proud of himself and disingenuous.

You look away, attempting to give him the silent treatment for the most part, signalling towards your clear discomfort. Even then, when you do steal glances at your 50/50 hero or captor, you avoid eye contact. As you sit there, arms folded, gazing out of your rain-besieged window, Leon attempts to make small-talk, including telling you his name: 'Officer Leon Kennedy', as he seemingly feels more confident now.

You do not wonder why.

Leon tells you he's going to continue down the road, and asks you to let him know if he needs to make a turning or pull over to get to yours. Once you've nodded in agreement, he asks you about your personal life, what job you work, whether you're studying, if you live with anyone, and how long you've lived in the area, for some examples. A lot of information for the short ride, but a lot of time's left for him due to the short, curt nature of your answers. You address him with a polite smile each time though and it works, he doesn't seem to mind.

He seems nice enough, you think as you watch your apartment approach over the horizon gradually. You prepare to let him know to stop.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Guess who just discovered the small text feature!! This guy!

I've noticed also a lot of RE fics are written in American English, with American English phrases! I'm not sure if you've figured, but I tend to have a more Bri'sh approach! I hope this is ok! <3

Many thanks again for reading my nonsense! Ily! I decided to separate this in parts cuz I'm boutta go sleep and if any of you guys read this and like it maybe I can get a gauge if I should actually continue or not or how I should go about doing that

My plan ultimately for the next part is as follows:

-Reader tells Leon their stop is soon

-Leon says nothing n ignores Reader

-Leon drives reader to sussy quiet place

-Leon attempts to have way with Reader

-Reader absolutely does not take that for an answer

-Someone's neck gets nommed and let me tell you he won't be a happy boy

If you like this fic, PLEASE go and look at @lipglossanon Like 100% inspired by them + really good place to go if you like Leon trust me <3

[hellsite-detective]

Hellsite Detective in...

The Bad Banana

it was another cool day in Tumblr City. the breeze was blowin' through the streets and the rain was poundin' down hard against my window. the ceilin' fan that hung above me spun slowly and hypnotically as if blown by a wind that wasn't present. as i sat there in my chair, smokin' my cigar and watchin' that fan spin eternally, i grew hungry. thankfully i keep a small fruit bowl in the corner. gettin' up to go grab a bite, i picked a banana out of the bowl. it was a bright yellow, but you might not have known it from the monochromatic filter over the scene. as i began to unpeel it, a voice spoke from the back of my head sayin'...

...hold on...

...go ahead...

...what...

naturally confused, i spun around to see if someone had snuck in while my back was turned. but no, no one was there. however, the words continued to resound in my head. almost like they were callin' me to somethin'. i walked over to the window and took a look outside and the traffic lights at the intersection caught my eye. i looked at them, and looked back at the banana in my hand. that's when it hit me...

see, there was a post i've been lookin' for for ages. in fact, it was the post that inspired me to open my office up in the first place. it was a post comparin' the colors on bananas to the colors on traffic lights. back then, i couldn't find it. but now? i had the experience i needed. i decided to re-open this personal case of mine.

i tucked the banana into my coat and strolled through the rainy streets. i came across that hoppin' joint with jazz music always pourin' out the doors onto the street. the neon sign above the door read "The Search Bar." i headed inside, ready to do some business with my associate, but they were nowhere to be seen. they weren't sittin' at their normal booth. curious, i decided to ask the new robot bartender for help...

say, doll, you know where i can find the Boss?

[Oh! I do apologize. Don Google is upstairs in their office, but they are not seeing any visitors today.]

heh, well we'll see about that, won't we? say, what's your name?

[I am H.A.V.E.N. It stands for Hostess Attending to Virtual and Informational Needs. Essentially, my purpose is to keep track of Don Google's database so they do not have to. I also serve the drinks.]

Haven, huh? nice to meetcha, Haven. i gotta go see the Don though, whether they like it or not. i'll be seein' you later.

i tipped my hat to Haven and walked to the door leadin' to the stairwell. my mind lingered on the robotic hostess, wonderin' what an advanced artificial intelligence construct like her was doin' in this world that had it's basis in 1940's noir, but i wasn't gonna think about it too much. i headed up the stairs and into the Don's office. their goons whipped out their guns and almost took my head clean off, but the big fella themself stopped it.

the office was a far cry from the bustlin' night club on the first floor. where as the club had neon lights and kept things rather dark, probably for the best, the office was more well lit and elegant. it held a more warm atmosphere than the club, but somehow it was more oppressive in here. the walls appeared to be made of wood, bookshelves lined the walls, and a chandelier hung from the ceilin'. there was a carpet in the center of the room that had a kaleidoscope of colors rangin' from blue, red, yellow, and green. and directly across from the door was the desk. mahogany, it seemed, and real fancy too. a giant round window overlookin' the city streets was placed behind it with a large letter "G" formed in the window frames. the Don spun around in their large leather chair and puffed on their cigar.

"'Ey there, Miss Detective. What can I do ya for?"

i'm lookin' for a post involvin' bananas. specifically in relation to traffic lights. you got anythin' like that for me?"

i set the banana i had brought down on the desk and they chuckled at the sight.

"Yea, I think I got what your lookin' for."

with a wave of their hand, one of their goons fetched a file from off one of the shelves and brought it over to them. they thumbed it open with one hand, the other hand draggin' on the cigar. they slid it across the desk.

"This what your lookin' for?"

and there it was. the post that started it all. it had finally come full circle. i grabbed the file eagerly and began to leave the room, but the Don wasn't finished with me yet.

"'Ey, Miss Detective! Don't think I've forgotten about that little favor you owe me..."

i stopped dead in my tracks. preparin' myself for the worst, i stood there frozen. i couldn't even turn around to look at them. but shockingly, the conversation took a different turn.

"I'm not lookin' to cash that in just yet. Just be on the look out for a call, got it? I'm lookin' forward to our partnership."

i couldn't see them, but i knew their snide smile was bearing down on me at that moment. fear filling my body, i left the lion's den and went back to my humble office to file my prize away. as i did so, my stomach rumbled...

damn it. i left the banana with the Don...

Post Case: Closed

[onlyswan]

meet me behind the mall | jjk

→ pairing: jungkook x f!reader

→ genre: smut sigh, fluff kinda

→ warnings: exhibitionism, public sex, dirty talk, slight ? degredation, calls her a slut once, fingering, handjob, oral (m. and f. receiving), choking, spitting, cum eating / swallowing, unprotected sex, facial (this term is so 😭) lmk if i miss anything plz

→ word count: 3.3k

summary: jungkook makes you live for the thrill of it all.

note: this was an impulsive write idk what possessed me today frends but have at it >_> semi proofread it’s 5am goodbyr

—

it’s one of the things you first learned about him. jungkook loves taking photos. he loves capturing moments with a simple click of a camera. he finds an unexplainable comfort and bittersweet nostalgia in finding old photographs in his drawer, in his pockets, tucked in between the pages of his textbooks. it’s like finding little treasures all over the place, you can hear his voice in your head, can see the pretty twinkles of passion and fondness in his pretty doe eyes.

so when he told you all about the new photobooth at the arcade, followed by a text that simply said meet me behind the mall, you didn’t particularly imagine that you would end up in this position. you can see the shutter going off even though your eyelids are closed as jungkook’s tongue is basically shoved down your throat. your panties is pulled to the side and two of his fingers are thrusting in and out of your cunt, curling deliciously to stimulate your sweet spot that has your thighs shaking uncontrollably every fucking time.

how naive of you to think that your boyfriend spontaneously texted you at eight in the evening to meet up and simply take cute couple pictures in film. of course, you do have a fair share of scandalous photos, but they’re all conveniently stored and locked away in your phones. this is something entirely new and as embarrassing it is to admit, thrilling. yourself from one year ago never would’ve guessed what her future self is doing right now. how the desires in you can easily be fueled to life just by the trailing of jungkook’s fingers on the smoothness of your thighs, his lips nipping at your neck, or even the simple thought of having his cock filling you up to the brim.

you can’t help but to giggle against his mouth. all of your senses are heightened at this moment, your heart beating aggressively in your chest. he pulls away slightly but his gaze stays on your pink and swollen parted lips, drunk eyes taking in your disheveled state.

“what’s going in that pretty little mind of yours?” he smirks, thumb sneakily rubbing your clit. you try your best to hold out your moan but a broken whine comes out, your head throwing back against the wall of the limited space you’re both squeezed into. only a black curtain and an ‘occupied’ sign in red bold and capital letters separated you from the world outside, where games are being played by people of all ages; loud sound effects and songs from the 2000’s and 2010’s mixing into an ear numbing noise that can only be recognized from an arcade center; and tickets gathered are being exchanged for cute stationary items and trinkets.

“you’re so, so dirty.” you say to him, eyes rolling back as his fingers never let up on their toe curling pace, only making you lose your inhibitions and self-control more than anything else. you clench around them involuntarily, drenching his hand with your juices. “was this your plan all along?”

your eyes widen in shock when the sound of his palm slapping your bare cunt filled the booth, the stinging pain registering in your mind next. “are you fucking crazy? someone might hear!” you whisper angrily at him, but his dark and blown out eyes made you shrink back in your seat. his intimidating, and almost condescending, expression have you gushing against his hand that is now petting your pussy to soothe the pain he inflicted.

“watch your mouth. you and this fucking skimpy dress are the only ones dirty here. you know what this shit does to me.” he smiles at you sweetly. “are you sure this was my plan? are we playing mind games here, baby girl?” his hand comes down from your face to play with the cloth of your blue dress, the other thrusting two of his fingers in you again, then adding another. the stretch has you gripping tightly on his shirt, not having anything else to hold on to.

“fuck, ahhh- jungkook. don’t stop.” god, you are dripping all over, your wetness staining your seat. it makes your cheeks flush in shame.

“just wanted to look pretty for you, i-is all.” you mewl at him, blinking innocently. the camera is not forgotten by jungkook. in fact, it’s one of the things getting him more riled up. the almost blinding light of the flash shines on your soft skin, and the sweat that has formed on your temples and your neck. your pupils are blown and eyelids drooping caused by the pleasure he is giving you. it’s visible how difficult it is for you to keep in all your noises from the people outside the damn curtain when you’re so lost in the feeling of his fingers inside of you. all because of him. your fucked out state got jungkook gritting his teeth, his dick twitching inside his pants. jesus christ, you get him so fucking turned on and desperate for it without even trying. your beauty is seductive and enchanting and effortless. there is no point in hiding how crazy he is for you.

“my pretty girl. you dressed yourself all nice for me?” he presses a chaste kiss on your lips, before he wraps his hand around your throat, pressing at the right places just enough to make your mind all fuzzy. “i’m such a lucky man. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back at the back of your head at the all consuming feeling taking over senses. you don’t think you can answer correctly if ever someone asks for your name or the colors of the goddamn traffic signs. “y-yeah, for you, of course. love you so much.”

he gives you a satisfied hum, moving down to squeeze one of your breasts with his large hand before pinching your nipple from outside the cotton of your dress. “mhmm, holy fuck. you’re always so sensitive. so easy to please. am i making you feel good?” you don’t know how he can act so casual while you’re basically falling apart in his hands, but for some sick reason, it stirs up the arousal in your belly even more.

“y-yes, kook, i’m so close, please, please, please,” you cry out desperately, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you squeeze his fingers with your walls uncontrollably. “wait, ohhh, stop. stop. i can’t cum here. i- it’s gonna be a mess, this is so embar- fuck, jungkook!” your squeal dies down in your throat when your boyfriend kneels on the ground and starts sucking your clit in his mouth as his fingers inside of you became more aggressive, hitting all the right places that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. you cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your desperate and whiny sounds, suddenly becoming aware of where the two of you are right now.

you grip his hair with your hands to steady yourself and unconsciously grind your cunt against his face, his eager tongue doing very sinful things for the sole purpose of making you come undone. he pulls you closer to the edge with his strong arm so he can have better access, eating you out like a man feasting on the divine food of the gods. divine. that’s one perfect word to describe you.

he flicks your clit teasingly before wrapping his pink and plump lips around it again. the overwhelming sight almost makes you want to burst into tears. “hmm, cum for me, baby.” your body jerks in his hold, his words of permission acting as the trigger for your orgasm. he drinks you up greedily, his tongue replacing his fingers’ place in fucking into you, letting you ride out your high.

he comes up to kiss you, making you taste yourself in his mouth. you can even feel his wet chin. you moan against him when two fingers dip inside you again, and then he’s having you suck on them almost too enthusiastically. you’re still in a daze from your release, and with jungkook, you’re basically down for anything and everything. you open your eyes to meet his, and if you aren’t already fucked out with his fingers choking you, his hooded eyes will have reduced you into a blabbering mess.

“you’re always so good to me.” he says with a raspy voice. he takes out his fingers and wipes it on his shirt before pulling you in for another kiss. “let’s get out of here so i can fuck you properly like my girl deserves, okay?” you nod meekly, trying to hide your excitement. he fixes you up to make you look presentable enough to walk in public, combing your hair with his fingers and straightening out your dress.

“can’t forget these. don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. it’s for my eyes only.” he gathers all the developed films from the booth, facing you with a teasing smile.

“for your eyes only.” you agree, looking up at him. you open the small backpack you brought along with you and he stuffs them all inside mindlessly, his cock still straining painfully in his pants and he might just lose his mind if he’s still not inside of your pussy in the next five minutes.

“can’t walk properly,” you whine out once you step out of the booth, your boyfriend supporting you by the waist.

“sorry, baby.” he presses an apologetic kiss on your temple. “but i’m not done with you yet.” he really doesn’t give a fuck if anyone heard the both of you at all, but he knows that you’re starting to worry, so he makes sure that you keep your eyes on him as you walk your way out of the place.

“are we going to your place? or mine?” you ask once you get out, the cool air of the mall embracing you. you shiver lightly. your boyfriend doesn’t respond, but when he starts dragging you towards the movie theater that is just beside the arcade, you realize the answer to your question.

“jungkook, really?” you hiss at him, but don’t make any efforts to stop him as he leads you to the restrooms.

“i’m so fucking hard right now, babe. i can’t wait anymore.” they’re about to close up in an hour, so the place is basically deserted. but still, you can’t believe what you’re about to do right now. he peeks in the women’s and once he made sure it’s clear, you go in to the farthest cubicle.

“damn woman,” his throaty chuckle makes your center throb again as you immediately pull down his sweatpants along with his boxers, his big cock slapping against his stomach. you lick a stripe from his balls up to his tip, then gathering saliva in your mouth and letting it drip down his length. his breathing gets heavier at the sight of doing such a filthy action without him asking you to. he strokes your cheek as you jack him off and give his head kitten licks, your spit acting as an effective lube.

“put it in your mouth now, baby.” he says softly, grasping your hair to guide your mouth on his cock. “choke on it, yeah?” you hum in submission to his request, relaxing your throat to take in as much of him as you can. you start to bob your head up and down to get used to the feeling, your hand still wrapped around the few inches left.

“fuck, you look so pretty like this. i’ve been thinking about it all day.” his confession made you all warm inside. you’ve always wondered how you managed to become his girlfriend. sometimes, it feels to good to be true. knowing the effect you have on him even when you’re not around made you even more determined to blow his damn mind. to be the only star of his wildest dreams.

you go down on him until your nose reach his pubic area, carefully breathing out through it. “oh my god, that’s my girl.” he thrusts his hip forward and holds your head down in place, making you choke on him like he wanted to. his moans sends tingles to your pussy and you rub your thighs together in a pitiful attempt to relieve yourself of some pressure. he lets you breathe in some air before you take him in your mouth again, swallowing around his length as you move your head up and down.

“ohhh, fuck. your mouth is s-so warm. you like this huh? sucking me off outside our rooms for the first time?” he can’t help but to move his hips as well, instinctively following your mouth. your moans vibrate on his dick, and he hisses at the added sensation. “and you called me what? so, so dirty? turns out you’re just as fucking filthy, baby.” and there it is again, the mischievous smile on his face that makes your knees (that you’re sure will be bruising soon enough) weak. you know that he’s right. you can’t help but to whimper around him when you feel wetness drip from your hole. you want to touch yourself so bad but your hands on your boyfriend’s flexing muscular thighs are what’s keeping you steady and grounded.

“ohh- ah, fuck fuck fuck! are you fucking kidding me?” his body jerks when you take all of him and stay still, contracting your throat around him and massaging his balls in your small and soft hand. his brain goes on a frenzy at the waves of pleasure rippling in his body, sweat rolling down his temples and abdomen working hard to stop himself from cumming down your throat. “s-shit, stop it, stop it, stop, i’m gonna blow my load.”

you pull him out with a pop, hand gripping his base to keep his orgasm at bay. his glassy eyes meet your own, and you give him a wink. “are you gonna fuck me now?”

a shiver runs up jungkook’s spine. “you’re so fucking hot. come here.” he helps you get up and snakes his tongue in your mouth, pinning you on the other side of the cubicle. his hand sneaks in under your dress to cup your center, groaning against your mouth when he felt how wet you are. “shit, you’re soaking. did you get this turned on by sucking my dick?”

“really turned on. i love blowing you.” you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger, blinking up at him with a smile.

“you’re actually killing me here.” he chuckles, squeezing your ass and pulling you close to grind himself on you. he drags down your panties until you step out of them, throwing it on top of your backpack. he tucks your hair behind your ear and whispers. “jump.” you obey, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he pumps his cock a few times before teasingly running the tip along your wet folds, a nudge on your clif making you moan quietly. “put it in, please. jungkook? i’ve been good, right?”

“shhh, i got you.”

you hold on to his neck tightly as you let yourself succumb to the pleasure. it’s amazing how you can feel so stretched out from the very beginning, only his tip yet breaching your walls. you never really got used to it. “you’re so big, kook.” you cry out against his shoulder as he sinks his entire length into you. your praise inflates his ego. he lets you adjust for a moment, peppering kisses along your neck and shoulder.

when you gave him the signal, he begins thrusting into you, gradually picking up to a rough and unforgiving pace he knows you like. the lewd squelching sounds of your connected sex filled the empty room.

“sh-should’ve done this sooner. ahh fuck, why does this feel so good?” you’re out of your mind. you can’t remember a time you felt this horny. and to be brutally honest, he’s fucking you dumb right now. you can feel every ridge of his cock in you, can feel his tip furiously and consistently stimulating the spot in you that has you writhing in his arms, that along with his pelvis grinding against your clit each time he fucks back into you.

“jesus, are you hearing yourself right now? you like doing it outside with me, baby?”

“yes, yes! oh, harder, please. m-more, i’m close again.” you sob out, biting on his shoulder to cover your cries.

“can’t believe i got myself a filthy little slut here.” he shakes his head in mock disbelief, adjusting his hold on you and fucking you with a much fiercer drive to make you cream on his cock this time. “f-fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.” he breathes out a laugh followed by a broken moan, your soft walls enveloping him in your wamth. “cum when you need to, hmm? you’ve been so good to me.”

you mutter countless thank you’s mixed with your moans and whimpers, the pleasure getting too much to bear. you throw your head back as you orgasm on your boyfriend’s cock, clenching around him uncontrollably as he fucks you through it, desperate to reach his own high. your juices drip down to his balls, and it makes him crazier. he takes the opportunity create marks on your neck, sucking and biting red and purple on your skin.

it’s not long before overstimulation takes place, but you don’t complain, not when it feels this good. another orgasm hits you, not as intense as the first two, but it still got you seeing stars and your body shaking against the wall.

“did you just cum again? oh god, fucking shit. i’m there- so fucking close. you feel so- oh, so good. love you. love you a lot.”

“i want to swallow your cum.” your voice is barely there, but jungkook hears you just fine. he almost chokes on his own spit upon registering your words in his brain. without wasting any time, he sets you down on the floor and you kneel infront of him, mouth open and tongue out.

he jacks himself off while you generously lick at his frenulum, looking up at him expectantly. the sight of you all eager and impatient for his cum finally triggers his release, aiming for your tongue but some still landing on your cheeks and chin as he’s too overwhelmed and shaken to see straight. you swallow happily, licking the rest from your fingers.

“god, i love you.” he says quietly, pulling you up from the floor and embracing you, but you wiggle out of his grasp.

“love you too but gross, gross, gross. i need to go home and shower.” you whine out, twirling as you try and fix your appearance again.

“not you acting like a brat once you got what you wanted.” he pinches your waist jokingly. he takes tissue from the dispenser to clean up the wetness that dripped down all the way to your thighs, being the loving boyfriend that he is.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you pout at him. “i’m so tired and gross. i hate you.”

“are you asking for it again?”

“no, i swear to god. you owe me a bubble bath and a massage.”

“okay, fine. my place then.” he gives up, shaking his head with a laugh at your change of mood. “i love you. can i get a kiss then?”

you tiptoe to reach him, slightly pulling him down by the collar of his shirt to give him a smooch. “i love youuu.”

once you both make yourself presentable (again) to the best of your abilities, you head out of the restroom first. you notice the cashier at the popcorn place eyeing you suspiciously, especially when jungkook comes out to meet you a few minutes later. you hide yourself behind him in shame.

you walk out of the mall with his hand over your shoulder, yours on his waist. you look at him questioningly when he covers your neck with more of your hair. “maybe i made a little too much.” he winces apologetically.

“we are never doing that again.” you sigh, your legs still feeling weak but you will yourself to make it all the way to the parking lot.

“what? you said you liked it!”

“it was during the moment. i was delirious.”

jungkook rolls his eyes. “you’re lying. let’s see, because that’s also what you said the first time we tried choking.”

“jungkook! shut up!”

—

note: i never know how to finish these runs and hides

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 8

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous → Part 7

Next → Part 9

Feeling a body shift beside you, you slowly began to wake from your deep, dreamless sleep. With thin rays of sunlight shining through the crack between the curtains, you let a content, sleepy smile toy at the corners of your lips as you rolled over in Keishin's arms and came face to face with his sleeping form.

It had been over a week since you had started staying with Keishin and even though waking up beside someone every morning definitely took some getting used to, you were a little surprised by just how quickly it was beginning to feel normal. Not only that, but you never slept better than you did in Keishin's bed with his warm, calming presence beside you and strong, protective arm draped over your waist.

Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, Keishin was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell rhythmically and at some point during the night, just like every other night, his hair—which wasn't tamed by the headband while he slept—had gotten all messed up and a few strands had fallen into his face.

Whenever you woke up before him, you would always take the chance to just look at him. While he slept, he seemed completely and utterly at peace—no longer burdened by the stress of coaching volleyball, working at the store, and no doubt whatever extra problems you had brought into his life. You thought back to the time you had watched him sleeping on the couch in the back room and sighed happily; the thought of how much things had changed in such a short period of time truly putting things into perspective.

Unable to keep your hands to yourself any longer, you reached out slowly and brushed the loose strands of hair out of his face and tucked them behind his ear—the same way you had done when you two had first had sex and the same way you had done countless times since.

Keishin could sleep through a thunderstorm or the sound of you calling out his name, but as soon as he felt your fingertips graze against his cheek, his eyes fluttered open. Upon noticing he was awake, you made your touch more prominent and caressed his face.

"Good morning," you whispered, unwilling to raise your voice any more than that and ruin the soft ambiance of the early morning.

Keishin leaned into your touch and smiled softly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you answered as you ran your thumb along his bottom lip, internally debating if you should ambush him with kisses now or wait until he had woken up a little more first. Chuckling to yourself over your own thoughts, you caught yourself staring at his lips and directed your gaze back to his eyes. "I'm just looking at you."

Keishin scoffed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your thumb. "Why?"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're asleep," you told him matter-of-factly. "Not that you don't always look beautiful," you added quickly before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

Keishin rolled his eyes before pulling you flush against his chest and kissing you. "You're such a sap, you know that?"

You laughed. "First, I'm dramatic. Now I'm a sap. What's next?"

"I have no idea." Keishin shrugged the best he could while lying down. "What I do know, however," he glanced at the clock, "is that we need to get up and get ready."

Following Keishin's gaze to the time, you huffed sadly when you noticed there were only five minutes left until your alarm would go off, forcing you to get ready to open the store. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?" you asked, hoping you could convince him to stay under the covers with you.

"Not unless we want to go broke and end up living under a bridge together."

You chuckled as Keishin crawled out of bed, the temptation of slapping his ass gently when he stood up almost too much but you managed to control yourself. "Together?" You grinned. "You'd stay with me even if we were both dirt poor?"

Keishin rolled his eyes playfully at your takeaway from his statement. "Of course." He collected his clothes before making his way around to your side of the bed and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I think I like plumbing and heating too much to give them up, so let's shower and get ready."

Sitting up in bed, you cocked an eyebrow. "You want to shower together?"

Keishin flashed a devilish smirk as he headed for the bathroom. "Purely for the purpose of saving water." He disappeared into the bathroom and seconds later his boxers flew out and landed on the floor, indicating he was completely nude. "But if you hate the planet, then I guess that's on you."

Your cheeks flushed red but nevertheless, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and began removing your clothes as you approached the bathroom. "Sure," you laughed as you closed the bathroom door behind yourself and let your eyes wander over Keishin's wet, naked body as he stood under the steaming water. "If it's for the planet, how could I possibly say no?"

20 minutes of passionate kissing and soapy hands exploring every inch of each other's body later, the two of you towelled off and finished getting ready before sitting down for a quick breakfast together.

"So the volleyball team has a game today, right?" you asked Keishin as you poured milk into your bowl of cereal. Keishin nodded. "What time do you think you will be home?"

Keishin thought for a moment before answering. "Probably around six or seven tonight. The game is right after school so it shouldn't run too late."

"Okay." You sat down across from him at the table. "Should we get dinner after I close up the shop?"

Keishin nodded again. "Sounds like a plan."

With a few more bites of his breakfast, Keishin was setting his dishes in the sink, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, and rushing down the stairs and out of the building to start his day.

As you listened to his footsteps stomp down the stairs, followed by the sound of the back door opening and closing to indicate that he had left, you sighed to yourself and sat back in your chair. It was then that you took a minute to think about everything; your job, your boyfriend, your living arrangements, your tattered relationship with your parents. In the span of a few months, your life had completely turned upside down, but that wasn't the part that freaked you out the most.

What really got you thinking was the fact that, even though your life had done a complete 180, you had never been happier; which led to the constant internal questioning about if you had ever really been happy before you had met Keishin at all, or if this was just a different kind of happy—a happy that only a stable, supportive significant other could provide.

Before you had the chance to get lost in your thoughts, you snapped out of it, finished your breakfast, and headed downstairs to open the shop and begin your day.

As usual, you dealt with the typical morning rush of people stopping in to grab a coffee or other various food items on their way to work or school. Once the mid-morning slump hit and the customer traffic went way down, you took the time to do some routine cleaning and inventory. By now, you were like a well-oiled machine when it came to the daily task of running the store.

Around noon, as you were finishing up stocking some shelves, the front door opened and a very well-dressed man strolled into the store. "Hello," you greeted him, standing from where you were kneeling in front of the shelves and dusting off your pants.

The man gave you a once over, eyeing you from head to toe. Without so much as an acknowledging nod, he brushed past you and toward the full-length fridges at the back.

Assuming the man just wasn't in a chatty mood, you took the empty boxes to the storage room. When you exited, the man was already standing at the front counter, impatiently tapping his foot while he held two bottles of water in his hands.

"Sorry for the wait," you apologized. "Just the waters today?"

The man just nodded and let out a grunt.

Trying not to take his dismissive attitude too seriously, you rang up his purchases and gave him the total. Instead of pulling out his wallet, however, he just gave you a dirty look.

"That's a little expensive for two bottles of water, don't you think?" he retorted.

You didn't know what to say to that, so you shrugged. "I'm sorry, I don't make the prices, sir," you told him. "I just work here."

Huffing loudly, the man fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out some bills before tossing them haphazardly onto the counter. "Fine. Don't forget my change."

Before you could open the cash register, the front doors opened again and a woman dressed in a beautiful dress with her hair done up elegantly walked in and stopped beside the man before you. "Have you paid yet?" she asked the man, who was either her boyfriend or husband based on the way she was hanging off of his arm. "I just realized I'm out of cigarettes."

"I'm just paying now," he told her, his face softer than you had seen it yet before he turned back to you and asked for the brand of cigarettes that his partner smoked.

Spinning around, you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the empty dispenser of cigarettes, meaning that you were out of the brand he had requested. Of course, the delivery for that day hadn't come in yet, making your job even harder right now.

Plastering the warmest smile on your face that you could muster, you turned back to the couple. "I apologize, but we are all out of that brand. Can I get you something else?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, everything else tastes like garbage."

"I see." You stepped back up to the cash register. "So just the waters then?"

The man nodded. "I guess so if your shitty little store doesn't even stock up on popular brands of cigarettes." He watched you intently as you opened the register and counted his change. "I knew we should have stopped somewhere other than this hole in the wall."

As much as you so desperately wanted to rip this man and his spoiled girlfriend a new one, you bit your tongue instead and grinned as you handed him back his change. "Here you are." You dropped the coins into his outstretched hand. "Have a wonderful day."

Neither one of them said anything in response as they turned on their heels and marched out of the store, noses turned up at everything around them. As you watched them get into their fancy car and speed away, you wondered if they treated everyone like that or just lowly corner store workers like yourself.

Trying to let the incident slide off of you like water off of a duck's back, you returned to the remaining tasks on your to-do list and tried to forget all about being treated like a second-class citizen.

As the day turned to late afternoon and the after-school and after-work rush hit, you had found your way back into your groove again.

An hour or so before closing time, and roughly around the time Keishin would be returning, you heard a pair of heels clacking against the tile floor and stood up front behind the counter only to come face-to-face with your mother. Dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, it was obvious she had just come from work, but your attention was more focused on the envelope she was holding out to you.

"This came for you the other day." She didn't even bother with a simple greeting even though it had been weeks since you had seen or spoken to her or your father.

"Oh, okay." You reached out and took the envelope from her. Turning it over, you felt your heart jump into your throat when you read that it was from the University of Tokyo.

You looked up at your mother expectantly but she waved you off. "Don't ask me what it says, I didn't open it," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Why didn't you tell your father and me that you applied to the University of Tokyo? It's a very good school."

"Because I didn't do it for you," you said as you tucked the envelope into your back pocket. "And I certainly didn't do it to go to law school or anything you guys would approve of."

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. "Then why did you do it?"

"To play soccer," you answered, your mind immediately going to the conversation you had had with Keishin while taking inventory together. "And because I told someone I would."

Your mother eyed you for a minute more, waiting to see if you would reach for the envelope again to open it. When you made no indication of sharing your application results with her, she hummed softly. "Well, whatever that letter says, you should take some time to seriously consider what your next step is going to be." She turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door and looked at you over her shoulder. "It's not too late to make the right choice. Think carefully before you throw your life away."

With that, your mother exited the store, leaving you with a mixed slurry of emotions and no clue how to deal with any of them.

Pulling the envelope out of your back pocket, you set it down on the counter in front of you and stared at it. Whatever was printed on the single piece of paper inside would set a course for your future . . . although you were unsure if you even still wanted the future that this piece of paper could give you.

All you wanted was to be happy, and all you knew was that Keishin gave you that.

Anything more felt like asking for too much.

Anything more felt like a gamble that wasn't worth the risk.

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 6

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Nick Fury and Maria Hill

Summary: Peter works on cracking your shell and Rocket just still doesn't like you. Oh, and Fury pays a surprise visit and you accidentally poison Yondu- Oops!

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: I think I knew from the moment I read this post I knew I needed to include something like it in this fic, especially knowing one of my readers had also suggested somewhere that they thought it'd be cool to see how the Guardians reacted to Terran food lol

Word Count: 5,617

You came back inside through the back door more than half an hour later, having decided to run a quick coat of stain over the bed frame pieces. The sooner you applied the stain, the sooner it would dry, the sooner you could apply the varnish. Not that you were in a hurry or anything... You just got excited over having a project, that's all. You totally weren't stalling on going back in the house, or anything.

Peter was sitting in the kitchen with Gamora. The others had seemingly all dispersed by now.

Peter looked slightly disappointed. "Saved you some cookies."

You were slightly taken back in surprise. "Oh, you didn't need to."

"You bought them, I wasn't just not going to save you a couple." Peter said with an odd look. "Anyway, thought you said you were coming back?"

You grimaced slightly and accepted a biscuit from the package in Peter's outstretched hand. "I did come back... I just got caught up with something."

Peter eyed you for a moment, as if he were considering something. He tilted his head, a slight smirk forming. "Are you shy or something?"

You blinked at him. "What? No-"

"Kinda seems like you are. I mean, before you avoided us because you were all cranky and hated us, but you don't seem nearly as cranky today. Heck you even seemed to almost like us today. So the only reason I can see for you to still be avoiding us is that you're shy."

Gamora raised an eyebrow at him, but after a moment's thought, almost seemed to agree with him and turned her expression to you. She didn't think he really believed you were shy. Rather, she figured he was accusing you of being shy to make you come clean about the real problem. He did similar stuff like this all the time to trick Rocket into talking when something was bothering him. She often wondered where he learned it from, until she witnessed Yondu doing the same to Peter one day after he and Kraglin joined their group.

You shook your head at them. "No. That's absurd."

Peter nudged Gamora in the arm. "That's cute. I think she's shy."

"I'm not shy. That's dumb. My line of work doesn't exactly mix with shy." You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest in annoyance.

"Methinks you protest too much," Peter teased in a sing-song voice.

You narrowed your eyes at him before turning to Gamora. "Is he always like this?"

Gamora half smiled. "Yes... but he might stop if you told us why you keep avoiding everyone."

You sigh. "Look, it's just going to take some time. I'm not trying to avoid anyone, well, not anymore. Just... being around and interacting with a bunch of people is just... not something I'm used to."

"So you are shy." Peter said, his grin almost smug, but mostly teasing.

You sigh in Gamora's direction and she grins sympathetically. "I'm sorry about him."

Before you could respond again you heard a knock at the door.

You looked towards the sound in confusion at who it might be, because you never got visitors. However, you quickly switched to alarm when you realized you had a house full of aliens and no idea who was at the front door. You look out the kitchen window, but you couldn't see a vehicle.

They knocked again.

You turned back to Peter and Gamora. Preferably you'd want to tell them to get everyone to the cellar, but you were concerned on time and knew the curtain was open on the front door window and didn't want to risk whoever it was seeing a bunch of figures fleeing to behind the staircase to the cellar door. You directed Peter to go upstairs and make sure whoever was up there stayed and remained quiet, while you directed Gamora to head into the sitting room, close the door, and do the same while you checked the front door.

Another knock.

You looked at the window of the front door. It was the type of glass where it distorted finer features of subjects, but even with that obstacle, whoever was there seemed to be purposefully standing to the side so they couldn't be seen.

Once Peter and Gamora were out of sight you kept a hand on the knob and tentatively asked, "Who is it?" You eyed the small table by the door where you kept one of your issued guns well hidden. Just in case.

"Fury and Agent Hill. May we come in?" His tone was slightly sarcastic on the second line.

Dammit Fury. You rip the door open. "You ever heard of calling first?"

"No." Fury said flatly, then more sarcastically, "Nice to see you too." He looked around as he entered, seemingly expecting the house to be teeming with more life than it currently seemed. "Where are your charges?"

"I wasn't expecting company. I hid them," you say almost irritably, walking to open the sitting room door, telling those inside that it was alright, it was just Fury. You walk over to the stairs and look up to see Peter peering over the railing and nod to him in a gesture that meant that he and anyone else up there should come downstairs.

When you turn back to Fury he was smiling.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Of course it was a test, and you complain as much. "Everything's a test with you, isn't it?"

"Not everything," he said. "You should have been expecting us for a weekly check-in."

"You neglected to mention that," you said, slightly embarrassed because you honestly should have expected check-ins even without being told.

"Oh. Must have slipped my mind." Fury said with a wry smile. He knew full well he didn't mention it.

You roll your eyes. "Nothing slips your mind," you confronted, turning now to Maria. She only offered a smile back that clearly said, 'Perhaps if you hadn't been so cranky last time...'

Peter came down the stairs with Mantis, Rocket, and Groot and everyone filed into the sitting room. You caught sight of Kraglin and Rocket again and still had to cover you mouth to fight from laughing before you turned away and tried to keep your face serious. This, of course was much to Kraglin's chagrin and Rocket's annoyance. Yondu noticed and gave Kraglin another strange look, which Kraglin only responded with a shake of his head and an expression that read, 'Please, don't ask.'

Fury spoke when everyone was settled. "This is just a routine check-in. So far your situation has not changed. As expected, NOVA is still trying to make negotiations on your behalf. We're just here to see how everyone is settling in, make sure there are no concerns or problems we need to know about."

"I got a concern," Rocket spoke up.

"If this is about the crib, we don't want to hear it." Maria replied semi-sternly.

Rocket deflated slightly before saying, "I have another concern."

Fury looked unamused, but before he could ask Rocket to elaborate, Rocket was already going into about how you were a dick and how you tossed him outside like a rag doll.

"You were attacking him," you said angrily, gesturing to Kraglin. "Was I just supposed to let you?" Of course the little shit would try to make you look bad to your boss while leaving out the part he played in the situation.

Rocket went on to say that you just had it in for him, and Mantis, who wanted to both try and calm the situation and also defend you, shyly spoke up and said, "Maybe she would like you better if you hadn't tried to poison her?"

Fury and Maria exchanged looks, hers a mix of startled surprise, Fury's one of surprised concern. Surely if there had been an attempt on your life from one of these people, you would have reported it. They turned back, Maria saying, "Excuse me?"

However, she was drowned out by Rocket saying, "That was after!" as if that were a valid defense. "And she wouldn't have died!"

"Yeah, she would have just shit herself half to death. So much better." Peter said sarcastically.

"Why do you care? She bit you!"

This earned raised eyebrows from Fury and Agent Hill. You purposely didn't meet their gaze, embarrassed.

Peter, who felt guilty at the way Rocket was doing you, then stood up for you, "In her defense I did almost break her nose." He caught the expressions of Fury and Agent Hill and added, "We were drunk, it was all just a misunderstanding," as an explanation before realizing he wasn't exactly helping either.

There was more bickering, mostly Rocket saying how much of a dick you were, and others scolding back that Rocket had been the one to start it, then he brought up how instead of helping untangle him and Kraglin you just laughed your ass off, and then others said more things that weren't really helping and everyone was talking over each other while Gamora pinched the bridge of her nose in embarrassed frustration and you rubbed a hand down your face.

"Enough!" Fury said firmly, breaking up the squabbling. "We are not here to listen to petty grievances." He gave the group a stern look. "First off," he looked directly at Rocket, "do not try to poison my agent again. We can just as easily put you in a cell for the duration of your stay on Earth, but I think you'd agree this is a much better venue."

Rocket grumbled something about how'd he'd just escape, but Fury ignored him.

Fury looked at you. "And you- Do try and refrain from getting into fights with your charges." He nodded towards Peter to indicated he specifically meant drunken fights and biting. His tone was as if he was incredulously scolding a child who didn't normally do naughty things, but had suddenly decided to moon traffic. He actually hadn't expected to hear of this behavior from you. You were one of his best agents. He had the humorous thought that this group's dysfunction might be contagious.

You look down and nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now does anyone have any real concerns? Is everyone healthy? Anyone gotten sick? Are the food rations sustaining?"

Peter spoke up, afraid that Rocket would start in again. "We're all fine here. Don't listen to Rocket, he's just cranky and still adjusting. She's been a good host."

Fury grinned slightly as he looked at you. "I'd take that as a glowing review, seeing as it came from the man you apparently bit."

You felt your face grow warm and you didn't meet his gaze. You had a feeling he wasn't going to let that go anytime soon.

Mantis spoke up again, now excitedly. "Oh yes! She's been very kind! She gave me this bear!"

Oh geez. Of course she'd bring up the bear. You covered your face for a moment and wondered if she ever put the thing down.

Fury looked at the stuffed toy in amusement. He could tell it wasn't new. It was in nice condition, but worn more than what would happen with a week's worth of use. Meaning, he felt you likely hadn't gone out to buy it, he had a feeling that it more than likely came from inside the house, which, if his suspicions were correct...

"Nice to see you're making friends." he said with humor in his voice, only briefly meeting your gaze before you broke it again.

Fury kept the rest of the visit brief, asking a few more questions before he clapped his hands together and said. "Alright, I believe we're done here. If nobody has any further questions, we'll be seeing you all next week. You know how to contact us if there are any problems-" he turned and gave a pointed look at Rocket, clarifying, "any real problems."

"Same time?" you ask.

"We'll see," replied Fury, turning with Maria towards the door when no one spoke up with any further concerns.

You frowned. Clearly he intended to make the next visit a 'surprise' as well. You probably shouldn't be surprised, but you didn't exactly like the anxiety attack he gave you with this 'surprise visit,' and you weren't looking forward to another one.

Rocket watched Fury and Agent Hill as they left, biting his tongue. He considered shouting out after him that you wanted to put them in chains, but of course he knew that him simply seeing the chains wouldn't be enough proof. If he called you out now, you'd probably just make something up, or maybe you had them hidden so if anyone went to look they wouldn't find them.

No. He couldn't say anything yet. He was going to bide his time. He had a suspicion he might find answers in the attic. Why else would you have told Groot there were monsters up there to keep him out, if there wasn't something you were trying to hide?

He only needed to find time to get up there when no one would notice.

At the door Fury pushed a button on his key fob and his vehicle shimmered into place as the cloaking disengaged. You looked unamused and both Fury and Maria nodded in goodbye as they departed.

You shook your head with a sigh and closed the door.

***

"I think that went well," Maria said as she buckled in. "No one's been killed yet."

Fury let half a chuckle and just looked at her before driving away.

***

Some time after Fury had left and everyone had supper you decided to treat yourself to some reading. You decided to curl up on the armchair, something you hadn't done since the Guardians first arrived. This was because you wanted to, definitely not to prove to Peter, who was sitting with Yondu at the table, that you weren't too shy to stay in the same room with other people without coercion.

You were sat curled in the armchair reading a horror novel when Kraglin walked into the room, catching your attention. Of course, when you saw it was him you were unable to hold back your snickers, though you tried to hide them behind your book.

Kraglin's eyebrows knitted together. "It's not that funny!" he groaned.

Yondu, who was growing more curious and amused asks, "What's so 'not funny' that she laughs every time she sees yer face, boy?"

Kraglin gives him a pitiful look, but before he can open his mouth to again beg him not to ask Peter answers for him, retailing the whole embarrassing story while giggling, to Yondu's delight as he starts laughing right along with Peter once he gets to the part about Rocket getting tied to Kraglin's butt.

This, of course, makes you laugh harder, and you're now shaking behind your book.

Kraglin looks like he wants to die before his expression switches to mischievous. Sure, you said you weren't ticklish the other day when Mantis was trying to make you laugh, but he was sure that was obviously a lie. He also knew from dealing with a bratty Peter through the years just how to teach you a lesson. Kraglin approaches you. "You think that's funny? I've give ya something to laugh at, brat!" he says, lunging for one of your feet and scribbling his fingers over the bottom.

This lasts all of half a second before you let out a high squeak, which is then followed by an "OOF!" by Kraglin when your other foot connects with his ribcage.

"Ow! You kick hard!" Kraglin whined, rubbing his ribs where you had just donkey-kicked him.

You blushed slightly, peering over your book. "Yeah, well... I suppose it's in your best interest if you don't try that again." You try to sound intimidating, but it comes out sounding more squeaky than you'd have liked.

"Yeah, no shit." Kraglin replied, still rubbing his ribs as he walked over to sit on the far end of the couch, as if afraid to sit too close to you now.

You muttered into your book, "I'm not even ticklish."

Kraglin just rolled his eyes at you, picking up the remote to turn on the television.

Peter and Yondu just kept laughing.

***

The next morning the novelty of having encountered Kraglin and Rocket tangled up had mostly worn off. Mostly. You didn't burst out laughing every time you saw them anymore, but Kraglin was still slightly annoyed that you still couldn't glance at him without cracking a smile. If you had just been happy to see him he wouldn't have minded, but because he knew it was only a result of yesterday's incident, it was slightly embarrassing.

However, it did make him feel a little better to tease you and Peter for jumping when the toaster popped.

You were buttering your toast when Yondu pulled a jar from the pantry. "What're these?" He hadn't tried much Terran food yet, aside from the few times you had cooked and when Peter beckoned him to try something, and today he was feeling adventurous. Might as well. He had the feeling they were going to be here awhile.

You look over to see him already opening the jar of pickled jalapeños and your eyes widen slightly. "Those are jalapeños. I recommend trying one if you haven't eaten them before, they're hot."

"They ain't hot, the jar's cool?" Yondu said, spearing three slices of jalapeño on a fork. Whatever it was, he was sure he could take it. It was only Terran food, after all. What's the worst that could happen?

Seeing the oncoming tragedy that was more than likely about to happen in his mouth you tensed, "No, that's not what-"

Too late. He already ate them.

It was maybe five seconds before his mistake hit him. To his credit, he swallowed, but he also immediately closed the jar. "What the hell!?" he said, looking at you as he tried to suck air into his mouth to cool it down. "What the hell are these things?! My damn mouth is on fire!" He wasn't panicking, to your relief, but he also wasn't happy.

Peter laughed at him. He had thought he remembered jalapeños from when he was a kid, his grandpa would put them in his tacos. However, he didn't try to further warn Yondu with you, wanting to see what would happen. He wasn't disappointed even seeing Yondu glare at him for laughing as he sucked air through his teeth and wiped his now running nose on his sleeve.

You look at Yondu half-apologetically. "I tried to warn you! I told you they were hot- I mean spicy, that's why your mouth burns. Um... here..." You pull down a glass and pour him some milk. "This will help."

He eyed it. "What is it?" He thought it looked like the same white liquid Peter and Kraglin would pour into what Peter called cereal, but he had never bothered to ask them what it was.

"Milk." you answered, getting a very strange look from him in return, a mix of 'What the fuck?!' and near disgust.

Peter spoke up from the table. "It's from a cow. It ain't hers, dude. It's fine."

Your eyes widen, scandalized, as you look to Peter. "Excuse me?"

He looks at you apologetically. "Sorry, I know this is normal here, but uh, on most other planets... you won't really find 'milk' ...unless you're uh, feeding a baby."

A high, "Hmmm..." is all you respond, not sure what else to say to the implication that the blue man thought you were somehow offering him your milk. Your eyes were still wide and you could feel your face growing warm at the uncomfortable information but you still offered out the glass, setting it on the counter between you. "Well this is all I have to offer for the burning. Otherwise you're going to have to wait it out." You cross your arms over your chest self-consciously.

Yondu looked like he was considering for a moment, before hesitantly reaching out to take the glass.

"Drink it slow, it will help with the burning." You then add, mildly scolding. "Next time listen."

He grumbled, but took the glass and sat down at the table next to Kraglin to drink it. Kraglin covered his mouth with his fist, trying not to laugh and looking like he wanted to say something, but Yondu glared at him, grumbling. "Not a word."

Kraglin managed to giggle out a, "Yes, sir." before returning his attention to his cereal, a new food Peter introduced to him a couple days ago that actually wasn't half bad.

Everything was fine for about half an hour or so. You finished your toast and had some juice, and the guys had finished their food as well and the four of you sat in the kitchen talking. Well, they were talking, you were mostly sitting and listening, mostly just making an effort to sit for more than five minutes so Peter would stop giving you that look that said, "Ha, knew you were shy," that he had recently taken to giving you.

Then Yondu suddenly bent slightly and held his stomach with a stifled grunt.

You raised an eyebrow, as did the other two. "You ok?" you asked, seeing his pained expression.

Yondu glared then tensed again, grunting out a "Dammit." before pushing his chair back and making his way quickly from the kitchen without another word.

The three of you shared confused glances.

Then you heard the bathroom door loudly close, and not too long after that began to hear loud noises of the... smelly variety.

Peter half-stifled a laugh, saying. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, I guess."

You could hear the sound of the toilet flush a bit later, but Yondu didn't return. Instead you started to hear the "smelly" noises again, followed by muffled cursing.

Gamora entered the kitchen, holding her nose. You knew that wasn't a good sign regarding the smell of your hallway, and you were only grateful it hadn't made it into the kitchen yet, though you were now less than eager to leave and risk facing it.

"Is he alright?" she asked Peter.

"He'll be fine." Peter laughed in response, receiving a look from Gamora as she sat next to him, no doubt seeking a reprieve from the odor.

A few minutes passed and he still remained in the jacks, but the smell had its own travel plans.

"Oh hell," you choke out, seemingly the first one of the four of you (aside from Gamora from before) the smell decided to assault. You motioned to Peter. "You- windows- help- please? Now?" you say, gagging as you stood and made your way to open the closest window.

"Right behind you!" Peter said, standing and quickly making to open any window in the kitchen he could find. Kraglin stood with Gamora and they left the kitchen, stating that they were going to open the windows in the sitting room and see if that might help. You could hear gagging from the hallway when they left the kitchen. Peter made his way further down the room and gagged as he opened the back door, a cloud of stink having unfortunately pooled down that way as it was the end closest to the bathroom.

He braved the stink just long enough to shout, "Damn, man! What did you eat!?" He only got a, "Oh, grow up!" in response from Yondu from behind the bathroom door.

You exited the kitchen from the other end to open the front door, coughing as your fears were confirmed and the smell was much worse outside the kitchen. You wondered if you should open the upstairs windows as well.

This thought was confirmed when you could hear the sounds of Mantis gagging at the top of the stairs and Drax asking if an animal had died in the house, then going on to confirm it wasn't Rocket as he was with him and Rocket indignantly yelling, "Hey!"

You made your way upstairs, Peter taking your lead and following to open the windows upstairs to help air the house out.

Yondu had only just exited the bathroom when you came downstairs, not looking too pleased. However, he only made it about a meter outside the door before wincing as a cramp told him he wasn't actually finished and spinning on his heels to return to the toilet.

Now Peter actually seemed mildly concerned. "Dude, you ok in there?" he called from a 'safe' distance from the door, as if anywhere was safe from the smell anymore.

There was only more embarrassing noises in response to Peter's question.

"Yondu?" Peter called out.

"Leave me alone, boy! Can't ya see I'm a little busy at the moment?!"

"I can definitely smell it!" Peter shouted back.

"I'm gonna head outside," you choke out, looking at Gamora. "Care to join?" It was less of an invitation and more of a hint. If you value air, maybe get out of the house.

"Way ahead of you dorks!" Rocket called as he ran out the front door with Groot clinging to his back, gagging.

Everyone else followed out the front door, not willing to risk walking toward the back.

"Fresh air!" Peter cried out once he was outside in such a funny way you couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head despite sharing the same sentiments.

After a couple moments of taking in the fresh air, you decided to walk around back. While you were out here you might as well fix the swing.

"Where you going?" Drax asked after you.

Before you could answer, Peter replied in teasing voice, "She's running away 'cause she's shy." Gamora elbowed him and told him to quit.

You rolled your eyes but didn't turn back, flipping him the bird. "I am not. Knock it off."

"Then you won't mind if we join you then, huh?"

You shrugged as you continued walking. "I don't care what you do." you say flippantly, turning the corner of the house.

Peter grinned mischievously. "Oh! So you won't care if I do this?" He jogged after you and all the others heard was a squeaky yip that likely came from you, Peter crying "Ow!" and you responding with, "Then quit that!"

Drax called out, "Mister Fury said no fighting!" as the rest of them followed after the two of you.

"Then Gamora, please come get your child!" is what response came from around the wall.

Drax gave a confused look to Gamora. "Does she really think Quill could be your child?"

Gamora shook her head. "No, Drax. She's just insulting Peter for acting like a child."

You glared at Peter as he rubbed his arm.

"Did you really need to punch so hard?" he asked, laughter in his voice despite the pain.

"Don't startle me next time." You warn, crossing your arms and turning back to keep walking.

Peter smirked. "Oh sure. 'Startle.' Looked a lot more to me like that tickled."

You look back to him with a glare.

Peter held up his hands in a defensive gesture and laughed, and you saw the others rounding the corner and decided to just walk away and let him live for now. Definitely wasn't because you were slightly worried he might try to prove his theory in front of all the others.

You unlocked the shed, grabbed the items you needed from where you had placed them on the workbench the previous day, and shut the shed door and locked it back up all before the others really got near. You hadn't told anyone about the bed frame yet and you didn't intend to, at least not until it was finished.

You dropped the chains by the old swing and walked back towards the shed to grab the ladder leaning against the back wall so that you could cut the old rope away from the large eye hooks drilled into the branch that had been embedded in the tree so long they were now a permanent fixture.

On your way back with the ladder Kraglin asks, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Fixing the swing," you say, not looking at him as you set up the ladder.

You grab the two lengths of chains and start to ascend the ladder when he speaks again. "Would ya like some help with that? Those chains look heavy."

They weren't. Well, they were heavy enough to support a person, but not heavy enough, or you weak enough, that you couldn't hoist them up the ladder. "I think I can manage," you say, slightly irritated. Last thing you wanted was some "Let the man do the lifting" crap.

"It's just that-"

You look sharply at him, "Just what?"

"Nothin' ma'am." His voice cracked as he spoke and you turned back to carrying the chains back up the ladder.

Rocket, who kept an eye on you the moment he saw the chains, but tried not to make a show of it, came over and stood next to Kraglin, Mantis following close behind.

"Are you fixing the swing?" Mantis asks shyly.

"Yep." you say, clipping one chain to the eye-hook with a locking carabiner.

"I'm sorry I broke it."

You don't look down, reaching up to attach the other chain as you say, "Already told you, wasn't your fault. The rope was old. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, so if she breaks something you'll replace it." Rocket said bitterly.

You climb down the ladder and look at him in annoyance. "There's a difference between the rope snapping on her, and you almost throwing the remote through the TV screen during a tantrum."

"I was not throwing a tantrum!" Rocket said indignantly.

"Close enough. Fighting with Peter over it, better?"

Rocket doesn't answer, just crosses his arms and glares at you before taking off. Truthfully, he was less mad about that and more surprised that he saw the chains were being used to fix the swing instead of being used to tie him or his team up. But this didn't mean you still weren't a dick. Just because he was wrong about this one thing, didn't mean he was wrong about you probably hiding some dark plans or something. He just had to find it. He certainly wasn't grasping at straws or anything just 'cause he didn't like you...

You reach down and pick up the wooden seat of the swing. You cut off the rope still attached to the eye hooks running through the board and repeat the same process to attach the chain as you had above.

When you were finished to turned to Mantis and said, "Wanna try it out?"

She giggled excitedly and nodded before hopping on the swing.

You smile and pick up the scraps of rope you had thankfully tossed out of swing-range and noticed Kraglin was gone. So was your ladder.

You turned to see him returning it back to where you had gotten it from and you called after him, "You didn't need to do that!"

He replied back with, "I know!"

You shook your head and started to walk back towards the shed to toss the scraps in the rubbish bin, wondering how long it might take for the house to be inhabitable again.

Gamora and Peter watched as you had finished repairing the swing and smiled. Peter internally noted that you seemed to have a soft spot for Mantis. Of all of them, her and Groot always seemed to get your softer side, even when it was obvious you were trying not to make it obvious. He grinned, sure that there were some advantages to be had from that.

By the time you had met back up with the rest Yondu could be seen exiting the house from the back door and walking towards the group, no doubt also seeking refuge from the smell.

Peter grinned cheekily and asked, "Everything come out ok?"

Yondu just glared at him before grumpily turning to you. "I think that milk stuff ya gave me went bad."

Peter spoke up, "Inside of you, maybe. Kraglin and I ate it and we're fine."

Kraglin nodded in agreement, saying he felt fine. He then suggested that maybe it was those spicy things he ate that didn't agree with him.

Your eyes widened and you crossed your arms nervously. You remembered how Rocket had attempted to poison you with the xanti-berries, and think you just realized what happened. You had accidentally actually did what Rocket had tried to do to you, to Yondu. You wince and say, "I'm sorry."

Noticing your change in expression, Yondu asks, "What?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, "I didn't even think that the milk might make you sick."

Yondu made a grouchy face but said, "Whatever. Guess I know now."

Rocket, who had been listening in not too far off came up and said, "So when I try to do it to her, I'm an asshole, but when she actually poisons him, everything's just dandy!?"

You narrow your eyes but before you can spout off Yondu speaks up irritably. "If I didn't even know it would happen, how the hell is she supposed to know, Rat?"

"Yeah, she was only tryin' to help him." added Kraglin. "Ain't her fault."

Rocket huffed and skulked away. "Whatever," he said, waving you all off, "Screw you all."

"Ignore him." Peter said, annoyance clear in his voice, and changed the subject to something less likely to piss everyone off.

Eventually you all were able to re-enter the house again without gagging.

[rhysismydaddy]

Elorcan smut after so much y e a r n i n g!!

🥺 please?

Lorcan remembered the exact moment he first saw Elide Lochan. 

He’d been on his way to his last class of the day, senior year exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, and had looked up from his phone to see her standing at the other end of the hall, talking animatedly to a professor. 

She’d been wearing dark slacks and a pale, soft looking sweater that contrasted against the silky black hair hanging down her back. He could tell that even with the heels, she wouldn’t even reach his shoulders, and not a small part of him enjoyed how small she was in comparison to him, even though it also made him feel like a hulking brute. 

The same part of him took one look at her and said Yes.

He’d made his way over, planning to totally interrupt her conversation and ask her out, and she’d looked up as she saw him coming, wide brown eyes meeting his.

A rush of heat went through him as she’d tilted her head and took him in from his too-long hair all the way down to the dusty boots he’d never cared to clean.

And then she’d done something that’d been a prominent player in his dreams ever since: she bit her lip.

That goddamn beautiful, blush pink lip that doubled as the most tantalizing thing he’d ever seen. 

His imagination had immediately run wild.

He’d wanted to draw that lip into his mouth, nibble on it and soothe the ache with his tongue. Wanted to taste them both as he pushed into her. Wanted to see them wrapped around his cock as she looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes.

And that was just her lips. 

The rest of her was almost too much for him, even in his fantasies. 

Full hips; slim thighs that would feel too good parting for him; heavy breasts he wanted to taste.

She was a fucking wet dream. He’d never been so attracted to a woman, much less one he’d never met.

As he’d drawn closer and closer, she’d bid farewell to the professor and turned to him with a wide smile that made him almost trip over his own fucking feet. 

And then she’d asked: “English 135?”

His sex-foggy train of thought had come screeching to a halt, and he’d raised a brow. “What?”

She’d nodded toward the classroom they were standing outside of. “English 135. Creative writing. Are you in this class?”

It’d taken him an embarrassing amount of time to realize she was a TA. 

And an even more embarrassing amount of time to realize the fact that she was his TA.

Because he was, in fact, enrolled in creative writing. 

He’d chosen the class at random since it fulfilled his last general education requirement, and he’d been dreading it all week, but now... now it didn’t seem so bad. 

Especially as she looked up at him, the heat in his eyes reflected in her own, and said softly, “Welcome to class.”

E~

Elide felt like one of those tight rope walkers--doing something dangerous that might have disastrous consequences but unable to stop because she loved the thrill.

She knew entertaining thoughts of one of her students was stupid, but from the moment she’d met him, she hadn’t been able to help it. 

Like her thoughts had summoned him, he strolled into the room, and she let her eyes graze over him, finding him just as distracting as they had yesterday and the day before and every other day so far this semester. 

Tall and broad-shouldered, with hair like a midnight sky and eyes just as dark. He was like nothing she’d ever seen. 

For the past two months, she’d been unable to stop herself from imagining how it’d feel to have him on top of her, pressing her down with his heavy weight. How he might say her name in the morning and how he looked when he came.

Thoughts that were nothing but a bad idea, since she was his student. 

“Good morning, Mr. Salvaterre,” she said politely, trying to keep her voice from going husky.

He looked at her like he knew what she was doing, which he probably did. He wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to watching her day in and day out. 

His dark eyes followed her when she paced in front of the class, tracked down her body whenever he came in the room, and burned with desire whenever they met her own.

He also always came in a few minutes early to talk to her before other people arrived, like he had right now.

A corner of his lips pulled up as he replied, “Morning, Elide.”

She almost sighed. Unlike the other students, he never called her Ms. Lochan. And he never smiled. 

His lips would tilt up in a smirk, and occasionally he’d go so far as to look mildly  amused, but he never gave her actually smiled. Which was probably a good thing, because she didn’t know if she was strong enough to resist Lorcan in general, let alone a smiling Lorcan.

“Do you have your paper?”

They had a story due today. The prompt was to write a chapter of a romance novel--not her idea. The plot, setting, and everything else was up to them.

Elide was looking forward to reading his more than she’d ever admit, but she remained calm as he handed over a thick stack of papers. 

Calm or not, she was unable to stop herself from flipping it open and scanning a few lines.

Every thought inside her head came to a halt.

“This is...” She looked up to find him raising a brow and waiting for her to finish. “This is a sex scene.”

"Mmhm,” he confirmed, the amusement and hunger in his eyes clear to see.

A blush fought to work it’s way up her face as she saw the main character’s name was Elise. One letter away from Elide. Coincidence?

Then she saw that male lead’s name was Lorance. 

Definitely not a coincidence.

They’d been subtly flirting for as long as the class had been going on, but nothing so bold as to write a sex scene about them.

She read a little more and almost passed out. It was a sex scene in a classroom.

“Feel free to make corrections or suggestions,” he murmured, for all intents and purposes sounding like he was actually talking about the assignment.

Elide cleared her throat, trying to unscramble her brain.

“Mr. Salvaterre, the prompt was to write about romance.”

Lorcan smirked and flipped the paper open to a certain page. “What’s more romantic than that?”

On their own accord, her eyes dropped to scan the page, finding an explicitly detailed scene of “Lorance” bending “Elise” over the desk and pulling her panties down with his teeth.

Elide looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to press her thighs together. 

“This is inappropriate.”

“How so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m your professor.”

He braced a hip against her desk and pointed out, “You’re my TA. And only for another month.”

“Yes, but... I could get in trouble. Nothing in here,” she shook the papers, “is allowed between PhD candidates and college students.”

“I get it, Elide.” He shrugged. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I can wait another four weeks.”

When he said it like that, it sounded like forever. But she nodded, appreciating his patients. 

“Thank y-”

“But you know, I think I’ll continue with this story. Just something to, you know... pass the time with.” 

“What?” she choked out.

He explained slowly, “I’m going to keep writing.”

And then, faster than should be possible for such a big person, he was right in front of her, mouth dipped to her ear as he whispered, “And in four weeks, you get to pick one.”

He pulled away right as students started walking through the door, leaving her flustered and shaking and completely screwed. 

~

Every class for the next month, Lorcan brought her a new chapter. 

They were the filthiest, most erotic things she’d ever read. 

She was addicted to them.

His imagination seemed to know no bounds when it came to her, and it made her shiver just to think about what else he might come up with. 

He never said a word, just came in and put the papers on her desk, then went and sat and proceeded to eye-fuck her until the class was up. 

On the last day of class, he gave her both a new chapter and his final paper for the course. She was woman enough to admit she only cared about one.

“Wait to read this one till after class,” he said quietly before sliding in his seat at the back of the room.

She pursed her lips, wondering why, but acquiesced and didn’t read it during the twenty minute reading time at the beginning of the class. It was burning a hole through her desk, but she ignored it the entire sixty minutes.

After she released everyone and bid them a happy summer, she watched as Lorcan got up, winked, and walked out of the class without a care in the world.

Um... what?

He wasn’t going to talk to her? Seriously? After two months of-

The chapter.

She flipped it open, immediately finding the reason for his casualty. 

While the others were all written in the past tense, this one was present. And it used her real name.

And the first line was: Elide left the classroom, anticipation making her skin tingle, and walked to the parking lot. 

Huge smile on her face and skin indeed tingling with anticipation, she made her way to the parking lot, then turned the page and read, She drove to Lorcan’s apartment. 

His apartment? She’d never even been on a date with him. Not that that really mattered to her at the moment.

Was she seriously doing this? 

Her eyes drifted to the next line to see his address, and she decided yes, yes she was. 

Traffic seemed to go on forever as she drove the ten minutes to his apartment, and by the time she knocked on the door, she was too excited to stand still.

She knocked on the door, then knocked again when there was no answer. 

Brow furrowed, she looked back to the chapter, flipped the page, and saw: She used the key under the mat to let herself in, then went to his bedroom in the back. 

Hands shaking, she bent to grab the key, then let herself into her Lorcan’s apartment like she did it all the time.

An empty, clean, almost-barren apartment greeted her, and after taking an intrusive look around, she walked down the hallway to his room.

Thin drapes were closed over the window, filling the space with soft, hazy light, and she instinctively walked to the bed to run her fingers over the silky sheets. It smelled like him in here, like smoke and rain and something just Lorcan. 

Inhaling deeply, she looked back at the paper in her hands. 

Knowing he’d be there soon, Elide took off her clothes, got on his bed, and waited.

Her mouth dropped open as she read that line again and again. It was the last page, so she had nothing else to tell her what was going to happen.

Was he serious?

Was she seriously going to do it?

Her body made the decision before her mind did.

She kicked her shoes off and let her hair down from her ponytail before she could think better of it.

“Crazy man,” she murmured, even as she pulled her dress over her head and threw it on the floor. Her bra and panties followed, and then she was standing there in a man’s room while he wasn’t even home.

God, what if this was some elaborate prank? What if this wasn’t even his apartment?

The realistic part of her brain told her how crazy that sounded, which relaxed her a little. 

She eyed the bed, not sure if she should get on it or just stand here. It felt strange to be naked in the first place, even stranger to be in his bed without him.

But it also felt exciting. 

She’d wanted him for such a long time, and now that she was minutes away from actually having him, she felt like she was going to combust.

This was another way, she realized, of heightening the anticipation between them. Elide had made him wait for three months, so he was giving her a taste of her own medicine.

She crawled on the bed without another thought, relaxing on his pillows and trying to calm down. 

Then the question became... how long was he going to make her wait?

Twenty minutes later, she had her answer. 

She heard the lock on the door click open, and God above, just the sound of his boots coming down the hall made her breath come quicker. He got closer and closer, and then there he was.

Lorcan leaned against the door frame, looked her over from head to toe, and for the first time since they’d met, gave her a full smile.

She found herself smiling back, unable to help it. She was right; smiling Lorcan was undeniably her favorite.

He didn’t say a word as he prowled closer and braced his hands on the bed near her feet. He didn’t have to; his eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. 

They roamed over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on the sweep of her hips, the apex of her thighs, the quick rise and fall of her chest. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he rasped, leaning to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of her ankle. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He pulled back and continued to look at her like he was content to do exactly that for the rest of his life. She needed him to touch her, needed him to put that still-smiling mouth on hers.

“Lorcan,” she breathed, squirming under his dark gaze. She pulled her lip between her teeth to keep from throwing pride to the wind and just begging him for what she wanted.

Turns out, she didn’t need to beg. As soon as she bit her lip, he was on her, heavy weight pressing her down in the way she’d imagined he would for months, mouth covering hers, hands cupping her face like she was something precious. 

He stole her lip from her, sucking it into his mouth and groaning. 

Like a thread with too much tension, they snapped, hands and mouths starting frenzied as they both tried to kiss the other harder, deeper.

His hand slipped between her thighs, and he pulled back far enough to press his forehead to hers and mutter, “Shit.”

Then he was kissing her neck, sucking down at the same time he pushed two fingers inside of her. His name fell off her lips, sounding desperate to her own ears. 

He ignored her plea, kissing a path down to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around the peak of one and used his free hand to pinch the other, making her cry out. 

“These breasts,” he growled, sounding a little angry. 

She didn’t know if she should apologize or shove them further in his face. 

He switched to the other, choosing option number two for her. His teeth scraped against her nipple at the same time he pushed his fingers into her a little harder, and it felt so good her legs shook.

Then he was moving, going further down until his face was pressed between her thighs. 

He pushed her thighs back, and she blushed at being so exposed while he hadn’t shred a stitch of clothing. But then he pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, and said, “You taste like strawberries,” giving her a whole other reason to blush.

Lorcan calmly slid down to his stomach and got comfortable, then proceeded to eat like he’d been locked in a room with no food for two weeks. 

His tongue was everywhere, licking her from top to bottom, circling her clit, pushing inside her. He hummed, and she arched off the bed, pushing her hips further toward him. 

She wanted this to last forever, but her body was reacting to him like it never had to anyone, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

He added his fingers back at the same time he sucked her clit sharply, and she fell to pieces, twitching and pulsing around him and breathing like she’d done something besides lay there.

She yanked him up the bed, needing to feel him against her. She slid her hands in his hair and licked his lower lip, smiling when he made a gruff sound.

Elide slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled it off, then started working on his belt, only to have her hands knocked out of the way by his. He unceremoniously ripped his clothes off, then rolled on his back to reach for a dresser drawer. 

While he dealt with that, she perused him head to toe like he’d done her.

His body was lean and cut, tan and beautiful. 

Crawling next to him, she ran her lips over his chest, down his abs. When she attempted to go lower, he stopped her with a hand in her hair. 

“But I want to-”

“Later,” was all he said before throwing her on her back, rolling the condom on in an oddly primitive manner, and thrusting inside of her.  

She gasped, feeling so full she might split apart, and clung to him as he let her adjust.

When she felt like she could breathe again, she wrapped her legs around her waist and tilted her ups up, taking him even deeper. He made a deep sound of approval, eyes dropping to half mast. 

Lorcan braced himself on his elbows, gave her a very male look, and said, “Hold on tight.” 

Then he started to move, pulling out all the way before thrusting back in so hard she shook. 

It was like the past months of lust and heated glances were coming back all at once, reminding her how long she’d gone without him.

She’d imagined what he’d be like more times than she could count, but the reality was somehow better.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into her, probably hurting him, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Their mouths met in a messy, wet glide, and he bit her bottom lip, anchoring himself by it as he fucked her even harder. 

“Elide,” he groaned, deep voice desperate and scratchy. “Come on, baby.”

The knowledge that this was undoing him as much as it was her was what pushed her over the edge again. She moaned his name as she came, eyes going shut and body arching up into him. 

He followed immediately, stilling on top of her and fisting the sheet hard enough she worried it would tear. 

When she came back down to earth and released his shoulders, she saw she’d left little half-moon marks on him, and she leaned up to ease the hurt with her lips.

After a moment, he rolled off of her and collapsed on the other side of the bed with a huff.

They both stared at the ceiling, unable to find words for a long moment. 

Until Lorcan stated, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, body still tingling. “Was it worth the wait?”

He shrugged, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest until he said, “Might need another go before I say for sure.”

Elide shoved his shoulder, turning on her side to look at him.

“What now?” he asked, rolling to face her. “I do actually plan to take you on a date, you know. Dinner?”

A part of her was relieved to hear this wasn’t just sex to him, but there was something else she wanted at the moment. 

“Chapter 3?” she suggested instead.

Lorcan gave her a wolf’s smile. “I like the way you think.”

________________________________________________

not me being horny on main yikes. sorry it’s long

[audreyimagines]

yooo the irl drabble was so good-

so sorry to dump another request on you but could i get something similair (inspired by the emo phase where i dressed like a cryptic gremlin)

Reader is, to put it simply, a chaotic emo gremlin. their stream setup is dark colors, their minecraft skin has black clothing and a dark aesthetic (that kinda looks like a vampire-). whenever they’re streaming the lights are so low it’s almost completely pitch black and whilst they don’t exactly play loud music (like MCR, FØB and P!@TD) the music they do play is pretty dark and gloomy.

everyone just assumes Reader is streaming from their bedroom when actually Reader has a streaming room with a dark aesthetic on purpose (i mean most streamers don’t really have a set aesthetic and if they have an aesthetic it usually isn’t dark or anything so-). whilst Reader can appreciate dark colors they don’t surround themselves with them all the time, and their actual room is actually quite pleasant and tidy with little plants, lots of natural light, some organized bookshelves and a record player (i have an old timey record player from my dad and it is my favorite thing i own) in the corner with a large record collection of classical, opera and some mellow jazz.

whilst Reader is a chaotic little gremlin they have a lot of random knowledge about shit (from staying up incredibly late and scrolling through random wikipedia pages) and it’s really surprising how much they know about random obscure things (flashback to that time in middle school i ranted to my Latin teacher about the connections between different theories of reality like Solipsism and Parmenides’s theory of reality and the scientific conclusions made in greek mythology like Iris goddess of the rainbow being the daughter of a sea goddess named Electra meaning light so it’s like light and water make rainbows)

like maybe Reader and some people decide to do a trivia competition and are absolutely shocked that Reader knows all these things about philosophy and classical music / opera or they just come to Reader’s house after they missed a group stream to yk check on them and just walk into Reader’s room like “what the fuck happened in here-”

(per usual, any characters, take your time and have fun ✨ (also sorry this request is so long))

goth turned...soft?

pairing - irl tommy x gn!reader

notes - my apologies for sm irl tommy but he’s so fun to write for :)

——————————————————————————

“hey, was y/n on your stream today?” tubbo’s icon lit up in the discord call and tommy only half listened.

“i don’t think so?” ranboo piped up. it had been an large group, of tommy, tubbo, ranboo, jack, karl, sapnap, quackity, and supposedly you. easy to miss people, though tommy started to think back.

roblox...nope you weren’t there. definitely not in jack box. as he recalled all the segments, he remembered the last time he’d seen you.

“they were on wilburs stream two days ago, doing trivia. that was the last time i’ve heard from them,” tommy said. the call mumured in agreement.

“yeah i remember being kinda shocked, they knew all these random opera and plant facts,” jack spoke up.

“yeah! i popped in to ask them a question about classic music as a joke, and they got it right,” tubbo concluded.

tommy had stopped paying attention. he remembered that, it was odd. your bedroom was dark, your minecraft skin looked half dead, and every call you joined unintentionally brought a weird energy. more importantly though, where the fuck were you?

“hey guys i’m gonna take off,” he spoke up. the call echoed a goodbye, and he logged off and started tugging on his shoes. maybe he should check on you. it had been a while since you texted, and that was unusual.

after begging his mother to drive him, he was on the way. traffic was awful today, but eventually he reached your house, tumbling out the car with a goodbye. looking up at the stone, he frowned a bit. this wasn’t the way he thought your first at home meeting would go.

“hello?” he knocked. your parent answered the door.

“oh! tommy right?”

he nodded politely.

“nice to meet you.”

“it’s nice to meet you too. may i come in and speak to y/n?”

your parent let him in, and he hurdled up the stairs. you must be okay if he was allowed to come inside, but still.

passing a room, he stopped and glanced in. wait. this was your stream set up! dark, gloomy, all the things he was used to from discord calls. but if this was your streaming room...

he knocked on the only other door.

“hello?” you opened the door and your face lit up.

“tommy!” you crushed him in a hug and he just stared around your shoulders.

plants, record players, tassely-tapestries, white and cream pillows, bookshelves.

he extracted himself from the hug, and you peered up at him, confused.

“tommy? what’s up? why’re you here?”

he glanced down at you.

“so you’re NOT a freaky goth?”

you stared at his expression and then burst out laughing, hands on your knees. tommy found himself smiling too. this was the real you, he thought to himself as he internally relaxed.

that was, until you straightened back up with the death glare he was familiar with.

“who says i’m not?”

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Intermingle: part 1

Pairing: dom! yoongi x inexperienced reader

Warnings: co-workers to lovers, angst, smut, public sex, dry humping, oral (f) receiving (brief), oral (m) receiving (brief), fingering, squirting, orgasm denial, daddy kink, fluff, teasing, pussy spanking, talks of cheating

Rating: 18 and over

“You think I can make you cum just by sucking on your sweet little nub?” He questions from between your thighs, gripping tightly at your flesh. You nod desperate for him to lap up your arousal before it reaches your knees. “Beg me, I want to hear you beg for my tongue in your cunt.” “Please, Yoongi, eat my pussy. I want you to so bad.” He smirks up at you, moving slowly to your dripping sex. You drop your head back in anticipation of his tongue.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Your eyes shoot open as your alarm clock goes off at exactly 6:45am. You whimper like a spoiled child, flailing in bed with need, your panties soaked. Another painstakingly good dream about your office crush that never really goes anywhere. “Meow.” Your Chartreux cat hops onto the bed to inform you it's time for her feeding. “Go away Frenchie.” You shoo, leaning over to your side table and pull out your pocket rocket, deciding to take a few minutes to relieve yourself before you must hop in the shower. “Don't judge me.” You look down at her before throwing yourself back onto your pillow. You release a lustful sigh, your room soon filled with the sounds of your moans and the buzzing of your favorite toy.

“Good Morning everyone. Welcome. Let’s get started quickly, we have a lot to cover and not a lot of time to cover it.” Your boss begins the Monday morning meeting. You take a seat next to your friend Rebecca and hand her a coffee you bought for her. She mouths a Thank you and your boss begins. “Okay. The launch of the new game is in a month's time. We need all testers working with the graphics team to get this game up and running for release time,” He looks around the conference room, “Where is Yoongi?” You look around and realize that he isn't seated in the meeting this morning. “Someone get him on the goddamn phone!” Your boss commands, his assistant hoping up to run out of the conference room to make the call. Just as she twirls in her seat, as if summoned, Yoongi walks into the conference room looking like pure sin. Your breath hitches at the sight of him mouth open wide as if he's been running, dressed in all black with a thin diamond crusted choker around his neck, his messy hair covering his eyes enough to cause him to have to tilt his head up to scan the room. “Fuck Yoongi, if you weren't essential to the team, I'd fire your ass.” Your boss calls out to him. Yoongi yanks his headphones from his ears and gives your boss a tight smile. “Sorry I'm late. There was traffic.” Your boss rolls his eyes while you bite your lip. It was ungodly for a man to look this good.

“As I was saying, for you Yoongi, we need to get the kinks out of this game before launch. The higher ups don’t want excuses they want results! I am putting you all in teams to finish up the last of the projected maintenance, testing, and graphics updates. I want all your work submitted to me one week before launch so we can revisit and correct any errors that pop up. Any questions?” He looks around at all the faces in the room. “Good, please see the assigned teams listed on the white board behind me. No excuses people. If it's my ass, its sure as hell your asses! Got it. Now get to work!” He stands quickly, exiting the room as his assistant flips the white board to reveal the assigned teams. You linger for a moment to gather your things. “Oh, girl, your dream has come true.” Rebecca elbows you. “What are you talking about?” You walk over towards the board and catch Yoongi pinch his nose. “Great looks like I'm stuck with Mother Teresa.” He whispers to himself. You swallow thickly, moving forward to catch a glimpse of the list. Your heart begins to thump heavily in your chest as you see in big bold letters under tester/graphics team 2: Y/N/ Min Yoongi. Never once had you had to work so closely with someone you were crushing over. You and Yoongi worked together in the same office but never.... closely. Hell, your conversations were so minimal you weren't sure he even knew your name.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

You jump at Yoongi hitting his knuckles against the white board before you. He gives you a perplexed look, “Are you ok? You spaced out I think.” “I’m fine.” You whisper. His eyes pop open in a worrisome way and you clear your throat, standing a bit taller. “I am excited to work with you.” You brighten up. He gives you a tight smile and quick nod before walking off. “What the hell was that creepy?” Rebecca scolds. “I have no idea. I just completely shut down.” You groan. “You think! He probably thinks you're a weirdo now, on top of the fact that you dress like a nun!” She points at your outfit. “What's wrong with my clothes?” You whine, stepping into your shared cubicle space. “You look like a librarian and not a hot one.” She notes, plopping into her seat. You run your hands over your favorite buttoned up black cardigan, tugging the fabric down to meet your black dress pants. “I think I look fine.” You shrug, taking your seat. She snorts. “You missed a button.” She teases. “That was purposeful!” You snap at her.

“Hey,” Yoongi appears at your cubicle, “If you have time today to go over our assignment, maybe we can grab lunch or something.” “Uh, sure thing.” You say quickly. “Cool, I’ll shoot you an interoffice message around noon.” “Yeah, sounds like a date… I mean plan…meeting. You know what I mean.” You ramble. He chuckles pointing at your shirt. “You missed a button.” You look down and fumble with your cardigan. “That was on purpose.” You mutter. “Oh, I like it. Living on the edge.” He teases, walking away with a wave. You drop your head into your hands, feeling your face heat with embarrassment. “Smooth Y/N, really smooth.” “Shut up Becca.” At noon your computer pings with a notification from the interoffice messenger:

Minyoon93: ‘I ordered sushi. Hope that’s ok. Going down to grab it. We can eat in my area. Meet you there.’

Y/L/N/Birth year: ‘Yum, sounds good.’ “Catch you in an hour.”

You tell Rebecca, scooping up your notes from today’s tests runs. “Mm, unbutton a couple more buttons.” She yanks at your cardigan. You swat her hands away, “Stop that! Goodbye.” You walk off towards the rear of the office, pass the larger glass door that separates where the graphics team sits, from where the testers sit. You walk past the single seated cubicles, catching everyone lost in their own worlds. You finally make it to the last cubicle before a left turn that’ll ultimately take you to your boss’ office. You run your fingers along the plaque with Yoongi’s name on it, surprised by how neat his cubicle is. He isn’t back from grabbing the food, but he’s set up another chair for you. You snoop a bit around his area, looking over his equipment, notes, and random Knick knacks on his desk. “You know its impolite to snoop.” You jump at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. “I’m sorry. I was just looking at your equipment. It’s really state of the art. I wasn’t snooping, I mean…” “I’m fucking with you. Are you always this wound up?” He tilts his head to the side looking you over. You feel your face heat under his gaze. “Uh, how much do I owe you?” You dig in your pocket. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You get next time.” You nod, your pulse racing at the idea that he wants to have another lunch with you before this one is done.

He opens the trays of food, handing you chopsticks, and begins to dig in. He points at the trays for you to join him. You smile, grabbing a sushi roll and popping it into your mouth. “I brought my notes on the levels I’ve tested so far. There are a few things that can use a bit of a makeover. Some general glitches that need software upgrades, and a few areas that need smoothing.” He nods, staring off, chewing his food. You don’t know why but you find yourself nodding with him. He says nothing, just keeps eating, and your eyes move down his neck as he swallows. You begin to look over his features. His sharp jaw, profound Adam’s apple, his cute button nose, how pink his lips are. God he’s gorgeous, you think to yourself, rubbing your thighs together. You’re almost tempted to reach up and run your fingers along his pretty little choker. He licks his lips, and a small moan escapes your throat. His eyes widen and he looks over to you. You collect yourself and grab a sushi roll, “So delicious.” You raise it up to him. He smirks.

“So, what’s you deal? You’ve been working here a while. You obviously like gaming. Why do you always seem so, I don’t know, reserved?” “Uh, I’m not reserved. I’m cool and fun. We just don’t hang out in the same circles. There’s no deal.” Yoongi looks you over, shaking his head so his bangs move away from his eyes. “If you have to say your cool. You’re not cool.” He replies with a point of his chopsticks. “Oh, and you’re the king of cool?” He sighs, thinking over your comment. “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, no, but I think you like what you see.” He licks his lips watching you squirm in your seat. “I, you are crazy.” You stutter. “Am I,” He leans in close to you now, “Then how come you keep staring at me the way you do?” You don’t know how to respond, instead opting to stand to escape the conversation. In your haste to get away, you accidentally flip over one of the trays and it lands right in Yoongi’s lap. “Shit!” He shouts, dusting the rolls from his lap. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” You reach for napkins and begin to rub at Yoongi’s lap, “Let me get it.” “It’s ok Y/N, it’s ok, hey, stop. Stop! Hey, your rubbing my dick.” He grasps your wrist to stop your movements. You gasp, realizing you’ve been rubbing aggressive circles against his shaft. “I, oh my God. I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry.” “Hey, no, it’s ok. No harm done. Just a few fallen rolls and jeans that need washing.” He smirks. You cover your mouth feeling your face burn bright red. You apologize again and run out of his cubicle as fast as you can.

“So, what, you jacked him off?” Rebecca looks at you confused. “No, I was trying to clean up the mess. I didn’t realize I was rubbing his.... ugh. He probably never wants to speak to me again. Why oh, why am I cursed to be this clumsy, nervous wreck?” “Girl, you need to get laid. I think you should march over to that boy’s desk and tell him you’ve been craving him for the last two years!” “Are you crazy!?” Suddenly a notification pops up on your interoffice messenger:

Minyoon93: ‘Hey! I didn’t mean to scare you away. We didn’t get to talk about our assignment, and you left your notes here at my desk. I usually work late if you’re interested. I’ll be here. No pressure.’

You read and reread his message, unsure of how to respond. “Don’t! Just show up to his desk after work.” Rebecca suggests when you show it to her. You work your current levels until the end of the day. “Go get him tiger.” Rebecca winks, leaving you at your desk. You fix your hair, apply a little lip gloss, and unbutton two buttons on your cardigan. You grab your new notes from the rest of the day and head back to Yoongi’s desk. He’s seated with headphones over his ears, his face going from his computer screen to your notepad from earlier. You tap his shoulder gently and he turns to face you. “Hey,” He smiles wide taking in your fresh look, “I was just working on your notes.” “I have more.” You dance your new pad in front of him. He waves you in, patting the chair beside him. You clear your throat. “Sorry again about earlier.” “It’s cool, I came on a bit strong. I shouldn’t have grabbed your wrist like that, I didn’t realize you were, well you know.” Your brow furrows. “I don’t know actually.” He leans in to whisper to you, “A virgin.” Your eyes burst open and your mouth falls open. “I’m not a virgin!” You protest. “Really? You just seemed uncomfortable with, anyway, I’m sorry if I was inappropriate.” He smiles. You sit in shock, wondering how you got yourself in this embarrassing situation. “Well, you weren’t inappropriate, I’m was honestly. I shouldn’t have touched you like that so I should be the one to apologize for inappropriate behavior and just for the record I’m not a virgin, so how about we just forget this whole thing.” He leans into his computer screen, stifling a laugh. “Sure, yeah. I’m ok with that. Sorry for assuming.” “You should be.” You tease, batting your eyes a bit. He scoffs, looking your way and you decide to be brave and sit a little taller, raising an eyebrow and crossing your legs in what you hope is a seductive manner.

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Silly me, how could I have missed all the signs? What with your sexy cardigans and shiny loafers? You really know how to take a man's breath away.” He licks his lips, pressing his folded hands into his crotch. You swallow thickly, feeling your core heat. “Well you know we all don’t have the ability to don sexy little chokers and actually look good doing it.” His mouth falls opens as the realization of your own words hit you. “Did you just call me sexy?” He inquires with confidence. “No, I said your choker was sexy.” A large sly smile forms across his face and he reaches up to caress the diamond crusted choker. He reaches his hand back to undo the clip, removing it from around his neck. You watch him suspiciously. He soon hands the dangling accessory to you. “What are you doing?” You huff. “You’ll never know if you can pull it off, if you don’t try.” “Yoongi, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He rolls his chair close to you. “Maybe that’s the problem Y/N, you think too much.” He leans in close, bringing his arms up to either side of your head, and latches his choker around your neck. You touch the tight accessory once he's done. “There, see, sexy.” He tilts his head to the side with a sly smile.

“Ah, look at you two working late on your assignment.” Your boss interrupts. Yoongi straightens in his seat, turning to face your boss, you on the other hand jump up. “I was just dropping my notes off for the day. I’m actually heading out.” Yoongi looks at you puzzled. “Well any productivity makes me happy! Come Y/N, I’ll walk with you over to the elevator.” Your boss states. You nod, walking towards him, stopping to turn to Yoongi. “Your choker.” You whisper, moving to remove it. Yoongi shakes his head. “Keep it, it looks better on you anyway.” You smile and walk off with your boss towards the elevators. “Y/N, do you know why I assigned you to work with Yoongi?” “No sir.” “Well, while he is one of the best graphic designers we have here, he’s arrogant, late, unorganized. I could go on but I imagine you get the drift. You on the other hand are classy, quiet, neat, put together, always on time. I know you can get things done in a timely fashion. You are always focused and someone I can count on. My intent was not to have that boy corrupt you and believe me I know his charms. I have heard the office rumors. What I need here Y/N are results in favor of the company, now can I trust you to keep that chaotic Min Yoongi in line?” You couldn’t believe your ears. Your boss was standing before you gossiping about you coworker. You could only imagine the things he really said about you behind your back. You simply nod. “Excellent. You really are a gem.” The elevator opens to lobby. “Have a Goodnight Y/N. I’m counting on you.” “Yes sir. You too sir.” You wave, happy that you are both going in opposite directions.

“You really know how to take a man’s breath away.” He praises, pushing your head down further onto his cock. His head falls back as dark sultry moans leave his gaping mouth. He hitches his hips up causing tears to form as you gag all over his twitching cock. “So sexy”, He grips your hair tightly, “I’m going to cum down your tight throat. Would you like that?” You hum in approval. He cries out loud and you brace yourself for his seed.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

You wake with a gasp, covered in your own sweat, panties soaked through. “Ugh, this has to stop.” You whisper to yourself. “Meow.” You look down at your cat, who calmly licks herself “Alright, you win today, let’s get you fed.” You slide out of bed and head to your kitchen to set out her breakfast. She hops up on the counter and you scratch behind her ears like she likes. “Eat up kiddo.” You place a soft kiss atop her head and jump in the shower. Today you opt for a different outfit, you wear black jeans and white spaghetti strap tank, with a jean jacket. You apply a little bit of makeup and curl your hair. “How do I look?” You turn to your cat who is now lounging on your bed. You nod and her unimpressed look and head out the door.

You arrive at the office and find your notepads on your desk with a post it stuck on it from Yoongi that reads ‘done’ with a wink face. You smile down at it and decide to stick the note onto your desk. You pull off your jean jacket and sit down at your desk, loading up your computer. “Damn Y/N, look at you. You have shoulders.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the coffee Rebecca is now passing to you. “Thank you. For the coffee, not the stupid comment.” You sip from your drink. “I guess you and Yoongi had a great night.” She smiles. “No, I dropped off my notes and left. I did however have an interesting conversation with our boss about Yoongi. He said he paired us because Yoongi is unorganized and he’s heard all these rumors about him and he wants me to keep him in line. How do suppose I do that? I can barely speak to him without creaming my pants.” Rebecca laughs out loud at your comment. “Who’s creaming their pants and why?” Yoongi appears with coffee in hand and your laugh catches in your throat. “Y/N was just telling a hilarious story about some movie she saw last night. You look great Yoongi, I love you in red. Y/N doesn’t Yoongi look great in red.” You look Yoongi over, he’s dressed once again in all black accept he offsets it with a red bomber. “Yeah, you look nice.” You compliment. “Speaking of looking nice, did you lose your cardigan?” He snickers. “Ha. Ha. It’s nice to change it up a bit.” You shrug. “You look good. So, you wanna grab lunch later?” “I can’t actually. I’m meeting someone.” “Oh, yeah, of course. Some other time then.” You nod as Yoongi gives you a nod and heads to his desk. “You’re meeting someone? Who, pray tell, are you meeting?” Rebecca slaps your arm. “Taehyung.” You murmur. Rebecca’s eyes pop open. “Get the hell out of here. Why? I thought we agreed, you were done with him popping in and out of your life. He broke your heart or did you forget?” “Of course, I didn’t forget,” You scold, “He’s in town ok. He just wants to check in and see how I’m doing. That’s it. It’s just lunch.” She shakes her head at you. “I’ll be fine Becca. Don’t worry about me.”

You sit, shaking your leg at the restaurant that Taehyung texted you the address for, he’s late. When he finally burst through the door, you’re livid. “I only get an hour for lunch.” You huff. “Sorry Jagi. I couldn’t find parking.” “Don’t call me that.” He nods. “Um, I wish you could’ve met me after work. This rush conversation stuff is hard for me.” He looks around for a waiter. “Well, how about you just start talking then.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. He frowns at you. “How’s Frenchie?” “She’s fine. Is that what you wanted to discuss? My cat?” “Our cat.” He whispers. “MY cat. She was left with me after YOU left me. So, she is MY cat.” “Still so angry Jagi. It’s not healthy to be this way. What was I supposed to do? Lie? Keep secrets?” “You did lie and keep secrets! You cheated! You cheat still just now it’s the other way around.” You hiss. He snorts. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I asked her to marry me. She’s pregnant. I want to do right by her. I love her. I can’t see you anymore in any capacity. I came clean and told her everything. She’s going to give me another chance so long as I end this for good.” You sit in shock. “Married.” Is all that slips past your lips. He nods. You grab the water from the table and toss it in his face. “Fuck you Kim Taehyung!” You spew as you head out of the restaurant. You allow yourself to get two blocks away before allowing your tears to flow. You run into the restroom when you get to your office and sob as quietly as you can. You wash your face of any and all makeup and head back to your desk. You find another post it on your desk this time from Rebecca. ‘Had to leave early, one of the kids is sick. Call me on my cell if you need me. Becca.’ You sniffle, curling the note and chucking it in the trash, immersing yourself in work for the rest of the day.

Its 5:15pm, when you get a tap on your shoulder. You yank off your headphones and give Yoongi a small smile. “Hey! You staying late tonight?” He asks. “Uh, I wasn’t planning on it. I lost track of time.” “You look stressed. You ok? I can take these notes off your hand if you’re done with them.” “Yeah sure. Thank you.” You hand him your notepad full of today’s fresh scribbles. He tucks it under his arm. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll handle this.” He throws a fist in the air and walks off. You smile weakly and begin to cry again thinking of the news Taehyung dropped on you. “Married.” You groan. You get up to leave but something pulls you in the direction of Yoongi’s desk.

You lurk a moment, watching him look over your notes. “Want company?” You interrupt causing him to jump. “Ah, you scared me,” He whines, “I thought you left.” “I was going to but the thought of going home to my uninterested cat made me kind of sad.” He smiles wide, exposing his gums and pats the chair beside him. “You have a cat huh?” He inquires. “Yeah. Her name is Frenchie. She’s cool.” You shrug. “I like cats.” “Oh yeah, wanna come meet her some time? She hates people.” You giggle. “You want me to come over to your house?” Your eyes widen and you begin to stutter. “I’m fucking with you calm down. You’re so uptight sometimes. You do know what joking around is right?” Yoongi says, stretching in his seat. “Sorry, I had a terrible lunch date today.” “Wanna talk about it?” “I don’t know. It’s weird.” “I like weird, try me.” He rests his elbow on his desk and props his head up with his fist. “I met up with my ex, which in and of itself should be a huge no no, but I don’t know part of me just hopes that one day, he’s gonna wake up and realize he made a huge mistake and we'll get back together.” Yoongi just nods, so you continue, feeling surprisingly at ease with him. “Well, it turns out he just wanted to inform me that he would no longer be reaching out to because the woman that he cheated on me with and then subsequently left me for is having his child so they are going to get married.”

“I’m sorry. I am sure that was hard to hear.” He whispers. You nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “I shouldn’t still have feelings for him. It’s stupid I know but, I loved him you know.” Yoongi nods again. “How long were you guys together?” “Three years.” “That’s a long time. How long was he cheating?” You cringe at the question but answer truthfully. “Two out of the three we were together.” “Damn, I’m sorry. What a jerk. How long since the break up?” You cover your face with your hands now, afraid to tell him. “Three years.” You whisper. “Say again.” Yoongi leans forward. “Three years ok! And before you judge me, just know he kept popping in and out of my life sporadically to sleep with me, making it hard for me to let go.” Yoongi stares at you like you’re crazy. “You just let go, you don’t do to someone what they did to you.” He replies. “Oh, what do you know ok. It was hard for me. He was my first.” “Heartbreak?” Yoongi inquires, still with the look as if you’re crazy. “No,” You turn your head away from his gaze, “my first, you know, sexual partner.” You look back at Yoongi to see his eyes wide and mouth agape. “Meaning, you’ve never been with another man…. since…when?” Yoongi squints at you. “I don’t know. Since he and I last hooked up. Maybe a year or so ago.” Yoongi’s mouth hangs open again. “Stop looking at me like that.” You shout at him. He suddenly starts laughing, rubbing his eyes, then drying his palms on his thighs. “You’re fucking with me, right? This is a joke. You got me.” He turns, shakes his head, and laughs some more. “Who jokes about stuff like that?” You remark and he snaps his head to look at the seriousness of your face. “You’re not kidding. So, you really are a virgin? Explains the button up cardigans.” He whispers to himself. “Alright, ha ha, very funny. Glad I could make you laugh. I’m leaving now.” You stand and he slides to the exit of the cubicle. “Come on,” He whines, “Don’t leave. I’m sorry ok. I just was…surprised by your story. Sit down, we are having a nice talk, getting to know each other. Please. I promise, no more asshole comments.” He gives you a thin smile and you sit down. “Well, what’s your story? I think we’ve heard enough about me.” You lean back in your chair.

He clears his throat. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Haven’t had one in a long time.” He fiddles with a character on one of the levels on his screen as he speaks. “Ah, I see. Not the commitment type. More of a tinder kind of guy.” He scoffs at your comment. “Uh, full disclosure, sure I’ve dabbled around in the tinder pool but after a while it gets boring and repetitive. I don’t mind commitment, I just haven’t found anyone worth committing to, you know?” “Yeah I get it. So, when’s the last time you, you know, did it.” You squirm awaiting his response. “Did it,” He cringes, “Uh, I don’t know like 3 or 4 months ago.” “Oh.” Is all you manage. “Does that make you uncomfortable?” He stops what he’s doing and turns to face you. “No, why would it?” You avoid eye contact with him, instead staring down at your feet. “Why do you ask then?” “Uh, I heard rumors. That you fool around here at work.” The words are out before you can think and he is completely taken back by the statement. “Oh yeah? Did you hear that from the boss?” You stutter unsure of what to say. “It’s all good Y/N, I know he doesn’t like me. I don’t sleep around with people from work. He made up that rumor himself because the person I screwed around with 3 or 4 months ago was his daughter. She passed by here once and left me her number. It was a one-time hook up but I guess she likes to throw it in daddy’s face. He can't fire me for it so he gives me shit instead.” “That sucks, I'm sorry I said that. I shouldn't have brought it up. It's a stupid rumor.” Yoongi shrugs, “Just admit that part of you wishes it were true cause you have a huge crush on me and we can call it even.” You giggle at his confidence. “I do not have a crush on you.” You attempt to look appalled. “Really,” He smirks suggestively, “That's too bad, cause I most definitely…” He leans in to whisper in your ear and you lean in close so you can feel his breath on your neck. “Think you're lying.” He whispers and you shove him away. He laughs, biting his lip. “You're too easy to tease.” “That's just mean.” You pout. “Don't do that.” He groans. “Do what?” “Pout like that. It makes it hard for me to resist kissing you.” You chuckle nervously, not sure if he's teasing or not.

You both stare at each other, the tight space filling with your heated tension. “You'd like that wouldn't you? If I kissed you right now?” His voice changes, deepens, as it fills with lust. You look up and around at the cameras on the ceilings afraid of being caught. “I could hack those you know. Make them see what I want them to see.” He reads your mind. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, your core heating. You move your right hand over you left and pinch your own skin. “Oh, this is very real baby,” He smirks, “All you have to do is ask.” You lick your lips and watch as Yoongi's eyes flicker with excitement. You stand and move towards his desk, pushing his keyboard back so you can sit before him. He swallows hard watching your every move. “Here,” You whisper, “I want you to kiss me while I sit here.” His face changes and he becomes a man possessed hopping from his seat and leaping towards you. You pull him into a desperate kiss, digging your hands into his messy hair. His lips are warm and commanding, and you are surprised at how quickly you fall into rhythm with him. He glides his tongue along your bottom lip and you gladly open your mouth for him, allowing him to hungrily swirl his tongue around yours, claiming your mouth. You wrap your legs around his body, pressing your heat closer to his growing erection. He soon takes a hold of your hips, grinding your clothed sex against his length. You moan into his mouth while he nibbles and tugs on your lips. He growls quietly and you know you’re driving him wild. “Fuck you sound so sexy.” He confirms, lifting a hand up to grab one of your full breasts. You gasp at the sensation causing Yoongi to stop everything. “Is it too much?” He asks breathlessly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting it. Please don’t stop, touch me again.” You beg. Yoongi groans, pulling you closer against his jailed member. He begins trailing kisses along your neck, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what you need.” He whispers, pressing kisses along your ear. You bite your lip, tugging at your tank top to free your left breasts. “I want your mouth on me.” You whisper to him, kneading at your heavy mound. His eyes are completely blown watching you touch yourself. He lowers his head, opening his mouth to latch onto you erect nipple. You curse under your breath at the feeling of him suckling and licking at your nub ever so gently. He kneads at the soft flesh with his large hand, pushing more and more of it into his mouth, eliciting loud moans to fall from your mouth as all your darkest fantasy of this man flood your mind. He releases your nipple from his lips to blow softly on it causing your skin to goose. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He tells you, gazing in your eyes from under his bangs while he lowers his head to suckle at your nipple once more. Your pussy clenches at the sight. You moan loudly, aggressively grinding against his massive hard on. He curses around your nipple, allowing it to fall from his lips with a loud pop.

He leans back a bit, pushing his hips forward, intrigued by your sudden burst of excitement. You are suddenly so overcome by lust and want that you've taken to a steady pace, thrusting along Yoongi's cock. He grips your hip with his left hand, panting heavily, still fondling your exposed breast with his right hand. He soon licks his thumb and index finger, tugging and yanking at your nipple. You curse under your breath as you fuck yourself shamelessly, your moans becoming more desperate and wail like. Yoongi watches you in awe, his mouth wide, and you wonder when the last time was that he had ever been dry humped. Suddenly, your eyes widen, as you feel that coil deep inside you tighten. You are in complete shock that this could even be happening but are too overcome with pleasure to care. You grip his desk tightly, moving your hips faster, dying for more friction. Your head falls back as that sweet sensation hits you, your coil snapping, sending you straight to heaven. You cry out, feeling your walls tremble, not stopping your thrust until your high has fully washed over you. When you finally come down, your eyes meet a sweaty Yoongi's impressed expression. You swallow hard realizing you're still at work. You raise your hand up in shock, covering your mouth, then your breast, pulling your tank over it. “Did you just cum right now?” He pants, adjusting himself in his jeans. “I need to go.” You shove him away. “Wait, what? Why? Hey, don't be ashamed. It’s ok, I thought that was so fucking hot.” You cringe. “What happened to not sleeping with people from work?” You snap. He looks at you confused. “That's a bit of a low blow isn't it. I've never done this before ok. Besides we didn’t exactly sleep together.” He responds angrily. “Oh really, mister I can hack the cameras. How many times have you done that before?” “Are you serious right now? You’re just attacking me to make yourself feel better about getting off at work.” Your mouth drops open at his comment. “Now that is a low blow. Excuse me please. I'm leaving.” He sighs but moves out of the way.

The following day, you arrive at the office early and get right to work so you can leave early and avoid Yoongi all together. Rebecca texts to inform you she will be working from home since her kid is still sick. You power through all the updates that Yoongi made to ensure that there were no more glitches. At exactly 9:15am, Yoongi saunters into the office late as usual, looking fresh faced and divine. You groan, drinking him in. His hair is still slightly damp from a morning shower but today he is in a crisp white shirt that brings out his pale complexion. You turn your head quickly as he passes by your cubicle. “Morning.” He grumbles as he passes.  You don’t respond, instead choosing to put on your headphones and work on your levels. By 10:30am, you receive an email calling for an emergency meeting of all the teams working on the new game in the conference room. You curse under your breath, throwing your headphones down and grabbing your notepads containing everything you and Yoongi have been working on. You reluctantly head into the conference room, spotting Yoongi already seated at the table. He looks up at you, nodding his head towards an empty chair beside him. You opt instead for one across the table from him. You hear him scoff as you once again avoid him. Your boss flies into the room with his assistant in tow. “Good Morning everyone. I have just heard from the higher ups today that they want to move launch day up a week.” Everyone in the room either groans or sucks their teeth.

“I know, I know, believe me I fought hard to avoid this but unfortunately my hands are tied. I was shooting for a week three review with a launch at week four but unfortunately that’s not going to happen. Review is next week, launch at week three people. I hope you are all working your asses off to get this game ready for streaming. How have our teams been working out, Y/N?” He shoots his gaze at you. You jump up. “Uh, great! Yoongi and I have already cleared levels one through ten of all its glitches. I have been reviewing Yoongi’s work to make sure nothing was missed but all in all we are ahead of schedule.” You explain. Your boss nods as Yoongi shoots his hand up like a child in class. “Yes, Yoongi?” Your boss looks in his direction. “Why on earth is she reviewing my work. Isn't that what review week is for? In addition, she's not my boss. I don’t need her micromanaging me. I am more than capable of handling my side of things.” You begin to shift uncomfortably in your seat but luckily your boss cuts in. “She is just a perfectionist Yoongi. No one is having you watched or micromanaged. We all know what you are capable of, no one is doubting that we just need to ensure that everything is set for launch day. Now you two play nice. Review is next week people. No more bullshitting! Now get out and get to work.” You see Yoongi clench his jaw, unsatisfied with the response.

Everyone runs out of the meeting room and you race to catch up to Yoongi. “Hey,” You breathlessly catch his attention upon arriving at this cubicle, “what was that back there?” He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “What?” He drawls. “Your outburst.” You snap. He chuckles. “Go away Y/N.” He turns suddenly and begins starting up the new game. “Look,” You move closer to him, sitting on his desk, feeling awkward in the skirt you decided to wear today, “I am really sorry about last night. I get that I overreacted, and you're pissed but during work hours we need to remain professional.” He snorts, “So, after work hours we get to be unprofessional.” He leans towards you, grazing your knee with his slender fingers. You look around the office to see if anyone is watching the two of you. “Don't worry Y/N, I cleared the cameras after you left. No one is the wiser. Everyone thinks we’re just two regular co-workers discussing levels. Tell me, are you getting paid extra to keep me in line?” You are completely lost, and it shows. “What are you talking about?” “Funny what kind of conversations people have when they think no one is watching.” He runs his hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving your face. “I don’t know what you're talking...” Suddenly it hits you, “The elevator with...” You cover your face with your hand. “There it is,” He sighs, “I never took you for an office gossip, making dirty deals with the boss while no one is watching. Boy, if he saw you last night.” “Fuck you!” You shout. Yoongi’s brows shoot up as he looks around. You soon do the same, luckily no one has noticed. You drop your head. “I'll have you know that conversation was not what you think. I was horribly uncomfortable the entire time. If I agreed to anything it was because I like you and felt like I could protect you.” “You like me huh? Then why did you run off last night?” “Why do you think? I was embarrassed, I have never done anything like that before. Ever! To be frank, my sex life has been.... what's more basic than vanilla? Italian ice?” You cover your face with both hands to avoid Yoongi’s wide stare.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He whispers, pulling your hands away from your face. You look at him with doubt. “I am so serious Y/N. I think you’re sexy whether it’s showing some skin or in your button up cardigans and loafers. Sure, maybe you can call what happened last night Italian ice and maybe someone really hasn’t been good to you emotionally or sexually, but I have never seen someone look more gorgeous than what you did last night when you made yourself cum. I couldn’t get that face out of my head.” “Oh yeah? Even though I left you with blue balls?” You laugh quietly. Yoongi’s face suddenly changes, his eyes darken, and you can tell he's turned on. “Is there something you wanna ask me baby?” He says in a low tone. You feel it straight in the pussy. You begin stuttering and he tsk at you. “No baby. No stuttering,” he leans in and whispers, “From here on out, you’re going to need to tell daddy exactly what you're thinking. Every. Single. Dirty. Thing.” He leans back in his chair, pressing his fist into his crotch, with sly smile. “I can't.” You whisper. “Yes, you can. I know you can. Your ex may have given it to you in vanilla, but I know you dream in rocky road. You wanna know if I went home with blue balls, if I still have them now?” He stands suddenly and moves closer to you, rubbing his fingers along your jaw. You shoot your head around, but no one is looking everyone still comfortable in their own worlds. “Yoongi, people will see us.” “Then you should act natural, so no one suspects anything.” He whispers, running the back of his hand down your arm now until his fingertips rub along the exposed flesh of your thigh. You shiver under his touch. “So, do you wanna know?” He asks again. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, gripping his desk tightly at the feel of his erection against the back of your hand. You nod your head. “I did and I went home last night craving you so bad that I lubed my hand up and stroked my fat cock until I drained my blue balls all over my belly. Then I laid there kicking myself because I never got your cell phone number so I couldn’t text you a picture of the mess you made me make because fuck if I didn’t wish you were there to lap It all up with your tongue.” You bite down harder on your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. “Yoongi.” You mewl. “Yeah baby?” You respond by brushing his hard on with your fingers. “Say it, I need to hear you say it.” He leans into your roaming fingers. “I want…” “What do you want?” “I need…” “Tell daddy what you need.” You bite your lip, hearing him refer to himself as daddy has you bravely turning your hand to palm him through his jeans. His mouth falls opens, a small moan escaping his pout.

“She should be back there working with Min Yoongi.” Both you and Yoongi turn to the sound of the approaching footfalls. Yoongi swallowing hard, growling a bit before stepping away from you. You take a deep shaky breath, feeling the heat emanating from your cheeks. “Y/N?” Your eyes shoot open and you step out from the cubicle. “Taehyung? What are you doing here?” “Hi,” He smiles brightly, hugging you, “I hated how we left things. I needed to see you, make things right. I don’t want to end things poorly.” He takes your hand and you melt into his warm eyes. “Didn’t you guys end things years ago?” Yoongi states plainly with a clearing of his throat. Taehyung laughs, moving towards Yoongi and sticking out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. You must be Min Yoongi. One of the other testers told me you guys are working together on the new game.” “Among other things.” Yoongi gives a tight grin. “Right, well, I know it’s a bit early but maybe you can take a break and come grab lunch with me. I’d love to really talk, like really.” Yoongi scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Sure.” You respond. “Actually, we are really swamped. They pushed the deadline up so; we really have to get to work on these glitches.” Yoongi answers for you. “Oh, well in that case how about dinner?” Taehyung offers now. “Yeah I can do that.” You nod. “Ugh, we’ve actually been working late nights, double checking everything. Maybe next month, you know, after the launch.” Taehyung gives an awkward smile. “Can we talk in private?” He whispers to you. “You should really wrap this up Y/N, wouldn’t want the boss to see you just standing around.” “What’s your problem bro?” Taehyung snaps.

“Yoongi its fine! I’m fine. We are ahead of schedule. I’ll be back in an hour. Come on Tae, let’s grab a quick bite.” You push Taehyung towards the front of the office. “Uh, Y/N,” Yoongi calls out to you with money in his hand, “Can you grab me some sushi on the way back?” You nod and walk over to Yoongi to grab the money. “Please, don’t go to lunch with him.” Yoongi whispers to you, holding onto his money tightly. “Will you stop being so weird? I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” He looks you over, nodding in defeat. “Combo 13.” He says, releasing the money. “Got it.” You give him a smile, heading out with Taehyung. “Are you seeing that guy?” Taehyung asks once in the elevator. “Yoongi? Uh, no, we’re just friends.” Taehyung nods. “Really? You know you can tell me, right? It’s not like we are together. You can date whomever you want. He just seemed, I don’t know, jealous or something.” Suddenly your heart drops at the thought. “Really,” You suck your teeth, “I don't think so. He's just really serious about work.” Taehyung just hums in agreement. You both walk over to a nearby sushi restaurant and grab lunch, placing Yoongi's order to go. “So, let me just say that I'm sorry for tossing the water in your face. I was very angry. I'm sure you can understand why.” Taehyung nods. “Of course. I shouldn't have just thrown everything at you the way I did. It was insensitive. Look, I want you to know that despite what I did during our relationship, I really truly loved you. Even now I care so deeply about you. We were so young when we got together, we didn't know anything. I mean you were still a virgin; did you really think I was the one?” Your brow furrows. “Yeah actually, I did. I loved you with all my heart. I thought you were my forever. I thought WE would be getting married someday.” He frowns at your statement. “I'm sorry Jagi. I really messed up but I hope that moving forward we can remain friends. I think the world of you. You deserve nothing but the best!” You sigh, angry that you still had feelings for him.

“I agree. Thank you for saying that.” You tell him. He smiles, taking your hand from across the table, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. “So, you’re not dating that guy?” You chuckle at the repeated question. “Like I said we are friends. He’s really nice to me. Doesn't judge me or poke fun like other people. He accepts me for me.” Taehyung gives you a thin smile. “Guys like that only look for one thing. They don’t care how you look or sound. He gives me bad vibes. Pushy you know.” “Well, he actually likes how I look. Unlike other men I know and to be honest I don’t know how you can determine his intent or pushiness from one encounter. He’s actually really sweet.” “Then I suppose you like him then?” “I never had an issue with how you look Jagi. I, for one, think you’re beautiful.” “Is that why you cheated?” You clip. Taehyung sighs. “I’m sorry again Jagi. I know it’s not enough but I really am sorry. What I did had nothing to do with you. It was my own issues. Maybe when things aren’t so painful, we can really talk about them you know. Right now, I think they’re still too fresh.” “Maybe you’re right. No point in opening old wounds.” You nod. You finish up eating, and allow him to walk you back to work. He insists on bringing you all the way upstairs. “Maybe when your game launches, we can grab dinner to celebrate?” He suggests on the elevator ride up. “Sure, that'll be nice.” “You're truly are so beautiful Jagi. Thank you for letting me set things right. Well, some things anyhow.” He leans in, taking you in a deep hug and you breathe in his cologne, taken by his much you miss his smell. He pulls away slightly and presses his lips to yours. You should shove him away, slap his face, but you don't. How could you? This man that that you loved so deeply, that took your innocence, that stole your heart, NO, that broke your heart! The elevator door opens on your floor and you push Taehyung away. You begin to stutter until Taehyung cuts you off. “Take care Jagi. Dinner soon.” You nod, stepping off the elevator, waving goodbye to Taehyung as the doors shut. He gives a cocky smirk. You take a deep breath and turn to bring Yoongi his lunch, only instead you slam right into his body. “Nice kiss?” “Yoongi, how did you?” “I'll take that, thanks.” He grabs his lunch from you and turns to walk away. “Hey! Wait. It's not what you think.” You whisper. “Don't care either way. Let me know when you finish levels eleven through twenty. Talk then."

You plop down at your desk and pull your phone out texting Rebecca, filling her in on all that has gone on in her absence. “FUCK!” She responds in big bold letter. You write back that you think you’ve blown it with Yoongi and now you don’t know what to do. It takes her a while, but she finally responds. “Be brave Y/N!!” You release a deep sigh and nod, knowing your friend is right. You’ve been in your neat little cage too long. It was time to be brave. You send her a kiss face and place your headphones on, determined to finish your next ten levels in record time. By 5pm, everyone is making their way out of the office, including your boss who makes it a point to say goodnight to you on the way out. When you’re sure everyone has gone, you walk over to the back with your notepad in hand. You slam the notepad down obnoxiously onto the desk of Min Yoongi. He doesn’t even react, pissing you off just a bit. You stand tall however, crossing your arms, awaiting a response. He turns his head slowly to look up at you. “Thanks, I’ll get to work on this. Have a goodnight.” He turns his attention back to his computer, pulling his headphones back on. You feel your resolve cracking. You remain standing there but Yoongi continues to ignore you. You tap his shoulder, but he simply raises one finger to make you wait. You fume at the gesture, yanking the headphone jack from the computer angrily. He swirls in his chair to face you. “I want you.” You say plainly. He opens his arms but says nothing. You begin to stutter, unsure of what to say next. He scoffs, shaking his and turning back to his computer. “Wait, um, I need you.” You pretty much whimper, biting your lip at how desperate you sound. Yoongi doesn’t turn around. “Please.” You whisper. “Go away Y/N.” He grumbles. “Did you hear what I said?” You whine. “Yeah, I did and to be frank, I don’t think you know what you want. Is it me? Your ex? And even if you did, you're so caught in your own head you wouldn’t even know how to verbalize it,” He turns suddenly, “I meant it when I said I liked you, but I won’t sacrifice my sanity for what you got going on with that guy. I play a lot of games Y/N, but what you got going on with your ex, isn’t one I’m interested in.” He moves to his computer once again, plugging his headphones back into the monitor.

‘Be brave! Be brave! BE BRAVE!’ You tell yourself.

You look up at the cameras for a moment, “Fuck it.” You whisper to yourself; you have wanted this man for too long to have him slip away now. You watch as Yoongi begins to work on the notes you left him. Your heart pounds in your chest, ‘Here goes nothing.’ You think to yourself. You lift your skirt a bit and slide your panties off, walking forward and dropping them onto Yoongi’s keyboard. He looks at the lacy fabric with intrigue, swallowing hard, and turning his head to you. His eyes are filled with desire, but he says nothing; does nothing. You lick your lips and move towards his desk; his eyes follow you the whole way. You push his chair back away from the desk just enough to lean against it. He smirks seductively, leaning back in his seat. You grab the sides of your skirt and slowly begin to tug the fabric up your thick thighs, stopping right before you are about to reveal your pubis. He releases a slow unsteady sigh, lightly clearing his throat. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to, you knew how bad he wanted you in this moment. You glide your butt onto his desk now, being sure that you are seated comfortably. You slide your feet out of your loafers and rest one on each arm rest of Yoongi’s chair, parting your legs to reveal your dripping folds to him. His face soon drops, as if taken over by a completely different force, he watches you slowly caress and then part your lips. You dip your middle finger towards your entrance, collecting your juices before bringing it back up to your throbbing bud. You moan gently, staring straight at Yoongi who stares at you like a man possessed. “You see how wet I am?” You cry, arching your back as you rub circles around your needy clit. “I need you so bad.” You confess shakily. His eyes darken. “Careful,” He finally speaks, “You’re not in your right mind right now. You don’t know what you’re asking for.” You moan faster, feeling your core burn with the build of your orgasm. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” You cry out, slapping your clit now to keep from cumming too soon. “Fuck.” Yoongi growls, shaking his leg feverishly. You needed his hands on you, his mouth, something and soon! You were ready to burst. “Daddy.” You moan out the nickname you’ve heard him use on occasion, hoping to elicit a response, and boy a response you get. Yoongi’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas and he takes hold of one of your ankles pulling you forward a bit, his resolve seemingly holding on by a thread. “Don’t call me that. You have no idea what that does to me.” He warns. You rub your finger gently up and down your clit, opening your lips once again, “I need your hands on me, right here, in my tight hole. I want to cum on your fingers. Please…. daddy.” You say as sultry as you can. Yoongi springs up from his seat, wrapping a hand around your neck. Your eyes widen at the abrasiveness, your back pressing into his monitor. “Yoongi.” “No….no…. kitten, its daddy remember?” He pants, turning your head to suck on your neck. You moan at the feel of his wet tongue against your skin. He grabs your hand away from your cunt and places your sticky fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices. “So, fucking sweet.” He groans, lowering his hand to your sex, cupping it gently, staring deep in your eyes searching for doubt. “Please don’t tease me. I want you to touch me.” You beg. He smirks, slapping your pussy hard. You cry out, arching you back. “Yoongi.” “Wrong again.” He corrects you with another slap, then another. “I’m sorry, I meant daddy.” He smiles now, gliding a finger through your slit. You whimper, pushing your hips forward.

“You’re a needy little kitten, aren’t you? How often have you dreamt of me annihilating this pussy?” His whispers in your ear. “Every night.” You admit. Yoongi moans at the confession. “What’s your favorite color?” He asks out of nowhere. “Uh, yellow.” “Yellow if its too much.” He tells you, kissing your lips hard, pressing one sole finger into your slick, pass your folds and into your entrance. Your mouth falls open, your moan trapped as he quickly adds another finger. He slowly begins to fuck your pussy with his long slender fingers, bringing them to the tips and shoving them in to the knuckles. His pace is so tortuous that you find yourself grinding your hips forward, trying to fuck his hand. He presses his forehead to yours, looking down, watching himself fuck your needy cunt. Your folds become more and more sodden with every thrust of his fingers, the sounds of your moans and slickness filling the small space. “God your so wet, I bet my cock would slide right in wouldn’t it? I can’t wait to fuck this tight hole. Make you mine.” His words cause a desperate cry to escape your throat.  “I love that sound. I’m gonna make you scream so loud when I fuck you senseless.” You mewl just thinking of all the dirty things you want him to do to you. He begins to tighten his hold around your neck, moving his thumb to your clit, rubbing your swollen bud. “Yes, daddy. Please don’t stop.” You strain, your core burning with your impending orgasm. He curls his fingers, pressing on the soft bundle of nerves inside you and your body ignites. Your vision begins to blur, your walls clenching hard on his digits, a sharp yet warm flush overpowering you. Yoongi quickens his pace and you scream out his name your orgasm rising fast. “I’m going to cum.” He groans deep in his chest, removing his fingers from your clenching cunt. You gasp, reaching up to claw at his shirt. “Why? No. I was right there.” You whine. “I know baby. Shh.” He kisses you gently, entering your mouth with his tongue. He cups your sex once again, slapping it suddenly, you jump at the sensation. He enters you this time entering you with three fingers. You squeal with pleasure, causing curses to fall from Yoongi’s lips at the sight of you. You relish in the delightful burn of this newfound stretch, baring down, to clench around him, your legs are stretched so wide Yoongi takes to rubbing the soft flesh of your inner thighs with his free hand. “So, fucking sexy, pussy so tight. My cock is so hard thinking about how amazing you’re going to feel stretching around me.” “God, daddy please, I need to cum.” You nearly sob. He quickens his pace, fucking you relentlessly now. He curls his fingers inside you once again, rubbing large circles deep inside your walls. “Rub your clit baby. Cum for me.” He commands. You drop your hand quickly, rolling soft circles over your bud. Your breathing quickens as your climax once again climbs up your abdomen causing your skin to goose. Yoongi presses harder into your g-spot, dropping his head slowly to your sex. Your eyes roll back at the sight as white waves of pleasure soon wash over you, your body trembling with the most overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever experienced. His fingers curl at just the right angle to cause your entire body to tighten and your climax to shoot out onto Yoongi’s face and waiting tongue. Yoongi pants hard, swallowing your juices as you continue to thrust onto his fingers wailing through your climax. He lifts his head pressing gentle kisses on your face as you soon come down from your high. You wrap your arms around his neck, saddened by the empty feeling once he removes his fingers from inside you. He licks them clean, kissing you softly again, your juices coating his lips. “I’ve never done that before.” You whisper to him, “You should come over to my place and we can do it again.” He chuckles. “No, that’s all for tonight. I will however drive you home.” You pout but nod. Yoongi helps you off the desk and you dress watching as he clears the camera footage. “Where’d you learn to do that?” You inquire. “Sorry kitten you can’t have all my secrets.” He turns to wink at you. “I’ve never been touched like that. Tae could never…” You trail off. Yoongi stands after he finishes hiding the evidence of what you’ve both done. He puts his hand out for you to grab and you both walk over to the elevator.

“If you let me, I want to make you feel good all the time, in so many ways. I just need you to trust me, we have to trust each other. I’ll give you whatever you want, you just have to ask and its yours and if its ever too much, you use the safe word.” You nod at him. “Yellow.” He smiles, nodding with you. “Yellow.” You arrive at the garage and Yoongi unlocks his car. You hop in. “So, what’s with the daddy thing?” You inquire. He laughs. “It turns me on. I like to be in control. I mean if it makes you uncomfortable, we can try something else.” “Did other women call you daddy?” You can’t help but ask. “I don’t want to talk about other women. “So, that’s a yes.” You chide. He sighs. “Full disclosure, yes, some other women have called me daddy. It’s what I like, but like I said if it makes you uncomfortable then we can switch it up.” “Did you call them kitten?” “No.” He says plainly. “What did you call them?” “Honestly, I like calling my women sluts, whores, things like that. It turns me on.” You nod. “So why kitten?” He shrugs. “Its what popped into my head, what turned me on in the moment. Do you want me to use something else?” You shake your head. “I like kitten.” “Then we’ll use kitten.” He rubs your cheek with the back of his hand. He soon begins driving, “You know you really surprised me today. I was definitely not expecting that from you.” He laughs. “I wanted to be brave, I guess. I wanted to show you that I’m serious about you. That whole thing with Tae was nothing. I don’t want to look back anymore.” He nods, nibbling on his lower lip. “I’ll admit I was jealous when I saw you guys kissing. I know I don’t have a right to be, we aren’t dating but still, it really pissed me off.” He swallows hard. “Well, you have no reason to be jealous. I can assure you Tae has nothing on you.” Yoongi laughs out loud at your comment, exposing his gums. “I love seeing you smile like this Yoongi. Its rare.” He looks at you quickly, leaning his hand over the gear shaft to place it on your thigh. You trace the prominent veins in his hand with your fingertip. “Um, I was brave today but I might still be shy about things.” You tell him. He squeezes your thigh. “I’m not in a rush.” He pulls into the garage of your building. “We’re here.” You pout. He nods, leaning in to kiss you. You latch onto his lips, kissing him desperately. You pull him closer, sticking your tongue in his mouth. He moans at the contact. “Please come up.” You say against his lips. He shakes his head. “Some other time.” You lean back in your seat, saddened by his answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow kitten.” You smile at your new nickname. “Hey! Take down my number.” You light up. He gives a big smile and hands you his phone. You enter your digits and lean in to kiss him again. “Goodnight Yoongi.” “Goodnight Y/N.”  

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.” Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[lailyn]

Stephen stepped out of the portal, expecting to be assaulted by a flurry of arms anytime now, but they never came. He looked around. The living room was empty.

Their house was never silent. Between Tony's music and the noises of his trade, the clangs and bangs were a normal part of Stephen's life now, one he took comfort in every day. 

And more recently, ever since a bundle of heavenly mischief by the name of Loki joined in the cacophony, it made rolling out of bed in the morning that bit harder, and coming home every evening easier.

He had been blessed, not once, but twice in the search for true love.

Stephen walked down the stairs toward the basement and true enough, he found one of them hunched over a table, hard at work. 

He watched Tony for a while before patting the Cloak of Levitation a few times; he could almost sense its disappointment as the sentient relic flew to give them a moment to themselves.

"How was work today, hun?"

Engrossed in his latest project, Stephen could barely hear Tony's mumbling through his welding helmet. Which was a shame because Stephen could have used a welcome home kiss or two, on the account of his very -

"Shitty day," he sighed. "It's that time of the year again. Wannabe witches and wizards dabbling in things they can't understand. I have to sweep in and clean up all the mess."

"You do it very dramatically though."

Stephen could just see the outline of Tony's suggestive grin through the visor. "The sweeping in."

Stephen only snorted. "You're one to talk. You spent hours talking over the latest colour scheme for Mark XXVII in bed with Loki yesterday when you two were supposed to be sleeping. Green and red? You'll look like a flying Christmas Tree."

"Hey, that was private pillow talk!" Tony protested with an embarrassed chuckle. "It's all about aesthetics, darling. That's why I insist I walk in the middle when we're on the streets."

Tony had a habit of not looking where he was going most of the time, so it was only natural Loki and Stephen be his eyes on the road. Stephen had never really wondered about it, and Loki never really minded getting hit by a car or two in Tony's stead, but now that Tony had brought it up...

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?"

"Ever watched Mean Girls?" At the blank look on Stephen's face, Tony tried again. "Charmed? The one from the 90s, not the reboot?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and I know everything."

"Pretty things always walk in threes, Stephen. And the prettiest one always walks in the middle." 

With a smirk, Tony slid his visor down; he turned the music up and purposely turned his back in the hope that Stephen would miscontrue it as a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. 

"Where's Loki?"

"He's around somewhere," Tony mumbled. "Go look for him, would you? He's going to think we don't care."

Stephen only chuckled and gave Tony one last peck on the top of his head. "Come find us when you're done."

"Will do."

Tony waited until Stephen's form disappeared up the stairs before picking up his soldering iron once more.   

In truth, Tony simply did not want Stephen to see what he was working on.

He may be a little late to the bandwagon but wearing one's lover's colours? Into battle? Tony was sold. Besides, he was only taking a page out of Renly Baratheon's book. 

(Who, according to Loki, had taken to wearing the stag of Baratheon in the fight against his brother Stannis, but in the colours of House Tyrell, obviously an homage to his lover Ser Loras.)

In Lokispeak, that meant Tony'd better be wearing Loki's colours the next time they went into battle together. And Tony Stark was not going to be outshined by a fictional character.

Mark XXVII was going to have the most gorgeous chest plate in metallic navy blue. 

(Because hello, two lovers! Beat that, Renly!)

It matched Stephen's Sorcerer Supreme costume perfectly, and Tony could not wait for the next villain to show up so he could show it off. 

---------------------

The energy signature powering up the wards around the house was strong, indicating that Loki had not left the house, but for some reason, Stephen could not find him anywhere.

He searched high and low, up and down all three storeys of the mansion, but there was neither hide nor tail of his mercurial lover. 

When the search had gone on long enough that pangs of worry were beginning to collect in the pit of his stomach, Stephen knew he had no choice but to resort to magic. 

He began to panic when reading a strand of Loki's hair (he always kept a few on him for moments like this) brought him right where he started, in the middle of an empty living room that felt bigger than ever now that he was utterly alone. 

Okay. Loki was officially missing. 

He was about to raise all hell when he remembered that there was another locating spell he had not tried.

It worked!

Stephen followed the mage light as it led him somewhere into the bowel of the house. He grew more and more curious as the mage light took him down a long hallway, the end of which only had a utility room where they would do the occasional laundry.

Then he saw it, the outline of a sleek Bombay cat inside the washing machine. 

"Oh, Loki…"

It seemed to be sleeping, comfortably ensconced on a small mountain of towels. 

Stephen opened the front load washer and carefully extracted it from its fluffy throne. 

The cat blinked blearily, its eyes a familiar, brilliant green. It meowed in hissy annoyance but settled almost immediately when Stephen held it to his chest. 

"What's the matter? This isn't the place to sleep," he admonished gently, scratching the cat's chin. "It's very dangerous, you know. One of us could have turned it on by mistake."

The cat pawed its way up Stephen's chest until they were eye to eye.

The hovering mage light illuminated the intelligence behind the cat's eyes, as did the Inuit kiss Loki gave Stephen's nose. 

Stephen chanted a word to close the loop on the spell, and the mage light turned into a wisp of golden smoke that disappeared into the bell dangling from Loki's neck.

Stephen fussed with the slightly askew collar to fix it when the pads of his fingers brushed against something; he turned the fine leather outward, revealing the silken lining inside. 

If found, please return to S&S, it read in gold stencil letters. 

He chuckled, remembering the first time Loki shifted and the argument that had ensured between him and their worrywart of a boyfriend.

"What does S&S stand for?"

"Why, Stark and Strange, of course."

"Why can't it be Strange and Stark?"

"Don't you know your alphabets, Doctor? A comes before R."

"Loki thinks it stands for Stephen and Stark," Stephen said triumphantly.

Tony wished he could look into Lokitty's eyes but he had to fasten the collar and check the fit before he could get it engraved, diamond-encrusted, and of course, magically and electronically tagged. "No, he doesn't. And why do you get to be Stephen, and I'm Stark?"

"It was your idea. I'm perfectly happy with S&T." 

Stephen had never been a cat lover, but for Loki he could make an exception. Loki made such a fine, handsome feline. 

"Alphabetically and perfectly happy. Yes, yes, I am." 

"What's all this?" A pair of arms snaked around Stephen's neck from behind. "A party in the laundry room and I wasn't invited?"

Tony then noticed the bundle of fur in Stephen's lap. "Is Loki alright?"

"Yeah. He's just bored."

"And hungry." Loki rematerialised, and now instead of a furball, he was a tangle of arms and legs that quickly held Stephen down in place, but Tony felt equally grounded, such was the intensity of his glare. "You promised we would go fonduing."

Stephen burst out laughing. "Loki, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"What are you talking about? Of course it does!" Tony leaned forward over Stephen's shoulder to give Loki an apologetic kiss on the lips. "Cheese or chocolate?"

Loki's eyes lit up like gems. "Oh goodness, is it my turn to choose?"

"Of course it is, Princess."

Loki nuzzled his forehead against the underside of Stephen's jaw like he had spent too long in cat form and forgotten to hard-reset to factory settings. "Hmm. I feel very spoiled now. I can't decide."

Like Tony, Stephen too was getting better at deciphering Lokispeak. "We'll do both. Cheese for dinner, chocolate for dessert."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's very decadent of you, Doctor. I'm impressed."

"Wouldn't hurt to indulge once in a while."

Stephen stared at Loki's lips and imagined them dripping with cheese, and surely chocolate, later. "It's a convivial affair, fonduing."

"It warms my cockles when you talk dirty," Tony sighed happily.

"Cockles?" Loki's face fell. 

"Just a saying, darling." Tony held out a hand for Loki to take, and hoisted him out of Stephen's lap and off the floor. 

He addressed his next question to his partner who was taking his time picking cat fur off his clothes one by one, no doubt to store away for safekeeping. Every bit of Loki was magic after all.

"Shall we? I forgot to feed the cat today," he said sheepishly.

"That's why it's 'Stephen and Tony', Stark," the Sorcerer Supreme said proudly, and wasted no time demonstrating why. His portal opened up onto a nondescript sidewalk, and across the street was one of Greenwich Village's well-kept secrets, a hidden treasure trove of restaurants and cafes. 

"There!" Tony pointed at a sign that said 'The Melting Pot' in big, flashing letters. 

"Watch out for traffic, Tony," came Stephen's customary warning, but Tony was way ahead of him.

With one hand, Tony grabbed Stephen's hand, "Mine." Then he grabbed Loki's with the other. "Mine."

"All mine," Tony said possessively and pulled them both in.

Together as one, they crossed the street, with the prettiest (arguably) one in the middle, as always.

"Wanna get matching tattooes later?"

"Tony!" "Stark!"

[mxpseudonym]

Too Many Questions

Pairing: Tommy x OC 

Reader Gender Expression: Male Reader (if you don’t mind straight up characterization)

Length: 4406 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None

A/N: Very self indulgent, it’s just an idea that came to mind. I’m writing a part two because this was getting too long for a tumblr post. Part II is sappy and possibly spicy, we’ll see. 

Edit: It was irking my soul that I split this piece into two parts so I combined them and now Part II doesn’t exist. 

Tommy’s Betrayal 

--

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Tommy's eyes snapped away from their leisurely journey tracing the lines on the man's face to his cool, unyielding brown eyes.  

"Do you keep thinking about her because she was your last chance at salvation?"

The question was sharp and unavoidable. It was inappropriate. It was not a question at all, but a statement disguised in the most palatable way possible. Most importantly, it was telling. Who knew Tommy Shelby better than Jack Brewer? Only Polly Shelby, probably.

If he were honest, Tommy didn't even know how it happened. Jack was young, only just approaching his late twenties, yet he was the puppet master of London Town. His utterly charming but never quite polite disposition only helped unnerve gangsters and politicians alike when he monitored them like chess pieces. Rumors overtook facts, leaving the miraculous path Jack took from being a banker's apprentice to untamed royalty a mystery of folklore proportions. To add to it, Jack's boyish, handsome features made him unassuming.

"Don't mind the priss. He's just bein' a nuisance in the corner," Alfie Solomons grumbled as he led Tommy into the office. The rum runner nodded his head towards the back of his office, revealing a clean-shaven 22-year-old in an expensive suit.

"You're grumpy today, Alfie. You still skipping breakfast?" Jack asked, an airy arrogance to his tone. He didn't look up from the folder he was reading from while Alfie barked a sassy rebuttal, but when Jack did, his eyes locked with Tommy's. Suddenly he was standing and approaching the businessmen with an outstretched hand. His manner was as relaxed as his firm yet comfortable handshake. "Thomas Shelby, how are you? I'm Jack Brewer."

"I'd say nice to meet you, but I don't know yet." Tommy watched Jack's eyes sparkle.

"This has already made my day."

"Do you mind? We have a meeting?" Tommy motioned to Alfie, not bothering with many pleasantries. Jack looked to Alfie, a playful smile on his face.

"Alfie?"

"The kid's my partner anyway. He's a puppeteer and a walking omen if you can believe it," Alfie, in his own way, vouched for the boy.

"Anyone could have predicted the war between the Jews and the Italians. You just have to think," Jack said with a shrug.

"What kind of partners are you?" Tommy asked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Jack's eyes flickered down to take in his figure for a moment, not minding for a second that Tommy caught the motion. He even looked him in the eye after.

"Alfie provides security for me, and I help him out with projects here and there. He can let you know which ones."

"Ah, there's a lot of trust between you then." Tommy nodded.

"Not really. We just understand each other. If I were to betray Alfie, I'd lose business, reputation, and all the dark rum I can swallow. If Alfie were to betray me, it would be in vain, and I'd make sure he wouldn't be able to leave more than a glimmer of false hope to his kin when he passes. Right, Alfie?" Jack looked back to Alfie, his smile still reposed and bright.

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard you. Now quit your yapping and get over here, Tommy." Alfie motioned to the chair in front of him. Before he could, a hand reached out and placed itself on Tommy's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. It would have been warm if Jack wasn't seemingly wicked at heart.

"Don't worry, Tommy, I won't interfere. I've got work to do back here."

That was a good four years ago, and now Tommy sat shirtless on a chair in Jack's posh, surprisingly well-used kitchen. Just a moment ago, Tommy was musing about how he felt robbed. It took showing up at half past midnight with a knife wound to see Jack with mused hair, wiry glasses, and a long-sleeved thermal pushed up to his elbows. Now, Tommy was looking at that same boy as if he'd lost his mind.

"You've got a lot of balls, Jack, and you're toeing a fine line. Why would you say that?" Though it was a threat, Tommy in no way thought Jack would be intimidated. Just as he suspected, the young man remained unfazed by his tone as he clumsily splashed iodine on a cotton square.

"You've always wanted more than any man could have. You loved and married an aristocrat who betrayed you because she wanted the clean version of you, and you wanted to be that clean version. I believe we'd call that a pacemaker of sorts, someone to keep you going in a certain direction. Doesn't really work that way when you're the type to risk anything to meet your goal. But it was a good try. Be brave now," Jack said, mumbling the last part as he leaned in and focused on Tommy's arm. It was only a flesh wound, a narrowly missed shanking from a rival gang's guerilla attack turned into a jagged slash on his left bicep.

"You're an insufferable bastard," Tommy said finally.

"And you suffer plenty. Is that why you like me?" Jack's eyes shifted to meet the icy blue ones for a moment, and gave Tommy a cheeky smirk.

"When did I say I liked you?"

Jack thought to the many times they'd spent together in offices, various properties they owned, hotel rooms, and the occasional Bently. He nodded and gave a knowing smile.

"You're right. I'm presumptuous."

Jack could have just about anything he wanted- a spontaneous parade that would block traffic or a shady election alike. But despite their murky history, it was no secret that his favorite carrot on a stick was Tommy Shelby.

Jack would be dead if the tables were turned, and Jack had done what Tommy did to him. An attempt at betrayal that was now years old but still fresh in Tommy's mind by the power of something akin to regret. But Jack was a different breed of man, one that Tommy yet didn't have a grasp on.

"If you hadn't tried to betray me, you wouldn't be the opportunist I thought you were. And that would have been disappointing," said Jack after revealing what he knew back then, which was everything.

He didn't ask Tommy for so much as an apology. Instead, he was here handling Tommy like he was made of glass. Tapping the iodine against thickened skin was almost too gentle. It was unnecessary. Still, Tommy sat quietly and took it because it was past 1 AM now, and he was tired, and he liked it. In the glow of the kitchen lights, Tommy let his shoulders relax and his mind wander.

He always figured he'd end up at Jack's actual apartment. Not a safe house or his third most frequented London flat, but his real home. Thinking back to when Jack first opened the door, Tommy wondered if he'd gotten one over on the man. Jack looked surprised for a moment before rolling his eyes, holding the back door open, and telling Tommy the entry cost was getting his wound dressed. It wasn't every day he could outsmart Jack. Tommy spent a considerable amount of time pinpointing the address he'd been quietly holding onto for the better part of a year. Using it now gave away some leverage, but it was worth it to see this side of Jack, calm with the haze of sleepiness inside an equally quiet house.

Were they opposites? He often felt a pang of dreadful isolation, even when his family was bickering around Arrow house's large dining table. But Jack seemed so content in his home alone, not a soul around. He'd even sent his small staff of three away on holiday for the week to avoid being asked if he wanted tea throughout the day because it drove him up a wall.

Would he like to be in a place like this, Tommy thought? Padding through the house barefoot, a warming drink in hand. The bigness that signified luxury traded in for the gift of holding a conversation with someone in the next room and smell what's cooking from his bed. And with Jack. That would be something.

"That's why you let your guard down, isn't it?" Jack brought Tommy's mind back to the present as he finally secured the bandage. He always did that. "You're not usually this careless. Were you thinking about absolution? Did you see her again?"

"You talk too much. And thinking you're always right's going to get you killed."

"No, it's not. Aren't I right anyway?"

"No."

Jack hummed, looking Tommy over for a moment. He leaned down, one hand grasping Tommy's wrist, letting his fingertips graze over the delicate skin. The other found its place on Tommy's thigh, only the smallest indention made from his fingertips.

Jack leaned into him, centimeters away from allowing their lips to brush. Instead, he inhaled softly. His nose grazed against Tommy's cheek, then his jaw, down his neck to his collarbone then up again. Tommy could feel his heart rate speed up. How could this youngin possibly get a rise out of him like this?

"You don't smell like opium anymore, Tommy. I'm proud of you," Jack spoke softly in his ear and let his thumb stroke the inside of Tommy's wrist. Those for words made Tommy's chest leap. "That means you aren't hallucinating her because you're high. And it seems like a little more than just residual love."

"You shouldn't talk about her that way. You of all people don't have the right."

A warning.

Jack pulled away far enough to see the glossy eyes of the man he let in. It was a strange feeling to be looked at with undeserved tenderness, Tommy thought. Moreso, it was unusual to be cared for.

Are you sure you vetted your new house staff properly?

Did you take precautions at your new factory?

That ciggy's not your lunch, is it?

Whether in meetings, in passing, or on purpose, there were always questions for Tommy. And when Jack felt Tommy exceeded his usual recklessness, he let him know.

And now, Jack was asking more questions. Prying. He tilted his head slightly. A warning from Tommy Shelby wasn't to be taken lightly, no matter who you were. Jack just happened to take the weight in stride.

"I shouldn't talk about Grace like what?" Jack asked.

"Like you know how she was in this world, and how she stays with me now. You don't know anything about it."

"Tommy, you know I'm thankful to her for taking care of you. I was at the wedding, wasn't I? No ill will. This isn't about her anyway; it's about you. Who else do you talk to about her? You just keep it in, don't you?"

"Gonna refer me to another head doctor? Don't waste your breath," Tommy scoffed.

"I'm going to refer you to the best psychiatrists I know as long as we both shall live. I'll make you sick of me."

"Too late."

"Well, I have nothing to lose then."

Jack straightened, reminding Tommy that he was being held only because he missed the feeling as Jack went to the liquor cabinet. He muttered something under his breath as he grabbed two glasses. That's right.

Jack was condescending, smug, even mean at times when it came to business. But when it came to Tommy, the one who sat shirtless in his kitchen with his shoulders relaxed and eyes carefully observing him, Jack had never spoken words too sharp at him. It was unnecessary, Tommy thought, because he could take it. But perhaps it was more of Jack not wanting to treat him in a way that Tommy had to brace himself to take.

"That'll help you sleep," Jack said, placing the drink in his hand. Tommy stood, gulping the small amount of brandy with ease.

"Where am I sleeping?"

"So, you want to stay?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "I can call you a cab."

"Come off it, it's unbecoming to not host a guest in a house like this," Tommy motioned around him. The phrasing made Jack's cheeks warm. Unbecoming, like some sort of debutante being scolded.

"Is the most becoming thing to do offering you my bed?" Jack leaned in close once again, giving Tommy his big eyes full of faux innocence. When he wasn't in his high-end suits or talking quite frankly, Jack had to capacity to look adorable.

"Aren't you being presumptuous?" Tommy asked. Of all the things he could have said, Tommy didn't expect that to be the one that made Jack reel back like he'd been hit. The young man moved to lean against the wall and pointed to the stairs.

"I have several guest rooms. I don't know if the beds are turned down or what that even means, but they're there."  

It was late, Tommy remembered, and Jack wasn't energized enough to keep the banter going on. Not like this. Jack took a sip of his drink and waited for Tommy. He was always waiting for Tommy.

"Is your bed turned down?" Tommy asked.

"I just told you I don't know what that means," Jack said, setting down his glass then stretching. He let his arms rest above his head. The motion revealed a toned stomach and just how low on the hips Jack's cotton bottoms actually hung.

"So you'll have to come to check for yourself, old man."

At nearly 2 AM, the only thing either of them had the energy to do was sleep. Any other revelations about Jack would have to wait until morning, and Tommy wasn't disappointed.

As he moved Jack's head from his chest and arm from around his waist, Tommy found that Jack was dead to the world when asleep. He was also prepared no matter what, evident by the new toothbrush and folded note sitting in an empty glass on the bathroom counter. The message read, 'Tommy, suit in closet, red hanger.' Did Jack know he'd wake up before him? Tommy scoffed but dressed anyway.

"What the hell are you still doing here?" Jack said through a yawn as he stumbled into the dining room at noon, where Tommy was sitting with a book and a coffee cup.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"It's fine. Taking all that smoke in your lungs is probably going to kill you," Jack said, motioning to the cigarette that was still smoking in the small ashtray on the table while he passed through to the kitchen.

"Taking its time, isn't it?"

"Don't say that. You're the only one making this fun."

"What?"

"This whole race to the top we've got going on in this city. Or the world, I guess."

"You don't have a legacy you want to leave behind when you grow old," Tommy asked. A moment later, Jack was standing in front of him with two water glasses and no willingness to accept no as an answer when he encouraged Tommy to drink.

"I'm not growing old. Someone'll get wise and kill me off before that."

Jack was as confident about this as everything else he said. He was more cynical than Tommy thought. He thought back to the one time he asked the man about the war and if he fought. Jack's answer always intrigued Tommy. Jack averted his gaze, and before quickly changing the subject, he said, "Just a bit." Whatever happened, Tommy figured it changed him.

Jack sat and made no mention of how the table's head was always his place, but Tommy could have it for now. He pulled a pastry from a dish sitting in the middle of the table and placed it in his mouth to free his hands. One picked up the paper that had clearly been read through, and one shamelessly commandeered Tommy's coffee cup. A bite of the buttery crust washed down by the coffee that made him grimace gave Jack the energy to try and read the paper. Tommy watched as the young man shuffled the pages, becoming more disgruntled by the minute.

"Why did you do this?" He asked Tommy, exasperated as he tried to find which loose insert continued the front-page story. Once he gathered it, he folded it together correctly and took a large bite of his pastry, only to be interrupted. Tommy tried to smother his growing smile and laugh to no avail. "What?"

"You're a brat."

Jack's eyes widened. He blinked for a moment, both because he never expected Tommy of all people to call him that and because he'd never seen the gangster laugh so heartily before. His mouth still full, Jack asked to clarify,

"A brat?"

"Through and through. Fussy from the moment you woke up," Tommy chuckled again. Heat crept up Jack's neck and face, but he let himself huff in amusement.

"I'm just particular."

It was a surprisingly eventful news week- horse races fixed to perfection and hollow speeches from political figures made to the public. And yet Jack found himself more interested in the unchanging man before him. He rested his chin in his palm and took Tommy in.

It was true that he hadn't expected Tommy to show up on his doorstep. But, if Tommy hadn't found his address by now, he would have been disappointed. Showing up like he did, however... Well, Jack had wanted to invite him on his own accord.

The whole thing with the Changrettas and ultimately Solomons was finally over, and Tommy could come back to him in London. They'd planned to meet on Tuesday, something about golf. Yet here, Tommy was instead, being somewhat of a nuisance. He hadn't asked if he could smoke in the house and didn't ask where the coffee was before he made. Not to mention, he handled his grouchiness with a bite of his own. A smile reached Jack's eyes and radiated through his body- this was an excellent second choice. It was like Tommy belonged there.

Almost.

"Try not to look so enamored; it's off-putting," Tommy spoke, not looking up from his book on... political influence? Something happened...

Jack reached out and placed a hand on Tommy's neck. His fingers moved up to feel the texture of his ridiculous hair cut, finally earning a glance. Jack could only imagine what Tommy would look like if he actually grew it out. The newspaper was an afterthought as Jack leaned over from his chair and pressed his lips against Tommy's. Soft, chapped, and chaste, but just what he needed all the same.

"Do I put you off?"

"All the time."

"Why are you wearing this?" Jack's hand moved to the collar of Tommy's shirt. Well, the shirt he got Tommy. The suit itself was expensive; a Belgian tailor with magic hands met Jack's requirements from the light gray color to the silver cufflinks.

"Didn't you tell me to?"

"Mm, I did. But if you're staying, then I'm just going to get you out of it."

"So straightforward."

"Says the man whose means of seduction involve alcohol, white lies about petrol, and some variation of 'let's fuck.'"

"Didn't say it was a bad thing."

"I'm making more coffee."

Jack had only placed his (formerly Tommy's) mug on the counter when the well-dressed man caged him in from behind.

"Are you not going to keep your promise?"

By nature, Jack was fearless in a way that surprised Tommy. If one believes death to be an inevitable luxury, there isn't a situation that could faze them much. In Jack's mind, either the consequence was easy, i.e., death, or it was difficult but something he'd get over at some point. Either outcome led the young man to do precisely what he wanted always.

The first time they kissed, they stood in Jack's office. Tommy was leaned against his desk, and Jack wasn't shy about leaning into him. Now in Jack's kitchen, he held that same energy. Turning in Tommy's arms, Jack wasted no time pressing their lips together again, with the older man meeting him halfway.

Tommy wasn't exactly sure how Jack managed. His kisses were dangerous- straightforward yet teasing, intense yet languid. It was helped only by the fact that they fit well together. Hands cupped a young man's face as a bold pajama-clad thigh moved between legs to press against the front of trousers. Thoughts of money were pushed aside as an expensive waistcoat was clenched between eager fingers, now a simple tool with a single-use: making them closer.

Even when he was dangerously close to light-headed, Jack considered this a worthy moment to push himself. The short breaths passed between kisses would have to suffice for now. For all Tommy called Jack bold, the young man couldn't help but let out a chuckle at how expertly dominant Tommy could be. A hand pressed to the small of his back, moving Jack and his eager thigh that brushed against Tommy's trousers closer while kissing down his neck.

"Enough," Jack breathed. Tommy looked up, unsure what he meant until Jack pushed their lips against each other again and let his hands rest on Tommy's belt. "Do you want a bed or a couch? Because I could have you right now, and I will if we go further."

The couch was closer.

Tommy's ability to concentrate was dwindling with each undone button. Open-mouthed kisses landed on every inch of available skin, making it a battle of moving fast enough to continue and not getting overwhelmed by so much contact after being touch starved. Maybe that was Jack's strategy. Sharp pain sinking into his shoulder made Tommy wince. It was a reminder that he'd been gone for a while. It was illogical and unnecessary to aim for exclusivity in whatever they called their relationship. Surprisingly, that's what made it all the more desperate.

"If I have a craving for Tommy Shelby, it doesn't matter who's around."

Jack ran a tongue over the indents of his canines and dragged it up his neck to stop and bite Tommy's earlobe.

"Hurry up," he breathed his command.

xx

"Did something happen?"

"When?"

"I don't know." Jack shrugged and tapped his cheek. Irritatingly patient, he was. They were in front of the fireplace in the den now, a fur blanket draped over them both as they laid in their underwear.  Early afternoon sun poured through the windows, illuminating the swirling smoke that left Tommy's lips.

"Then why ask?"

"Because I could know, but I always like to give you a chance to tell me voluntarily. It makes me feel less like you'd be lying to me every day if you could," Jack said, always casual, before stealing Tommy's cigarette. "Go ahead."

It wasn't that Tommy was interested in lying to the man all the time. In this instance, it was more that this was a problem Tommy got himself into and had to get himself out of. A problem that Jack had no doubt predicted like he predicted everything. Tommy thought back to his business with the Russians. Jack's first time in the Shelby Company Ltd. offices and Tommy's first time seeing the young man's face drop happened concurrently.

"Tommy," Jack almost sang his name, which only added to the tension. Tommy was a child about to be scolded for doing something he shouldn't have. "Am I too boring for you, Tommy? You had to go to the Russians?"

"A pest, always. Not boring though," Tommy said as he cleared his throat. He went to light his cigarette, giving it more concentration than required. Looking up, Tommy almost paused at the expression in Jack's eyes. There was no smile, genuine or otherwise, only the man he'd heard the haunting rumors about. What was the look he was getting? Annoyance? Disbelief? Frustration?

Instead of speaking on whatever it was, Jack placed a hand over his mouth and looked away. He swore under his breath and mumbled a few words before looking back. Maybe Jack should have told Tommy he was stupid and that the plan wasn't worth it. Doing something like this would be the nail in the coffin for any hopes of an utterly above-board business. But Jack, for once, chose his battle.

"That Tatiana Petrovna knows everything about you. The details of you being a widow, your brand of tobacco, the way you like to sin," Jack said instead. "And don't leave any weapons around. She's crazy."

Jack was good at being one step ahead or quickly recognizing when he wasn't and course correcting. But, though Tommy knew Jack wasn't a stranger to killing a man point-blank, there was still a grit that he was missing. Too eloquent and methodical to handle the Italians from New York. So he told Jack everything and how he was victorious using his Romani prowess. Jack wasn't the only strong one.

"Ah, so you're here because Polly threatened to lock you out of the safes again if you didn't take a holiday," Jack mused. That was his real question from earlier. Why the hell are you still here?

"Something like that." Tommy nodded.

"What are you going to do when you start shaking again? And hearing things?" Jack asked, offering the cigarette to its original owner.

"I'll deal with it if it happens, and it might. Nothing gin can't fix," Tommy said. He reached for the cigarette, only for it to be snatched away and tossed into the flames.

"That was a test. You failed." Jack rolled to his side, propping himself up on his forearm.

"I'm not sick, hm? I've shut the door on the war. I'm not Arthur. I can manage." Tommy could feel himself warming with anger, no, defensiveness at the idea that everything he did was to be questioned.

"I'm not letting you run around here like a dog catching rabies."

"You don't have a say in as much as you think you do," Tommy reminded him. Jack smiled in response, his eyes lightening up. He shifted his fingers then brought them to Tommy's temple in the shape of a gun.

"Go to a doctor, or I'll kill you myself. Bang."

He made a shooting motion then pulled his hand away, blowing imaginary smoke from his fingers. Tommy wondered if Jack ever made jokes. No matter his tone of voice, he always said what he meant and meant what he said. There was no getting out of this.

"What, are you my father now?

"Would you like that?"

"Christ,"

"Not quite him, either."

--

Tommy Tag: @soleil-dor;  @amysteryspot​; @captivatedbycillianmurphy

Peaky Blinders Tag List: @lilymurphy03

[hinamoria]

Clumsy ghost

Hitsuhina Week 2021 : Day 9- AU / Ghost

Rating: K+ or T ? (It’s a little bit angst, we’re talking about ghost, so character’s death, but no violence or anything like that)

Synopsis: Living with a clumsy ghost was no rest for Hitsugaya at all.

Word Count: 1953 words

Setting:  Modern world

Author’s Note: my favorite one shot of the challenge <3. The first one I wrote immediately after reading the themes. And, rare enough to note it, I liked what I wrote at the first try xD

—

The sound of shattered glass abruptly stopped Hitsugaya in his chemistry exercise. It was 9:00 p.m., his parents had gone out to see some friends, and he didn't have any cat that could make that kind of noise last he noticed. He almost wished the culprit was a thief sneaking into his home. It would have been easier to justify the disaster to his parents on their return. But no, the probability was almost certain that Hinamori had done something stupid again.

The young boy let out an exasperated sigh and shouted in the direction of the downstairs.

“Hinamori! What did you break again this time? "

Silence answered him. But he was not fooled. Putting down his pen on the notebook, Hitsugaya got up from his desk, stretched briefly, and walked towards the crime scene. The living room seemed unoccupied, but right in front of the wooden bookcase was one of her mother's little blown glass figurines, shattered into dozens of pieces on the floor. Beyond repair. Better get it all out quick before someone got hurt.

As he picked up the pieces, Toshiro noticed a book also on the ground, a few inches next to the statue. “Alice in Wonderland” by Lewis Caroll. A classic. Hinamori probably wanted to read it and must have dropped it on the figurine. However, the culprit still had not deigned to show up.

"Instead of watching me clean your mess in silence, you could at least apologize," he said sternly, keeping his eyes on his task. “My mother loves this stuff, she's going to notice it "

A silhouette gradually appeared a meter beside him, remaining translucent. A brown-eyed brunette teenager, looking half embarrassed-half pained, played nervously with her hands while looking at her white-haired friend.

"Shiro-chan…" She started in a small voice. “Sorry… I wanted to grab the book, but it slipped out. "

This sort of thing has unfortunately happened quite frequently over the past few months. As a ghost, the young woman could not interact with objects as easily as a human being. But as she built up enough spiritual energy over time, she could do small things like turn on the light or the TV, or read. But if turning the pages of a novel was easy, getting the book out of the library was more complex. And she frequently dropped the objects she was holding for lack of spiritual energy.

"Here’s the result," thought Hitsugaya, looking at the fragments one last time before throwing it in the trash.

He will look on the internet to order the same item. With any luck, it would all go unnoticed. In two years of living in this house, he had ended up gaining a reputation as a “legendary clumsy”, completely false. But being the only one to see Hinamori, unless he wanted to be taken for a madman, he preferred accepting the reproaches, and turning against his ghostly friend afterwards.

His parents had made a good deal by buying this house. The former owners, devastated by grief after losing their daughter in a traffic accident, wanted to leave the place as soon as possible. Everything reminded them of Hinamori here, to the point of even thinking they saw her or heard her voice.

Their hallucinations must have been caused by their daughter's ghost desperately trying to make contact with them.

When he arrived, the feeling of being watched had not left Hitsugaya. He wasn't naturally paranoid, but something about this house was bothering him. And then one day, when he almost hit the corner of a cupboard in the kitchen cabinet, he heard a female voice screaming "watch out!" ". His face had crumpled up when he saw the half-translucent young woman right in front of him, and she mimicked his expression as she realized he could see her. And since then, she never left him. Sometimes to his dismay.

Ghost life seemed boring, especially when you mysteriously couldn't leave the house. So the young woman spent her time talking to him about everything and nothing, most often nothing. His ability to grab objects was a small revolution in their lives. Granting some peace of mind for Hitsugaya. He brought her CDs and books from the library every week to her delight. He also frequently left his computer or television on for her.

Sometimes he wondered why she didn't go to "heaven" or the afterlife. But she always dodged this question. So he had come to terms with her daily presence. At least she had the decency not to go into the bathroom. He would probably have asked to go to a boarding school otherwise.

Finishing cleaning up the mess, he motivated himself to return to the bedroom to end his homework and have his evening free.

"Can you take the book and bring it to the bedroom?" Momo asked behind him with a small smile. “I don't know if I would have the energy to do it on my own all the way."

Denying her nothing, he put the open book on his bed, letting the young woman start reading, while he finished his work.

"Alice in Wonderland ". She must have read this book at least fifteen times since he had known her. It had to be her favorite without a doubt. The book was starting to get damaged around the edges from turning the pages.

He walked over to the bathroom to relax in the shower and found himself disappointed that the bulb was burnt out.

"I had nothing to do with it this time!” Hinamori objected reflexively upon hearing his friend's exasperated sigh again.

You spend your time turning on the lights in the house," he retorted. “You are indirectly guilty of that”.

She pouted at him at the new accusation but didn't refute. Spare bulbs were in the attic and Toshiro walked there wearily.

The house had been renovated with the exception of the attic which retained old with its creaky and fragile parquet. A real ghost room, Hitsugaya thought.

Having found the purpose of his visit, he was about to leave when he noticed a partly defeated wooden slat. Better put it back on before someone got hurt. Crouching down, he was about to reposition it when he noticed a metallic-looking object underneath.

Removing the slat, he noticed with surprise a small metal cookie tin hidden in a recess between the parquet floor and the ceiling below.

Intrigued by this new treasure, he opened it. Inside he found a multitude of photos, as well as several papers and small items. He recognized Momo in one of the photos, dressed in high school clothes, surrounded by two boys, one blond and one with red hair.

He then decided to take the set to its real owner.

"I found this in the attic," he showed her, putting the box on the blanket with a small metal noise.

Momo's face lit up at the find.

“My treasure box! I can’t believe it! I completely forgot it was there!"

Abandoning her book altogether, his friend immediately took an interest in the content, scattering the photos everywhere.

"Look! It's Kira-kun and Abarai-kun! "She explained, pointing at the two boys earlier. «I’ve told you about them before. We went to college together and we were in the same class in high school! A real sign of fate. I wonder what happened to them now...”

She paused, staring at the photo for a long time.

"They must be in college today," she continued. ”Kira was a good student. I could see him teaching one day. Abarai was more impulsive. He spent his time being reprimanded. But I think you could have got along.”

Her tone had grown melancholic as she explained the scenes in the photos: Momo dressed in some sort of pumpkin costume for her fifth birthday, a family outing to the beach, birthdays...

"And this is a bracelet I made in elementary school!” She showed him, grabbing a sort of black rubber band with a small turquoise bead. “It's the same color as your eyes. Another sign of fate! » She added, laughing.

She started the gesture as if to put it on her wrist, but the bracelet crossed her arm and fell back on the bed, triggering a temporary silence in the young woman. A cloudy veil seemed to appear for a moment in the young woman's eyes but disappeared before Toshiro could even speak.

"I'll give it to you Shiro-chan!" She finally declared smiling again.

He grabbed the jewel and inspected it for a few moments between his fingers. He wasn't the type to wear this kind of thing, but the style was simple and the stone was pretty on its own.

“Thank you”, he finally answered, picking up a micro smile from the little brunette.

She nodded and turned to the photos again.

“Maybe we could make copies for you and send the originals to my parents?” She proposed. “They would surely be happy to have them”.

He nodded, approving of the idea.

As he began to put them away, Momo spoke again:

“You know…I didn't want to die Toshiro”, she blurted out followed by a bitter little laugh. “I…”

He was surprised that she brought up the subject so suddenly, but let her continue. The veil over her pupils reappeared, brighter than before.

"I loved my life," she said with a tight throat. “I had a lot of plans. I wanted to travel, adopt a dog, fall in love, take a parachute jump, learn baking... Those things may be trivial but I will never have the chance to do them again. When...”

A first sob broke her, and Toshiro, who by reflex wanted to put his hand on his friend's arm, saw it cross her without feeling the contact of her skin. She smiled at him, appreciating the gesture nonetheless.

“Thanks Shiro-chan”, she said taking a deep breath. “I was saying, when the accident happened, I kept telling myself that I didn't want to die and then I ended up at home like...that. A ghost. And then I met you... And I loved those two years with you, I don't think I could have dreamed of a better roommate to tease."

She giggled in front of his "hey!" and continued

“But seeing all of this, I realize what a lovely life I have had. And even if it was a little too short, it was happy and full. I shouldn’t have any regrets ".

Hitsugaya watched her with a slight pang in her heart, understanding where she was going.

"You're going, right? » He asked her

She paused, thoughtful, then turned to her book on the bed.

"Did you know I never finished it?" She confessed to him.

"I've seen you read it a dozen times," he remarked to her in surprise.

"That's right, but I’ve never read the last chapter."

She laid down on the bed and turned to her friend

"Can you read the end of the book to me, Shiro-chan? It would be a shame not to know how the story ends."

"Haven't you seen Disney? She wakes up, that's all," he replied to tease her a last time.

But he accepted, because as said before, he could not refuse her anything. And it was as if she had dictated her last will to him.

The text was crazy. His serious tone didn't match; but he continued to Momo's laughter anyway. And as he said the last sentence, he found that he was now alone in the room, surrounded by photos of his friend. On the back of one of them he could read in a somewhat shaky handwriting: "Thanks Shiro-chan, and goodbye."

[kneipho]

Sumbitted by: @mantrabay​

Ballroom In The Sky.

Gazing with his mouth wide open towards a sullen evening sky dotted with jet black clouds

Geoff Wild weeps.

He was on his knees on this grass-strewn, unkempt graveyard.

Two years later and her memory still lingers.

The sudden passing of his loved one had left this middle-aged man gaunt, ashen faced and skeletal. Wild’s troubled expression had become a haunted house of uncanny notions and strange secrets waiting to flow from his water-logged eyes. Those circumstances surrounding Violet’s death were never clear.

Velvet Heart was Geoff’s courtship name for Violet.

Was it a death wish or an accidental fall from their elegant townhouse?

Death through misadventure was the colourful term used.

“Cherish all those wonderful experiences we had. Whichever one of us dies first.”

Violet actually said.

Almost as if she had some premonition.

This was six months before she passed away. .An endless see-saw of creepy dawning’s convulsed him.

Yet Wild fondly recalled when they first met at the Skyline Ballroom.

The Skyline was a battered tumbledown barn whose allure was its availability.

The chipped hardwood floor and the dusty pale cream walls with paint flakes that peeled off only confirmed its tenement status. It was known locally as the “Creaking Beam”” due to its ghostly acoustics and flickering lights. Here in this spooky venue Geoff and Violet had their earliest encounter. Wild remembered her radiant smiles.

The ripples of long dark hair, her apple blossom cheeks and of course her angelic aura..

On that night she wore a polka dot ruche dress, amethyst ear pendants, whilst sporting satin moccasins.

“Have I the gumption? The courage.

A faint heart etc.” Geoff could hear his heart flutter as he did his tightrope walk toward her.

“May I dance with you?” Geoff asked.

Velvet heart’s hands formed a lazy arch and her dainty fingers curled inwards.

“Of course. I would be delighted.” Violet spoke in that pear drop tone which beguiled everybody.

Geoff, the local journalist and writer was in seventh heaven.

They never forgot that enchanting song they first danced to, “Ballroom In The Sky.”

The song was performed by Valerie And The Blue Skies.

They weren’t very big but had a cult following..

Geoff could see how similar Violet and Valerie were.

They were mirror images of each other.

Even in speech and humour.

Valerie was based in a remote enigmatic area.

She used to refer to songs as role plays.

“You feel as though you are a member of the audience.” Valerie remarked.

Violet did admit to meeting Valerie casually and for autograph purposes but not otherwise or so it seemed.

It was amazing how “ Ballroom In The Sky” with its airy ascending rock chords and jaunty jazz lines could draw Violet, Valerie and Geoff into a peculiar triangle.

The sudden moody breaks, abrupt silences built a momentary cocoon.

Valerie’s top sideman….well, he was known as Silent Sam.

He had a track record of sorts.

Sam’s blue attire was appropriate.

He wore a large trilby hat tipped over his forehead sheltering his pointed face and pencil slim physique.

He, Sam, was short-sighted when it suited and eccentric.

Practical jokes were his forte and the impish grin.

“Yep ..Yup….or Sure.“

These were the only asides from this oddball sidemen for the most part.

He was accident prone.

Valerie had to indicate where things were. Theirs was a sign language of its own complete with slanted facial squirms.

One wondered if there was a deeper relationship between them.

Those Blue Skies airs were fillers without Sam.

Every time “Ballroom In The Sky” was played Valerie, Violet and Geoff were sharing unwittingly a secret.

The startled looks were part of this outlandish ritual.

Wild recalled now.

“Valerie could croon in a real hypnotic fashion. Everyone in the dancehall was enthralled. People would sway like ice skaters one moment, waltz in a swan-like manner the next and just as often rave in the isles like end of term teenagers.”

Geoff whispers in the graveyard.

“JUST A PASSING DREAM………..STILL SO VIVID…….DANCING IN HEAVEN…… KISSES ALL AROUND….MAGIC HAND……..A LITTLE BIT BLIND, and of course “BALLROOM IN THE SKY.”

Geoff and Violet would swing religiously to those fantasy songs every Sunday as their courtship blossomed.

“Ballroom In The Sky “ was always the highpoint.

This constellation of events occurred in a scenic nineteen seventies spot.

Despite its haunting vistas and backdrop of panoramic hills it resembled a ghost town. Openings were few against an infinite spiral of closing factories, bookstores with half-empty shelves and shopkeepers peering out of doors.

Ten years earlier it was a beacon. “I shudder to think……A jigsaw puzzle.”

Geoff surveying the cemetery.

Such memories could have been taken directly from some movie script. “Yes .. it was a hub that Skyline. Like homeless drifters, the folk who attended.”

Geoff again.

They were fugitives.

Escapees from that heavy-handed dole queue void.

Suddenly something happened.

“What the heavens is? Snap….a branch.” Momentary jitters engulfing Wild.

He shook in concert with the overarching colonnade of brown edge green leaf trees.

An eerie rustling dewdrop tiptoe now caressing Geoff’s ears.

”Up there somewhere Velvet Heart?

Dancing in the heavens?”

Nervous laughter now relief road to that traffic jam of sentiment about to speed off.

Glued to the spot that macabre sixth sense of Violet hovering above evaporates due to an illusory late evening sun shaft.

Wild could no longer hide from Valerie and Velvet Heart’s identities.

“Oh those comic jibes and piercing glances. Some ethereal intrigues were passing through the air.”

Geoff recalls with forensic clarity.

Poor Silent Sam would do his usual u-turn into the shadow.

Two months before Geoff’s and Violet’s parting, an incident occurred.

Memory is a lodger which steadfastly refuses to surrender its keys.

Valerie and the Blue Skies were in flying form as the tunes morphed into each other.

Valerie and Velvet Heart were magnets for men.

Violet caught Geoff off guard.

“Guilty conscience, there Geoff?”

Having fantasies about Valerie.

Focus on me.

As for that eternity ring remember?”

Those penetrating peepers of Violet knew how to vet a body in a flash.

“Oh no …..not at all.” Geoff with a looping

smirk.

“Just those mystical melodies working their spell.” He said.

“You came into my life like…. a new dawn.” Wild poetically.

“You honey tongue you. Geoff our song. Ballroom.” Violet mutters.

Valerie nodded towards Sam.

Her expression was a hard to decipher veil and deep code command.

“Get those fingers flying, Sam.”

In a tone almost identical to Velvet Heart.

Sam didn’t always act immediately.

“Yep.. Yup …Sure.” Sam’s stock retort.

“Ballroom In The Sky” now strong as ever cast its bewitching spell throughout the venue.

A medley was included tonight.

“SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE” ( Sam looked at Valerie), “A LITTLE BIT BLIND” ( Sam staring vacantly at both Valerie and Violet), “MIND YOUR STEP( Sam winking at Geoff while scrunching the mouth at Violet).

Violet edged toward the stage.

A dim-lit silence ensued.

Ballroom started again. Valerie and Violet now singing this tune. An eerie vacuum filled this dancehall.

A triangular crush of people occurred near the stage with Geoff in toe.

Valerie handed Violet a letter.

Sam was now talking tersely to Valerie.

A misted over photo gallery memory blur in place.

“Pst…Pst. Your Velvet Heart is back to haunt you.“ Violet’s lofty twang.

“What in the name….I can’t phantom…..fathom.” Geoff shudders.

Violet’s voice a wet whisper stretching over twigs that simultaneously tap against windows.

She pulled back an orchard pattern duvet covering Geoff.

“Fell asleep at your favourite film, The Passing Of A Velvet Heart. All those graveyard scenes shot in our small town remember?

We know Silent Sam wrote the soundtrack for the film along with Ballroom. He sings on that one.” Violet recounts.

“Incredibly you chose Velvet Heart as your courtship name for me based on the film.

The film was never a huge success but did get our area limited publicity.

Sam earned extra royalties from the soundtrack.

Valerie and Sam tying the knot next Sunday of all days.

As for that love letter you mumbled about.

It’s an invite to their secret wedding.

Very private. As Sam is.

What a time and place he chose for the invitation.

During that ethereal love song which brought us together.” Violet observes.

“Poor Sam’s a little bit blind a

on occasions or is he?

I was upstairs on the flat roof today.

Six months ago I fell off it.

You’ve never liked me being up there since.”

Violet continuing.

“Guilty secret must confess. I used to be onstage instead of Valerie.

Well, sometimes.

She was dating you pretending to be me.

We never knew each other that well but it was a dare worked out between us.“

Geoff shouted. “Hoodwinked.”

An incredulous look ripples over Wild’s pale face.

Violet’s eyes now ablaze.

“You never noticed did you? Deep down.”

The tease in Violet surfacing..

Geoff was thunderstruck.

Violet strolled towards their CD player on the mahogany table.

“Think you’ll like this one. Our song.”

Violet stated.

“May I dance with you?”

Geoff smiled. “Of course. I would be delighted.

And relieved!”

Silent Sam’s voice weaves in his own inimitable shy way a song usually sung by Valerie, his wife to be.

And sometimes Violet, or Velvet Heart.

A number that united three people in the most curious and otherworldly manner!

“Yep….Yup ….Sure.”

As Sam was in the habit of saying!

mantrabay photograph and short story copyright protected.

Thanks for reading my works

.

[hollanderfangirl]

My Purpose |Harry Holland|

Warnings: angst, suicide attempt and mentions of death, please DON'T read if it's triggering for you

It was all too much. You couldn't take it anymore. First the breakup then your job. You had been holding on for so long, trying so hard, but it seemed as if there was nothing left to live for. You had no purpose left in this world. You had been feeling like this for months, you didn't tell anyone, just burying your feelings inside. 

You were walking home from your office, or what was your office, anyway. You were never going back there now. 

You see the crowded street, all the people who were in a hurry, chasing something, someone. You thought about all these people, who they were, why they were even holding on, what was their purpose? 

Don't they all see? Why are they so happy? You think. We're brought up to expect a happy ending. But there are no happy endings. There's only death waiting for us. We find love and happiness, and it's snatched away from us without any rhyme or reason. We're on a deserted spaceship careening mindlessly among the stars. 

You keep walking aimlessly, you took the train or bus every other day. But today you decide to walk home, or wherever you were going. You stop at a bridge on the way, usually you would come here to admire nature. You felt so peaceful hearing the roar of the river underneath, water hitting the rocks. You could hear the noise of the traffic far away and the birds chirping. The sun was setting behind you and the world seemed to come to a stop. 

You climb on the edge of the bridge, seeing the river below you. You wonder how it would be to fall into it, it'll be cold, you might hit your chest, you won't be able to breathe. You'll be struggling for life. And then poof. You'll be gone. Just like every single person on this earth eventually. 

You close your eyes, feeling the cold breeze, you try to stop your thoughts but you couldn't. In those last moments you had in this lifetime, you think about your family, your friends, your childhood, you try to think about only the good memories, your job- you loved it so much, all of your colleagues, your work you were so passionate about. 

And him. Who gave you so much love, who showed you what love actually is. Who gave you purpose, he was your purpose. But he was gone now, not literally but he turned out to be just like every other person in your life. You thought he was different. The man who showed you the world is such a beautiful place was the reason today you were thinking how cruel it actually is. You could still feel how his hands felt in yours, how his lips felt on yours. How his deep voice was music to your ears in the morning. His voice….. his voice…..you could still listen to his voice. Y/n...how he said your name, like it was the most- 

"Y/NNNN!!!" 

You get startled and slip on the bridge, you start to panic, even though you were planning on jumping from the bridge, you couldn't help but get scared when that was actually about to happen. 

A pair of hands grab you, and you realise what you were about to do, you immediately feel guilty, you were not even thinking clearly. 

"What the hell were you doing?!" Harry calls out from behind you. 

You were silent, it all happened so quickly, and you just tried to recall the last 30 seconds. You feel the goosebumps on your arms and even though you were sweating, you felt cold. So cold. 

"Y/n oh my god, oh my god. Are you okay?" he says again but you still couldn't say anything. "Come on, I'll take you home. Come with me," he picks you up and takes you to his car. 

You were silent all the way to his house. You didn't even have any thoughts to think about. You were still shocked and processing what happened. It was like you weren't even yourself for the past few hours, you didn't feel like yourself even now. Your mind was completely blank, you were feeling absolutely nothing when your ex boyfriend just saved you from killing yourself and was now driving you to his house. You weren't happy, you weren't mad, you weren't sad. Just nothing. 

You enter the house which you called your home for two whole years. Everything was still the same, except it was a little messier. You knew Harry couldn't take care of the house all by himself. The only feminine products you see were yours which you had left behind. So he hasn't been with anyone else ever since too, you think. 

You sit down on the bed which you both had shared and you feel a sense of belonging, like you were finally starting to feel emotions again. 

"Here…" Harry hands you his hoodie, careful not to touch you. "I'll just go and make dinner, pasta, right? It's- um it's your favourite" 

"I don't want to eat" 

"Okay" 

He sits down beside you, not saying another word. You look at the bedside table and see a framed photo of you both, you were smiling at the camera while Harry was kissing your cheek. He still kept this photo. 

"I lost my job," you say slowly. You finally spoke after who knows how many hours. 

"Oh…I- um.. I'm so sorry, y/n" 

"I didn't know what to do. I was… . so...and- " you break into tears and Harry takes you into his arms. With your head on his chest, you cry out all of the distress you had been feeling for the past few hours. Days. Months. Ever since you had left him. Every single moment was hard for you. 

"It's ok, it's ok. I'm here for you," he caresses your hair and kisses your forehead. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry y/n. I was such a dick, I- I didn't even know what you were going through. I didn't even understand that you needed me" 

"It doesn't matter now. What we had is in the past" 

"It matters to me! It… matters ok?! I almost lost you today! I would have never forgiven myself if something happened to you!" 

He was also crying now, you didn't know you meant this much to him. You thought he wouldn't even care. 

"Please don't….don't ever scare me like that okay? I was fucking scared" 

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, Harry! You have no idea what these past few months have been for me, I try to forget you but I can't. I just can't! And now, the job that I loved so much is gone, it's gone!" 

"Then don't" 

"Don't what?" 

"Forget me. Don't forget me, you know it was a stupid argument. We should have never broken up because of it" 

"It wasn't the argument, Harry, it was what you said" 

"Well just like you said, I wasn't thinking at that time" 

You both sit in silence for the longest time, you felt relieved that you let your feelings out, you let everything out, even though you were crying and were sad or whatever now, you were just glad that you were feeling something. 

"Can we go back?" you whisper. 

"Where?"

"To us" 

"Yeah… god, yes, yeah. Yes please" 

"Okay"  

"And we'll find you another job, okay. Even better than this one, don't worry about that. And don't ever think of doing something like that, okay? You are more important than anything else" he was holding so tightly you felt like you would break, but you preferred this to anything else right now.

You slept in Harry's arms again after what felt like an eternity. You promised to yourself that night that no matter how hard life got, no matter what happened, you were going to live. You would find purpose again and live. Just live. 

We always think that being happy is all you need in life. That chasing happiness is life's ultimate goal, but you can't choose when you get to be happy. It's something that is not in your hands. But having a purpose will help you get through the darkest of days, the most hurtful sorrows.

You felt peaceful for the first time in a long, long time. You had found your purpose, he was your purpose.

___________

A/N: I'm not trying to glorify suicide or anything, it's a very serious topic and please know that whatever happens, nothing is more worth than your life. No matter what happens, there is always someone out there who will never ever forgive themselves if something happens to you. Please let your feelings out, talk to someone you trust, believe in yourself. Everything will be alright.

Taglist-

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[howterrifying]

+molliarty: all this time apart

I am still struggling with work and life in general but today I made a decisive move to do one thing I loved. I drank a delicious coffee, listened to 'Symptom of Your Touch' on loop and committed myself to finishing a one-shot today. This is that one-shot. I have a thing about Jim & Molly using distance or time apart to realise how perfectly they need one another and well, the song really drove the idea that one touch can literally make you go crazy - especially when you can't have it anymore. P.S. I hope you're all well. x

:: Interim [also on FF.net and AO3] James Moriarty had not struggled like this in a long time. He was a criminal mastermind whose world was very much his oyster. He could dip his finger into every and any asset pool one could think of – weapons, property, technology, money, information – you name it. Having his own uniquely criminal set of morals also meant that there was never any hesitation to exploit any of these resources for his purposes. Today, more specifically, this evening – was proving to be the exception.

A small beep started going off, alerting Jim to turn his attention to one of 15 huge screens he had in his office. Oh. You’re back at your desk,  he thought to himself, watching the familiar figure pull out her chair before sinking into it. Molly Hooper, pathologist extraordinaire, rolled her shoulders back, obviously knackered, and then began sifting through the papers on her desk. He had promised not to and yet here he was – watching her every move. With a snap of his fingers, a peon was called into his office. “The 6:30pm usual, please,” he commanded politely. In a flash the peon was gone. Jim looked casually down at his watch. “20 minutes, tops,” he murmured to himself before returning his eyes to the screen. It felt like eternity but 15 out of the 20 minutes eventually passed and just as Jim sat himself straighter and trained his eyes towards the screen, the object of both his affection and surveillance got up abruptly from her desk, checked her watch and began frantically packing her desk. “Fuck,” he whispered. Before he knew it, Molly had thrown her coat on and left the office, out of range and thereby out of his sight. It took all of Jim’s (very limited) restraint not to shoot at his screen when, minutes later, the very same peon strode into her office, delivery uniform in place, with a piping hot takeaway chai latte only to find that the recipient of the gift had left. Surveilling Molly when they were together had brought her a laugh, perhaps even a little spice, into their time together. When they had agreed to part, he had also agreed not to surveil her anymore. Except, this was proving to be a challenge with each passing day. With yet another soft beep from a separate device, this evening which had already posed a challenge now introduced a threat. “Sir, you told us to notify you if–” “Ready the car.” Jim remarked coolly. As the sleek black vehicle sped him through the gradually congesting London traffic, Jim allowed himself a single sigh. There at his fingertips were all the details he needed to know about this new threat – this new ‘face’ whom Molly had elected to dine with this evening. If Molly had not forbidden him to, he would have already known their name, their address, their workplace, immediate family members – everything he needed to destroy them just as Jim feared they were about to destroy him. Feeling vulnerable was most unpleasant. Jim clicked his tongue impatiently and stared coldly out of the window, hoping the light evening rain could distract him from the slow laceration happening inside his chest. When the car finally pulled up to the destination, Jim barely looked at where he was headed and just barged through the fancy, glass entrance to the restaurant. “Ah, Mr Moriarty, sir, good evening,” greeted the Maître’D, recognising Jim as the elite few who required no reservation to dine at the establishment. Jim nodded, distracted, his sharp eyes darting about the room. “Your private dining suite is this way, Sir,” asked the Maître’D, “Or would you prefer your private rooftop area? We can set that up immediately for you…” “I’d like a table,” Jim interrupted, his eyes still scanning the place. “Oh, regrettably, our tables are all fully booked, Sir, but your suite…” “Fuck the suite,” Jim interrupted, agitated, “I want a table out here .” The Maître’D had begun to panic slightly when just then, that one flick of the beautiful brown ponytail Jim was looking for came into view. To his surprise, Molly and her exquisite tresses disappeared into the very suite that Jim knew was his. It was not like Molly to use what was not hers, and even more unlike her to use anything that was his. At least not anymore now that they had separated. “Sir?” the Maître’D asked, nervously, “Is-is everything all right?” “I’ll take the suite,” Jim whispered, finally turning to look the Maître’D in the eye. With an uncharacteristic roll of his tense shoulders and a sharp exhale, Jim made his way to the heavy ebony doors to his private dining suite. Upon seeing him approach, the two restaurant staff who stood by the doors opened them for him. Jim strode in, fists clenched and his jaw tight, ready for battle. When the heavy doors shut behind him, Jim felt that aggravating bag of muscle in his chest almost leap out of his throat. “You made it,” Molly remarked, smiling gently at him. The table was set for two and the nameless, faceless threat he had been trying to pursue was decidedly absent – it had been bait . “Have a seat,” said Molly as she gestured to the space across from her.   Gingerly, Jim sat himself down, his eyes never once leaving her. Had it not been for the overwhelming confusion, Jim would not have been able to control the overwhelming urge to kiss her. They stared at each other, allowing the seconds to drip by like a slow, leaky faucet. The silence was deafening but was nothing compared to the drumming that threatened to detonate in both their chests. “I went to the new salon you were telling me about,” Molly began, breaking the ice at last. “I know,” said Jim with a smirk. “So what did you think?” she asked, smiling as she undid her ponytail. “I thought they did your hair justice,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he watched her hair fall delicately around her shoulders. “They told me it was on the house ,” Molly continued, “So I suppose I should thank you?” Jim let out a little chuckle as he moved to pour them both a glass each of their favourite red. “You know I can’t help it,” he murmured, deliberately taking his eyes off her and focusing on the wine. “You shouldn’t spoil me like that,” Molly replied, amused that he was averting his gaze. “Well, you can’t stop me,” he said, looking up sharply. “I know,” she replied, their eyes now boring straight into each other. A slow smirk crept across Jim’s face as he reached for his phone. Taking his eyes off her and looking at his screen, he tapped the buttons he had been itching to tap earlier, unveiling a whole digital dossier of the person Molly had supposedly arranged to meet for dinner. “Wow, he is definitely not your type,” Jim scoffed in amusement, swiping through the profile of a man who had no idea he had just been used as a pawn in this ex-lovers’ game of chess. “I’m surprised you held out this long,” Molly remarked, taking a sip of her wine, “I was expecting to hear about his death or kidnapping on this evening’s news.” “Why did you do this?” Jim said, swiping the screen a final time before tossing the phone angrily onto the table. “Because I know you broke your promise,” Molly answered coolly. “I—” Jim swallowed hard, mortified that he had just become at a loss for words. Molly looked back at him, her gaze strong and unwavering. When she saw his wide eyes and the quiet panic they were trying to conceal, she broke into a knowing smile. Slowly, she got up from her seat and walked over to him. Their unchanging synchronicity revealed itself as Jim matched her and stood up right at the moment she appeared before him. They were but inches apart now, each trying to steady their breathing, keeping their hands perfectly still, parallel to their own frames. Again, it was Molly who moved first. She raised a tentative hand and ran her thumb gently across his handsome mouth, sending shivers down both their spines. She then leaned in deliciously close and whispered to him. “If you’d wanted to see me again, Jim…” Molly paused to kiss him lightly beneath the ear. “You should have just asked me.” Jim shut his eyes at the nearness of her cool breath that skirted across the skin of his jawline. Now, it was his turn to lift a tentative hand, placing his fingers so lightly on her waist one would think he were touching a ghost. When Jim had ascertained that this moment was indeed real he tightened his grip, evening out the pressure across his fingers, frustrated at the fabric he felt at his fingertips.   “If I had asked you, would you have come?” he questioned in return, unsure of what appeared to be her change of heart. His question caused Molly to laugh softly. “Oh, Jim,” she exclaimed, placing two hands against the lapels of his jacket as she stared endearingly into his eyes. “Do you think I’d have let you keep those trackers on me all this time if I didn’t feel differently about things? We both know that I could disable them in a heartbeat.” He looked back at her, stunned. It had been a change of heart. Just as his had the moment they had foolishly agreed to part. “I just had to see you…” Jim murmured, his other hand now caressing her cheekbone. Molly sighed into his touch, turning slightly to kiss his palm. “For a while, I was relieved you hadn’t turned the surveillance off,” Molly confessed, her eyes soft with emotion. “You know I would never be able to,” Jim whispered in return, his eyes glistening with rare sentiment. “But then I realised…” Molly said, a small, playful smirk appearing on her lips. “What?” Jim stared back, smirking in return. Molly moved to kiss him and he kissed her back, both fueled by the torturous months apart from the other. “I realised…” she said, pulling back breathlessly, the playful glint now in her eyes. “That I wanted more than your eyes on me…” There was a catch in Jim’s throat as he caught her meaning. Her hand that began undoing his tie confirmed her intent and Jim could not help but grin before pulling her towards him for another kiss. As they both reluctantly parted for air, they smiled – and properly too –  for the first time in months. They both glanced at his undone tie and shared a chuckle. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Jim whispered before moving to kiss Molly again, this time on the side of her neck. Molly shut her eyes, smiling in satisfaction as she felt the lips of the one she loved against her skin. “Why did we break up, Jim?” she asked, gently pulling away to look into his eyes. Jim smiled tenderly, the type he reserved only for her, as he reached to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ears. “Because for a leading senior pathologist and a criminal mastermind,” he remarked with a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re pretty fucking stupid.” At his words, they both collapsed into each other’s arms, laughing and remembering everything that made being together worthwhile. “Let’s promise never to be stupid again,” Molly said, reaching for his hand and kissing it. “Never again,” Jim agreed, pulling her into his arms, as they kissed each other to forget all the months that they could not.