#gonna try and finish multiple pieces cause I might have a busy week next week and not be able to post like I want

[baisemains]

have the day off and I’m just spending it writing, my inbox is open if anyone wants to chat about any upcoming or posted works :)

[luvteez]

bassists do it deeper

pairing: yunho x genderneutral!reader genre + tags: smut, band au | kink discovery, exhibitionism, a brief segment of semi-public sex, hand kink, size kink, yunho monster cock bc this deserves a tag, power play, switch dynamics (i think??), dom!yunho pulls through in the end, unprotected sex wc: 6.3k

note: big thanks to my fav babie @lustjoong​ for motivating me to combine the two ideas i had for the prompt into one and motivating me to finish this!! here’s my take on the unspoken obligatory yunho size kink fic every ateez smut writer should have written once but make him a bassist. also, the band au to this pwp is literally just there as an excuse to make yeosang the lead singer of the band bc if kq won’t give yeosang lines, i will 

A lot can happen throughout a single weekend, as your English professor suddenly quitting her job, your brother Yeosang almost burning down the kitchen from deep frying an egg, an influx of voicemails in your inbox all sent from Wooyoung, as well as Yeosang’s punk rock band losing a member. It’s a lot to process when all you’ve done is stay the night at Yuqi’s, even harder so when Wooyoung keeps repeating every five seconds that Seonghwa quit the band. (”Why did it have to be Seonghwa who left Stereowave? He was the hottest one!”)

That being said, you expected to come home to a beyond grumpy Yeosang who was trying to find a replacement asap. A band without a bassist sounds empty, and while Stereowave has garnered a big enough fanbase over the years that wouldn’t mind the band continuing as a trio, it just feels wrong. Besides, branding a group consisting of Yeosang the frontman, San the guitarist, Mingi the drummer, and nobody covering the bassist position a band doesn’t sit right.

You were prepared for the worst; a messy kitchen, Yeosang walking around in clothes he wore for five days straight, possibly the outbreak of World War III depending on how shitty he’s feeling. But instead, you find the kitchen exceptionally clean and Yeosang acting as if nothing ever happened.

“Can you help set up the camera? The guys and I wanna film a new song.”

“Uh, sure,” you answer irritatedly. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about finding a replacement for Seonghwa though?”

“Oh, we already have a new bassist,” he waves off casually, “What are you gaping at? Shut that jaw of yours before flies fly into your nasty mouth.”

“First of all, rude.” Yeosang rolls his eyes at that comment. For a split second, you’re contemplating letting him figure out on his own how to use the camera because he’s the walking embodiment of a technology illiterate, but your curiosity about the new band member is bigger. “But how did you manage to find a new replacement so fast? It’s been like, what, a day since Seonghwa left?”

Yeosang sighs. “He’s been thinking of quitting for weeks now, so I had enough time to look for a new bassist. It’s not that big of a deal anyway.”

And this is exactly why you should never get dicked down by your bandmate several times in a month, you think to yourself. Seonghwa and Yeosang thought they were slick, but everyone figured they were more than friends. Needless to say, it was only a matter of time until the strain of their relationship wreaked havoc within the band.

“So,” you say as you two walk to the makeshift studio in the basement, “Is the new guy good? What’s his name?”

The change of topic makes Yeosang relax visibly. There’s a sheepish smile on his face and he replies, “You’ll see.”

You arch a brow. For some reason, that doesn’t settle comfortably in your gut. Then there’s the fact that Yeosang is slightly skipping, and that makes you more concerned than relieved. Because Yeosang barely skips, only when he’s being petty and is planning on pranking somebody. (Most of the time, it’s San.)

The faint vibrations of drums and guitars ring in your ears before you step a foot into the basement. Mingi is the first to acknowledge your presence, immediately dampening the cymbals before waving at you. That causes the other two guys to stop playing their instruments and turn their heads around. You greet San like you normally do, and when your eyes flit to the new addition, all brightness drops from your face.

“What. The. Fuck.”

Yunho cocks his head to the side almost tauntingly, eyes challenging. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards, though more with the intention of saying hah you thought you’d never see me again. “Hello to you too, honey. Looks like fate brought us together once more, eh?”

You blink multiple times to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. To your dismay, they sure aren’t. It really is Yunho standing right next to an utterly confused San, and the bass in his hands just confirms it furthermore.

“Since when do you play an instrument?” you gawk. There’s no fucking way he could’ve had time to pick up music, not when his schedule was already jammed with basketball training and student council activities. Then again, that was his schedule in middle school.

“Since I was fifteen,” he drawls, unaffected by your outburst. “Any other questions, honey? Preferably something along the lines of how have you been? I expected a warmer welcome from you, not gonna lie.”

“What does Yeosang even see in you?” you splutter instead, disgust prevalent in your voice.

“Talent. Believe it or not.”

“Guys, no fighting,” Yeosang warns, but you’re too busy sending Yunho daggers and every pg rated curse under the sun your brain can wrack up.

Meanwhile, San shifts his weight on one leg awkwardly and asks in the background as your verbal dispute continues, “Are they exes or something?”

“Nah, just childhood enemies,” Mingi mumbles, clearly used to your interactions to the point where he’s becoming bored of it. He’s heard all the profanities too many times coming out from the same mouth, hence why he isn’t as disturbed as San is.

“Listen up, you piec—“ 

“(y/n), the camera. Help your older brother out, will ya?” Yeosang cuts you off urgently, the warning tone in his words hard to miss.

“Yeah, help your brother out, shorty,” Yunho snickers. Appalled by his blatant shamelessness, you scowl.

“I’m not that short—!”

“Still shorter than I am, shorty. Or do you prefer honey?”

World War III would’ve broken out right then and there if it weren’t for Yeosang’s death glare — you know, the look he has etched on his face whenever he means business and is willing to go so far and expose all of the nasty mishaps you’ve done in middle school, which is definitely something that should never see the light of day.

“I prefer neither,” you mutter after weighing the gravity of Yeosang’s wrath, avoiding any eyes before you set up the camera. Luckily, nobody further comments on that and eventually, everybody resumes practicing their parts of the songs.

Just in time as Mingi takes another short break to chug his water down, you stumble across a problem. “Uh, Yeosang? You should buy a new camera. This is still usable, but you might have to reset every ten minutes or so.”

A groan leaves him, followed by a shrill guitar riff, and you can see that he’d prefer death over spending money for a new one. “Can’t you just stay here during practice and reset it? You also get to hear some new tracks of the upcoming EP!” That fucker, he’s just too lazy to run forward and press a button every few minutes.

“I have to be on standby for the Block B ticket sale,” you lie. Technically, it’s not really a lie because you do plan on going to the Block B concert with Wooyoung, but 1) the ticket sale isn’t even today and 2) it’s always Wooyoung who buys the tickets. Yeosang doesn’t need to know that though. Any excuse is better than having to sit through practice and see if Yunho is as good as he claims.

Seems like Yeosang desperately doesn’t want to keep running back and forth to reset the camera as he suddenly says, “You can do it here too.” You would argue that the garage has its separate WiFi and only the band members have access to it, but then: “You can use my laptop instead.”

And letting you use his laptop is something he never does. You failed to submit an assignment in time because your own laptop broke down and he didn’t let you borrow his computer for even that.

“Fine,” you sigh in defeat. Yeosang thanks you with a smile so obnoxiously sweet it makes you gag. When all he gets in return from you is the middle finger, his demeanor drops and he mutters something inaudible under his breath, pointing to the small table at the side where all their phones and laptops are lying before he goes back to the others.

Once all four of them are in position and ready to play, you press the record button before flipping yourself onto the old patchwork couch Yeosang bought at a garage sale for only thirty quid a few years back. To your surprise, Yeosang’s MacBook is already unlocked, the default wallpaper of mountains and northern lights quite jarring to your eyes.

When given the rare chance to have unlimited access to your sibling’s devices, it’s self-explanatory what to do. You either a) go through all of their accounts and find as much dirt as possible about them that serves as good material for future blackmail purposes or b) sign them up to as many online subscriptions as possible that will make them go crazy. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work on Yeosang because 1) he doesn’t mind online subscriptions, and 2) he never checks his email account, hence why his inbox is filled with over 2000 mails, a third of them most likely unopened. On top of that, his MacBook is strictly meant for work, so if you really wanted to find out his most embarrassing secrets, your only shot is his phone.

That being said, you’re left with option c) which is checking out Block B’s concert merch since that’s the only sensible thing you can do right now. Forget productivity; that isn’t doable when Yeosang’s deep timbre is blaring in your ears along with the instruments. To be honest, you really enjoy Stereowave’s music and that’s on their music, not because your brother is the lead singer. You’ve enjoyed each of their performances and perhaps you’ve been indulging in the privilege of hearing their new songs first.

But now that Yunho’s involved, suddenly the prospect of having a new favorite band sounds tempting. What was Yuqi’s favorite band again? Day6? You should take a closer look at their discography.

As much as you want to mute the sound, from San’s riffs to Mingi’s drum solo, you fail to do so. One moment you’re opening the search browser, and in the next, your eyes are set on the group. They’re practicing like they usually do; fun etched on their faces as they lose themselves in the music. Yeosang is singing as if he was performing in front of a million viewers while San improvises a solo on a whim. Mingi messes up the beat for a split second after failing to catch his stick and somehow, your eyes have zoomed in on Yunho. It doesn’t take you five seconds to realize:

Yunho is good.

While he might not seem as fired up as the other three, he’s visibly relaxed. Just like Seonghwa, he plays smoothly and isn’t overpowered by the others, but he seems to have an easier time gliding his fingers across the fingerboard. The bassline is easy to filter out, not the generic pattern you can find in every second pop song, yet still compliments the other instruments.

He can play, fair game. However, that’s the least of your worries. You’re more attentive to the ratio of his hands to the bass. His hands are larger than Seonghwa’s by far, no doubt. That makes sense given his height, maybe an inch taller than Mingi. But Mingi doesn’t have that big hands. Doesn’t that mean that Yunho’s body is disproportional?

Before you know it, you drag your gaze from his shoes up to his legs and stop at his hands briefly, only to proceed upwards until you see the cocky smirk and amused eyes directed at you. All clogs in your brain come to a stillstand and despite that, that’s when you realize you’ve been 1) enjoying his music, 2) checking him out, and 3) checking him out and caught red-handed.

It feels as if you were living on the sun instead of on Earth as you burn up in embarrassment. Knowing there’s no way you can deflect what you just did, you quickly turn back to the laptop, the Google search bar staring back at you.

You’re about to type in something when the search history pops up, catching your eyes. A gasp leaves you but it goes under the music, everyone too immersed in their own thing to notice the prevalent horror settling on your face.

exhibitionism

getting off in public

best crowded places to have sex and get away with it

You blink, thinking that your sleep deprivation got the worst out of you and that you’ve finally reached the stage where you start hallucinating. Except, you know you’re not hallucinating. After going through the words again and again, you know that you’re really not fucking hallucinating and that your nonexistent sleep cycle isn’t as bad as Yuqi makes it out to be.

When you said you wanted to dig up dirt on your brother, you didn’t mean it in the form of his kinks. Money can’t buy everything, but how you wish it could so you could unsee that shocking discovery.

Since this is Yeosang’s work computer and he’s signed into his Google account, he must make use of the drive to save a copy of his ideas. It probably won’t amount to anything since he’s the walking embodiment of staying unbothered, but writing him a note on his docs about how he’s made your life worse by not clearing his search history is better than staying silent.

You click on the little icon on the top right corner, expecting to see Yeosang’s name right above the email address. But then you see Yunho’s name instead, and suddenly everything makes much more sense.

This was never Yeosang’s laptop to begin with.

To say you’re at a loss of words is an understatement. There’s no way someone could have as little self-awareness and leave their laptop unlocked, let alone Yunho out of all people. Then again, the last thing you expected from him was to play the bass and blend well with the rest of the band as if he’s always been the bassist of Stereowave and not the newly found replacement.

This is absolutely bonkers. But:

You could have fun with it. Maybe it’s for the better that money can’t buy everything.

Besides dozens of articles about semi-public sex and even a blogpost titled Shagging in Broad Daylight for Dummies, his search history of the last 24 hours consists of many forum links discussing the morality of exhibitionism, conspiracy theories, and hand care guides. You wheeze when you see the private playlist he saved on his YouTube account; a collection of videos about filing your nails properly and the best hand cream brands for dry skin.

Yeosang calls in for a break, and everyone’s grateful for it. San lets out a relieved noise as he places his guitar on the stand before catching the water bottle Mingi chucks at him.

“My arms are beat,” Mingi complains.

San sends him an incredulous look and snorts, “All you do is bang! crash! ppang! while my throat is fucked! And so are my legs!”

“Not my fault if you keep doing your high pitched oows! while jumping around like a— like a cricket!”

“A cricket? Are you serious?”

“I’m tired, okay!”

“Then that means we should call it a day and go home and rest, right?”

“Choi San, I think you’re onto something.”

“Absolutely not,” Yeosang deadpans, causing the bickering duo to pout in sync. “We have lots to do especially since Yunho’s now part of the band.” When all he’s met with is an attempt of cute puppy eyes that rather looks like a bad rendition of any horror movie featuring creepy dolls, Yeosang sighs, “I ordered chicken for dinner and yes, it’s on me.”

In an instant, Mingi and San’s faces brighten up and they’re celebrating as if they won a free cruise to the Bahamas. They don’t hesitate to envelop Yeosang in a bear hug, crushing the life out of him. A chuckle escapes you at the sight of your brother wringing for his sanity. Sometimes you wonder how on Earth those three guys are the same three guys who perform in abandoned warehouses, jamming out their punk rock songs while looking all edgy (in a cool way that has at least half of their fans thirsting after them).

Meanwhile, Yunho drops himself on the other end of the couch. Propping his right leg on the coffee table in front, he digs around in his pockets before pulling something out.

“Since when do you file your nails?” You pointedly raise a brow at him. Although your extensive research on his browser history already answered that question, you ask him just for the sake of it.

“Hand care is important, shorty,” Yunho replies, keeping his eyes trained on his fingers as he works the file around a nail. “If Kageyama Tobio files his nails, I can too. But enough with the small talk, what do you want?”

“I didn’t peg you as an exhibitionist.”

His hand stops moving. Yunho looks up at you, irritation written all over his features. “Because I file my nails...? A bold assumption, honey.”

There’s a reason why Yunho has always gotten away with pretty much everything. He’s a good actor who’s able to feign innocence at any time. His posture is relaxed, voice genuinely sounding flabbergasted that not even your shit-eating grin can throw him off guard.

You can’t, but your proof will do the job.

“I never said it’s because of your hand fixation.” You turn the laptop screen his way and once his eyes flicker on it and decipher the words, his face falls. Gone is the faux-confusion; as all color drains from him, his eyes look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Is it really a bold assumption now, honey?”

Yunho inhales sharply when you scoot closer to him and put a firm hand on his left leg, his laptop now closed and long forgotten. Your fingers are placed too high for it to be friendly, skimming lightly on the inside of his thigh. Yeosang and the others are busy minding their own business but the chance of getting caught in the act is still there. The simple realization has adrenaline running a hundred miles an hour in your veins, and with the way Yunho clenches his jaw — a desperate attempt to fight the groan that’s threatening in the back of his throat — you’re not the only one who’s aroused by the setup.

Slowly, your hand inches closer to his growing bulge. Before you can dare yet another experimental squeeze, Yunho’s hand surges forward and holds your wrist in a vice grip.

“Don’t,” he snarls through gritted teeth, but it sounds sadder than it is intimidating when he’s sporting a boner right in front of your eyes.

You cock your head to the side, almost in a mocking demeanor. “You sure? Think about it, it’s a win-win situation. You get to live out your exhibitionist right here in front of your new bandmates, and I get the confirmation that you’re into it. But if you really don’t want to…” you try to retreat your hand but Yunho doesn’t let you budge, hand still enclosed around yours. That won’t do as an answer.

“Which one is it? Say it, Yunho,” you assert, narrowing your eyes. Yunho looks distraught, feverishly biting his lip while he’s internally fighting with himself, but he eventually chokes out a response.

“As long as nobody notices—”

“You either say you want me to touch you or not. I don’t want any roundabout stories.”

“Touch me,” he whispers defeatedly and the grip on your hand disappears completely. “But I swear to God if anyone realizes what you’re doing— hhnh—!” he cuts himself off with a low moan when you cup him over the material of his jeans.

“Yes yes, I get it. I don’t need Yeosang to know about this,” you dismiss. “And oh wow, you’re getting hard fast when I’m just touching you over your pants.”

“Just get to it.”

The snappish attitude causes you to stop dead in your tracks. “You think you’re in the position to tell me what to do? I can be mean too, y’know,” you start nonchalantly, a stark contrast to the way your heart is shaking in your ribcage. The power you suddenly hold is exhilarating. “I could just leave you like this, and then you’d have to try to cover your situation down there while practice goes on. How would the others react if they only knew your dick is hard? Probably won’t take them too long to find out since standing for a long time can be tiring, hm?”

Yunho’s head lolls back in response as he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. His breathing is uneven and the resulting moan that follows suit makes you smirk. You lightly smack the inside of his thigh, causing another wave of arousal to rupture in him. He chokes out a hushed ‘f-fuck’ and at this point, the constriction around his cock must be bordering painful.

“Who would’ve thought that the big bad Jeong Yunho is actually a submissive bitch who’s hungry for attention?” you ask gleefully, delivering another slap before stroking the area. “Who would’ve fucking thought you were a sub?”

“I-I’m not— shit, s-stop that, hngh— a fucking sub.”

“Yeah yeah, say that to yourself.” You rip your gaze away from Yunho’s flushed face to check if the coast is clear before targeting his fisted hands. He stiffens when you pry his hand open and bring three digits to your lips, sticking your tongue out to give kitten licks to his fingertips before pushing them into your mouth. You hum, suck, swirl your tongue around his fingers, giggling when all he does is stare at you wordlessly, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “See? Not even once have you put up a fight.”

That seems to snap him out of his daze. In an instant, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.

“Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You snicker, seeing through his bluff. “Wow, I’m so scared. What do you wanna do? Leave practice right now? Drag me to my room and pound me into the mattress?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You could never, sub.”

Whatever strands of self-control were still residing in Yunho have turned to dust by now. One moment he’s towering over you in full height, looking down on your sitting form in bitter distaste, and in the next, he’s dragging you out of the basement, unaffected by the sudden silence and Yeosang, Mingi and San’s confused expressions.

Once you’re in the living room, Yunho wastes no time crowding you against the wall and crashing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongues, but it leaves you hot and lightheaded and aching for more. Yunho knows no limits and snakes one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, the other hand fisting your hair. He tugs harshly and the sharp sting sends all your nerves into a frenzy.

“Bedroom. Now.” The sudden huskiness in his tone catches you off guard and you wonder when his voice has ever sounded so rough. You moan into the kiss, fisting his shirt as you stumble your way to your bedroom.

Yunho pins you against the door once you’re in your bedroom. His lips are addictive, just like the groans he slips in kisses and his hands roaming your body. He gets rid of your clothes until you’re left in your underwear, then forces a knee between your legs to keep them from closing. Your eyes roll back at the friction, growing needier and hotter when he presses his thigh against you harder. 

When you finally pull away, his eyes are hooded and his lips are red and swollen. There’s no trace of inhibitions left in him as he watches you like a predator. With horror, you realize that the tables have turned, and when he easily locks both of your wrists above your head with one hand only, that’s when you know you’re undisputedly powerless against him.

“Who’s the sub now?” he pants, eyes sparkling with glee.

“Still y-you.” The response sounds pathetic to your own ears, but you have too big of an ego to admit it out loud. Yunho doesn’t buy it either if his quirked brow wasn’t telling enough.

“Still in denial, honey? I see. Guess I’ll have to do more then.” His free hand reaches down to tug on the waistband of your underwear, only to let it snap against your skin. The slight sting is enough to render your knees into mush and set fog into your vision. He does it again, and then he actually tugs the fabric down and you finally grab his motives.

“You’re bluffing— y-you wouldn’t put y-your fingers,” you ramble, hyperaware about how dangerously close his fingers are. Just when you think he’s about to shove a digit in, he pulls away completely.

“You know, you keep talking about my hands. It’s always my hands this, my hands that,” Yunho says casually, giving his nails a quick glance before meeting your eyes. “Rather than me having a hand fixation, it’s you who has a thing for hands. My hands specifically.”

You don’t like how every word is true. You don’t want to acknowledge that he’s correct. Verbally, because your body is moving on its own and has betrayed you long ago.

Yunho taps on your bottom lip and you comply reluctantly, letting him shove the same three fingers you sucked before. Mumbling unintelligible words under his breath, he watches intently as you hum around him, eyes fluttering shut when he slowly moves them in and out of your mouth. A whine escapes you when he pulls them out for good, soaked wet with your spit.

“Tell me.” Yunho grins, “Tell me what you like about them. Or else I’ll leave you hanging.” He’s not lying and you know it. The look he sends you is enough proof that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you high and dry.

You don’t like how he’s stringing you on like a rag doll. You don’t like how he’s stripping you off your dignity step by step. Strangely enough, you feel yourself leaking and wanting nothing but his pretty long fingers inside of you.

“I like how they, agh I— I l-like how—” you stutter, losing all levels of rationality when he suddenly circles around your entrance. Yunho urges you to continue and it takes up all of your brainpower to pick up where you left off, “—they’re so long and big and pretty—”

“So you have a size kink.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Now that, that’s something he shouldn’t have deduced. “W-wha— I don’t!”

“Seems to me that you have one though. You kept stressing how big and bad and tall I was after all.” You stiffen. Did you? Did you really? You don’t recall saying it that many times but it's hard to think straight when Yunho still has your wrists above your head and is looking down at you in a downright patronizing way. It leaves you trembling pitifully, feeling called out and feeling so, so small.

He really wants you to hit your lowest peak because he doesn’t stop there. “Who’s the real sub here? Is it really me? Or is it you who likes feeling so short, small, tiny.” His smirk widens when your breath hitches ever so slightly. “I fucking knew it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you bark back, but to no avail. Your credibility has diminished the moment he caught up to your kinks.

“Say whatever you want but that won’t change the fact that you’re tiny baby,” he pauses, takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he’s giving you a thorough once-over and then enunciates the next syllables with such clarity that forces time to stop, “My tiny, helpless baby.”

The pet name breaks you. It’s the final trigger that takes all your inhibitions away and the pathetic size of an ego that was left in your stubborn head.

“Please,” your voice cracks but that’s the least of your worries. You can’t move, can’t talk back, and won’t get anything in return. Yunho is right in front of you, finding satisfaction in your internal destruction and yet, after all of the things he’s slaughtered you to, he won’t give you anything in return.

“Just a little bit more, baby. I’ll give you what you want if you repeat after me; I’m your—”

“I’m your tiny, helpless baby who desperately wants you to fuck me.” Yunho is mildly taken aback that you were still able to think and get it right before he even finished his sentence. “Now get on to it, Yunho. Please.”

You’re sniffling at this point, begging for any kind of stimulation that shoots you to the stars. You’re fucking sniffling, and that’s all it takes for Yunho to manhandle you on the bed. A gasp escapes you, not expecting this turn of events at all. It all happens in a flash and the next thing you know, you’re on all fours, face buried in the pillow.

“Yunho, I t-thought y-you’d fuck me,” you complain, glancing behind to see what’s taking him so long. Your mouth waters at the sight.

“Patience, baby,” he says as he’s unbuckling his belt, taking his sweet time. You rub your legs together to ease the tension, but you can’t really say you’re not enjoying the show. Yunho’s lean, slightly defined, and once he’s only left in his underwear, you swallow heavily. There’s a large, dark patch on the fabric and the bulge seems more prominent than before.

If your mouth was only watering, you’re drooling by now. Yunho takes off his boxers, revealing his painfully hard cock, tip red and oozing precum. Just like the rest of him, he’s abnormally huge.

You have two thoughts. One: Fuck, you want him. Now. Two:

“That’s never going to fit inside of me.”

“Oh it will,” he says with such confidence it gives you shivers. “I’ll pound you into the mattress and you’ll take it all.”

He grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him before positioning himself right behind you. “W-wait!” you cry, heart suddenly feeling heavy in your chest, “D-don’t just put it in without prep— o-oh, hnngh—” your body feels like jelly when Yunho presses two spit-coated fingers past your entrance, stretching you out with finesse.

“I’m not that heartless,” he chuckles amusedly, right at the same time he curls his digits right against your sweet spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. “You’re so small you wouldn’t be able to take an inch without prep.”

You only whine into the pillow, arching your back as he continues his ministrations. Once Yunho deems you stretched out enough, he retreats his fingers and replaces them immediately with his cock.

The difference is like night and day. It’s like his fingers didn’t amount to anything compared to this. The high-pitched cry that escapes you is loud as you grasp onto the pillow for dear life.

“How can you be so big?” you pant. There’s no way he’s past four inches deep inside of you. You’re far from being filled, but your walls are already clenching hard around him.

“Bassists do it deeper for a reason.” The innuendo is tacky but in your current headspace, it sounds like the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Yunho stills his hips, letting you get used to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Guh—” he chuckles at your inability to form coherent words, let alone thoughts. “So big.”

“You’ll get used to it, honey.” He leans forward to pet your hair. “Tell me when I can move,” he adds gently, and you swear you could melt right then.

It takes you a moment to get your breathing steady, and then he pushes more of his length inside. Whimpering, you writhe beneath him, feeling as if you’re being torn apart. Meanwhile, he’s breathing hard through his nose, trying his damn hardest to go as slow as possible. At a certain point, Yunho stops pressing for more and pulls out ever so slightly before rocking his hips back forward. It starts out slowly, but he gradually picks up the pace and you lose yourself into him.

“Faster,” you moan, bending your back for an even deeper angle. “Hnngh, so full. Want m-more.”

“You were right, you can’t take me to the hilt.” Yunho readjusts his grip on his hips and you know that bruises are going to last until the end of the week. “God, you’re so fucking small that you can’t take me to the fucking hilt.”

Your vision turns foggy once the meaning gets through you. Now that he’s saying it, how much of his cock is inside of you? Half of it? A third? He’s stretching you out so well, filling you up so impossibly deep and that wasn’t even his everything?

“That’s not— want more of you, all of you,” you stammer, not realizing what you’re even saying. “Baby wants all of you.” God, you’re so drunk and desperate for his cock that you can’t refer yourself in the first person anymore.

Yunho reacts just as perplexed, eyes widening. His hips still once more, and though you’d want to shout at him to keep on moving, you don’t find the energy to move your head, or even lift a finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he growls, pulling out of you completely. Not even a second later, he flips you around on your back so that you’re facing him dead in the eye, and then he pushes back in. The new position has you gurgling on broken words as your arms flail around for dear life.

Yunho throws a leg over his shoulder, creating a deeper angle. You don’t know if he’s actually giving you more if he’s managed to force more of him into you. All you register is the messy squelch of liquids and your moans bouncing off the walls. You can’t even see properly, everything a blur and a mix of different colors.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper, sensing your demise nearing closer and closer.

“Then cum,” Yunho orders in between groans, then adds in a louder voice, “You hear that baby? Cum and make a mess out of yourself.”

Your orgasm crashes onto you in a big singular wave as you tremble under his frame, walls clenching around him tightly. His name leaves your mouth like a mantra as you continue to convulse. Yunho pulls out moments later, just to spurt white on your abdomen. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead while he jerks himself dry.

It’s a miracle that Yunho hasn’t toppled on you once he slowly comes down from his high. The fog in your vision clears up gradually, but your limbs are as good as worthless. You won’t be able to move freely for a good day or two.

As you continue to blink at the ceiling, only finding the energy to breathe, Yunho grabs the box of tissues from your nightstand and wipes himself off before doing the same to you. His touch is gentle unlike before, and you’d thank him if your vocal cords were still functioning.

You’re about to drift to sleep until he suddenly leans down and pecks your lips. In an instant, you narrow your eyes at him and ask, “What was that for?”

“You had some cum on your lip. I wanted to taste too.” Yunho smiles cheekily and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, then grimaces. “It tastes... yikes.”

He cleans you up in silence before plopping onto the bed right next to you. No words are exchanged up until you say, “Yeosang is going to kill you.”

“He can’t afford to kill me. He needs me for the band,” he muses.

“He’ll still kill you.”

“I appreciate the concern, honey.”

“Just scram back to practice.”

“Don’t you want to go to the bathroom first?”

“I can do it myself.”

“Oh really?”

“... Yunho, help me on my legs and then scram back to practice.”

Meanwhile, back in the basement, the guys are waiting for their bandmate to come back so they can finally finish practice and then eat chicken.

“You sure (y/n) and Yunho are only childhood enemies? They’ve been going at it like rabbits if he isn’t back here yet!” San exclaims, throwing his arms up for dramatic effect.

Mingi can’t counter that because San has a point, so he whips his head to Yeosang. “Dude, you sure they’re not in a relationship? They have to be at least fuckbuddies! Or fuckrivals? Fuckenemies? Or…”

“I do not know and I do not care,” Yeosang says blankly, looking like he’s about to bang his head against the wall because he sure won’t walk into your room and curse his eyes for the rest of his life. Damnit, all he wants is to practice and get the band together; their next gig is only a few weeks away. “In fact, I want to unsee what I just saw and unhear what you just said.”

[inkedtae]

golden gills ⇾ jjk. [M]

��𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ goldfish!hybrid jungkook x bratty!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒 ⇾ e2l, smut with a sprinkle of fluff and a waterfall of filth 

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ Reader taunts Jungkook for being the new Teacher’s Assistant for her history class. She simply can’t stand a teacher’s pet. Jungkook can’t help but make her one. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ a shit ton of flith, hate-love sex, office sex, super bratty reader, thigh riding, hair pulling, spit play, pube play, panty sniffing, a tad bit of edging, oral (f. receiving), dom!jk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of spanking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names, a dash of puns here and there, lowkey crack, probs gonna need some (un)holy water.

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ extremely unedited. please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission. currently on a kookie kick so get ready for some filthy (and occasionally fluffy) kookie content. if you have any request, please send them my way (i might consider another member). enjoy!

><> le playlist 

He strut into class, a little notebook clutched in his large hands. You couldn’t help but notice how his veins popped out. Was he flexing or was that just simply always the state of his hands. His sharp nails, tips tinged orange, dug into the leather binding of the notebook while he spoke with your professor. You glared at him from your seat at the front. He must’ve felt the heat of your gaze as he rubbed the nape of his, looking over at you. 

There, right there was the reason why you hate that man so much. That shit-eating smirk tugged on his pink lips, brownish-yellow eyes flickering between you and the professor. An annoyed sigh escaped you. He was too cocky for his own good. He may have radiated golden rays wherever he went. The yellowish-orange tint of his hair layered with strands of pink was undeniably eye-catching. You figured that if he was full fish and not just a hybrid, then that might be the colour of his scales. But, when that golden image was paired with his arrogant personality, you reminded yourself as your eyes bounced up and down his frame, he was insufferable.

Despite the golden hues of his species, Jungkook felt most comfortable in black. It was a trend you noticed immediately on him. His flowy, golden fin would stick out his shirt, lined along his spine, and tiny golden gills would rest in the hollows of his cheeks but he would only wear black. You hated how you knew that he only liked to wear loose fitted clothing because it looked great on him. It was all he wore so how could you not notice it, you tried to reason. That fact didn’t soothe your rage one bit, however, since it meant that you indirectly admitted to yourself that he always looked good. 

That man is dangerous, you thought to yourself before turning back to your notes. You didn’t have much to write just yet, but you weren’t going to waste your last moments before class staring at Jeon Jungkook. You opted for doodling, gently scratching your orange pen within the margins.

“How come whenever I walk in I always catch you staring?” He asked, sitting a couple of seats to your right. 

“Glaring,” you correct, not bothering to look up. 

He chuckles to himself, the breathy sound confusing your heart and stunting your rage for a minute. “You’re giving me your attention either way, hun,” he replied. “And I barely had to do a thing.”

You stopped mid-stroke, looking up at him with that same glare before your eyes scanned across the classroom. You noticed empty seats peppered between others who were lucky enough to enjoy some peace before the lesson began.  “There are other seats,” you muttered, turning back to your notebook. 

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, tossing his notebook down on the table with a light thud. “I like this one,” he sighed as he pulled out a black pen from his pants. “I can see everything from here, and everyone can see me.”

You furrowed your brows at his words. What a cocky little shit; always needing to be the center of attention. “You’re an idiot,” you hissed, making the mistake of looking up at him again. 

He met your annoyed gaze with a playful glint in his eyes. He had his tongue poking at his cheek, and a single brow raised as if asking if you truly meant that, as if warning you to try again. “Am I?” he challenged. “Or are you too busy concerned with me to realize how wrong that statement was?”

Your face scrunched with confusion as you tried your best to decipher his words.Why did he have to be so cryptic? Why couldn’t he just tell you what the hell he meant? Giving up, you were about to tell him how stupid he sounded when the professor began his lecture. 

He welcomed the class, introduced himself and went over the course syllabus before turning to look at Jungkook. “And, if you have any other questions, please feel free to contact me or my TA this semester, Jungkook.” He then gestured for Jungkook to stand. 

Fuck no. 

Your face fell as he rose from his seat. Before he could even catch a glimpse of your pure shock and devastation, you schooled your features and looked back towards your professor. It all began to click now, why he spoke with the professor before class and why he sat at the front. He even tried to warn you, in his own stupid, idiotic, cryptic way. Did you really insult your TA? He was going to be grading your work for the next four months. You wanted to believe Jungkook wasn’t a total asshole but with the way he taunted you with that look in his eyes before the lecture started gave you pause. 

Your face must’ve been revealing bits and pieces of your panic, despite your efforts, because you soon heard little breathy chuckles to your right. “Relax, hun. I won’t let it affect your final grade,” he whispered as the professor dived into his lecture. “This time.”

That little shit. 

You had written your essay two weeks prior to the due date, which is a lot coming from you since you’re more of a pull an all-nighter the night before kind of girl. You had researched thoroughly about the topic provided, giving your own analysis on the wars and political practises of the West. You even quoted Karl Marx a few times, and this little shit only just passed you? You had an average to maintain and you knew your paper was not merely worth a passing grade. You even had your best friend, Namjoon, read it over and approve of the analysis, citations and writing style. 

So the moment his office hours were available you made your way over. They were running during another one of your classes but fuck him if he thought you were going to let this slide. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but if this was all some power play, you were about to show him who the fuck was in charge. 

“Jeon, you motherfucker,” you huffed in a way of greeting as you walked into his office. 

Jungkook peeked up at you from his bowl, noodles hanging out of mouth. His eyes were a bit wider, cheeks puffed all too cutely as they were filled with food. He finished slurping his noodles as you shut the door. Though still completely furious, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop staring at his mouth. Something about those pouty, spice stained lips lit up your core and caused arousal to pool into your panties. 

You let out a shaky breath, seating yourself across his desk as he pushed his meal away, directing his full attention on you. He sat back in his seat, that stupid smirk over taking his features. 

“Yes?” He practically purred his response causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

You tossed your graded paper on his desk, eyes unforgivingly boring into his. “What the fuck is this?” You asked in a calmer voice, but the anger was still ponet in your tone. 

“You’re crappy paper I had the misfortune of reading,” he answered casually, like you just asked him about his day. 

The original fire in your eyes, you somehow were able to maintain since entering this office, dimmed into disappointment. Was it really that bad? But, you worked on it relentlessly. You had at least hoped it would pique his interest. Even Namjoon told you the approach you took was unique and well-thought out. For Jungkook to say it was a misfortune to read wasn’t just a shot at your grade but a blow to your intelligence, your pride. 

He must’ve noticed your change in demeanor as he sat up and sighed. He picked it up to look over it once again, but you ripped it out of his hand, crumpling it with, what you hated to recognize as, shame. “Don’t do me any favours, Jeon,” you all but warned through gritted teeth. “The grade speaks for itself. I can’t believe I thought someone as stupid as you would be able to understand something as layered and complex as this paper. The only thing crappy about any of this is the fact that I have a useless TA.”

Jungkook watched you with an unwavering gaze. “Watch your tone,” he grumbled, voice carrying more edge than those words ever did. 

You’ll admit, it stunted you for a moment, but the pain still lingered. You released the creased assignment on his desk lazily, treating it like the afterthought he believed it was. “Or what?” You taunted, tilting your head slightly. “You’ll fail me?” Your voice dipped in and out of feigned sadness, sarcasm dripping with every word. “You’ll go tell your precious professor? Hmm, little pet?”

Jungkook shifted in his seat, inhaling sharply from his nose before standing up. Even from across the desk, he towered over you. “Behave, (Y/N),” he warned, poking at his cheek with his tongue. 

His words meant nothing. You ignored the inner voice that reminded you that your behaviour was only getting this bad because his words actually meant more than you even wanted to acknowledge. 

“You’re just a useless pet, a stupid little goldfish trying so desperately to look tough in those all black clothes,” you pressed on, gesturing to his shirt that sat atop his chest and biceps all too well. He circled around the desk as you continued, “you can’t even get me to treat you with respect. Better yet, I bet you can’t even get me off. You’re that fucking useless.” 

How or why that sexual sentence slipped in was beyond you. You didn’t really have much time to think about anything, your mouth running on its own and leaving your mind to catch up. All you could see is him, him and those orange hues that lit around his muscular frame like a halo. You noticed him avoiding your gaze and you couldn’t help the teasing giggle that left your lips. 

A brow quirked up as he looked at you through his lashes. You only just realized that they were tipped with bits of gold. “There’s nothing you can do,” you said, standing up for the sole purpose of leaning in and whispering, “little pet.”

Those two words triggered something dark inside him. He groaned out, in frustration or excitement - you weren’t sure, and crashed his lips into yours. You wished you could say you resisted at first, but you were melting into his touch immediately. All logic left you and the only thing you can recall from that moment was another rush of lust and desire soaking your panties. You knew you lost your better judgement when you shamelessly moaned into the kiss at the fact that his lips tasted like freshwater and whatever flavour of spicy noodles he was previously eating.  

A rough hand tangled in your hair, tugging on it to pull you off his lips. You whined at the lost contact, surprising even yourself. You only caught a glimpse of his hooded eyes before he latched his lips onto your neck, setting fire to every inch of skin his mouth graced. Those eyes of his held a degree of rage and lusty fury all while little flicks of orange and gold swam within them. Had they always been like that? You never really got time to think about it before Jungkook bit at your flesh, unforgivingly nibbling and tugging only to slobber sweet kisses to soothe the sting. 

Your hands clutched onto his shirt, desperate to recompose even an ounce of your dignity. As if he knew what you were up to, his chuckled, warm breath fanning your skin, prickling you all over with goosebumps. Your thighs pressed together tightly at the sensation, and you were thankful you opted for a skirt rather than jeans this morning, knowing very well that there would’ve been a wet stain near your crotch. 

Jungkook inhaled deeply, parting from your neck to lick the shell of your ear. “You always smell so fucking sexy when you’re horny for me,” he raved. 

“I’m never horny for you,” your pride answered all too quickly. You wanted to add that he was mediocre at best right now, no matter how big of a lie that was too, but couldn’t find the courage after he bit harshly on your collar bone then lapped his tongue over the sting. 

“Don’t lie, pet,” he warned, smugly throwing your word back at you. 

“I’m not your pe- shit!” You gasped when his lips landed on the shallow hollow of your collar bone. You tugged on his shirt once more, tilting your head back as he began to attack it. His kisses were absolutely sinful and you found yourself wanting them all over you as you rolled your hips into his.

Once he was satisfied with the dark mark he left, he slightly pulled back. He opted for moving you around by the grip he had on your hair. It earned him little blissful whines from you that he couldn’t help but laugh at. He yanked your body closer to his chest, your hands now resting on his shoulders as you somehow positioned your crotch over one of his thighs and quickly, shamelessly moved against it. Your actions surprised you as well; you didn’t realize you were this hot for him.

“What were you saying before, my precious pet?” He teased, hovering his pouty lips over yours. His free hand rested upon your ass, gripping and kneading the flesh like he was coaxing the answer out of you. 

You bit your lip in denial of making a single sound. The notion wasn’t lost on him and he used his grip on your ass to halt your movements on his thigh. While you struggled to defy his silent orders, he held your body flush against his, keeping your clothed pussy trapped over his thigh with a single hand. You could feel his semi-hard against your lower belly as he smirked down at you. Had you not been in his grasp or too stubborn, you would’ve smacked that smirk off… with your lips. 

Jungkook yanked at your hair so that you were looking up at him with lips slightly parted and eyes undoubtedly desperate. That was the thing with your eyes; you could never hide your true feelings from them. 

His hot breath fanned over your chin as he muttered, “What happened to those cute little sounds, pet?” It took the last ounce of self control left in you to not to moan at his words. He continued to stare at you for a moment, admiring how, though you’re trying so hard not to show it, needy you were. 

“Open your mouth, baby,” he cooed. 

His voice was gentle enough for you to immediately comply. You parted your lips, looking up at him innocently. Though you knew what was coming next, your pussy clenching around nothing out of mere excitement, you did not pull away. In fact, you stuck your tongue out as he hovered his lips over yours and spat a stringy dollop of saliva into your mouth. It didn’t taste fishy at all, but simply, what you recognized as, him. You gazed into his eyes with lust-charged hate as you swallowed it without a second though. 

He smiled, satisfied, and released your hair to let his hand slide down to your other asscheeks, moving both hands under your skirt now. A little hiss left him as he felt your wetness reach the back of your panties too. “You really are this horny for me, aren’t you, baby?” He questioned as he guided your clothed pusssy against his thigh once more. 

“N-none of this is for you,” you stuttered. You tried to sound annoyed but the little moan in your tone hinted otherwise. 

He nudged his nose on yours, mannerisms shockingly softer than his grips on your ass. “Want another?” He raised a brow. 

When you remained silent, not wanting to admit that you most definitely wanted another wad of his spit in your mouth, he laughed. The corner of his wondrous eyes crinkled and he threw his head back, laughing at your silence. When his gaze met yours again, he bit his lip to subside the rest of his laughter, taking note of your furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

Jungkook seemed to like the challenges you were offering. He slightly tilted his head, eyes suddenly seeming unreadable. It wasn’t like you were paying much attention to his logic anyway, yours long gone by now. No, you were focused on the pleasure, the built up arousal twisting in your lower belly just desperate to be released. You knew your pussy wasn’t usually that sensitive, sometimes finding that you needed to tug on your skin to really get yourself off. But, holy fuck- 

“Jungkook!” You whined all too loudly as he flexed his thigh beneath you. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, tone reaching dangerously cocky levels. You loved it. 

Meek moans and whines poured out of your lips, like his name was the damn that held them back. Your grip on his shirt was sure to leave creases now, as you looked up at him, holding his gaze while you got yourself. You were passed pride now, ready to admit to yourself that you wanted to stare into those golden-brown eyes because, fuck, the simple sight was enough to make you cum.

Jungkook knew it. He knew you were close and squeezed your ass to let you know that. “Does my pretty pet wanna cum?” He lazily asked. The indifference in his tone was strangely enough to make you a slut for him; as if you weren’t already. 

You couldn’t give him the satisfaction, however. You were far too stubborn for that. Breaking your gaze, you threw your head back and shut your eyes. The pleasure was all you wanted to focus on as you got so fucking clo-

“No!” The cry tore from your throat, breaking as it fell from your lips. He took advantage of the grip he had on your ass once more, trapping your pussy on his flexed, muscular thigh. 

“Open,” he ordered.

You glared at him, sticking your tongue out with a huff. He spat another wad in your mouth, smacking your ass as you swallowed. The force jolted your body closer against his, now completely flush against his chest. Fuck, that chest. So strong and firm. You ran your hands up and down his pecs as he spoke. 

“You close your eyes again, and I’ll have you on your knees,” he threatened. You moaned at his words, earned a quirk of his brow. “Fuck, baby, you’re such a slut for me.” 

“When are you going to tell off that shirt?” You asked, the helplessness in your voice surprising you.

“When you ask nicely,” he teased, bringing his hand back down on your ass.

You leaned back just enough to tug on the hem of the loose shirt. He looked at you expectedly, actually believing you’d ask. A smirk found its way on your lips as your hands snuck beneath the cotton to rub up and down his skin. His breath hitched a bit at the contact, making you silently giggle to yourself. It was nice to know you weren’t the only one coming undone to soft touches. 

He kept your hips locked in place, but began to move his thigh under you. You gasped feeling the pleasure build itself back up in your lower belly. Digging your nails gently into his skin, you scratched at his nipples. It seemed you were both rewarding the other for a tease well done as he returned the blissful gesture by quickening the pace of his thigh. 

“J-Jungkook,” you whined, slowly bringing his shirt up higher and higher. His hands left your ass long enough for you to pull his shirt off and you took it as a sign to also be allowed to move again.

Giddy giggles left you as you got what you wanted and more, and you barely had to play nice at all. He was too consumed with getting you off to care, or so you thought. His hands came down on your ass with a force your pussy couldn’t ignore and you were sent into your first orgasm of the hour. 

Jungkook chuckled to himself, watching your jaw clench as high-pitched squeals escaped you and your pussy released all over his pants. The wet mess emitted filthy, slouchy sounds, further imprinting the fabric and filling the space between you two wonderfully. You held his gaze all the same, riding out your high as your nails dug into his pecs. He hissed at the sensation but did nothing to stop it. 

Your rapid rolls over his thigh stuttered against the friction, the pleasure starting to become too much for you. You halted your movement and quivered the last bits of our orgasm out. He peppered your face with little kisses all throughout, and you let him, whimpering for more. 

Jungkook pulled back at your sounds just to flash you a smug smile. He helped you off him, standing you up again. You bit your lip to keep from whining at the loss of contact. Though you did get your release, you were hoping for more. Your eyes, too obviously, flickered between his abs and the bulge in his pants. 

“If you want more, little pet, you’re going to have to strip for me,” he informed you. Jungkook held your fucked out gaze as he swiped a finger over the drenched spot of his pants to scoop up some of your release. You swallowed thickly at the action, watching as he sucked your cum off his finger. 

“You’re going to have to ask nicely,” you all but whine as his adam’s apple bobbed. 

His once playful teasing eyes seemed to be getting annoyed. The softness within them switched into something a bit darker. He was done with playing, and it only made you want to play with him even more. 

“I’m waitin- ah,” you gasped as he ripped the buttons off your thin, tight sweater off, exposing that yellow bra of yours that cupped your tits all too well. 

Jungkook towered his slender frame over you. “I don’t have to do anything,” he whispered, hovering his lips over yours. “Strip, little pet.”

You pulled your sweater off. A part of you wanted to reach up and just kiss him again. He was so close you could feel his breath against your parted lips. But, you knew better than to fully challenge that dangerous look in his eye. Your skirt was pushed down next, but you kept your panties on, slightly too embarrassed by the fact that they were sticking to your pussy. Reaching back behind you, you fumbled to unclasp your bra. Jungkook remained silent as he reached a single hand back there and undid it easily. 

You thought it must have regained his composure, the thought slightly pissing you off since you were becoming more and more of a mess by the second. But, the moment your bra fell, he attacked your breasts, burying his face between them. His lips latched onto one of your nipples, tonguing, biting, sucking away at it. One of his hands rested on your hip to keep you steady, while his other gripped at your other tit, massaging the fuck out of it. 

Your hands were lost somewhere in his orange-yellow hair, tugging at the long strands. You moaned his name repeatedly. Shameless and horny, you were loving his attention. “Oh, god, just fuck me,” you sighed. 

He hummed against your nipple. “In a minute, babe,” he muttered between alternating tits, now latching his lips onto your other nipple. 

From his slightly bent over position, you could see his fin lined along his spine. You wondered how it looked in the water, if it flowed within the waves like it did out of them. A hand reached over, gently grazing the ripped, but soft fin with the tips of your fingers. He shuddered against your touch, rolling his shoulders back but didn’t stop his tongue’s attack on your tits. 

You whimpered against him, lightly scratching his scalp with one hand and rubbed up his fin with the other. “Jungkook,” you breathed. You were desperate, needy and in total need of another orgasm. And that was what you kept telling yourself as you stuttered, “p-please, kookie.”

Jungkook froze, mid-suck and looked up at you slowly. “My, my,” he smirked, abandoning your tits and straightening up to his full height once again. Your hand on his fin slid up to his shoulder once more, an action that disappointed him too, his eyes flashing something too needy to be masked by his cocky demeanor. “Begging already, baby?”

You pressed your thighs together, granting yourself the smidgen of friction he was hell-bent on denying you. “That was barely a beg,” you scoffed. 

He shook his head at your words. “Shall we change that?” He lifted your hips before you could even respond and placed you on his desk. You were surprised he could lift you being that you were a grown ass woman and all. 

He spread your legs, groaning quietly to himself at the sight of your cum slick thighs and sticky panties clinging to your folds. Placing a hand to his forehead, he lowered his head and took a deep breath. 

You hated the sudden fear and panic of insecurity that shot through you. However, you couldn’t help but weakly ask, “s-something the matter?”

He nodded, meeting your gaze once more. “Yeah,” he sighed. You felt your heart drop, ready to close your legs when he continued, “those ruined panties haven’t come off yet.” A sigh of relief left you, your momentary panic bringing down all your walls with it as a blush tinted your cheeks. 

Jungkook must’ve liked that sight too because he was proudly smiling to himself. “Let me help you with that, little pet.” He dipped his head between your legs, lapping up the cum that stained your inner thighs too, not too bothered by the slight discolouration of them. 

Your legs were already trembling at the warmth of his mouth. He hooked his arms under both your legs, pulling your pussy closer to his face. Nudging his nose against your clothed clit, he inhaled your sinful scent. “God, this must be a fucking dream,” he muttered more to himself than to you in particular. “You smell even sexier when you fucking cum, babygirl.”

A whimper trickled out of your lips at his words as you gripped onto the edge of the desk. Little did you know that was merely the start of his filth. His mouth engulfed your clothed pussy in a single motion, licking and sucking the cum out of your panties. The hungry groans he made against your heat were boarderline pronographic. You were living for them, rolling your hips into his face relentlessly chasing after your next high. 

Jungkook tsked against your panties as if warning you to behave again, then sunk his teeth into them, catching a bit of your folds too. You cried out his name, your nails scratching at the dark wood beneath you. He watched you intently as he pulled those ruined panties off. You lifted your ass for him a bit and brought your legs together as he leaned back. 

He stood over you once they were off, the piece of clothing still locked in his jaw. Taking them out, he sniffed at them again. You pressed your thighs together once more, mesmerized by the sight before you. “Beautiful,” he rasped. Then he stuffed the wet, balled up panties in his pocket. “Mine now,” he explained, noticing the shock in your eyes. “Just like this pussy.” 

Grabbing your ankles, he pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart once more. A little blush crept up his neck as the mess before him. He moaned to himself, getting on his knees. You never knew you needed to see a shirtless Jungkook on his knees before. He looked heavenly but his tongue was hellish, licking a clean strip up your folds. You threw your head back as he sucked on your clit. 

“Kookie,” you whimpered, having a lazy hand get lost in his hair again. You weren’t sure how or why you fell into that nickname, but you did and you weren’t planning on stopping. 

He hummed up at you, also accepting the nickname like you’ve been calling him that forever. His tongue swirled around your entrance, teasing - always fucking teasing you. He’d poke the tip of his tongue in only to watch you shudder and immediately clench your walls. His mouth traveled a bit higher halfway through another assault on your clit. 

“Can’t help it,” he muttered before licking at the short hairs a top your pussy. You blushed deeply at his actions. You had hoped he didn’t notice, but now seeing him practically lose himself over it, you felt a bit of pride swell in your chest. 

Jungkook bit at the flesh, tugging the hair with him as he pulled back. He spat on your pubes just to lick it up against the hair again. You gasped, looking down at his filthy actions with pure lust in your eyes. He repeated this action a couple of times, noting how excited it made you then returned to the wetness between your folds. 

“That really turned you on, huh baby?” He questioned watching as more of your wetness pooled out of your entrance. Diving right back in, he lapped up all the new arousal repeating the same flicks of his tongue over and over again. You couldn’t really grasp what the pattern was at first, but then it hit you all at once, forcing you to cry out in approval. He was licking his name against your entrance in Korean and English, poking his tongue into you with the dots of his js. 

“M-marking your territory?” you questioned, trying to sound as confident and composed as he did but your moans kept getting in the way. 

“I’d be drowning in it too if I wasn’t part fish,” he chuckled, fanning his warm breath against you. “Why don’t you prove me wrong, little pet?” His tone hinted that it was more of a suggestion rather than a challenge. “Cum for me.”

You were up for it either way, rolling your hips into his face. Nothing felt as sexy as when the little gills in the hollows of his cheeks brushed up against your inner thighs, slightly quivering at the contact. That unexpected sensation and the way Jungkook began to devour your pussy was enough to shock you into your second orgasm. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you cried out, moans tumbling out of you endlessly. Your eyes rolled back, head falling back with them as you quivered against his face. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you squealed as you rode your release to the end. 

Jungkook flattened his tongue, letting you get yourself off on him. Once he was sure you finished spasming on his tongue, noting how your thighs started to squeeze his face as they came together, he flicked his tongue back into action. He lapped up your cum, swallowing every ounce of what you’d given him. 

Sensitive and gasping for air, you attempted to weakly push his face off of you. It was an impossible task. He was too strong and too consumed with the task at hand, slurping your juices, unfazed and unbothered. 

“Kookie… I… fuck,” you squealed, closing your legs around his face. He was practically suffocating against your pussy as he drank you up.

He suddenly, and very easily, pushed your legs apart as if you hadn’t just been using all your strength to close them. He got up, face glistening with a mixture of his saliva and your cum. He looked like a fucking goldfish god with his hair all tossel from your grip and face all smeared of your cunt. You wanted to clean it all up for him, but he wouldn’t give you a chance yet. 

His thumbs slid into his waistband about to push his pants down when he caught a glimpse of you. You were looking all fucked out, trembling from the remnants of your last orgasm, legs curled up into your chest. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he whispered, all hints of playfulness and teasing threats gone from his tone. He almost sounded sincere, almost sounded like he actually meant all those things he said, like it wasn’t all just words thrown in the heat of the moment. 

You were panting quietly, not exactly sure what to say to that. You felt like you were saved by the exposure of his cock (on many levels) and pushed all thoughts away until you were back to your normal, rational state of mind. 

His cock was huge, veiny, and leaking precum, desperate for some contact. You shakily slid off the desk, fully prepared to get on your knees for him and give his heavenly cock the attention it deserved. But Jungkook tsked at you, nodding his head back to the desk. 

“Back on the desk, babygirl,” he grunted as he began to pump himself using the precum collected on his pink tip. 

You leaned against the edge of the desk for some stability, swallowing thickly at the sight of his veiny hand around his veiny cock. Licking your lips, you met his gaze shyly as if silently asking him to reconsider. 

Jungkook smirked, slightly buckling his hips into his hand. He gave himself a couple more pumps then set his hands on your hips to lift you back up on the desk again. “Be a good girl and I might consider letting you wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock next time,” he promised with a smile all too sweet for you to challenge. 

“Next time?” You meekly questioned. 

He positioned himself between your legs, that giddy smile still etched on his lips. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy a couple of times, making you whimper his name, before replying, “just behave, little pet, and you can have my cock down your throat anytime you want.” He then, without much further warning, sunk his cock into your entrance, hissing at the tightness. 

“J-Jungkook,” you sighed, only now just realizing how fucking badly you really needed him to fill you up. Tears pricked your eyes at the pure blissful sensation of his cock stretching you out so fucking good. 

Noticing your tears, he halted all movement. “Am I hurting you?” He asked, concern laced in his tone.

You shook your head immediately, all but begging, “keep going, please. Fuck, please kookie.” 

He let out a sigh of relief and continued to sink into you until he bottomed out. You gasped, holding his gaze while your nails dug into his shoulders. He flashed you a golden smile before pulling out and ramming back into you at a sinful pace. 

 “S-so b-ig,” you choked out between harsh thrusts. 

His face was contoured with pleasure, nose scrunched and brows furrowed in too cute of a way that you would’ve never even guessed he liked it this rough. “Ah-yah,” he gasped, overtaken by the clench of your cunt’s walls. “Tightest cunt I’ve had.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. He complied with little complaints and you leaned your forehead against his. Noses brushing, breath exchanging, Jungkook fucked you into the desk with such force, he jolted it back a bit with each thrust. You tilted your head enough to kiss his gills and whine against them. A smile graced his lips at the contact and he tightened his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. You peppered each gill with kitten licks, then soft kisses despite how rough he was fucking you. 

Your arms moved around his back, practically hugging him. Shaky hands found his fin again and tightly gripped onto it. He buried his face in your hair, evading his senses with the floral scent of your hair, and groaned out little praises in your ear. You bit at his shoulder, subsiding your moans into his skin. You knew you weren’t exactly behaving, leaving little marks on his shoulder, but you also knew Jungkook was too engrossed with how your cunt gripped on his cock to care too much. 

All rough kisses and bites  on his shoulder came to a crashing halt, however, when he hit that spot deep within you. “Jungkook!” You shreeched, throwing your head back. He hit it again and again. Each time he hit it harder and rougher, coaxing you closer and closer to your release. 

You rested your forehead against his again, wanting to stare into his eyes when you came all over his cock this time. “There, there,” you encouraged, moving your hips up to meet his. The entire room returned the quick slaps of skin on skin in faint echoes, reminding you just how filthy this was. 

“Your close, aren’t you, little pet?” Jungkook asked as your cunt tightened around him. “Wanna cum, babygirl?”

You nodded your head eagerly, toes curling as that knot in your lower abdomen twisted in ways you weren’t completely familiar with. 

“Beg.”

“W-what?”

He chuckled and smacked your ass. You gasped, gawking at him in disbelief. “Beg.” he ordered. “I won’t repeat myself again.”

You squealed in frustration. “P-please Jungkook,” you started. “Your cock is so big… just wanna cum all over it. I- ah, I need to cum. Please, just please let me cum, kookie. Please!” 

“Cream on this cock, babygirl,” he growled in approval. 

You unraveled all you had to give him, cumming on his cock as he continued to ram into you in an unforgiving pace. You held his gaze all the while, shrieking moans and trembling whines escaping you. Your eyes slightly rolled back, mouth hung open as you tried your best to maintain eye contact. 

“Ah, fuck! You- you’re so fucking sexy when you cum, baby.” He gasped, thrusts getting sloppier. 

Though you were being overstimulated once again and felt the blissful burning of your after-high start to creep up on you, you still talked Jungkook into his orgasm. “Please fill me up, kookie,” you started, but never really got to finish as that was all it took for him to release ropes of white within you. 

You ground your hips into his as he buried himself deep in you. His brows knitted together, eyes just as needy as yours, cumming deep inside you. You knew he was cumming a lot just from how full you felt, but his cock was so huge, fitting your cunt just right, that it plugged all his cum in you, no remove for leaks. 

You circled your hips into his as he gasped for air, panting his hot breath over your face. “You’re so handsome when you cum,” you whispered, filter completely gone by now. 

Jungkook huffed a little smirk. He nudged his nose against yours before placing a gentle kiss against your lips. It was all over, the heat of the moment, the need for a release. Still, you kissed him back like it was a normal pastime. His tongue played with yours and you let him. It was like you two already had a routine of rough sex and intimate aftercare. And, shockingly enough, you didn’t find that off-putting at all. In fact, you realized you could actually get used to this, used to him like this. 

He pulled away, gasping once again. You joined him this time, slowly untangling yourself from him. You hadn’t even felt him soften inside you, practically just as big as when he was hard. You both gazed down at his cock, watching as he pulled it out to find it coated in a mixture of your cum, completely creamed. The cum plugged within your cunt came pouring out in thick glopes all over your graded paper. 

“Shit,” you whispered, watching your paper being ruined. “Now, that’s never going to the professor,” you huffed, looking up at him again. 

He bit his lip and scratched the back of his neck. “About that,” he began. “That’s actually not your real grade.”

A mixture of confusion and rage clouded your once sex-blown gaze. “What?”

“I may have given you another copy of your paper with a crappy grade just to get under your skin,” he confessed. He rested his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently as if trying to calm you down. 

It worked. 

You raised a brow up at him. “Were you trying to get me naked?” 

Jungkook blushed, softly chuckling. “That was just as wonderful a surprise to me as it was to you.”

You held his gaze for a moment, finding comfort in the silence and his cute smile. “It was wonderful,” you muttered. 

“No one has touched my fin or gills like that,” he suddenly said, a blush tinting the tips of his ears. 

“Like this?” You asked as you leaned in to stroke his fin and kiss his gills once more. 

His hands found their place on your bruised hips and he hummed, “mhm,” before peppering your neck with sloppy kisses again. “Now get that pretty ass of yours off my desk.” He lifted you up only for you to wrap your legs around his waist. He laughed at your childish antics, holding you up by a newfound grip on your ass. “Come on, (Y/N),” he chuckled. 

You pulled back only a bit with a pouty smile playing on your lips. “Make me,” you whined. 

Jungkook smirked. “As you wish, little pet.”

[citizen-l]

01. Door

Chanyeol curses and wonders what he did to be locked out of his own apartment as the door slams on his face. In truth, it wasn't his fault. How was he to know that taking his roommate to a party would lead to him falling for Chanyeol's best friend. Which would lead to steamy make out sessions, and possibly more, in his apartment. Resulting in him being kicked out for the night. 

Chanyeol tried not to think about the mess Junmyeon and Sehun would probably make. God, they better clean up afterwards. 

He sighed and looked at the keys in his hand. Not his keys. Sehun had tossed those before shutting the door, telling Chanyeol to sleep at Sehun's place for the night. Jeez, a little warning would have been nice! Chanyeol didn't even get to unplug his phone from the charger. His laptop and notes are still open on his desk. This was ridiculous! 

At least it was Friday. And Sehun did say his roommate was out on a date. So Chanyeol will have the place to himself. Since Sehun and Baekhyun even got a TV in their apartment, Chanyeol can just binge shitty soap operas and pass the night. Great plan, sure. Not like Chanyeol had a life or anything. 

The walk to Sehun's place was short, and the night wasn't too warm or cold for Chanyeol to feel uncomfortable in his bed clothes. Jesus. He was wearing his sweats and an oversized sweater. He would've been embarrassed if people saw him like this in the daytime. Thankfully it was late enough in the night that not many were out and about. He felt like he was the one making the walk of shame back to his apartment. Ironic, since he was single, too busy to be in a relationship with anyone, and hadn't decided whether he just didn't like anyone all that much or if he was plainly aro. Not something he wanted to think about tonight. 

He walked up the stairs to the third floor and went down the hall to Sehun's door. Chanyeol had been here multiple times since Sehun had moved in, but he never stayed over at night. Mainly because of Baekhyun. To be completely honest, Chanyeol was a little afraid of Sehun's flatmate. He wasn't sure what it was, but that tiny boy with cotton candy hair always made Chanyeol nervous. 

Well, at least Baekhyun was out tonight. And judging by the way Sehun explained it, Baekhyun was unlikely to return until the next day. Chanyeol would be long gone by then. 

Sehun's apartment was posh, spacious and modern, unlike Chanyeol and Junmyeon's tiny cramped flat with just two room and a tiny kitchen. The lights were on. Maybe it was a rich people thing, leaving the light on. Who cared about bills? Or maybe Sehun was too whipped and crazy for a fuck that he didn't even bother turning off the switches. 

Jesus. Chanyeol sounded angry even to himself. He wasn't actually that angry, just a bit irritated to be collateral to other people's sexual activities. 

Barely two steps in and he stopped dead, caught in a stare with a green faced guy standing in front on the kitchen with a bowl of soup. Before Chanyeol could do anything, the guy screamed and stumbled back, hitting the stool with his leg and splashing hot soup all over himself as he lost his grip on the bowl. Chanyeol hurried towards him to help, but it only backfired. The guy, Baekhyun, judging by the hair, became more agitated and fell back right where the bowl had crashed and broken. 

"Motherfucker, ow!" Baekhyun cursed, forgetting for a moment his terror of seeing another person in his apartment. 

Chanyeol's fear came true as Baekhyun inspected the pain in his hand and found a large cut, blood oozing down his arm. Chanyeol was there just in time to catch the pink haired boy before Baekhyun cursed again and fainted at the sight of blood. 

Jesus, how did a lazy evening in Chanyeol's own apartment turn into spilled soup, bloody wounds and an unconscious twenty-two year old in his arms? 

It took him two hours to get it all cleaned up. He debated calling Sehun, but he was probably too busy in the throes of passion to pick up the phone anyway, so Chanyeol decided to tackle one pressing issue at a time. 

Baekhyun's cut wasn't deep, but it was long enough to cause alarm. Poor guy must've slid his hand right over the broken ceramic. Thankfully the soup wasn't scalding, not hot enough to bruise. Chanyeol decided the leather couch can weather some sticky chicken soup and carried Baekhyun over to lay him down. He found the first aid kit in the bathroom cabinet and went on to clean and dress the wound before Baekhyun woke up. Chanyeol never would have thought he'd be the kind of guy to lose his shit at the sight of blood. But, oh well, everyone had their kryptonite. 

Cleaning up the broken bowl and soup was a bit harder, Chanyeol had to look for missing pieces of ceramic that got knocked away out of sight. It could cause more problems later on. By the time he was done, it was past midnight, and he was hungry enough to indulge in cooking himself a quick snack. Baekhyun was still unconscious on the sofa with his injured hand propped up over his head, breathing normally. He probably didn't get to have dinner if the soup was it. Chanyeol decided to make use of the ingredients in their fridge and make something for both of them. 

"Ah fuck," Baekhyun cursed the moment he woke up. "This is so not my day."

"Hey," Chanyeol said quietly. "Don't freak out. I'm Chanyeol, Sehun's friend, remember?"

"Jesus, you could've knocked maybe?"

"Sorry," Chanyeol did realize he shouldn't have barged in like that. But in his defense, Sehun had told him nobody would be home. "I had Sehun's keys, he's spending the night at my place so, he said I could stay here, and that you'd be out. I didn't know you'd be at home."

"Right. Wait, why is he at your place?"

"Uh, my roommate, Junmyeon... "

"Good God, stop. No more. I've heard enough about Junmyeon this, Junmyeon that. No more. Let them fuck it out. I need a break."

Chanyeol agreed. It was slightly getting on his nerves as well. He went back to his meal, sitting on the floor and watching the muted sitcom.

"Oh, Uh, did you…?" Baekhyun sat up and fumbled with his bandaged hand. 

"Oh yeah," Chanyeol looked back at him. "Sorry about that, I really didn't mean to startle you. I cleaned it up, the kitchen too, so don't worry about it. And, the cut isn't deep as far as I can tell, but you probably should get it checked out tomorrow, might require stitches."

"Just my luck," Baekhyun sighed. "You said you cleaned the kitchen?"

"Yeah, didn't want any more accidents happening tonight. Also, there's some stir fried rice and chicken if you want. I was hungry so..." Chanyeol pointed at his own food. 

"You cleaned, and you cooked," Baekhyun repeated like he couldn't wrap his head around the facts. "Please switch places with Sehun and move in with me."

Chanyeol laughed, if only. His meager job wasn't even remotely enough to afford all this luxury. 

"Alright, I'm gonna...I'm gonna go clean up. Jesus, what a night to do some beauty care. I've probably aged five years, a lot of good this mask will do me. And ugh, I smell like chicken, probably taste like it too."

Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh as Baekhyun slowly went to his room down the hallway grumbling about his bad luck. That was when Chanyeol realized that this was probably the first time he was ever alone with Baekhyun, and not once did he feel nervous or unsettled. He laughed, Baekhyun was actually funny. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad spending a night here like this. Granted, he could've done without the mess and injury. 

Chanyeol finished his meal and cleaned up the leather sofa where Baekhyun had laid unconscious by the time the other boy came freshly showered and a little out of it. 

"Uh, not to sound demanding or anything, but," Baekhyun sounded a little nervous. "Do you mind cleaning the bandage? It got wet and there's a red patch and...yeah."

Chanyeol tried not to laugh because it wasn't actually funny, it was just too adorable. Never did he imagine Byun Baekhyun, the boisterous theatre major around campus to be lightheaded because of blood. He looked too cute with his wet hair and too big T-shirt and loose shorts, holding up his injured arm and desperately trying not to look at the wound. 

"Sit down, I'll get it cleaned up," Chanyeol said, taking out the aid kit again. 

"You cleaned the couch," Baekhyun observed as he sat down, momentarily forgetting all about his injury and sounding surprised. 

Chanyeol didn't bother replying, he focused on the task at hand. 

"Close your eyes," he said and Baekhyun shut his eyes instantly. Button-like nose scrunched up, face a little red from rubbing off the mask, hand trembling outstretched. 

Chanyeol sat on the floor and changed the dressing. Then he put things away neatly and brought Baekhyun the meal he had prepared. 

"You can use your left hand, right?" Chanyeol asked. 

Baekhyun gaped at the food, spoon clumsily held in his left grip. He nodded minutely and Chanyeol decided to focus on the TV screen. 

"You can turn on the sound now, I'm wide awake," Baekhyun said. "Sorry for the drama, but then again, I'm an actor, what did you expect?"

"You're majoring in Theatre, right?" Chanyeol asked in conversation as Baekhyun nodded. "What do you do when you have to act with props like blood?"

"Well," Baekhyun scrunched up his red nose and Chanyeol had to bite his cheek to not smile. "It's not a big deal since I know it's fake. But when it's real…"

"That's okay," Chanyeol felt the sudden urge to reassure the guy. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, give it a week and it'll heal properly."

"Thanks," Baekhyun avoided eye contact. "For patching me up, twice. And for the meal."

"No worries. I'm sorry again for walking in on you like this. Giving you such a scare. Sehun told me you went on a date and won't be home tonight."

Baekhyun made a face. "Yeah, that…"

Chanyeol guessed it didn't go well. But he didn't want to ask, it was private. 

"I didn't show," Baekhyun said. 

He stood his date up? That's… a bit cruel, Chanyeol thought. 

"No, that's a lie," Baekhyun sighed. "I showed up two hours early and sat watch from a distance and I was right, some guys just wanted to mess with me. So I came home and decided to pamper myself."

Chanyeol really wanted to know who those guys were. The anger he felt wasn't new, and he wasn't surprised how much he hated whoever those people were who wanted to mess with Baekhyun. Chanyeol hated guys like that who only preyed on other people thinking they were weak. Sure, Baekhyun was maybe small compared to a lot of the guys around campus, and his sassy attitude and cotton candy hair would hurt a lot fragile egos, but Chanyeol really struggled to understand why people would want to hurt a complete stranger. 

"Do you know those guys?" Chanyeol asked even as he tried to hold himself back. 

"Yeah, don't worry about it, I took care of them. They're probably sitting in a cell for the night. I reported them."

Chanyeol felt relieved. Though guys like that deserved more than a night in a cell, at least nobody got hurt today. Or, at least not by them. He felt a pang of guilt thinking he was the reason Baekhyun got hurt. Jeez, why couldn't Sehun just wait until daytime to have his way with Junmyeon?

"You always like this, a neat freak?" Baekhyun asked when Chanyeol grabbed his empty plate and went on to clean it at the sink. 

Heat in his cheeks probably was evidence enough that he was blushing. Chanyeol's inability to leave anything unclean or untidy was not necessarily a problem, he didn't think he was obsessive about it. But it did stand out sometimes. Especially while living with Junmyeon who was not the neatest or tidiest person in the world. 

"Sorry, habit," Chanyeol said. 

"Oh, don't be sorry at all. I haven't done a single thing since you came. Please teach some manners to Sehun."

"He's a little beyond help."

"Unfortunate."

Baekhyun bid him goodnight, giving him free reign of Sehun's bed as he went to his own. Chanyeol never made it to the bed, however. He was dozing while sitting on the ground with his head back on the couch when cold fingers shook him awake. 

It took him a while to wake and sit up properly, not knowing what was going on since it was still pitch dark with only the light of the TV. 

Then he registered Baekhyun's strained voice. He was alert immediately, remembering everything that happened last night. 

"Uh, I think… I got hurt… in my sleep… it's... "

The wound was bleeding, blood seeped through the hem of the bandage and down Baekhyun's arm. Maybe the wound was deeper than Chanyeol thought. 

Before he could say anything, Baekhyun fainted right on top of him like a sack of potatoes. He was lighter than Chanyeol thought, which he hadn't exactly noticed hours before when Baekhyun first fainted. 

Chanyeol laid the guy down on the sofa again and reached for his phone, only then remembering that his phone was back in his apartment. Christ. 

Chanyeol quickly walked to Baekhyun's room. His phone was password locked, but Chanyeol could still use it in case of emergency. He grabbed the first pair of shoes he thought would fit Baekhyun and slid them into unconscious feet. 

"Baekhyun? Baek... " waking the guy wasn't very successful. He was probably too tired, and the blood loss was probably not helping. Damn guy was too pale to have much blood in him anyway. 

Chanyeol knew he was being stupid. Baekhyun probably just needed a full night's rest and a visit to the doctor's in the morning. But the guilt was eating at Chanyeol. 

The pharmacy was maybe seven minutes away. Double, if Chanyeol had to carry an unconscious Baekhyun all the way there. But that was still better than sitting here and not doing anything. What if there was a piece of ceramic stuck in the wound that Chanyeol hadn't been able to clean? 

He roused Baekhyun enough to carry him on his back and make sure he wouldn't fall off, and then he locked the doors and headed out. 

"The wound nicked a vein, nothing big, just needed a few stitches," the pharmacist said while performing the sutures.

Chanyeol was a little relieved that Baekhyun was awake again. Sitting with his eyes closed, his uninjured hand gripping the packet of strawberry milk he had requested and humming some song to distract himself. At least he'll be fine.

Chanyeol, however, couldn't shake off the weird gaze of the pharmacist and his assistant at the counter. They looked at Chanyeol the same way people looked at murder suspects. He tried to not show his nervousness.

That worked until an officer walked in purposefully and stood right in front of, sizing Chanyeol up. 

"You okay, son?" the officer asked Baekhyun directly. 

"Oh, Joey! What are you doing here?" Baekhyun asked. Gone was the faintness of his voice and dullness of his eyes. He was again distracted from his own distress as he focused on anything but his injury. 

"Byun! I really didn't think you were the one they called me about, I got those bastards you told me about. I didn't think they hurt you!"

Someone called the officer. Probably the assistant pharmacist. Good God, they probably thought Chanyeol purposely hurt Baekhyun and brought him here at four in the morning. Jesus Christ, what the hell was happening?

"Oh no, this was at home," Baekhyun said casually. Almost cheerfully. 

Chanyeol nearly swallowed his own tongue as three pairs of eyes honed in on him and Baekhyun remained oblivious, or pretended to. That was it, Chanyeol was going to jail. 

"I slipped in the kitchen, got soup all over me. Dreadful thing. And then I managed to fall on my ass and scrape my hand on a broken bowl!" Baekhyun summarized it like telling a story. 

"I'd say this is more than a scrape," the pharmacist grumbled. "If you hadn't bandaged it properly, you would have lost a lot of blood by now."

"Well it's all thanks to Chanyeol. I can't even look at blood, makes me faint. He cleaned up the wound and everything. Even carried me all the way, can you believe it?"

No, they could not. But at least they didn't think Chanyeol knifed Baekhyun's hand himself. That was good enough for now. 

"I'd be lying in my own pool of blood, dead, if it weren't for Chanyeol!"

He probably wouldn't be hurt in the first place if it weren't for Chanyeol. But nobody needed to know that. He looked up at the others and they seemed convinced Chanyeol wasn't the bad guy here. 

This is why Chanyeol had always been nervous around Baekhyun. Or, to be more precise, nervous because of other people due to Baekhyun's presence. This guy could make friends with patrol officers and pharmacists and make them feel concerned for him in a heartbeat. That was some power to have over people. Not saying Baekhyun was manipulative, on the contrary, he was sweet and charming and that won hearts. 

"You sure you don't want me to drop you off?" Joey said as he got into his patrol car. 

"Nah, it's okay, I think I need to walk it off, have some fresh air to feel a bit better."

"Alright," Joey eyed Chanyeol one last time and then smiled at Baekhyun. "Call me if there's any trouble." And then he was off. 

Jesus, that was nerve wracking. Chanyeol desperately wanted to go back to his own cramped tiny apartment with the partitioned room he shared with Junmyeon and sleep in his own bed. 

"You really didn't have to carry me all the way here, did you?" Baekhyun asked as they walked back to the apartment. 

"Didn't wanna risk it, and it was a short distance."

"Short!" Baekhyun laughed. "I can't decide whether I should be glad you were there or me mad at you for causing the accident in the first place."

"Sor…" Chanyeol was going to apologize again but Baekhyun cut him off. 

"I'm not mad, don't worry about it. It was just an accident. I'd blame Sehun but it was my choice to come back home, my choice to go on a date with a douche bag in the first place, their fault for being douchebags and waiting to gang up on me… what's the point of blaming. We're all still alive and well, let's just enjoy the moment."

It wasn't such a bad philosophy, especially at nearly half past five with the sun coming up on the horizon and cold breeze sending mild chills through the body. Chanyeol looked at Baekhyun when he realized the boy was only wearing a thin, oversized T-shirt. He should've put a jacket on him before rushing him to the pharmacy. 

"Let's hurry back," Chanyeol said. 

"What's the rush, let me enjoy the cool weather."

"You'll catch a cold."

Chanyeol didn't realize Baekhyun had stopped walking until he was a few steps ahead without the pink head near his shoulder. He looked back to find Baekhyun gawking at him with his mouth open. 

"What, what's wrong?" Chayeol quickly turned back. "You okay? Feeling lightheaded?"

"Uh…" Baekhyun stuttered. "Yeah, I think so. Think you can carry me the rest of the way?"

"Yeah sure, get on my back, it'll be easier," Chanyeol crouched down and waited for him to lean forward. 

Even after seconds, Chanyeol didn't feel an extra body on him. He turned his head and looked up. Baekhyun was still staring at him open-mouthed. 

"Baekhyun?"

"Hm what?"

"Get on?"

"Oh yeah, never turning down a ride," Baekhyun said as he leaned his weight on Chanyeol and grabbed his shoulders while locking his legs around Chanyeol's waist. 

Chanyeol faintly wondered whether Baekhyun was joking or not, faking his lightheadedness. But he didn't think too much about it, the apartment was barely five minutes away. It was good exercise anyway. 

"Jesus, what do you do to become this giant ball of goodness with muscles?"

Chanyeol nearly avoided stumbling on the stairs as he went up to the apartment. Giant ball of goodness? What? 

"You can put me down now," Baekhyun whispered, breath fanning the shell of Chanyeol's ear and almost making him lose his grip on Baekhyun's thighs. 

Chanyeol dropped Baekhyun safely on his feet and handed him Sehun's keys. Baekhyun gladly opened the door and walked in.

"I think I'll head back now," Chanyeol said from the threshold. 

"Oh, isn't it too early?" Baekhyun looked back tilting his head. 

He looked less pale now, maybe the sugar of the strawberry milk helped, or maybe the walk. Baekhyun looked good, not sick. Better. Pale pink hair all ruffled, clothes swallowing his thin frame, shorts and boots looking adorably comical with his bed shirt. Chanyeol was staring. 

"No, Junmyeon usually gets up by now, I can catch him if I go now before he starts his morning run."

"Shame," Baekhyun said. "Well, if you must go."

Chanyeol didn't know what to do when Baekhyun kissed him full on the mouth. He tasted sweet like strawberry. Lips soft like candy. Chanyeol hardly brought up a hand, fingertips grazing Baekhyun's angular jaw when he suddenly pulled away, leaving Chanyeol gasping and gaping at the shorter guy. 

"Thanks for the rescue!" Baekhyun laughed. His cheeks soft and glowing in the rising sun. 

Chanyeol didn't have time to react until the apartment door was being shut. For the second time in less than 8 hours, Chanyeol was standing in front of a closed door and desperately questioning his life. What just happened?

[jbbuckybarnes]

PR Stunt

Desc: Fake Dating AU. Celebrity AU. After pity posts for Sebastian skyrocketing, you two being seen together as friends a lot and with a big movie coming up, his management decides to pair you two for a PR stunt. You both agree, pranking the public seems fun and getting rid of pity tweets seems convenient. Pairing: Sebastian x Reader Warning: It’s not that good and one of my last real people fiction pieces I have left. Not beta read.

M A S T E R L I S T

+Pop Magazine - Articles: +Hot actors that are still on the market!+

*@lancebastian: Someone give this man a family!* *@stanfanfam: I feel so bad for him, he still isn’t with a woman or trying to build a family.* *@aliburger: Poor boy looks so alone. I’m volunteering!* _______ +Pop Magazine - Candids: +Sebastian Stan seen with his friend Y/N Y/LN in Manhattan, New York+

*@seabassbaby: I know they’re just friends but they’d make a cute couple.* *@lancebastian: Get her, Stan!* *@vanillaiceice: She’s cute af.* ________ “People are pitying you so much, it’s insane. What is so wrong with being single at your age?” you looked up from your phone at Sebastian sitting on the other side of the couch. “They’re just projecting their desires onto this.” he shrugged without looking up from his phone. “How does that not annoy you to some degree? I read it and get irritated by it.” you chuckled. “Sometimes I do, but at the end of the day it’s so unimportant.” now he looked up. “Yeah, but doesn’t that suck energy out of you to some level?” you two never talked about this specifically. “A bit.” another shrug with a small pout. “Well, let’s stop talking about that then. When’s press coming up?” you tried to change the topic. He looked at you for a second with a confused face before answering, “I think in two weeks.” “No, brunch meetings for weeks again.” you pouted like a child and got a smile back from him. “Poor baby.” he played into it and laughed. “You know they keep me sane.” you answered chuckling. “I know. I promise we’ll eat like three pizzas in one day when I’m back again, chaotic mess.” you looked at him offended. “I’m just telling the truth.” he held his arms up and grinned. “Ar-” you were interrupted by someone calling him and went back to checking your socials. You had a decent following and were friends with a few photographers, which gave you the opportunity to try yourself as a model and influencer. One of you photography friends is also how you two met and as soon as you two found your love for New York brunch meetings the friendship was sealed. “With Y/N?” you looked up at the mention of your name and saw him raise a brow. “Okay, yeah. Good, tomorrow at 11am. See ya.” he ended the call and finally saw your confused face. “Guess we have a meeting at 11am tomorrow and they also want you there.” his hand went through his hair and he exhaled a bit exhausted. “Why that?” you weren’t with his management or something. “She didn’t tell me. Maybe they want to sign you?” he was just as clueless as you and sat back down on the couch and you sat up. “That would be...sudden?” you said even more confused. “I feel like there’s something more to that.” his eyes narrowed. You shrugged taking your phone again, “We’ll find out I guess.”

___________ “We know you both don’t like paparazzi but this could benefit all of us and would be over after a few weeks.” the woman ended her little idea. “Wait, you want us to do a PR stunt, did I understand that right?” you said it out loud. A serious nod came back and a sigh from you. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but I think that would be hilarious outside of the paparazzi stuff.” he snorted beside you. “Excuse me, what?” you turned towards him and got a shrug back. “So...would you be on board?” the lady asked again. You let your head sink onto your arms on the table with an, “I guess.” You both left the office after you got handed a contract to go through to sign with the management and the comment, “I hate being friends with you.” “Did you mean being in a relationship?” he joked and got a stern look back. “Don’t take it too far, Stan!” you warned him. “Won’t. Promise.” he said with that boyish smile that guaranteed for nothing. “Idiot.” you muttered while walking out of the building onto the busy street. A hand was reaching for yours and you looked up confused. “What? Need to lay down the foundation for what’s about to go down.” he clearly loved the idea to mess around with you and the public for a while. “Dork.” a smile finally found its way onto your face and you shook your head. You didn’t mind holding hands with your other friends, so this wasn’t the problem. You weren’t so sure about the rest of what was about to happen in the upcoming weeks. “You love it.” he said nudging you lightly.

“Only if I get some good pictures for my Instagram and Twitter.” you chuckled. “I’m sure there’s gonna be some of your beloved photoshootings.” he grinned. “You’re gonna be an Instagram boyfriend, don’t you forget about that part of it.” you grinned back. “Oh god.” he had the realization hit him. “Yeah, didn’t think through that I might get back at you, huh?” you laughed.

“Lunch date?” he looked down at you after you both were finished with laughing and had walked for a block. “As long as I don’t need to play honeymoon phase love, yeah.” you bit your lip to stop the laugh that was making its way through your body. “Don’t worry, I think the eating each other alive part is one or two weeks in.” he wheezed and held the door to one of your favorite places open. “It’s gonna be hella obvious that it’s a stunt.” you pointed out. “That’s why I agreed. Why not have some fun and confuse people for a bit.” there was that boyish smile again. “Like that whole Shawn Mendes & Camila Cabello thing.” you shuddered. That was obviously a stunt but there was that part where everyone kinda thought it might be true and they just wanted to get the extra publicity. “I have no idea what you’re talking about but I guess my answer would be yes.” he said before turning to the waitress that just arrived at your table. ___________ +Pop Magazine - Candids: Sebastian Stan seen having a lunch date and holding hands with Y/N Y/L/N*+ *@bellastann: I feel like our dreams start to manifest stanfam!* *@lancebastian: Not entirely sold, holding hands ain’t that special. They are friends for months now.* *@evanstackiee: Yeees! (Y/L/N)stan is real!!!* ____________ Your contract was signed, your game plan was well organized. There were appointments and activities planned out, what to do at which one and the paparazzi would be there for some of them. You kinda cringed when you looked at the little calendar in front of you but you also were about to have some fun with tricking the general public. “Just an insanely big acting exercise, right?” you looked beside you to see him read through the stuff too. “Uuh, yeah.” he said concentrated on reading. You were both extremely open with each other and rarely had any miscommunication. So kissing in public without starting friendship problems wouldn’t be so hard, but you still had a weird feeling about it. Not fear, just a feeling.

__________ The first thing you did was pretty mellow. Attending a small local event together. You did things like this before but this time you’d have to cuddle up a bit here and there and make a few Instagram Stories. “You comfortable?” he smiled down at you holding your body close to his arm. “You’re 6 foot and fit, I think there is no way in hell anyone would think this isn’t comfortable.” you gave a sweet grin up at him. “For a model you’re pretty good at this.” he joked and you poked him into his waist. “Hey!” he laughed. “You act like I wasn’t a drama kid in school. I might be good-looking but I’m also a nerd. You should know that best...space nerd.” you chuckled. “Stop calling me out like that or I’ll make you talk to that dude you find annoying over there.” he pointed at a man that had bombarded you with his boring business ideas months ago. “Don’t you dare, Stan!” you looked offended. “You wanna sit down with some wine then, madame?” he said in a posh accent. “Of course, it is incredibly instagramable.” you answered in the same way. A boomerang of your drinks with each other tagged in it and two glasses of wine later you officially had glued yourself to him. He had a very comforting vibe about him and you clearly helped with his anxious moments. A kiss was planted onto your temple and a black and white filter put on top of it. Followed by a funny selfie and a picture of your empty wine glasses. Shortly after you already left the party under the flickering lights of a handful of paparazzi. Holding hands and very close together. __________ +Pop Magazine - Gossip: Are Sebastian Stan and his ‘best friend’ dating?+ *@stanfanfam: Cause of death: That temple kiss.* *@vanillaiceice: Damn, is it the late 2000s? Seb leaving a party with a girl? Damn!* *@evanstackiee: For me it’s confirmed.* *@seabassbaby: It looks kinda staged but if it’s not I’m super happy for him!* __________ The second little thing on the list was a photoshooting together. Since you both had modelled for magazines before and with other models you were kinda in your element. It was for a mid-sized fashion magazine that published every month and you two were having fun all over the rented AirBnB. Some expensive yoga pants with a knitted oversized sweater and boots was the first thing you needed to wear for a scene depicting to come home. Falling into each other's arms multiple times definitely made you laugh because of the dumb faces he made. The next outfit was a sleeping outfit. Silk shorts and an airy white cropped shirt. Your socks were pink and had donuts on it. “Can I have them?” you gave them puppy eyes and the team laughed. Modelling while laying was hard. You needed to look realistic but also show of what you were wearing. Combined with a giant baby blowing air into your ear ended in him being pinched by you. He was clearly not prepared to see you in the third outfit. Lacey underwear and an open button-down mens shirt. You could literally see his brain work and giggled “C’mon, get it together.” He was wearing briefs and a white shirt, needing to embrace you from behind while you pretended to make scrambled eggs. “My eggs are definitely scrambled after this.” he whispered and you couldn’t hold back the genuine laugh, ending up in some good pictures. The last two outfits were a bit more editorial but still wearable and the pictures were taken outside. “Well, that wasn’t bad.” you said to him as you two walked out after changing back into your clothing. “For YOU.” he answered. “Poor baby, needed to see his friend in underwear.” you made fun of him. “Yo, it’s a different thing if I see an Instagram picture or the live version.” he defended himself. “Clearly...don’t you dare fall for me, dork.” you joked and he huffed. The walk back was silent but he looked down at you from time to time. You just couldn’t see his reaction every time he did. __________ +Pop Magazine - News: Sebastian Stan & Y/N Y/L/N modelling together. Check out these pictures!+ *@lancebastian: Damn, so this is really a thing, huh? Holy, that’s cute.* *@evanstackiee: Can they adopt me?* *@bellastann: That kitchen picture sent me into cardiac arrest!* _________ By now you were trained at sending each other stolen glances. No matter if you just needed to go to your management or when you had brunch together. But for the last three days he was in LA for the press junket of his new movie. There was this weird feeling again. It felt so close to fear but it wasn't fear. You couldn’t quite pinpoint it. *God, I’m way too used to being around you now.* *You miss not freezing to death in any given moment, admit it!* *No, real talk, I miss you.* *Realtalk: I miss you too...but admit it’s the freezing!* *D O R K !* You had taken a flight to LA the day after because an award show was next on your list. You were ten times more nervous for the dress sitting right than the man on your side. You also weren’t used to hair and makeup. You were an Instagram model, this was a luxury at experimental shoots. “You’d think I can smile on command and not look like shit...but I can’t.” you said to him before stepping onto the red carpet an hour later. “You’re looking good, stop worrying.” he said in his usual calming tone before gently pulling you forward. 10 minutes later the torture to your eyes was done and there were interviews. “What do you have to say about the rumors about your relationship status?” you were asked. “That people should care more about their life than mine...oh, and that he’s the best human being on the planet. Doesn’t matter in which way we are connected.” Sitting down at an award show with your hand being held was not were you thought you’d end up when you agreed to this but why not make memories? Your head naturally landed on his shoulder after a while. You really had missed him being in close proximity for those 4 days. His thumb softly wandered over the back of your hand. “What would you do if I’d win something?” he asked in a low voice. “Jump you?” your head went up again to see his eyes wandering over your face. “In a happy kinda way, I assume.” he had a lopsided smile on his face. “You’re thinking about that photoshoot again, huh? Literally a teenager.” you joked but saw his eyes wander to your lips for a bit too long before he concentrated on the host again. For the rest of the evening your mind went in circles about him playing that or being genuinely interested in you in that way.

__________ +Pop Magazine - Gossip: Mysterious answer to relationship question about (Y/L/N)stan+ *@vanillaiceice: They are boning, come ON!* *@evanstackiee: Look at how happy she is while she says it.* *@seabassbaby: Gosh, just say it!* __________ Today was the day you weren’t really prepared for. He had an off day from press and you were still in LA. Your plan was going to the beach and getting photographed. Well, it wasn’t your plan. It was the plan made for you. “I hate swimming in the ocean!” you mumbled. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You have two excuses to grab onto me, right?” he chuckled while watching you undress and revealing your red bikini. You both laid in the sun for a while, talking about his press junket and the social media reactions to this. “Wanna get wet?” you opened your eyes to a child in a man’s body wiggling his eyebrows. You punched his chest with a laugh and let him pull you up with him. Hand in hand you made your way into the ocean rather slowly, “And you didn’t want to admit that you freeze to death without me.” he chuckled. He got impatient and just grabbed your waist and jumped backwards into deeper water. After a squeak from your side and your nails clawing into his back a little bit too harshly, you got used to it. “Look. It’s fine.” he put some hair strands out of your face with his free hand. “I still hate the ocean.” you pouted, trying to overplay how fast your heart was suddenly beating. Oh hell no, you were not just slowly falling for your best friend...please? “I get that.” he put his hand onto your lower back and you put your legs around his hips. “You’re my floatie.” you giggled putting your head into the crook of his neck. “And you are...I can only assume a freezing rock.” you both chuckled.

Your head went up again to see a big grin on his face, “Fuck you.” “You love it.” he said like usual but this time you slowly nodded with a serious face and his eyes widened enough for you to notice. “Wait, I didn’t…” you exhaled deeply with attentive eyes on you. “I feel like we should just stop this. I don’t want to see this friendship break apart just because my body thinks close proximity is a good reason to send hormones out.” you got out of your system. “That’s an odd way of saying that you’re having a crush on me.” he smiled and put his other arm around you. “Yeah, well, I don’t wanna ruin this.” your eyes went down, you rarely made yourself this vulnerable. “You already did by, to say it in your nerdy words, making my body think it’s a good idea to send out hormones because we are in close proximity.” he answered with a nervous chuckle, hand going through his hair.

Your eyes met his again, “I stopped acting the moment it started, Y/N.” “Well, um, it took me till about approximately 5 minutes ago to realize that this odd feeling I have isn’t some suppressed fear.” you made fun of yourself to make the situation less awkward. “Wanna give them what they want?” his head nudged towards the beach with a smirk. “Do you mean give you what you want?” you joked and he remembered where he heard that before. “I hate being friends with you,” he bit his lip, “I’d much rather call you my girlfriend.” The reference made you melt, he remembered that dumb little conversation from two weeks ago. Your hands went from his shoulders to his head and his free hand pulled your head closer before your lips met. You didn’t care about the camera clicks in the background, you only cared about finally making out with the man that made you love brunch dates so much. It felt like an hour before you broke apart a little. Steel blue eyes were staring right into your soul and the most calming voice in the world said “I love you.” “I hope you don’t say that while thinking of me in underwear.” you joked. “Nah, don’t need to. You’re grabbing onto me in a bikini.” he said with his hands wandering down your body and a giant smirk on his face. “I love you too, dork.” ___________ +Pop Magazine - News: (Y/L/N)stan confirmed! Couple seen kissing at the beach.+ *@vanillaiceice: I’ll fistfight anyone that hates on her!* *@evanstackiee: Look at those SMILES.* *@seabassbaby: Maybe I’m crying.* *@lancebastian: She makes him happyyy.* *@bellastann: I think this gave me diabetes.* *@stanfanfam: Make babies! lol* *@Y/N: Gosh, @imsebastianstan we have heart eyes galore in these. Might need to go and get that checked out.* *@imsebastianstan: @Y/N, yeah, heard of that new disease called love. It’s attacking every part of your body and mind!* *@seabassbaby: For real...ADOPT ME!* _____________

M A S T E R L I S T

[bubble-bums]

More Than A Victim

Words: 1974

Warnings: Kidnapping, mentions of abuse, starvation, (not on purpose)

Chapter 1! Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Your heartbeat thudded loudly in your ears. It was a constant drum that drowned out the eerie silence you had grown accustomed to over the last several weeks. You think it’s been weeks, as you had what felt like a regular schedule of meals, but then again you haven’t seen the sun in a long time. It could have been much longer. 

You can’t remember the exact events that led up to you being chained down in the basement turned laboratory. You remember needing some groceries for the next day. You had a graduation party to attend. You were going to bring homemade nachos and the cupcakes that you were so good at decorating. You were excited to have finally become a physician, earning that sweet little ‘Dr’ before your name. You had been on the way to the store, walking on foot because it wasn’t too far from your little apartment. Someone had called to you from the alley, and you were concerned immediately. You knew the homeless population always had trouble during the winter months, and you wanted to make sure that whoever it was, was ok. Unfortunately, your naivety got you in trouble. You can’t remember what he did, but you had woken up in your little cell, dressed in a hospital gown, and chained to the back wall. A small tattoo with your initials and a scrawl of numbers after.

You wince, thinking about it. Your hand goes to rub the little mark on your wrist, written horizontally. You want to cry, but it’s been a while since you had last eaten, and you don’t want to get dehydrated. 

When you had first woken up, there were others. An android on the far side of the rooms, banging her fists against the bars. She screamed so much, that one day, he took her upstairs, and never brought her back up. The other human had stopped screaming after that, and you followed soon. The other human, a taller woman, had spoken to you in the darkness after he had left you your meals. Her voice was soft, and so many times you had wanted to reach out to her, and hug her. However, you were forever kept apart. Especially after a new man came down and took her up with him. You had cried that night.

You haven’t eaten in a long time, and it concerns you greatly. Your stomach had long since stopped growling at you to eat. You wince and rub down at your foot. You go to stretch your legs out, and your right foot scrapes against a rough edge of the rock that made up the walls and floor of your cell. You cry out. You’ve cut it open pretty badly. You flinch as you take it in your hands softly and press down on it with the little bit of your gown that drapes down long enough. It’s uncomfortable and stings quite a bit, but the bleeding would soon stop.

But then the lights go out completely. 

Connor shifted slightly at his desk, trying to keep himself busy. It had been a pretty calm day, but he had already finished all of his reports from their finished cases. He and Hank had been kept on cases involving androids, but they were back to just investigating homicides. Connor was no longer put in any position to worry, about what they once called ‘Deviants’. Now they were just Androids, just people. Connor sighed again, taking his coin from his back pocket, He goes to flip it, but he can see the small glare that Hank offers him from through his gray bangs. Connor sighed audibly once more, slouching forward. He needed something to do.

Connor has had trouble in the past year or so. He was constantly working and had little time to himself. When he wasn’t working, he was offering his meager help to Jericho.  He had a rocky relationship with a few of them, especially North, who had made it clear from the get-go that she didn’t like him. Simon had merely smiled at him, and patted his shoulder softly, exclaiming, “She’s like that with everyone but Markus, don’t worry too hard,” but Connor knew better. She just didn’t like him. 

Connor thumped his head against the table exasperatedly. He has never felt, bored before, and he certainly doesn’t like it.

“Connor, if you sigh one more fucking time, I’m gonna make you talk to Gavin about his latest ‘score’,” Hank growled from the other desk. Connor smiled up at him sheepishly. He hadn’t meant to be annoying, as bored as he was. 

“Please don’t Hank, he’s awful.”Connor didn’t often say that about people, but Gavin Reed, the office asshole, definitely deserved it. 

“Then shut up.” Hank was busy tapping away at his terminal, not bothering to look up at the sad-puppy expression that Connor was making. 

Connor pulled himself out of the chair stoically. If there was nothing to do, he would find something to do. With his new mission set for himself, he made his way to the staff room, taking a look around to see if there was anything he could fix or clean. Connor found that the kitchen counters and the microwave were perfectly clean. Someone must have cleaned up earlier, and he hadn’t felt so annoyed with someone he didn’t know until that moment. He frowned slightly, his eyebrows furrowing a bit. Then, as if his day couldn’t be more annoying, a whiny voice that could only belong to one person in the office, called out to him.

“Hey, Tin Can!” Gavin called out. He had his arms crossed and his mouth was twisted into a snarl. He was still pissed off that Connor was asked to stay with the DPD despite his tampering with evidence back a year ago. Connor was overjoyed, but Gavin took it as a personal insult. “The fuck you doing?” 

Connor turned a bit, just so that his face was towards the smaller man, and smiled slightly. “Ah, if it isn’t the least qualified officer at the DPD, what can I do for you?” Connor had let himself speak his thoughts more lately, and it showed to be quite aggressive when it came to suspects and people like Gavin. Hank laughed every single time, but it still felt odd to Connor. He wasn’t used to these kinds of thoughts and feelings yet. 

Gavin growled and uncrossed his arms at the remark. His hand was now thrust forward as he pointed at Connor’s chest. “Didn’t I tell you last time to fuck off? You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Connor smiled sweetly, his face throwing it off balance as he spoke again. “If you weren’t aware, Androids are free to do what they please within the limits of the law, and nowhere does it say I can’t tell you the truth, Reed.” His head cocked, and his smile dropped. He frowned down at the shorter officer. “I wasn’t doing anything, so I would appreciate it if you left me-” He abruptly stopped talking, throwing Gavin for a loop as he watches Connor’s LED spin yellow for a moment. 

“Excuse me Detective Reed, but I have an assignment now.” Connor spun on his heel and walked out of the room. He walks up to Hank’s desk swiftly.

“We have work,” He says, just as Hank looks up at him, his hair pooling back a bit to show off his aging face. “A murder involving an android and two humans. I have the address and we are set to go when you’re ready.” He was always formal when giving information, but that was just a piece of him that seemed to stick through despite his freedom. It was interesting, but it got the job done faster. 

Hank nodded, huffing as he pushed his chair back and stood. He grabbed his keys and followed the android, who was already making his way to the elevator.

You shivered in the cold. It had been far too long since you had eaten, and you could feel your body eating itself. You were exhausted, sleeping most times, and crying dry. You were thirsty, and the small drips of water that drenched the wall on some nights were not enough to sustain you for much longer. You were going to die in this hell-hole, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Footsteps in the house above caused you to stop your inner monologue. There was someone home. Then there were more footsteps. There were multiple people! Your heart soared and suddenly you felt as if you might have a chance. You tried to yell, but your voice came out as a croak. You rubbed your throat softly and began to try and work your voice out softly. You would have to work up to a scream but hopefully, you could do it before they left. 

Connor took the scene in rather quickly. He was glad to be doing something, but he did his best to be careful in his analysis. There was blood, drenched all over the couch and floor in front of it. The body, a taller man with a thick build, laid half decomposing on it. The house apparently smelled awful, as Hank had cried out halfway through the entryway. The man, a Thomas Shellville, had died twelve days prior, and had been stabbed in the throat twice, and bludgeoned over the head with what Connor believed to be the trophy. 

“Lieutenant, I believe I have figured out what happened,” Connor said as he moved away from the trophy he had been inspecting. The perpetrator was invited in, as there are no signs of forced entry, and there are two drinks set up on the table here. I believe there were two people here, but I think only one was involved. Neither of the weapons used on the man has fingerprints, and no smudging or fibers left over. Therefore, I believe it was an android that committed this crime.” Connor shifted about for a moment before coming to Hank’s side. The other person with the android must have fled. This is likely the person who sent us the info and we have yet to question. The android hit Thomas upon the head three times with the trophy, threw it behind them, and then quickly stabbed him in the throat quickly. The knife is not ere, so I think the android brought it with them.”

Hank nodded, taking his chin in his hand, scratching his beard. “It makes sense,” he starts, “but why?” Connor merely shrugs, taking another sweep of the house.

He is searching through the closet when he hears it. A scream. It is so quiet that he thinks he hasn’t head anything at all, but he turns up his sensors a bit, and he hears it louder. He whips around and dashes towards Hank. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Hank asks inquisitively and goes quiet. Connor holds up his hand. It happened again and he lit up. 

“Right there. There’s someone else in the house. Search for a basement door of some kind.” Connor takes off to where he first heard the sound. He rummages around in the closet, trying to find some kind of hatch or small door. He finds nothing. He growls to himself and turns to the next room. That’s when Hank calls out to him from the dining room. 

“Here kid found what you were looking for. Fucking bitch to find too.” Hank is prying open a door that had been hidden behind a water cooler stood on a smaller table. The door is small but big enough for a person to crawl through. Connor drops to his knees, gun at the ready.

Whoever was there, better be ready.

[ohnoyoonoh]

should haves | based off of sunflower by harry styles, like the meaning. | jaehyun angst | requested | a/n: i assumed how you wanted sunflower to be used in like the meaning, which i researched about. if you’re not satisfied with the story, please message me!

a photo-book was always a good way to reminisce memories. people say to live the moment, but jaehyun was the type of person to live the moment and capture it to relive the sweet memory once again.

he started the photo-book, once he received a polaroid as a christmas gift. he remembered when he started. he started exactly the first day of the new year. he thought it would be fun to take a picture of something everyday. then, he realized that taking one every day wasted precious film, but he also grew bored of capturing his cacti and little things in his apartment. despite the circumstances, his subjects evolved from the succulents placed in his home to himself or maybe his food to someone worth while. 

jaehyun flipped to the next page after reaching the pictures that started to be filled with your presence. he chuckled, as one of the pair of polaroids were you and him covered in flour. that day was filled with joy as you both tried to make a homemade brownies after he found a recipe online that worked out with his best friends. he remembered that you only agreed because you didn’t fully trust him as he burnt the meal the last time he tried to make food.

“so we’re going to need three cups of chocolate chips,” you read the recipe on your computer before looking at him which he nodded. he searched through the drawers and cupboards to find the measuring cups and spoons. as he rummages in a drawer, he perked up his head, “babe, i don’t think we have measuring spoons or cups.”

meanwhile, you were busy taking out the other ingredients that were listed but stopped after hearing him. he squatted quietly as you pondered upon the subject. he watched your facial expressions change quickly as you thought of how to answer the statement. he understood your delayed response as  it was rare to see a home-cooked meal made by the two of you. jaehyun typically just ordered not wanting to tire you out. “maybe, we can just eye it.”

“or we can just use the metric system,” he offered an option by pulling out the scale. 

“yeah, we can do that, too. i don’t know to convert between the systems, though,”  you scrunched your face. he could tell that you didn’t want to take the unnecessary steps to convert the measurements.

“i guess, we’re eyeing it then,” he said, putting the scale back into its place in the cupboard. relieved that you both didn’t needed to put extra effort into measurements, you started pouring the dry ingredients that needed less first in the bowl. “jae, can you get the flour?”

jaehyun hummed, as he opened the cupboard to reach for the flour. he didn’t realize that the bag wasn’t secured all too well as he tipped the bag over before grasping it tightly. his way of collecting the bag of flour didn’t end so well as the next thing he knew was that your work-space was covered in flour. his eyes widened, “oh. i’m so sorry, baby, i didn’t realize that bag was open.”

he wasn’t sure what to do since wetting a paper towel to clean up would cause another mess to deal with. flour mixed with water would make the mixture gummy and can stick to the surface. he knew that situation a little too well, when he was cleaning up after making a birthday cake for you. the white powder was all over the floor, but you. you were caked in the flour, he couldn’t help but chuckle at how silly you looked and managed to still looked cute.

“it’s okay, can you get me a damp paper towel? so i can wipe my eyes, i can barely open them. i also don’t like the taste of the flour,” you asked. 

“yep. i’m sorry, baby,” he rushed to get what you needed but actually went to grab his polaroid camera as it was the perfect moment to do so.. you reassured that he was fine that it was just an accident. as he came back, he went to retrieve what you needed he made sure to not get any splatters of water near the floury mess. as he turned around to hand you the paper towel, he was faced with powder all over his face. he lightly coughed as it got into his mouth, still handing you the paper which you gladly took to wipe your face. needless to say, jaehyun had other plans in mind as he grabbed a fistful of flour and threw it at you, caking you in even more flour if that was even possible. 

“oh, it is on, jung jaehyun.”

the flour battle extended from a portion to your kitchen to the entirety of it. jaehyun started the dramatic music, but he must have forgotten that he has his music on shuffle by default. the music determining where the little flour war started to go in terms of the fighting’s moment. the songs became the songs that you both enjoyed. the battle slowly progressed to you both laying on the ground, making snow angels. basking in the fun while it lasted, you didn’t want the moment to end. 

“i couldn’t want you more, kissing in the kitchen like a dance floor,” jaehyun sang as he held your hand, pressing his lips to back of your hand. he wanted this moment to last, and he remembered the camera. without any comments, he quickly got up to grab it which was still on the counter. you watched him hop up before laying back down with the device in hand. he held it out, already perfected the angle to capturing the photo due to the amount of polaroids he has taken with you.

“that day was great. i remembered when johnny and doyoung caught us laying there laughing our heads off. doyoung yelled at us like there was no tomorrow,” jaehyun laughed. doyoung chewed their heads off for wasting the flour, but he confessed that he disliked that you both didn’t start later enough to where johnny and him could have joined. turning the pages, he finally reached the dried out sunflower which he was reminded to water the plant. he stood up from his sitting position on the floor, grabbing the water bottle and fed the sunflower. he smiled, it was pretty, the petal strong. 

once he finished, he returned to the book, the page was dedicated to the little date that you had at the sunflower field. he always wanted to go to one, despite knowing full well, his allergies might start acting up.

“are you sure you want to have a date here? i don’t want you to get sick or anything,” you pushed the stray strands in front of his face to the side, joining it with the rest of his hair after you saw him trying to blow the pieces away. you stood at the entrance of the field, and he knew you wanted to make sure that he was committed into entering a world full of possibly allergies. the last time you visited a flower patch, he sneezed all week. but he didn’t regret going to it, though.

“yep, plus i’ve been wanting to go here,” he said. he smiled as dramatically did a spin, taking the scenery. taking the first steps into the field, he turned and stuck his hand out to you, “leggo.”

a warm feeling grew inside when you slipped your hand into his, which he started walking you through the beautiful garden. the stroll through the tall stocks of sunflowers left you both in awe. it was magnificent to see the golden petals, and you couldn’t get enough. despite being the same type of flower, they each looked different. each having a different characteristic. 

“babe,” he called your name.

“hmm?”

“do you know why the flowers are facing us?”

“why?”

“when the sun is out, they face it.”

“mmm.. that’s nasty, i’m gonna go throw up,” you laughed at his cheesy pick up line. jaehyun enjoyed telling cheesy lines even if it makes you smack in the arm sometimes. he pouted, knowing it’ll get you to respond to his joke. you replied to his joke. “i’m sorry, bub. yes they do face the sun, because you are the sun.”

his pout turned into a big grin, dimples poking out. he shook his head, “no, you’re the sun. no going against my word. i said it first.”

you rolled your eyes, “fine. i lost this time. i will win next time.”

“and i said, no matter how hard you try, i somehow still win,” he grinned. “i was better at pick up lines. but they were full of cringe. you always made fun of yourself when you thought of the cheesy lines to say. and then when we got home, i started sneezing like crazy. i ended up having allergies. even when you knew you were right, you never made me feel bad by saying i told you so.”

flipping to the next page. the last page. the last polaroids. you holding the gift of ear pieces he given you. a picture of you two with some nctzens and the members holding a sign that said will you marry me. another image captured everyone standing in front of the busking crowd. finally you two standing in front of the eiffel tower. the day jaehyun asked you to marry him is one of his favorite days. the perfect opportunity was when nct had visited paris for a couple of things on their schedules. he used your bucket list to his advantage and chose the point of how you wanted to do a busking. it took awhile for the approval to do one, as the managers needed to get the male a permit to do it. he’s never been so jittery when hearing the result of his plan. he had multiple, but he wanted to knock something off of your bucket list. “ah, the busking. you were so nervous about singing because you only ever did it when you’re scrolling through social media or playfully doing so when it was a karaoke night with the boys.”

“jae, i don’t know i am really nervous. the only times i ever sing is like when we’re at our apartment and it’s just you. or when it’s karaoke night with the guys,” you said as jaehyun led you through the streets of the city of love. he chuckled as you commented how you didn’t feel the romance in the air, as you expected it to be but sure was pretty. he listened as you compared paris, saying it different from the korean streets but shared similar feelings. the only difference was it shared a little bit more diversity among people. 

your hand in his, he squeezed it to reassure you, “you’ll be okay, baby. you shut everyone else out when you get so into the song so well. plus, the boys will be there, too. they’re part of your number one fanclub.” reaching the destination, you see the members already performing and gathered a small crowd. it grew bigger bit by bit.  the live sound from the band made your heart race more but also somehow made you calm down. it was exhilarating to say the least. you always enjoyed buskings similar to these. watching them back in korea was something you did when you and jaehyun ran errands and always made sure to reach the time the singing buskings would start. the tune of pandora’s box grew louder as you neared the make-shift venue. jaehyun quitely sang the song as he led you to where the managers were waiting for you both .they helped jaehyun put his ear-pieces on, adjusting the box into his back pockets. the managers handed him another box, revealing to be your own set of ear pieces. 

he showed you the ear pieces, taking it out of the box. you observed the ear pieces, reading the engraved words. you laughed, seeing that your inside joke landed as the design. you jokingly told jaehyun that if you were an idol that you would get a design on your earpieces that it would say be quiet, don’t cry on one and the other with i just want some milk. in your words, “it’s such an iconic line for teenage jaehyun.” you given him a side hug, showing your appreciation towards the ear-pieces even if you were going to only use them this one time. 

jaehyun helped you prepare for the performance, straightening the wires making sure they didn’t get caught within your undergarments. he slipped the clip onto your waistband, adjusting it so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable as you sat in the chair. “you ready, love?”

“yeah, a little nervous but just as we practiced.” you nodded your head. you both waited for the song to end. he wasn’t going to join them for a song wanting to prepare as much as he can before the proposal. the busking venue the managers chosen was cute. there was a white blanket hanging behind them, which projected videos and pictures of the boys. the idea showing the members first as they performed and it subtly transitioned to your memories together as you done your songs were entirely his idea. he knew that you kept a pile of sd cards lying around with the vlog material that you had, along with the pictures. you enjoyed capturing the moments as he does with his polaroid. he left his thoughts after seeing that the boys finished. johnny patted jaehyun on the back. jaehyun took your hand in his once again, staring at you with a small smile. he awaited your response, wanting to know your final response to performing. you nodded, confirming that you were ready. he walked towards the two chairs, letting you pick which one you wanted to sit in. some of the members cleared the leftover chairs, creating a space just for you two. he thanked them with a head bow, donghyuck and mark shooting a thumbs up that everything was ready to go. johnny manned the computer that was connected to the projector, prepared to start the video when it was the right time.

jaehyun handed you a microphone, and he introduced the two of you. he knew how hard you’ve been practicing ever since that he told you that the managers were able to make the busking happen. you worked hard for a straight month. he was sure that you could debut as an idol if you wanted to.

exactly how he said, you immersed yourself into the song well that you forgot that you were singing to a crowd. it was just you and him. it felt so nice to sing your heart out to someone, knowing that they’ll treat it well. you were the one who jaehyun wanted to spend the rest of his life with. he was sure of it. he couldn’t help but stare at you as you sang your verses. he certainly was whipped for you. well in the words of mark. he watch you smile as the second song ended. opening your eyes, you met them with jaehyun’s. the crowd cheering you both before he spoke again, “i got a little surprise for you.”

the countless nights he stayed up to complete the video were surely worth the loss sleep, as your reaction was worth it. you may have cried, but it was worth it. the boys and the fans that helped him were overjoyed to hear you utter yes. the crowd at the busking also cheered again for the successful proposal. he grinned, remembering the loud claps and whistles that were for you two. 

a tear dropping onto the page covered your smiles.

jaehyun wiped it off, but he couldn’t stop the incoming tears that soon fell onto the page. now he was here without you. he knew it was his fault. it was all his fault for you leaving him. he should have tried harder. he should have done something. he knows if he tried harder then that you would be there with him. he should have done better with the first argument you had. he should have listened to you and taken the time off from work. he should have learned from the first argument. he should have committed time to you more. he should have done it right the first time. he could have prevented these should haves and you would be right here with him.

but now here he is. he hoped to fix everything by watering the plant just like how he did with the sunflower earlier. now the given attention was a little too late as the sunflower finally let go all of its petals.

-

“Sunflowers just died Keep it sweet in your memory”

[wolf-555-writer]

Target On My Back Part 5

Would this be the last part? Not a chance ;). Don’t hesitate to let me know what you think, it’s always appreciated :). Enjoy!

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: Reader can be so dramatic sometimes. Your new colleague being the cause of it. Are you able to remain the professional SHIELD agent you’re supposed to be at all given times? Even during a mission?

Word Count: 3,688

“So… You’ve been busy. Made a name for yourself I see”, a tall, hooded man speaks mysteriously, not revealing his face to the redhead. The results of her name-making-business put her on the radar of almost all government organizations, including a well-known secret one -contradiction much-  named SHIELD. Black Widow, they call her, because she is so incredibly deadly. So far multiple agencies have been unsuccessful in apprehending or capturing her. SHIELD also sent Agents after the Russian spy, but they all miserably failed too. And now she got word there’s another Agent sent to, well bluntly said, take her out. 

“Just give me the damn picture and intel”, Natalia huffs, rolling her eyes impatiently. It’s always the same with these types of guys. It takes ages before she can leave or get what she actually came for. All they do is talk, talk, and talk even more.“No need to spoil the moment for me, okay”, he takes his hood off and reluctantly hands her the picture with handwriting on the back. “Here. Always a pleasure, miss Romanova”, he says with a more than obvious sarcastic tone and vanishes into thin air after that. Constantly walking around with a target on her back, the assassin just doesn’t have time for this. Tough life she has. Finally able to take a good look at the newly assigned Agent, or her new ‘stalker’, as she studies the photo in her hand. Natalia hauled the picture closer to get a better look. Her heart stopped for a second, shocked as if she’d seen a ghost. Which actually might be true in this case... No need to read the information written on the back since she knows who it is. Gently moving the tip of her index finger over the person’s image. She recalls it as if it happened yesterday, when she put a bullet hole in the person’s chest. Her actions that day left Natalia with a hole in her heart though. Which she clearly would deny of course, because, you know, it’s a weakness and all. Deep down, like locked-away-in-an-impenetrable-vault deep down, she hoped you would survive. You got inside her head (and her heart?) something that rarely happens to her. 

Honestly, it never happens, because under no circumstances she lets people in. Nobody. Yet, it would take more or less two encounters before the Black Widow really realizes what you meant, and still mean to her. But, will it be too late? Little pieces of paper touch down on the wet ground, dissolving into pulp as Natalia ripped the photo apart, impossible to recover. Confident she’ll recognize the Agent in an instant. Even if it’s from a great distance away.

Seated on the roof of the SHIELD facility, the place you go when you want to be alone and think. This time it’s about your past. Again. Not that SHIELD gave you all the answers, considering you’re left with more gaps than actual information. Still, the thought of you being a KGB operative and all the horrible things you’ve done, and must have done. And then the KGB had you killed, the same organization you were practically raised by. Nice backstory you got there... The only good about this is that they think you’re dead. Who knows what will happen when they find out you’re still alive. Anyways, let’s just say the acceptance is a work in progress. Though, Natasha’s presence here is making it exceedingly more difficult. It seems as if your past is haunting you in the form of your new co-worker. Leaning back, resting on your elbows, you close your eyes and lift your chin up in the air while you exhale deeply. Enjoying the silence for a moment, or at least what’s left of it. Choppers flying over the building, dark SUVs driving in and out of the compound and the occasional group of trainees running by whom are being worn out by their coaches- oh and yelled at, without a doubt. Perceiving another sound you haven’t heard before. There’s someone behind you. On high alert, remaining in the current position, you patiently wait and suddenly turn your body around while jumping up. “Wow, easy”, the person steadies and slightly moves back, hands defensively raised. “It’s just me”. “What are you doing here?”, you sneer at the rookie SHIELD Agent who decided to join you. “Who even told you that I would be here?”, irritated at the intruder of your ‘secret’ hideout. “Barton told me”, Natasha answers and sits herself down on the rooftop. “It’s been weeks, (Y/N). Sooner or later you’re gonna have to talk to me. Or work with me”, she continues, head completely tilted backwards, because you’re still standing, arms fiercely crossed, refusing to sit next to her. Reason? Persisting to be extremely mad at her, because 1) she embarrassed you. Two, she played you. Three, she betrayed you. Four- okay, fair enough, we’ll do the in-depth psychology review later. Long story short, you rather keep avoiding her, the true mature solution.  

“Don’t tell me you care so damn much. And why are you even here?”, you throw at her with a grumpy face. Having a conversation like this is not working, so Natasha stands up again and answers: “I was looking for you and Clint had a hunch as to where yo-”. “Stop”. You interrupt harshly and shake your head. “No, I mean at SHIELD. Why are you here”, pointing down at the building to emphasize the question, not necessarily making it more clear, but you tried. Guess Natasha’s still messing with your head in more ways than you care to admit. She sure as hell needs to come up with a good answer though, because she invaded the one place you can do good. The job that you love so much. And she is the last person on earth you need here.

“Well… you were right all along. What we were doing was wrong. You saw that. Not me”, she admits. She wants to do good, truly. But it’s all talk and no show. You’re not that easily convinced and scoff, “Oh, look who’s got a conscience now”. Not sure what happened as your words triggered something, seeing Natasha wince. Unknown to you which memory is flashing through her mind right now as the true details of your past are still locked up inside the redhead’s brain. That is not her fault though. You haven’t exactly given her any room to talk, to tell you the whole story, considering she is more than willing to give you the key to unlock them.

“There were no rights or wrongs back then. And I know”, Natasha sighs, “I got a lot to make up for. I’ve got red in my ledger, and I-”. A sound has caused her to leave the sentence unfinished and she looks at her phone. “Hm. I need to go”. Taking a step to turn around, but when right next to you, she stops again. Gently placing her hand on your shoulder and close to your ear she softly speaks: “I wanted to start with the one I regret most”. Turning your head towards Natasha, yet refusing to look her in the eyes, so your sight stays fixed on her hand. Can’t deny that her touch is making you feel… something. No, she’s full of lies, Natasha is a master manipulator, this is what she does best and will that ever change? Your lack of words, or a reaction in general made her let go and she walks to the rooftop entrance to go back inside. Hand on the doorpost, she gazes over her shoulder one last time and admits with a heavy breath: “But you’re not making it easy for me”.

Roaming SHIELD headquarters, you spot a particular talkative Agent in the hallway and shout. “Barton, hey! Why did you expose me huh?! It was my hiding place!”, not realizing it sounds a bit stupid, but okay. Lucky for you the hallway is empty. Sort of. “Don’t you think you’re going a little too hard on her?”, Clint replies, totally ignoring what was yelled at him just now. “What do you know about that?”. Who the fuck does he think he is? As if he knows what happened. “You didn’t see her fight and ‘kill’ me”, you state while critically pointing at his face, “Stay out of this Barton”. “Nat told me about your past and as far as I’m aware, you can’t even recall it”, Barton reveals. “Nat?”, you repeat disturbed, face twisting. “Don’t worry. No need to be jealous (Y/L/N)”. “Jealous, wh- I’m not jealous, not at all. What makes you even say that? Never mind. I have to go anyway”, you scoff. Definitely some unresolved issues there. “Just so you know, if she wanted you dead, you would have been. Trust me. Maybe there’s a reason why that bullet didn’t pierce your heart”, he suggests, eyes squinted while pointing at your chest, his finger tapping your uniform shortly, precisely on the scar left by that one bullet. Balling your fists as a reaction, you could seriously punch him in the face right now. He shouldn’t have done that. The Agent continues, because of course he wasn’t finished yet, “You can’t keep hanging on to the past like this, you need to move on. We all do”. He’s pushing all the wrong buttons. Is everyone here trying to make your life miserable all of a sudden? Gritting your teeth, barely able to control the rage that your entire body is filled with, you grunt: “I’ve had enough of this. I’m out”.

For real, this day can’t get any worse. With a grumpy mood you enter the briefing room, Agent Hill called you in for an assignment. That will help ease your mind. “Sorry I’m late, I was being held up in the hallway by-”. To get back to the rhetorical question earlier, everyone is indeed trying to make your life miserable here. “What is she doing here?”, you judge with a clenched jaw, heated eyes trained on the Agent in question. “You’ll be working this standard operation with Agent Romanoff”. The day you were desperately trying to avoid has finally arrived. “Is that going to be a problem?”, Hill presses, well aware what your thoughts on this are, because you haven’t been that good at hiding them. Remember, a SHIELD Agent can’t let their emotions take over, so you professionally answer: “No Agent Hill, that won’t be a problem. Not at all”.

Mindlessly staring out the window, seeing nature flash by. The same monotonous scenery over and over again. Wide, green grasslands alternated by tall trees along the tracks. The sound of the train horn blaring made you look back in front of you. A closed, glossy black case, flaunting on the table where you’re seated at, with across the owner who’s about to sell its content. That’s the goal at least. Depends what the person on your left is about to say this very moment. 

“That really doesn’t work for me”, Natasha refuses. She pushes the package of interest away from her in a disapproving manner, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t underestimate her. I once did the same, didn’t work out very well”, you advise, moving the collar of your shirt down a little to show the scar of the shot wound briefly. Clenching your jaw to hide the pain because you received a kick to the shin from Natasha’s heel. Though, your little example worked, the seller’s face now overtaken by fear.

This assignment feels like a second chance for you. Kind of the same for Natasha, but for her it’s a second chance to do the good thing for once. Hope she plays by the rules... Still not convinced, and the position you’ve been put in is making you a bit anxious. Both needed to go undercover. No fancy SHIELD tools and no weapons, trying to retrieve a package. According to SHIELD intelligence this is the package. So classified you still have no clue what's inside, better trust your employers. It’s the one you lost to Natasha, which she then sold on her part. The former assassin now posing as someone working for the highest bidder. Which shouldn’t be that hard for her, considering it was in her former job description.

Agent Romanoff stands up from the chair, hand stretched out. “Okay then. We have a deal”. You copy her movements and grip the newly acquired case tight, taking it with you. “Pleasure doing business with you”. It’s done. Walking away from the table, out of this train carriage and entering the next one. Gotta say that Romanoff surprised you. The skill she just showed and the way she pulled it off. Outstanding work– for a rookie Agent, obviously. Not that you're going to tell her this, as the superior officer here you bring it a little different. “See, it can also be done like this, easy and quiet”, you explain to the redhead, using this as a perfect teaching moment for the new recruit.

“What is that sound I hear in the background?”, Agent Hill comments. “We got it under control. Well, sort of”, you answer vaguely. “I thought you had the package secured? Do I hear gunshots?!”, Agent Hill shouts as she has raised her voice through the communication device at a discomforting level. “Yes we have it. But a third party crashed our almost-completed-mission-party”, you shout back, matching her volume while sprinting away, evading the oncoming bullets. Guess the package carries a lot of value, wanted by the shadiest types of people. Taking cover in a loading compartment as you successfully blocked the door. But obviously there are two doors… “Nat! Watch out!”, you warn as three men enter from the other side. A bit startled by the name you just used, the same expression radiating from Natasha’s face. However, no time to contemplate on where that came from, both bolt towards the armed guys. You take the one closest by, still gripping the case tight in your hand, and load up for a brutal kick that’ll leave him unconscious for a while. In the corner of your eye you spot Agent Romanoff who’d hopped on a crate and managed to knock the two other thugs out in only a couple of seconds. Legs wrapped around the neck on one of them, tossing him aside, while she’d grabbed the other by the shoulders and crashed his head against the metal wall. Almost forget how impressive she is when in action. Again, don’t ever underestimate her, a lesson you’ve learned through own experience. “Hostiles taken out and package still in our possession”, Agent Romanoff states discreetly, directed at a not-so-pleased Agent Hill. “Copy that. Keep me posted”, she receives back. Then her eyesight shifts to you, probably because you were staring at her and a small grin appears.

Real quick, Natasha grabbed one of the guns left on the floor and a deadpan expression takes over when she aims it at you. “Whoa, wh-what are you-”. Eyes widening in shock, you must act quickly. “No, stop!”. But it’s too late, she fires. Holding your breath, you inspect your body, searching meticulously with your eyes. Wait- no blood? Looking over your shoulder behind you, there’s a guy, gun next to his hand, lying on the ground and not moving a muscle. Not anymore, that is. “Did you think I was going to shoot you?”, Natasha questions with a light chuckle and one eyebrow raised. Speechless, you shrug to express your doubt. “I would never put a bullet in that beautiful brain of yours”, she reacts, properly finished with a wink. “Guess my chest and leg were debatable then huh”, you counter tauntingly. “Oof, unfair (Y/N)”. She blows with a strong breath and bites on her lip after.

Don’t forget, this mission hasn’t ended yet. The train compartment doors both closed and barricaded. So you’ll be fine. Hold on, cheered too soon. A new entrance is created as a loud bang makes one of the doors disappear. Having covered your face instinctually with your arm, you lower it and see men break through the slowly clearing grey smoke. “Ready for an extraction, Maria!”, you shout, “We have to get out of here, now!”. “It’s Agent H- ugh, never mind. Transport is 3 minutes out”. “Why did we even agree to do the exchange on a moving train. So not practical”, you criticise while Natasha throws you the gun without discussion, both on the same page about the next step to take, and she reacts: “Someone’s having a bad day”. “Not as bad as I initially thought...”, is what you wanted to answer, but didn’t for some reason and instead Natasha continues. “Admit it. It’s a hundred times more fun though”, she mentions before you fire a couple of rounds with the weapon you caught, intended to create your own escape route. Never enter a room, or a train, without an exit plan. Can’t deny that you love the adrenaline rush it gives and like no other Natasha knows that. “Come on, let’s go for higher ground”, you express and give your fellow Agent a boost, watching her climb out of the broken window, onto the train’s topside.

Sensing the cold air on your skin rush by, you look at Natasha. Squatted, holding on tight to the dark colored case and the train. She appears calm, relaxed. Her long, red hair is getting all messed up by the wind blowing through it, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. Never expected to enjoy this. The mission with Agent Romanoff, it just all feels so... natural. No- you still hate her, right? Your expression hardens, stealth look in your eyes. Grabbing the gun that’s tucked in the back of your jeans, you aim in Natasha’s direction. Instead of pulling the trigger you sprint towards her. She has noticed you approaching fast and looks startled while she stands up. “What the hell are you doing? Agent (Y/L/N)?!”. Before she could anticipate it, you’d grabbed her by the waist and both crashed down on the train’s surface hard. A gunshot close to her ear and a loud, painful cry follows. “Sorry, didn’t have a clear shot”, you apologize to Natasha, who’s, like, centimeters away from your face at the moment. “Okay, this worked too I guess. But you could’ve just warned me”, she responds with a soft tone, sensing her warm breath on your skin. “Thought I would save you the trouble. And I was on top of the situation okay”, explaining your actions to her. “Yes, and still are, I see”. She follows your figure up and down with her eyes and ends by staring into yours. 

“As much as I appreciate you saving me…”. “Oh, um yes. Just wanted to return the favor”, you slightly stammer, now moving off of the Agent because you had her pinned down underneath your body. Getting a bit too comfortable? “Bet you thought this was the only option, huh”, she implies, finally able to move up. You scoff and firmly state: “Don't get used to it, Agent Romanoff”. The new recruit has yet a lot to learn, clearly. The mission first, there’s no time for playing around, guess you have to make that more evident. Well, the next time then. “Can’t say we’re even now (Y/N), you gotta try your best”, Natasha teases, hurrying towards the case to pick it up again. She turns her head, “And we've finally reached our stop”. Hearing the whirring of helicopter blades, you mirror her and notice a chopper nearing from afar.

“About time”, you urge, now emptying the magazine of the gun at the approaching ambushers who are trying to get a certain item of interest, doing whatever it takes. “Follow me”, Romanoff instructs and you rapidly sprint away. “That package better be valuable”, you pant, minding the gaps as you leap over, onto the next wagon. “Heads up!”, Natasha warns, a quick look over her shoulder to see your status. Two guys come into view as they climb on the topside, totally obstructing the pathway. Your SHIELD partner doesn’t hesitate and drops down, sliding over the train’s surface. Viciously swiping her leg and kicking one off the moving train. That must have hurt. The other one is about to attack your colleague, so you have to act fast to prevent this. Considering you are a little behind, you throw the weapon that’s out of ammo to startle him, aimed at his head. By the time he looks up again, he already received a strong shove from your shoulder and loses balance while falling over, the wrong way- for him at least. The rear of the train is in sight as you step on the last train carrier. 

“Ready, (Y/L/N)?”. “Locked on”. Foot on the edge, you push and take off, jumping high up in the air. Train tracks below as you quickly glance down, heart racing in your chest. Both arms reaching and gripping the rope tight, dangling from the chopper sent by Agent Hill to extract you from yet another completed SHIELD mission. 

Once back at HQ, you hand off the package to Agent Hill. “Am I allowed to know what’s in the case?”, you ask, curious as hell due to its high desire to acquire it. “Still classified, Agent (Y/L/N)”, Maria returns as she passes the case on to another Agent promptly. Unopened. “Figured it was worth a try”. Heading for the door as you’re about to leave when Hill states to the both of you: “Good job, Agents”. Not sure if she’s happy or not, it’s hard to read her expression sometimes, but you’ll gladly take the compliment.  

“That wasn’t so bad was it, us working together. Side by side”, the redhead mentions, leaning against the door frame. “Maybe not”, you hint, casually walking past her. Then you glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with her and add:

“Till our next mission, Agent Romanoff”

PART 6

[livsinpjs]

Believe in the Green Light (pt 3) the busy

“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” - F. Scott. Fitzgerald

The BAU team is called into Pasadena, California after the deaths of three lead to an investigation revolving around Gatsby, a new drug that hit the market at a dead sprint. When a raid on a house reveals the creator of the drug, a young man no one even knew was missing, Jason Gideon and co. find themselves involved in a case bigger than they originally thought.

Spencer sat as still as possible, trying not to aggravate his injuries. He tried to clear his mind, which was running a mile a minute. He needed to take stock of his injuries. That was something he could do. That was something within his control. He closed his eyes and let himself focus on the pain that was his entire world. Starting from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He obviously had a concussion. He didn’t know how severe. He couldn’t remember how many blows he sustained, but the throbbing behind his eyes and the nausea was enough to confirm it. Moving downwards to his throat, which was most likely bruised from the times They would strangle him. Not enough to make him pass out or anything, just enough to slam his head against the concrete wall, which didn’t help the concussion.

Then to his face, bruised and bloody. Nose was probably broken, and cuts from the rings his attackers wore as they pummeled him into oblivion. His mind wandered then, wondering what could have happened to those men that made them feel the need to beat him senseless. Or maybe they were just complete sadists? Trying to use his profiling skills in this condition was almost impossible. Almost. But he was getting distracted. Injuries. Right.

Farther down to his ribs, and shit did he not want to think about them. But it was all he could do at this point. He tried to focus but he could feel his mind wandering, self loathing and crippling hopelessness filling his stomach and- No. It will be okay. He just had to not think about it. But not thinking is something he just doesn’t do. So thinking about something else is his only choice, and- Damn it Reid, focus. Ribs right. Definitely bruised if not broken, obvious by the way his chest moved and felt each time he took a breath. How many, he couldn’t tell. Couldn’t pinpoint the places in most pain. All right, lower. His stomach was probably bruised, but he couldn’t see through his tattered, bloody shirt.

Then to his legs, probably bruised. His ankle was most definitely broken. If the way his foot was pointing wasn’t enough of an indicator, the fire coursing through his veins sure was. That was the last of his injuries that he could pinpoint. Everything else was just pain.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to release his agitation by throwing a huge tantrum like a child or have a breakdown like an emotional teenager. He couldn’t, of course, but even if he could he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give Them the satisfaction of seeing him break. It was just so hard to hold himself together. The only thing stopping a full meltdown was his situation. He knew that if he did, he could die. They would kill him if he acted out. They told him so. So he just had to sit, the most of the pain being caused by the buzzing under his skin. He just had to sit and wait.

But wait for what?

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The team walked into the precinct early the next morning. Quickly they began working on the profile.

“The overkill suggests an emotional motive. Maybe he’s a kid being bullied at school. He kills his aggressors to take revenge.” Morgan said as he sat at their table, looking at a specific photo of the deceased Michael Nook.

Gideon shook his head. “These killings have a kind of... maturity to them. If the Unsub was a highschool student, there would be a lot more overkill and a messier crime scene. He would also have most likely stolen the items on the victims, especially the drugs.”

“So who is this guy?” Morgan wonders aloud. JJ walks in with coffee and they continue to work.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

After a while of note taking and slow progression, Detective Sanders came into their conference room with a grave look.

“They’ve found another body. Killed last night by the looks of it. Witnesses recall multiple gunshots.”

Hotchner and Morgan stood up at the same time. They nodded to each other and looked towards Gideon.

“I think I’ll stay here and update victimology.” Gideon said, turning to the board once more.

“All right Morgan, let’s head out.” Hotchner spoke and they left Gideon alone to stew in his thoughts.

What is it about the victims that get them killed?

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

CSI swarmed the alleyway between Marceline’s Flower shop and Bubblegum Tattoo Parlor, crime scene tape and markers seemingly strewn about randomly.

Morgan and Hotchner weaved in and out of people’s way, flashing their credentials when necessary. They were finally able to squeeze into the eye of the storm, crime scene techs taking pictures and doing all sorts of tests. Detective Sanders finished speaking with a technician and approached the agents. Morgan already crouched, examining the dead man.

“Chris Alexander, 28. He had copious amounts of Gatsby on him, as well has hundreds of dollars in cash.” Sanders said as he looked down at the deceased.

“He must be one of the Gatsby dealers, he may have connections to the manufacturers. Morgan, call Garcia and have her go through every inch of data on this man’s phone. I want anything to do with Gatsby analyzed, see if we can find where these manufacturers are, they may be his next target.” Hotch ordered as he pulled out his phone as well, pressing a speed dial and turning to take his call in some semblance of privacy.

Morgan stood and did the same, pressing one of his first speed dials.

“You’ve reached the mistress of all knowledge. Speak mortal, and have your questions answered.” Penelope spoke into her head piece.

“Hey baby girl, I need a complete search through a victim’s phone” He motioned at a CSI tech and they handed over the phone. “Name’s Chris Alexander.” He pulled up the phone number and read it off. “Filter anything having to do with Gatsby or drugs, also anything to do with the book The Great Gatsby, they may have some sort of code they use.”

“Alright, give me a bit to comb and I’ll get back to you hot stuff.”

“Thanks sugar.” He smiled into the phone as he hung up. What a woman. He caught up with Hotchner and they finished up at the crime scene before heading back to the police precinct.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

When they arrived, Gideon was adding information to their board, fresh pictures of Chris Alexander and the crime scene already up.

“He’s growing more agitated. More angry. The amount of overkill in this victim is equal to the distributed amount amongst the Nook’s and McCarthy.” Gideon spoke, not turning to see the two agents entering the conference room. With JJ speaking to the press about another shooting, it was just the three of them.

“Yet the amount of victims has decreased. He killed three in the beginning, why kill only one this time around?” Hotch mused, stepping up to the board next to Gideon.

“Maybe he’s killing these people for a specific reason. All four victims had Gatsby on them. Maybe this guy just has a vendetta against the stuff, or maybe someone he knows is using and he wants to get rid of it.” Morgan sat at the table, opening the file and looking through it for the umpteenth time.

“Whoever he is, he’s getting angrier.” Gideon said.

Derek’s phone rang then, he quickly put Penelope on speaker. “What have you got for me baby girl?”

“Okay, so this guy is not sneaky at all. He blatantly speaks about Gatsby without hesitation, ya know if I were a super secret drug dealer I would use a bunch of code names, especially common words so no one would suspect anything, like grocery shopping, but not this guy is all like ‘Hey I’m selling Gatsby here and here so don’t be goin’ around there’ Like come on! He-”

“Baby girl, you’re getting off topic, what have you got?”

“Right! Well anyway he talks to this one guy a lot, Nick, who looks to me like an OG dealer. He’s kind of mentoring this guy, telling him where to go and where not to go. Anyway, I was able to find a recent message from them saying where they’re gonna be selling throughout the week. This week.”

Hotch spoke up then, “That’s great Garcia, send us an address and we’ll get back to you soon.’’ Then he hurried out of the room. Morgan and Gideon gave each other questioning looks, but neither of them knew what had gotten into their supervisor.

“All right baby girl, thank you, well get back with you later.” With that, he hung up and he and Gideon left the conference room to find their boss.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

She was shaking. Her frizzy blonde hair in a ponytail and her arms wrapped around her as if she was cold in the humid, California air. She looked around feverishly until she spotted him. He was scoping out the crowd just like her, but he was more calm and collected. She looked like she would lash out any second. She quickly moved towards the man, almost desperately.

“You have some, right? The- the stuff? You know? I can tell, you look like the other guys who gave it to me. Please tell me you have some.” She was almost pleading with the man. He seemed amused at her desperate cries.

“I might have the stuff you’re looking for..” He glanced towards a nearby alleyway and began walking towards it.

She quickly caught up to him, falling into step beside him as they entered the alley. “Please, I’ll give you anything.”

He looked her up and down. “Anything?”

“First the stuff.” She almost pleaded. He took out a small, white vial, showing it off.

“How do I know you won’t run with it the second you get your hand on it?”

“B-Because…” she stuttered, reaching behind her.

She drew her gun and pointed it at Nicholas Armstrong. “You’re under arrest. FBI Special agent Jennifer Jareau.” After that, police and FBI agents swarmed the alley, quickly confiscating the drug and cuffing the perpetrator.

“Good work JJ.” Morgan approached her after Nick was carted away.

“It was Hotch’s idea. He looked at Abigail Cooper and thought, with some acting and an outfit change, I could fit in with her crowd. It was his idea to send me in undercover. I’m just glad it went smoothly.”

“Yeah,” He patted her on the back “Me too.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

“Look, if you tell us where you got the drug, we’ll say you cooperated with the authorities, that usually sticks out to a judge and maybe your punishment won’t be as bad.” Morgan was trying once again to get Nicholas Armstrong to talk.

“And I already told you I don’t know shit!” Nick said defiantly, crossing his arms as if to prove a point.

“Listen man, I’m sure you’ve heard on the news about the recent killing, yeah? Well, one of the victims was your little friend Chris Alexander. And we have reason to believe the killer’s gonna come after you and these people you got Gatsby from. Now we could put you into protective custody, or we can charge you with illegal distribution of drugs and you’ll be fined and sent on your merry way. Straight into the arms of a killer. So how ‘bout you just tell me where we can find these other guys!” Morgan slammed his hands on the table for emphasis at the end of his spiel. Looking pointedly at the man whose eyes had become like saucers.

“O-okay okay… geez.” He sat up straight and inhaled before continuing. “I don’t know who they are, but every week they open up their house and sell it to use out of there. Actually, there are rumors that they make the stuff down there and that they’re a part of some kind of mob or something, but everyone is too scared of them to try anything.”

“An address, Armstrong. I need an address.”

“Right, right, uh.. It’s 4267 Leavenworth. That’s all I know, I swear.”

“All right, I appreciate your help my man.” And with that, Derek walked out of the room and pulled out his phone. “Hotch, yeah I’m gonna need a SWAT Team at 4267 Leavenworth.”

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Spencer woke with a start. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, (especially if he had a concussion) but there wasn’t much else to do down in his prison, and he needed to keep up his energy, in case he had any opportunities to escape. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head in vain. After a moment it occurred to him that something must have woken him up. He looked around the room, but nothing seemed out of place. But there it was again. The door was being unlocked. Spencer braced himself, not knowing who to hope for. The two maybe sadists or Maria and her family.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out though, because Maria came strolling in, her father right beside her, looking beyond angry. Spencer tensed as if he were to be struck, but no blow came. The two stopped at Spencer’s feet before the father began speaking.

“We’re leaving.” he said coolly. At this Spencer’s mind raced. Where are they going? Are they going to take him with them or let him go? Or are they going to leave him for dead? Before he could spiral any further, the man spoke again. “Someone’s killin’ the clientele here and the feds have shown up.”

Spencer’s heart swelled at that. The FBI is here, it’s only a matter of time before they arrest Them and rescue him. “But unfortunately for you…” Spencer’s train of thought was immediately disrupted by the man and hopelessness filled him yet again. “You ain’t gonna be seeing no feds in this lifetime. Maria, if you will.” And then he left the room, leaving Maria and Spencer alone.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Maria stared down at her captive as her hand went to the gun behind her. He looked terrible. His pretty features hidden underneath blood and grime. His form trembling. He hadn’t uttered a word in the six weeks he had been there. Answering questions with a shake or a nod of his head. He would make the occasional scream of ‘no’ or ‘stop’, like the time yesterday when Tyrone had broken his ankle. Other than that, he’d hum annoyingly or whimper. But nothing else. It was almost  like he had gone mute. She knew he could speak. He talked immensely during their class together. Almost none stop. It was almost… endearing in a way. Now he refused to say anything. She almost felt bad for him. He was about to die, beaten and bruised in the basement of a random suburban house with no one to even know he was gone..

She leveled the gun at Spencer’s head and he froze, fear seeping out of every pore. He began to frantically shake his head. She hesitated for a moment, but she quickly recovered her resolve and-

He was mouthing a word at her. What was he trying to say? Then she heard it. The tiniest whisper.

“Please.”

She stopped, dropping her arm and looking at the boy in front of her. He was just a boy. He didn’t deserve to die like this. But her father was waiting for her...

A tear, and a gunshot.

Maria joined her father upstairs and they prepared to depart Spencer Reid’s personal hell.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

The shot was so painful he slammed his head against the wall. And then he did it again. And again. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He bit through his lip, trying to stay quiet, but a yell still tore through his throat and his leg-

God, his leg. It hurt more than anything he had ever felt before. His vision was tunneling and he was hyperventilating and he couldn’t stop hitting his head.

Against.

The.

Wall.

He couldn’t tell if the sound in his ears was in his head or coming from him.

Then the tears came, silently falling down his face.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

SWAT cars and black SUVs screeched to a halt just outside of a small suburban house. Agents filing out of their vehicles and putting their vests on. Derek Morgan checked his gun for his ammunition and once he was certain his magazine was full, he began speaking with the SWAT directors.

“It’s a simple raid. Apprehend anyone in the house and secure Gatsby and anything else like it. Then once that is taken care of, we’ll station members undercover to try to bait out the Unsub-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a gun shot was heard from inside the house.

“Shots fired!” Someone shouted and they stormed the house. Right away they apprehended two people, a young woman and an older man, presumably related. After disarming them and carting them away, shouts of ‘clear’ were heard throughout the house. Derek took a few SWAT members down into the basement of the house. He was surprised by what he found.

He wasn’t surprised by the lab equipment and the vials of Gatsby. No, he was surprised to find a young boy chained to the wall and bleeding out.

He was seated on the floor, with chains suspending his arms. He couldn’t have been over 19 by the look of him. He was bruised and bloody, but the thing that alarmed him the most was that he was banging his head against the wall. Hard.

After a moment, the SWAT members were finished staring. They advanced and that’s when the boy noticed he wasn’t alone anymore.

His eyes were filled with utter terror. More tears peaked out of the corners of his eyes and he tried his best to move away from the strange men and their weapons. Derek noticed his distress worsening.

“Put your guns down and back away from the kid!” Derek yelled. After a moment, the SWAT agents moved back, lowering their weapons. Derek’s gun was already put away. The kid seemed to relax slightly. He tried to pull his knees up to his chest but his right thigh must have been shot, so he just settled for the one knee. He tried to curl up as well as possible as he continued to slam his head against the wall. Silent tears streaming down his face and a pool of blood gathering under his leg.

Morgan didn’t know what to do. But his instincts took over and soon he found himself slowly inching his way closer to the kid.

“Hey, kid. It’s all right, no one is going to hurt you anymore.” Derek said as he crouched a few feet away from the kid. When the kid opened his eyes, they were glazed over in pain and something else Derek didn’t recognize. But he took it as a sign to continue. “My name is Derek Morgan. I work with the FBI. It’s okay now, we’re here to help you.”

He didn’t get any response. The kid just blinked unfocused eyes at him and kept banging his head on the wall, crying. Then Morgan made the mistake of coming closer.

~CRIMINAL MINDS~

Spencer’s mind was racing so fast he couldn’t think. When the group of men in black came down with their guns, the logical thing to think was ‘oh the authorities’ right? But no. Spencer started to panic even worse because all he could see were their guns and all he could feel was the agony in his leg. He faintly registered himself hitting his head against the wall, but now that he finally gave in after 6 weeks, he couldn’t stop. It was like everything he tried to hold back during his weeks of captivity were trying to escape now that his body found him in significantly less danger. So he closed his eyes and wished it all to just stop. To go away.

He registered a voice then, talking to him.

“No one is going to hurt you anymore”

He wanted to believe that. He really did but, he didn’t know if he could. He opened his eyes to try and look at the man speaking to him. The first thing his mind was able to register were the three white letters on his bullet-proof vest. FBI. He said something else, but Spencer can’t remember what it was because the next thing to happen was the man coming closer. And then They were coming at him.

“NO! STOP!” He yanked as hard as he could on his cuffs, but like all the times before, they didn’t budge.

After the roaring in his ears subsided, he managed to make out another sound over his hyperventilating.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, I won’t come any closer. Just breathe, okay? Breathe.”

He took a few short breaths before they evened out into slightly deeper breaths.

“That’s it, nice and easy. It’s just you and me now kid, and I’m not going to hurt you.” True to the man’s words, when Spencer opened his eyes, which he never remembered closing to begin with, it was just the one FBI agent and himself.

He took another, shaky breath, before relaxing the muscles in his stomach

“All right, that’s good. You’re doing great, can you stop hitting your head against the wall for me?” The FBI agent asked.

Could he stop? He didn’t really know. He probably could if he really tried. His body was already exhausted enough. He tried, and he was able to slow it down, then he graduated to just pushing his head against the wall after a few minutes, needing to do something to distract himself from the pain that was his everything..

“Good, good job kid. Now, a friend of mine is gonna come in here with some bolt cutters and we’re gonna get you out of here. Is that okay?” The man asked.

“Is that okay?” Spencer echoed back. Eyes widening, he quickly nodded and then slammed his head back against the wall, just stopping himself from continuing the rhythmic banging of earlier.

Spencer saw one of the man’s eyebrows quirk slightly, but the agent said nothing. He spoke into his comms and after a moment, another man in an FBI vest came into the room.

“All right so, agent Hotchner here is going to get a little close just so he can cut the chains holding you here okay? Then we’ll get you out of here. What’s your name?” The agent asked.

“What’s your name?” Spencer said back.

He was utterly mortified. He didn’t think about it for long though because agent Hotchner came closer with the bolt cutters in hand. He heard the other agent answer his echoed question with “Derek Morgan” but quickly squeezed his eyes tight and went stiff as a board. A few moments later, his arms fell to his sides. He let out a quiet cry of pain, used to the pain of moving his arms after so long suspended over his head though, he powered through and quickly grabbed onto his leg.

He shouldn’t have done that because the pain he felt was 10 times worse. He cried out and slumped against the wall again, breathing heavily. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He was so tired. Just so, so tired.

He watched the two agents move towards him, but he didn’t have the energy anymore to flinch. He watched them talking, he couldn’t tell whether they were talking to him or to each other. The ringing in his ears was back again.

The last thing he sees is agent Morgan grabbing him and carrying him out of Hell.

pt 1| pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 |

[celtics534]

Last Couple Years Have Been a Mad Trip

The doom days are upon us! A new Muggle AU. Doom Days by Bastille inspired this story. @gryffindormischief and @thedistantdusk have been amazing helping me with this fic! 

Also read on: FF.net or AO3

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Harry watched the bird soar high above him. The sun was finally out after weeks of a cold rain hounding the United Kingdom. He was tired-- that bone tired where all you want to do is curl up in a soft bed and sleep for days. But he couldn’t. He had to finish his mission.

  He hefted the large duffle bag back up his shoulder as he turned his attention to the man walking out of the storefront. Well, what had once been a storefront. Now it resembled a stereotypical bunker, the kind one might see in a film; boarded windows and steel locks covered every opening. The neon lights that had once shown a bright advertisement had been smashed. No one would ever guess it was a makeshift hospital.

  The man kept his hood up as he approached Harry, a slight limp slowing his pace. Harry didn’t say a thing, just waited. The hooded figured stopped right in front of Harry, his hand outstretched. “Harry.”

  “Neville.” Harry took the offering smiled at his friend. “How’s it been?”

  Neville reached up and removed his hood, revealing a black eye and multiple cuts. “Eh, same old same old.”

  Harry shook his head. “What you do to deserve that shinner?”

  “Eh?” Neville’s fingers gently touched the bruise. “This is nothing. You should see the other guy.”

  “I’ll get right on that, but first.” Harry rolled the strap off his shoulder and handed the bag to his friend. “There’s everything you asked for.”

  Neville unzipped the bag a few inches to peer into it. After a quick examination, he nodded and closed the duffle. “This will help a lot of people. Thanks, Harry.” He pulled out a few ration cards and handed them to Harry. “Your payment.”

  Harry took the cards with a nod of thanks. “Do you have anything else you need?”

  Neville glanced back at the hospital. “Not right now. I have a good stock on most things.” He lifted the bag slightly. “These plants will go a long way to helping some of the children feel less pain.”

  “I hope so.” Harry took his glasses off his nose and cleaned the lenses with a clean corner of his shirt.

  “What about you?” Neville placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you need anything? Bandages? Alcohol? A good night’s rest?”

  Harry snorted. “I haven’t had a good night’s rest in over three years.”

  Neville let out a low, deprecating laugh. “You and everyone else. Well, if you need a bed for the night, our doors are always open for you.”

  A lump formed in Harry’s throat. “I - Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Neville patted his shoulder twice before stepping back. “Oh, by the way. Have you spoken to Arthur Weasley lately?”

  Harry felt a jolt of electricity course through him at the mere mention of the name Weasley . He pushed those feeling away as quickly as they came: This was not the time or place for his mind to think about her .

  “Er-- not for a while now. Why? Is he okay? The family?” If something had happened to her, Harry might snap.

  “No, well...” Neville backtracked. “I think everyone is fine, but Arthur's been asking around. He’s been looking for you.”

  Harry’s panic faded, allowing his brain to function again. “Me? Did he say what he needs?”

  Neville shook his head. “No, just to pass the word.” He grinned. “This is me, passing the word.”

  Unable to stop himself, Harry snorted at his friend's poor humor. “Thanks, Nev.”

  “Anytime.” Neville hung the bag strap on his shoulder. “Do you know where Arthur lives?”

  Harry knew where to find the Weasleys. He never would admit it, but he’d kept tabs on them… on her... for the past few years. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  Neville nodded once before limping back into the boarded brick building he had come from. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned and started back down the dirty cobble street. The building that the Weasley’s called home was an hour walk from his current location, and Harry wanted to make it there before nightfall.

  His feet knew the way through the back streets of London without any thought. He had taken every path across the city. Hell, he’d actually been outside the constructed walls that surrounded the district.   

  Harry still found it odd how the once great, large city had been reduced to small divisions. Mismatched pieces of metal stuck up from the ground as dividers, allowing appointed guards to keep order. It was safer that way, controlling who came and went. At least that’s what they claimed. But it still made Harry’s blood boil every time a mother and child were turned away, just because they didn’t have any ration cards or were unwilling to sell their bodies to pay their way in.

  The street was starting to clear as curfew drew closer and closer. No one made eye contact, choosing to keep their eyes downcast and to move quickly.

  The last three years had been hard on people. The nearly constant fear was evident in the way people held their bodies. There was no such thing as trusting your neighbor anymore. No-- your neighbor would be the one to rob you blind the minute you turned your back.

  Harry knew this all too well. Hell, he'd been both victim and thief before. Survival was the goal, above all else. If it was a choice between them and him, he'd always choose him.

  Well… there were some people he put first. The Weasley family were among the honored. They had practically raised him from the moment he and Ron became mates. Molly and Arthur Weasley were the best kind of people, Harry thought, for loving a poor, orphaned child.

  There was only one person Harry held above his adopted parents --

  No!

  Harry shook his head vigorously, hoping to rid his mind of her... her and that red hair that always looked so smooth, those freckles that bunched together whenever she wrinkled her nose, and how could he forget --

  Fucking hell! Harry pinched his arm. He needed to stop before he fell back down that rabbit hole.

  A light rain started to fall, making Harry’s feet speed up. It wasn’t long before he reached the brown brick building that housed Arthur and his family. Harry looked at the peeling black door, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling between his shoulder blades. Inside that building was his family who he hadn’t seen in…

  Harry ran a hand through his now-wet hair. Had it really been two and a half years since he’d seen them?

  Movement by the ground floor window caught his eye. Someone had been looking at him. It only took another five seconds for the front door to open and manifest into Harry’s best-yet-worst fantasy.

  “Harry!” Ginny rushed out into the rain and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instantly, she clouded his senses. Her scent, a sweet, warm smell that had driven him crazy from the age of fifteen, filled his lungs. And the feeling of her fingers grazing the small hairs at the back of his head sent shivers down his spine.

  “I’ve missed you,” Ginny spoke into his neck, her breath somehow spreading warmth down to his toes.

  “Hey, Gin.” Harry refused to acknowledge the way his heart had started beating a tattoo against his chest.  

  “What are you doing here?” Ginny asked as she pulled away. Her hair had already plastered to her forehead and her face was flushed, but Harry’s treacherous brain could only see the adorable dimple caused by her smile.

  “I-- er-- your dad was looking for me.”

  Ginny’s dimple disappeared as she frowned. “He was? Huh.” She looked back at the house; the faint light from a candle positioned in the entrance lit the doorway. “Well, let's go find out why.”  

  “You know, you should have asked me a security question before coming out of the house,” Harry gently reminded her. Ginny snorted. Her arm tucked into his as she led the way into the warm light.

  “Please, I’d know you from a mile away. No one could imitate your crazy hair.” She reached her free arm around and ruffled his damp head.

  Harry had to stomp on the butterflies that erupted in his stomach. He cleared his throat and tilted his head away from her onslaught. “ Still .”

  “Fine next time, I’ll hold a knife to your throat as a greeting. Sound good?”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Ginny’s laugh was loud in the unnatural silence of the once-busy metropolis. “It’s so good to have you back, Harry.”

  Harry wanted to close his eyes and pretend that they were a normal boy and girl. He wanted to pretend they had no worries or fears, just two people who were going home together. But that was impossible for seemingly endless reasons. So instead, Harry just enjoyed the way her hand brushed his as they walked.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “I think Dad’s in his office.” Ginny led the way by candlelight. Harry loved the way her shadow played off the walls, not to mention how it highlighted all of her flawless curves.

  Holy fucking Jesus, man! Harry mentally screamed at himself. Keep it in your pants .

  Not like that was a real challenge. Between his jobs, healing from injuries he somehow sustained and pining for the red-head currently swaying her hips in front of him (because yes, he knew what pining was -- and that he could be the definition for it), Harry was the poster boy for abstinence.

  But, fuck , every time he saw Ginny…

  “I’m gonna go make some tea.” Ginny stopped in front of a closed white door, “I’ll bring you and Dad some.” She placed the candle down on a stand and pulled Harry in for another hug. “Don’t even think of leaving before I see you again, got it?”

  Harry nodded.

  “Good boy.” She patted his cheek. “Now go talk to dad.” Harry watched her walk back down the corridor, his eyes still drifting to watch her hips. Fuck!

  Shaking himself out of his fantasy, Harry turned to knock on Arthur’s door. There was a quiet call for him to enter. The small room was more cluttered than Harry remembered, though he really hadn’t come into this room very often. He had been more focused on heading to local green space with Ron or(though he’d never admit it to Arthur) pretending to work on his homework while really watching Ginny twirl her hair around her finger as she actually worked.

  Arthur smiled at him as he entered. “Harry! How are you, son?” The older man stood up to hug him.

  “I’m good, Mr. Weasley.” Harry clapped Arthur on the back.

  “Now, Harry.” Arthur pulled away and gave him a friendly glare. “I’ve told you before. It’s Arthur . How many times do I need to remind you?”

  Harry smiled. This was how life should be. This was normal. “At least once more.”

  Arthur laughed heartily at Harry’s classic answer. “Glad to see you haven’t changed.” He gestured for Harry to take the spare chair from the corner. Arthur waited until Harry settled himself in front of the desk before speaking again. “So, I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself.”

  Harry shrugged. “It’s according to whom you talk to. People tend to exaggerate.”  

  “Well my source, which I’ll name to be Neville Longbottom, told me you’re rather good at getting items for his hospital.”

  Again, Harry shrugged. Smuggling supplies from outside the walls really wasn’t too hard as long as you knew the way and had the right equipment.

  Arthur leaned forward in his seat, as he took off his glasses for quick cleaning. “Harry, I --” He swallowed hard as he placed his spectacles back onto his nose. “Harry, Molly’s sick.”

  Harry’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “Sick?” His voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat before trying again. “Which kind of sick?”

  Everyone knew there was sick and then there was sick . The latter being far worse.

  Three years previously a plague started to form, and yes, plague was the only word for it. It started at Parliament and then hit Scotland Yard. Within twenty-four hours, ninety percent of the government forces were dead from some unknown illness.

  The sickness (or what people took to calling “Morsmordre”) continued to spread to commoners. Within a year of the first death, over half of England’s population was dead. Over time, the power of Morsmordre seemed to lessen. People were still developing the symptoms, but it was taking longer for it to completely destroy their system. The downside to that was it prolonged their suffering.

  Anarchy had been created in the chaos of the disease. Power was lost and phones became a thing of the past. Bands of rebels had formed and made it so the common man couldn't feel safe, even in their own home. That was when the walls were built around the city of London. Guards manned the entrances (they knew of) refusing entry to people without clearance.

  Arthur gulped audibly and Harry could see the tears start to spring to the man's eyes. Harry had to look away. Here was one of the strongest men Harry knew brought to tears. Fuck this world! And Molly… not Molly.

  Harry reached out a hand. Arthur grasped it tightly as he gulped in large breaths of air. After a minute Arthur spoke in a tight voice. “I've heard of a certain plant that can help…”

  “Arthur.” Harry understood what going to be asked of him. “There isn't any cure. Everyone knows --”

  “Harry.” Arthur's cut him off. “I have to try. You understand, right?”

  And Harry did. He truly did. He would do anything if it meant that Molly would be fine. Yet… Harry had seen enough of this world to not hope. But when he looked into Arthur’s eyes he knew he couldn’t say no.  “Arthur…” He sighed. “Where can I find this plant?”

  “Find the…” Arthur shook his head. “You misunderstand me, or I guess I haven’t explained myself. I want you to take Ginny to Bill’s.”

  Harry blinked rapidly. “You want me to… what?”

  As Arthur opened his mouth, a knock on the door announced Ginny’s arrival. “Tea, gentlemen?” She placed a tray with three steaming mugs down on the messy wooden desk between Harry and Arthur. “I brought all the fixins’.” She perched herself on the edge of Harry’s chair, one of the mugs clutched between her hands. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Ginny,” Arthur sighed. “I --” His voice choked as a sob rose past his lips.

  “Dad?” Ginny’s smile fell as she moved to her father, placing her tea aside. “What’s wrong?”

  Arthur breathed deeply as Ginny rubbed soothing circles on his back. After a moment he lifted his head. “It’s your mother, Ginny.”

  Harry watched as Ginny’s face paled; she understood everything her father couldn’t say. “No.” It was more of a plea than anything. That one word almost made Harry leap from his chair and pull her into his arms, but instead, he remained stationary, watching the scene before him with his gut clenched painfully.

  “Ginny, I need you to go to Bill’s,” Arthur spoke calmly, but because Harry knew the man so well, he could see the pain his own words inflicted on him.

  “No!” This time, it was a refusal. Ginny stood stock-straight, glaring at her father. “I won’t leave you.”

  “I need you to be somewhere safe while I go find a cure for your mother.”

  “Dad, I don’t need to be hidden away.”

  Arthur rose and placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “You don’t think I know that? I raised you, Ginny. I know what you’re capable of.”

  “Then why--”

  “Because your mother and I need to know you’re safe.” Arthur didn’t raise his voice, but his tone had the same commanding effect as if he had. “I need to focus on this right now and that means I’ll be going outside the walls--”

  “Dad, that’s illegal without the proper clearance. If anyone should do it, it’s me. I’m younger so I’ll move faster. Not to mention--”

  Arthur just shook his head, cutting off his daughter. “No, I need to do this.”

  Ginny glared at her father, her lips becoming impossibly thin. “Dad.”

  Sighing deeply, Arthur pulled his daughter into a hug. “I love you, Ginny, but I'm not changing my mind. I want you and Harry to go to Bill's.”

  “Wait…” Ginny looked back and forth between her father and Harry. “Me and Harry ?”

  “Yes. I'll feel better with you watching each other's backs. Not to mention you haven't been outside of the city in at least two years.”  

  Harry watched Ginny bite her bottom lip. If he didn't know better he'd say she looked guilty. Actually, he did know better: Ginny had been outside the walls.

  Arthur took advantage of Ginny’s silence. Kissing the top of her head, Arthur took a step back.“Not to mention, you and I both know how contagious this disease can become.” He looked at the framed photos of his beloved sons. “I'm going to go check on your mother.”

  And just like that, Harry was alone with Ginny. Neither of them said a thing, both lost in their own thoughts. Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Molly Weasley was -- she was -- the words refused to be spoken, even in his own mind.

  “ Fuck! ” Ginny’s sudden outburst made Harry jump a meter in the air. “Sorry.” Though she didn’t really sound sorry. “But Goddamn it! I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to think...”

  She turned her face away, but Harry knew she was holding back a sob. This time, he didn’t hesitate. Harry rose from his seat and placed a hand on Ginny's back.

  “Hey.” He didn’t know what to say. Words had never been his strong suit. His hand started making small circles between her shoulder blades. He could feel her body tremble. “Ginny.”

  When she turned, Harry got a quick view of silent tears and a set jaw before her face was buried in his shirt. His arms wrapped around her form, wishing he could do more. He could feel her sobs now, though she remained silent.

  Harry held her while her body shook. After a few minutes, the tremors calmed and her breathing seemed to even out.  When she pulled back, her face was blotchy and tear tracks ran down her cheeks, but to Harry, she was still the most beautiful woman.

  “Thanks, Harry.” Ginny ran a fist over each cheek, trying to dry them. “I know that probably made you uncomfortable.”

  “No!” Harry spoke way too quickly and way too loudly for it to sound believable. But really, it hadn’t made him feel awkward at all, which surprised him. He had never been good with tears, but for some reason, when Ginny cried it didn't make him want to run and hide. “I - I - are you okay?”

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Of course, she isn’t alright you dolt!

  Ginny shook her head but gave him a small smile. “No, but I’ll have to be. I’ve learned that nothing in this world is safe.” Her eyes glanced at the picture that hung behind the desk. A photo of Ginny’s brothers Fred, George, and Ron beamed back at them. The photo had been taken two weeks before the first case of Morsmordre was discovered-- four weeks before all three of the men were dead.

  That had been Harry’s breaking point. He’d lost his best friend, who had been more of a brother to him, to some fucking disease. And now, the same thing was happening to the woman he considered to be his mother.

  “Ginny. I’m sorry.” Harry couldn’t say it enough. God, was he ever sorry...   

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but--”

  “Harry.” Ginny placed a finger over his lips. His attention fell to it, going cross-eyed to keep in focus. “Save your guilt trips for things that are actually your fault. If I remove my finger, will you be good?” He nodded and Ginny drew her hand back. “I’m going to go check on my mum and dad. Why don’t you start planning our route to Bill’s.”

  Harry saw a flash of hesitation before Ginny’s jaw set again. Then she was on her tiptoes, her lips on his cheek. “Thanks again.”

  And like that Harry was alone in the study. His body now felt cold without her in his arms.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “Dad?” Ginny knocked on her parents’ bedroom door. “May I come in?” A muffled sob was the first thing sound she heard come out of the room, followed by a quiet throat-clear, and finally her father’s voice.. A candle in the corner presented the only source of light, making it so Ginny had a hard time seeing her mother.

  Over the past few days, she’d known her mother had been sick. Molly hadn’t come out for dinners or accepted her invitation to play charades. Ginny just hadn’t known how bad her mother's illness had been, or maybe subconsciously she had just been hoping that it wasn’t Morsmordre. She’d flatly refused to consider the possibility.

  But though it was hard to see in the faint light, she could tell her mother had the tell-tale signs of Morsmordre. There was no other way Molly could have gotten peeling green scabs across her face.  

  “Ginny.” Molly’s voice sounded as if she hadn't spoken in ten years. Moving in closer, Ginny could see her mother's brown eyes bleary and unfocused. “Did you talk --” Ginny's mother wasn't able to finish her sentence due to a guttural coughing fit.

  “Mum.” Ginny couldn't even think as she grasped her mother's hand. The normally warm, comforting touch Ginny had always related to her mother was gone, replaced with what she would assume the dead felt like.

  Molly took a sip from the straw Arthur offered her before speaking again. “I'm sorry we didn't tell you about this sooner, love. Your father and I thought you might run off and try to find a cure by yourself.”

  Ginny nodded. That's exactly what she would have done. She would have marched across all of England if it meant she didn't have to lose--

  Just when she thought was done with tears!

  “Come here.” Molly slowly opened her arms, allowing Ginny to crawl in then like she used to do as a child.

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  Ginny gathered the last of her shirts, throwing them unceremoniously into her rucksack. After spending thirty minutes in her mother's arms, Ginny had felt as if the air inside the bedroom had been sucked out and she needed to get away.

  Her mind had been blank as she packed everything she might need on the trip to Bill’s. Which was at least a four-day walk, and that was without any issues arising. Though Ginny hadn’t ventured far outside of the “safe zone” that London provided, she had seen enough to know that trekking across the country would have issues.  

  A knock on her bedroom door made her head shoot up. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Harry. Can I come in?”

  Ginny’s treacherous heart started beating faster than the wings of a baby bird's first flight. God! She hated that he still had this effect on her. Hadn’t pining for Harry the entirety of her teen years been enough? Of bloody course not! The moment she had spotted him standing outside their house, Ginny’s body had been out of her mind’s control.

  She hadn’t seen him in over two years, and fuck, she’d missed him. They had been close friends from secondary school, but during their A levels, their friendship had taken on a new depth. There had even been a time, somewhere between Harry starting uni and her completing her A levels, where Ginny had thought something more than friendship might happen for them. But then the world had gone to hell in a handbasket.   

  “Ginny?” Harry spoke again.

  Ginny mentally shook herself, jarring herself into action. She moved to the door and leaned against it. “How do I know you’re really Harry?”

  “Really, Gin?” Harry exasperated tone made Ginny smile.  

  Fuck, I love the way he says Gin. “ Really really. I need you to answer a question only the real Harry would know.”

  “Like what?”

  Ginny thought about it for a moment. “What happened the first time we went to Brighton alone?”

  She laughed as she heard a thump on the wall beside her. “Come on. Why did you have to bring that up?”

  “Answer the question, Harry. If that is your name.”

  His voice got even more muffled as he lowered his voice, but Ginny could faintly make out his words. “I tripped and fell.”

  “And?”

  “And I fell into someone.”

  “ And? ”

  “I tried to catch myself by using a stranger's breasts. Happy now?”

  Ginny opened the door wide to a flushed Harry. “Very.”

  Harry just shook his head. “Why do you like bringing that story up?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it in like two years.”

  There was a moment of silence between them. Their eyes locked. Then Harry’s lips quirked upwards before he snorted. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

  “I rarely am.”

  And that was the final straw. Harry laughed so hard his shoulders shook.

  Ginny had to hold herself back because at that moment all she wanted to do was reach out and run her hand along his dark jawline before pulling his chapped lips to hers. Fuck ! Why couldn’t her brain understand that was never gonna happen?

  Harry had stopped laughing and was staring at her with an intense look behind his glasses. Ginny knew that look. It had become commonplace during their teen years, and it was when she thought -- hoped -- that it was a look that said he wanted her more than just a best friend.

  Crash.

  Both she and Harry jumped backward as her half-packed bag tumbled to the floor, spilling most of the contents on the floor.

  It wasn’t until she looked back at Harry that she realized that she had been moving in closer. Shit, her body had possessed her mind again!

  Clearing his throat, Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, so I just wanted to discuss the plan if you have a moment.”

  Fuck! What was she doing? Now she’d made Harry uncomfortable for the second time in under five hours. God, she needed to keep it in her pants. But then again, while her mind replayed the delicate ten seconds before the bag fell to the floor in sharp clarity, she could have sworn Harry’s body had been tilting her way too. Had he been… Ginny blinked rapidly, trying to bring her eyes back into focus.

  Nope! Don’t even go there, girl!

  “Uh… yeah!” She moved over to the fallen rucksack, stuffing the clothing that had tumbled out back into the holder. “I’ll meet you in the sitting room in a few minutes.”

  Harry nodded. He cleared his throat once more, before hastily retreating from the room. Ginny flopped backward onto her bed, her hands coming up to cover her face. Fuck!

  XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  “Then we can stop in Glasbury. I have a man who owes me a favor there.” Harry pointed to the small village on the map of England. “He should have some supplies if we need any.”

  Ginny nodded. Harry had explained every possible spot where they could stop and have an ally. He had also explained that landmarks and county lines had changed. London wasn’t the only safe zone that created walls to protect its people so they could take advantage of the shelter. They just needed to know the right people… and apparently, Harry did.

  “How do you know so many people along this route?” Ginny thought it was strange that Harry had so many people that owed him favors in all these locations. Why was he going towards Wales so often?

  Harry sighed. “I have a client that likes me to bring certain items out to Dale.”

  Ginny nodded. “What kind of things?”

  “Things that aren’t easy to obtain.”

  She hated when Harry did this; his mysterious and aloof attitude could really grind her gears. He’d acted this way when they were kids too, but she had knocked that habit out of him. It seemed like she was going to have to do it again. Rising slowly from her chair, Ginny leaned over the table as if she were trying to see a small detail hidden on the map. With the speed of a skilled cricket pitcher, she thumped Harry across the back of the head.

  “Ow!” Harry’s hand jumped to the injured area. “What the fuck, Gin?”

  “If we’re gonna be walking halfway across this country together, I don’t want any of your ambiguous bullshit.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We need to be completely honest with each other, got it?”

  Harry glared for at her for a few seconds, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “Fine.” He finally agreed. “But there will be some things I can’t tell you.”

  Ginny shrugged. “You don’t have to be an arse about it. Just say, ‘Ginny, I can't tell you.’”

  If Ginny hadn’t spent many hours watching Harry during their summer holidays and homework sessions, she may have missed the corner of his lips quirking upwards (the way they did whenever he was hiding his amusement). “Fine.”

  “Good, now that’s settled.” Ginny leaned back over the map, gesturing to Abingdon. “Why did you draw a star there?”

  Harry took a moment to respond, and when Ginny looked up at him through her lashes she could see that intense gaze focused on her again. It sent butterflies cascading through her stomach.

  “Oh, er…” Harry cleared his throat. “ Right . I may be able to find us a car there.”

  Ginny pushed away from the table and looked sharply at Harry. “No fucking way. No one has a car that’s worked in years.”

  Harry shrugged. “Do you remember my old mate Seamus?”

  Ginny had to think about it for a moment. “The Irish bloke that moved here during secondary?“

  “Right in one! He was always rather good with cars. I helped him out of a tricky spot a year or so ago. I’m hoping he will be able to return the favor.”

  “What are the odds of him having a car that runs, though?”

  Harry pursed his lips while considering her question. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. Even if he can’t help us get a car, Abingdon has protective walls like London. It will be a safe spot to bunk for the night.”

  They fell into a silence, both staring at the map, seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Ginny, for her part, was trying to imagine how everything might have changed. The last time she’d been over towards the coast, all her brothers were still alive. Would things even be recognizable?  

  “Well.” Arthur’s voice from the doorway made Ginny jump. “It sounds like you’ve quite a journey ahead of yourselves. You should get some sleep. Harry, you can take the spare room across from Ginny.” And just as suddenly as he appeared, Ginny’s father left.

  “He’s right.” Harry folded the map into a tiny square. “We’re going to need to leave early in the morning.”

  Ginny nodded. They walked side by side to their rooms. When they reached the doors, both she and Harry paused looking at each other.

  “Well…” Harry’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “See you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight, Harry.” Without any conscious thought, Ginny got up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek for the second time that day. She let her lips linger a second longer than the last time, before slowly lowering herself back to the floor, her nose brushing along his jaw. Without another word she turned into her room, shutting the door behind her. She let out a huff, her eyes turned towards the ceiling as she fell back against the door.

[yeunbins]

perfect chemical — hyb

genre: enemies2lovers!au

requested: yes

a/n: this was WAAAAY long overdue

description: maybe being lab partners isn’t so bad after all

if you could describe Ha Yoonbin in one word, it would be that he is the literal devil. satan himself is shaking in his boots. you hated him with all your guts. just thinking about his name sent shivers down your spine. you are also one hundred percent positive that he felt the same way about you.

it all started around middle school. with you two being the top acers of the class, there was a time the class needed a class president. of course, your friends, yedam, doyoung, keita, jyunhao voted for you to be nominated. while jihoon, yoshinori and junkyu voted for yoonbin to be nominated. you still remember it like it was yesterday. someone raised their hands to close the nominations and it was only you and yoonbin who were the candidates. everyone chose their side and of course, you lost to yoonbin with one point. since then, there has been a competition between the two of you.

back to the present, you were currently drawing random doodles in your notebook. suddenly, the teacher called your name. “hm?” you raised your head. “were you paying attention, ms. y/n?” the teacher taps his foot. you laughed awkwardly, “yes” squeaked. you hear someone scoff at the side. “as usual of our ms. genius. barely paying attention in class” yoonbin mocks. you felt your blood boil hearing his voice. “yeah at least i don’t brag about my achievements when i barely achieved half of it” you retort. yoonbin gasps, “you take that back!” he gasps, pointing at you. “make me!” you hissed. “YOU TWO IN THE PRINCIPAL’s OFFICE NOW!” the teacher in front of you boomed. you angrily grabbed your bag and stomped off to the principal’s office. yoonbin shoves his things inside his black backpack. jihoon trying to calm him down, “bro, chill out! i told you, you shouldn’t have done that!” he tries to calm an angry yoonbin. “dude, just, fuck off and wait for me during lunch” yoonbin sighs, following you to the principals office.

—

“same reason?” the guidance councilor mused. you crossed your arms, avoiding all forms of contact with yoonbin. yoonbin fakes a laugh and throws his hand over your shoulder, pulling you close to him. “yep! isn’t that right babe?” he coos making you flustered causing you to smack him in the face. “ow!” he flinches. the guidance councilor laughs again, “you two would make such a cute couple” she winks. you choked in mid air, “excuse me ms. kim, that’s not happening anytime soon. i’d rather date a mole rat other than her” yoonbin whispers obnoxiously. “like i would date you” you gagged. before yoonbin could react, the door opens to reveal the principal, motioning the two of you to come in his office for the nth time this school year.

“you know, i’m getting tired of seeing your faces in my office everyday” the principal facepalms. you hid your face with your hands and yoonbin plays with his fingers. “its her/his fault!” you both stand up at the same time, annoying the principal even more. “if you two get sent in here again for the last time, i would have no choice to give you both a suspension for a week” he says sternly. you two both sat down quietly. “but sir! i have perfect grades! i will be forced to be dropped from the honor roll if you suspend me!” you complained. “yeah! what she said” yoonbin nods his head towards you. “exactly. so you two should grow up and be mature about this. you two are no longer kids! but seniors in high school!” the principal scolds you two. you both lower your heads and kept quiet. “one more chance. if i see your faces here again, you two are automatically suspended” the principal sighs. you both nod and stood up from the chairs. “here’s your hallway pass. hope i won’t see you two here again” the principal passes you two a familiar pass. you walk out the principal’s office in a bad mood. stomping your way to your next class which was chemistry.

—

“for this year, we would be having lab days. so i will be assigning your lab partners for the rest of the year. no buts” your chemistry teacher announces to the whole class. to be honest, you didn’t really care who you end up with since you’re practically friends with everyone in this class. except for yoonbin of course.

“ha yoonbin and (y/l/n) (y/n)” you hear the chemistry teacher read off his attendance list. you hear yoonbin sigh really loudly.

this is gonna be one hell of a school year

—

“could you take the test tube and wash it?” you ask yoonbin who was busy doing nothing. “what?” he raises his brow at you. you looked away from the microscope to give him a glare. “wash the test tubes”

“what’s the magic word?” he smiles fakely. “YOONBIN!” you screeched. “that’s not the magic word but we’ll work with that” he snickers taking the test tube away from your hand. you watch the microscope again but only to be disturbed by the one and only lucas. “hi!” he smiles widely. you look behind you incase he was referring to someone else. “me?” you point to yourself. lucas laughs, “yes! you, y/n!” it was a good thing that you wore a mask so he won’t see the rising blush on your cheeks.

lucas was the friendliest boy in school. which makes him part of the popular kids. you admit, he was very good looking.

“don’t you have a partner? where did he go?” lucas asks you as he sees you doing all the work. you shrug your shoulders, not caring wherever yoonbin is.

“he probably ghosted on me–“

suddenly, a loud slam could be heard next to you. you jumped and looked up to see yoonbin staring intently at lucas. “hey y/n i think it’s my turn to look at that. take a break and watch me finish our work for today” yoonbin says loudly for lucas to hear. lucas looks challenged and scoffs. “anyway y/n. here you go” he shows a toothy grin handing you a piece of paper. “bye!” he waves off walking to his station. you opened the paper to reveal his number. you laughed and kept the paper in your pocket, not realizing yoonbin was watching the whole time.

—

“hello? earth to y/n?” keita obnoxiously waves his hand over your face. “what?” you ask dazed. “i asked what happened during the first lab session” yedam explains. you look around and see everyone staring at you.

“chemistry was fine for once. mainly because i did all the work as usual and i met– yeah that’s about it” you laughed nervously. hoping they didn’t catch the last part. “yOU MET WHO????” doyoung slams the lunch table.

“i met lucas...” you mumbled. the 3 boys stared at each other for a moment before standing up and cheering you on. “Y/N GOT A BOYFRIEEEEEEND~”

—

“so did you guys slit each other throats out?” jihoon asks with his infamous puppy eyes. yoonbin puts down his chopsticks. “sadly, no” “bummer” junkyu mutters. suddenly, your table nearby can be heard. “Y/N GOT A BOYFRIEEEEEEEND~” keita’s voiced could he heard. everyone’s ears in yoonbin’s table perked up. “you’re dating y/n?!” yoshinori gasps. yoonbin chokes on his kimchi. “FUCK NO!” he denies. “i think she got lucas’ number” he finishes.

“lucas wong? the popular guy?” jihoon asks. junkyu nods, “yeah he’s one of the pretty boys and the captain of the school’s basketball team” yoonbin rolls his eyes, “lowkey i feel wrong about him. something about him.. just irks me”

jihoon gave a knowing look to yoshinori and junkyu. “someone seems.... CONCERNED” he yells. yoonbin felt his face turn red. “HELL NO DUDE” he gags.

“your face says otherwise binnie~” junkyu teases. “i hate y’all” yoonbin huffs making everyone in the table laugh

—

weeks passed and you’ve been talking to lucas now. he was such a funny guy. on the other hand, you and yoonbin had started to make up from the past. it chemistry at the moment and you were talking to yoonbin about the upcoming project.

“so yeah, i think we should divide the things we do. i do the first 50 and you do the other half. would that be okay?” you looked up from your notebook. “sounds perfect to me” he agrees. “yay!” you smile happily, showing a small dance. yoonbin observes quietly. wondering to himself how come he has never seen this side of you.

“i have to get going soon, lucas might be waiting for me” you tell him. yoonbin looks at you confused. “what do you mean by ‘might be waiting for you’ ?” he asks. you look taken a back. “we’re going on a date. i don’t know why you’re making this a big deal yoonbin” you knit your eyebrows. “i’m just saying. he does have a reputation of playing with girls” he informs you quietly.

“like this is your business. i’m leaving now” you retort. “don’t say i didn’t warn you y/n!” he yells after you walked out of the classroom

—

‘just when i thought our rivalry was coming to an end’ you scoffed, gripping your bag tighter. you walked into the well known diner in town and sat down at one of the booths waiting for lucas. 30 minutes haved passed and still no sign of lucas. realizing you’ve been stood up and how yoonbin was right, you stood up and walked home. your phone vibrates like crazy in your hand. you looked down at your phone to see multiple messages from yedam, keita and doyoung asking how your date went. you closed your phone and tossed to to your bed. you didn’t think much of it except for the fact that yoonbin was actually right for once.

—

“so how did you date go?” yoonbin asks as he plays with the chemicals in the test tube. “you were right.. i’m sorry for not believing you” you admitted. yoonbin laughs, “told you so. you should believe the things i say for i am a truther after all” he jokes. “bitch i didn’t even say that you were a liar!” you laughed smacking him in the arm.

on the other side of the laboratory, there was jihoon, yoshinori, junkyu standing with yedam, keita and doyoung.

“alright fellas. i’m betting $20 that they would date at the end of the month” jihoon bets. “make that $50 and give it a week” keita challenges. “game fucking bet!” junkyu whisper-shouts

—

it was now around 4:30pm and you and yoonbin were still at the library finishing up your final chemistry project. “how much longer are we gonna stay. i’m hungry” yoonbin dreads. staring at your slouched figure answering the remaining questions. “just a little longer, it’s almost done” you reply. you hear yoonbin mutter a ‘fine!’ and sat down at one of the chairs nearby.

it was quiet for awhile and just some background music yoonbin was playing.

“hey y/n” yoonbin calls. you stopped what you were writing and looked at him. “did you know that you’re the perfect chemical? that’s why i have to test you so i know” he flirts. you felt yourself blush. “boo! that sucks! might as well help me with this” you deadpan. “bitch please, if it that pick up line sucked then why are you blushing right now?” he mimics your actions before hand. “hey y/n, take a break. i’ll take this part now” he says, grabbing the answer sheet from your hands, intentionally brushing them against each other.

“you’re such a flirt, ha yoonbin” you roll your eyes at him. “well, i mean i am a criminal did you know that?” he says. “how so?” you raised a brow at him. “because i could take your heart and go” he says all smugly. you faked gag, “this is the cringiest pick up line i’ve ever heard” “you mean the best? thanks babe” he puckers his lips at you and it grew quiet after that.

you were waiting for him to finish the last equation. swaying your legs from the height of the table you sat on. “you know, i didn’t even know why i like, liked lucas” you open up. “well that means you’re the only

one for me” he responds. “can you stop that” you blush, “nope.” he smiles, standing up from his seat and walks towards you. he stands in between your legs and he grabs your hands. “kiss me” he says. you close your eyes as you slowly lean towards him to give a soft peck on the lips.

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Clever Little Things — Part Four — D. Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey y’all I’ve been working with @poisxnyouth to finish this part up. She is my lovely ⁉️ anon and really fucking killed this part. I ABSOLUTELY couldn’t have done it without her. She is the official co-writer of CLT now and I adore her!!! This is def the best piece I’ve ever put out and its thanks to her. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as we did churning it out! Give her a follow too!! @poisxnyouth @poisxnyouth @poisxnyouth ♥️♥️♥️

Masterlist

Warnings: cussing, super Smut, rough blowjob, just the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written and it’s unholy in the best way!

Summary: You and David come to terms with your fucked up relationship and set some boundaries.

——

David becomes so much more aggressive than he has any right to the following day. You’re all finally heading out to Chicago and when he’s not ignoring you, David is shooting you sour looks as you speak, interrupting and ending any conversation you’re in, just being an all around dick. But, what’s new?

You deal like always and thank god that David does actually ignore you during the travel part of the day. You can sleep on the plane and pretend you’re not obsessed with the bruise covered by your hoodie around your wrist from the night before. You think maybe that’s it. Maybe he won’t talk to you about it until he’s initiating your next late night rendezvous. Maybe you’ll just get the asshole you’re expecting. 

You’re right and you’re wrong.

——

David trudges his ass to your hotel room at one in the morning, banging entirely too loud for not knowing whether or not you’re sleeping. Luckily, you’re finishing up Trish’s vlog and only slightly roll your eyes as you hear him bellow through the door, “Hurry up and let me in. What the fuck? You can’t be doing anything that important!”    

You let the man in, but not before scolding him, “You know, a text would be nice. I’m not even working on Jason’s vlog right now. You don’t need to be here to edit. I know you don’t want any of Trish’s footage this week, it’s boring shit.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, get started on Jay’s now,” he’s idly telling you as he plops down on the arm chair near the windows of your room, pulling open his laptop. You wonder when this man will stop surprising you with his arrogance, you think that day will never come. He’s constantly one upping himself.

“It’s done, I’ll pull it up in Final Cut. Tell me if you want me to change anything,” you say, taking the other armchair and pulling on only one of your head phones as you dive back into Trisha’s edit. It doesn’t take long though, you’re done within half an hour and start going through some business emails you’ve been putting off. David breaks the silence, out of the blue.

“So… how many other guys are you hate fucking in your spare time to need birth control?” You see red instantaneously. Like burning fire in your soul angry, red. There’s silence so you can compose yourself and not lunge across the small table at him.

“What?” he continues in your livid stillness, “I want to watch you text them you’re getting better dick now.” And the asshole doesn’t even look up from editing or pause the noise from the clips. He acts like he’s asking you for a time stamp of something, casual as shit. But, he gives himself away and you realize the game he’s playing, looking down at his screen but foot tapping nervously on the hotel’s bland carpet. You take back control of the situation.

“Oh Dave, I can’t believe you think that’s how this works,” you say, slowing your speech like he’s stupid. You settle back and brush off your anger to a low hum in the back of your mind. He tenses in his seat. He wants to play games with you? Well, he can try. 

An even longer silence is cast into the room than before, and you briefly think you might have won, you might have caused the man to lose his nerve and back down from whatever he’s playing at, but he doesn’t. David never backs down.

“Why didn’t you suck my dick last night?" And that genuinely makes you chuckle, but you don’t tear your eyes away from what you’re doing.

"What makes you think you deserved it?” You answer back, shrugging a shoulder, no real interest in your voice for where he’s taking this conversation. (Your voice is a fucking liar.)  

He dodges your question though, continuing on like you hadn’t even spoke, "It’s a shame really, I wanted to fuck the shit out of your throat.“ 

That makes your breath hitch slightly and you swallow silently before continuing to type away at an email, maintaining composure. His words would bring the picture to mind, vividly. The image is tantalizing, but you mostly think about the noises he’d make. Would he make the same low groans he expelled as he came in you, curse through gritted teeth, or perhaps dirty talk the whole experience, narrating above you? All three, maybe? Hopefully.

"You talk a big game, but you come like a teenager.” You’re taunting, nonchalant about it, playing the same game he is. You’re still just typing out emails, acting like they are the most interesting thing on the planet. He’s so angry, you can feel it radiate off of him. It makes you smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up! My ex would never let me do the shit I wanted to. It’s been ages since I’ve fucked anybody like that. God, I fucking hate you. So judgmental all the goddamn time,” he snaps, lip snarled and frustration evident on him now.  You look at him, meet his eyes and watch them flicker up and down your body. You scowl and go back to your computer. He’s so gross and shallow. How can you be hurt but, also eye fuck someone? 

“What about my body language says I want to fuck you again?” You ask, no sympathy in your voice for his last statement. The night is just full of 180′s when it comes to both your moods, because then he’s trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“You’re too obvious, (Y/N). ‘Oh, David! Don’t stop, don’t stop, pleeeease,’” he mocks, delight alive on his features as he mimics you from the night prior, “I could tell you were surprised with how quick you came too. And I’m not blind. Whenever you look at me, you look at my lips. You’re so fucking thirsty." 

The only comeback you can think to blurt out is, "Yeah, well, you came as soon as I fucking scratched you. Pussy." 

"We can try to extend that, if you want." 

"Who’s thirsty now?" 

"Fucking me. At least I’m not in denial about it,” he’s griping, as you roll your eyes. 

“I’m not in denial. You just don’t deserve the satisfaction,” This time, he’s the one to roll his eyes, breathing out a puff of air that lifts his dark locks off his forehead slightly.

“Why the hell do you hate me so much? I’m literally telling you that I want to see you come!”

“Pretty sure we’ve already had this conversation. You’re an asshole,” you clarify, hands still posed on your keyboard, but attention on the man across from you.

“Well, you’re a bitch. But that doesn’t change the fact that the thought of having you come all over my fingers while I’m between your legs turns me on,” he’s saying, face flushing just a bit. You don’t know if it’s from arousal or irritation.

“You really are a teenager,” you’re replying, smirk painted on your lips.

David scoffs and goes silent. He looks like he can’t believe whats going on around him. He is trying to compliment you, but it’s not working. He doesn’t say anything else. He’s fuming. He wants you so badly, but his pride is getting in the way. 

He slams his laptop shut and stands.

“Get up,” he orders. He’s not even done with the video but he can’t bring himself to focus on it, anyway. You give him a look, but obey. It makes him feel good, like he’s proud of himself that you listened.

“What the fuck, David?” you ask, no real exasperation in your tone. He moves to stand in front of you, jerking your head up by the chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He tilts his head down to put his lips by your ear.

“I’m not going to let other men fuck you, if you can even call what they do fucking. Are they good?” 

You nod with his hand still gripping your face. It tightens when he barks at you, “Speak!” 

You’re not a dog, you think vehemently, but you obey again anyway.

“Yes, they are,” you admit, his fingers seeming to tighten with each syllable of your answer, until the pain spikes and makes you shiver. 

“Wrong answer. Let me rephrase: Are they good compared to me? Be honest.” He looks like a pompous king when you squeak out a tiny, No, David. His laugh is hot on your face and you can’t help the moan that comes out when he traces the bottom of your earlobe with his lips, as he finishes, “There it is.”

(The sound from you inflates his ego by a million. And it seems like he could get used to this, a sultry look of power on his face when he pulls back.)

“Take out your phone,” he orders. You fumble out of his touch, searching for it on the bed. When you find it, he gives you a look, holding out his palm.

“Oh, fuck you! I’m not giving you my phone.” He manhandles you, thoughtlessly jerking you towards him by the hips. David grips them tightly, nails digging in through your t-shirt. It makes you squirm.

“Give it,” he demands, voice leaving no room for argument. You’re chest to chest now, looking up at him through your eyelashes. Reluctantly, you slide it in his shirt pocket, not looking up at his gaze now.

“Password?” he asks, removing his hands from your body and taking it out.

“Fuck off. That’s my business.” He sighs, slapping the phone on the palm of his hand. He holds it out, like he’s giving it back to you. David almost seems disappointed, but there has to be a catch.

“Fine. I’m gonna leave.” 

You gawk at him.

“I’m serious. I don’t fuck with that multiple fuckbuddy shit. If you still want to do that, fine, but I know I fucked you good and I know it’ll only get better. I can walk out of here, let you fuck someone you meet on the street, and they’ll be like a virgin compared to me. I’m not doing that shit. We can both do better.” 

What a smug little bitch. He was right, though, and you hated it.

“And,” he added, “if I walk out that door, I can guaran-fucking-tee you’ll be calling me back here in an hour, begging to have my cock shoved down your throat. You put on this front of being a strong-willed bitch, which you are, and I do respect that about you, but it’s so fucking obvious you’re just begging to have someone tear you apart,” he’s slowly backing you against the nearest wall, deft hands sliding your phone into your front pocket as he rants at you. 

Your back hits the flat surface and his weight goes to rest on the arm not holding your chin as he brackets you in and makes intense eye contact, meaning every word he says, “You want someone who can be possessive with you, you want to belong to someone and cum for someone. So… Why. Would. You. Turn. Me. Down. When. All. I. Want. Is. To. Supply. That. For. You?” His voice is softer and slower now, almost a whisper, and he has a dumb, smug smile plastered on his face. He mockingly strokes your jaw with the side of his index finger, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“You want to pay attention to me, (Y/N). In fact, it’s the only thing you’ve been doing this whole trip. I’m not saying I haven’t been doing the same. All of that is fine, but at least fucking own up to it.” With his last sentence, his voice goes stern. It turns you on, but you don’t want to think about that. Part of you wants to kick him out just to be a bitch, but you know that’s what he’s expecting of you. You stay where you are.

“You don’t even know me,” you half heartedly accuse.

He scoffs at that with an amused edge to his voice.

“Maybe not, but do I have to?” the words oddly sting a little, “I can already see you sneaking glances at me and poking at the marks I left. You crave it, (Y/N) and it’s like, painstakingly obvious. Every time I touch you, you fucking lean into it,” and as he says this, he moves his free hand from your jaw to your throat. 

You want him so badly to wrap his fingers around it and squeeze, but he opts for hair-raising strokes down the column of your throat. His smile is smug as you take his hand in yours, guiding his fingers to wrap around. He doesn’t squeeze. He already knows you too well, and he’s pretty proud about it. He becomes cockier and continues his tangent, “You want this. I know you do. You want it just as badly as me, maybe even more than I do.”

You keep your eyes level with his, watching him glance back and forth between your lips, your throat, and your eyes. He has a smile playing on his lips, eyebrow cocked and briefly, you think it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You find your voice after mentally composing yourself. 

“Fine, just don’t leave. But I’ll text them. You can watch.”

He sits next to you on the bed when you drag him over, his hand attempting to snake under your shirt to wrap his arm around your waist. You give him a nasty look but don’t say anything. He keeps it still the entire time as you both realize what this means for you two. He can’t wait to fucking claim you.

(You can’t fucking wait to be claimed.)

You see him eye your password and file it away in his memory. You notice, and let him. You don’t care enough to hide anything from him.

He’s studying your phone as you go through your apps and message the people you’ve been hooking up with casually. You’re only sending messages to those you have upcoming plans with, but it seems to be enough for him. Even if he has a snide comment about each individual.

“Wow, you really like to hook up, huh?” he’s teasing, no malice in his voice.

“I like to have sex. I’m fucking human. Don’t slut shame me, Dobrik,” you joke back to the man, still typing away.

“You use condoms with them?” David’s asking, which causes you to pause and turn in his hold, eyeing him wearingly. He holds his hands up in defense and too quickly explains,

“Ireallydon’tmeanthatinaDICKway, I just wanna be able to come in you all the time.”

“Yeah, I do. I don’t want a fucking kid OR a transmitted disease,” you tell him, smirking at his shouted explanation.

He’s resounding smile is charming in the moment as he realizes something, singsonging, “So you truuuust me?”

“I trust you don’t get laid much,” you retort, as he leans in to bury his head in your neck. You laugh when you hear and feel him grumble against your skin. There’s a light hearted feel to this interaction, the first you’ve ever felt with him. It’s nice, but you wanted more already. You’re hitting send one last time on a message and close the phone, throwing in next to and behind you on the bed. He’s pulled back when you turn around and he has this look on his face that you can’t read.

“Good, now you can pay attention to me.”

That makes you almost giggle as he leans in and pulls you into a heated kiss. Leaving no room for negotiation with his hand gripped against the back of your head, he pulls you where he wants to have full access. Your knees feel weak and it makes you glad the bed is there to hold you. His chapped lips know exactly what they’re doing, leaving you breathless after an embarrassingly short amount of time.

You can’t help pushing up to climb onto his lap, legs falling to either sides of his hips, rustling his shirt up slightly. The moan he lets out when you start biting lightly on his bottom lip is fucking ridiculous, it makes you move against his body, grinding on him. He pulls away to rock you together a couple times before starting to push you back and down.

“Didn’t I say something about fucking your mouth?” His strained voice asks, making you nod obediently and follow his hands with ease to kneel between his parted legs. Your hands go straight for his waistband and he groans as his head flys back slightly, “God, you’re such a slut. So good for me. You just wanna taste me, don’t you?”

And you do, you want that like burning. You’re speeding up your fingers to get his pants and boxer briefs down and off. One thigh is still healing from your scratch the night before, red lines swollen and noticeable. You decide to make sure he has matching marks by the end of the night.

He’s already hard, his dick slapping against his stomach when freed from the confines of his pants. His hands start running through your hair, collecting the strands into a messy ponytail that he can easily grip. You look up to him with the biggest doe eyes you can muster while he does this, licking your lips wet so they shine for him. The one long exhale of breath he lets out while meeting your eyes is your reward and makes you even wetter between your legs. You know exactly how to put him on edge and it makes something in you preen.

“Look at you, so fucking eager. Fuck me. You’re my little slut, huh?” He asking with no expectation of a response when he pulls you forward and onto his dick. The hand leading you is surprisingly gentle, but you don’t really want that. Not after what he promised.

You swallow him whole, gagging when he hits the back of your throat. But you persevere and don’t pull up even though his hold on you is light enough that you could. David’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever blown, but you don’t shy away from a challenge when it’s presented. You just keep swallowing around him and when your gagging cause spit to cascade down and around him, you pull up and back down to slick the way.

It’s messy and you feel wetness on your cheeks and chin, everywhere, but you don’t care. Your only focus is making it good for him and hopefully looking wrecked in the process. You’re succeeding as his labored breath grows louder in the room with each flick of your tongue around the head of his cock.

You only gasp a little when he yanks your head back and off him, moving you back so that he can stand at full height. You look up from his hold and see the exasperation across his face, scrunched forehead and tongue peeking out to lick at his dry lips. You know where this is going and unhinge your jaw, dropping your mouth open for him to fuck. It makes David mutter a small fuck me to himself and jerk you back onto him.

He isn’t languid with his hold this time, no he’s taking complete control and fucking into your mouth with force. Every third time or so you gag, more drool coming out around your lips. You just look up to him with watery eyes when it happens and moan around him.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl. Just fucking take it. Do I taste good? You wanna swallow me up, huh?” he’s rambling, never stopping the rough pace at which his hips were snapping against your face. You attempt to nod in his hold with little success and relent to just groaning around him in hopes that the vibrations would be your answer. Then you’re flexing your throat, trying your best to undulate the muscle around him; it works.

“Fuck! Fuck, yeah, move your throat around me like that baby,” he’s crooning, speed picking up slightly. The look on his face is pained and his eyes are scrunched closed. You take the moment, raising your limp and unused hand to his unharmed thigh. You feel a little malicious, but it only makes you leak through your underwear.

As you begin clawing your way down the leg, harder than the night before, he makes the same empty grunt the last time he came. You snap your head back hard, pushing the hand gripping your hair back with your movement. David’s eyes shoot open and stare down at you in awe. Your nails aren’t done marring him as you pull away from him only a couple inches and open you mouth, tongue hanging out.

It’s like a lightbulb switches in his head, you’re giving him someplace to come. His hand leaves your hair and starts rapidly stroking himself. You’re still not done scratching him, fingers moving down painstakingly slow. David’s mouth is hung open to match yours as he starts to come, your face moving forward so that your tongue is barely touching the underside of his cockhead, collecting the first few spurts.

You’re leaning forward to seal your mouth around him when he jerks back a few inches and continues to come, but now all over the bottom half of your face. Your hand slips down to push on your cunt through your jeans without your permission as you moan wantonly into the room and just stare at the man in wonder. (You didn’t realize that was a kink, but it is apparently.)

He’s shivering and moaning out tiny oh fuck’s as he recovers from his orgasm and falls back into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. You don’t move, you just stare at him, face shining with his cum as it dribbles from your lips to your jaw and hangs on your cheeks.

The two of your eyes meet for a moment too long. He’s breathing is harsh and he’s looking at you like an anomaly, utterly confused and wrecked. Then you lick the come off your lips and make a show of swallowing what’s in your mouth for him.

You don’t stop him when he reaches back on the bed for your phone, opening it and snapping a picture of you, debauched and covered in come on your knees in front of him. You don’t stop him when he sends it to himself.

You don’t stop him at all as he leans forwards to collect the mess off your chin and push it into your still open mouth; you don’t stop him, no, you actively begin sucking it off his fingers. Which pulls a long moan from the man, and has him pushing against your tongue and trying to rub the taste into it.

“See how well I treat you when you pay attention to me?” He’s smirking, fingers still massaging your tongue. You just nod, hand rubbing against your damp mound and still sucking on his fingers. You go to swallow again, but he stops that, tutting out eh, and removing his fingers from your mouth to your chin, pulling you up into a open mouthed kiss. He laps at his own come while massaging your tongue with his and it makes you whimper against his lips pathetically.

Yeah, you can definitely put away some time to pay attention to him if this is what it results in.

(You’re so fucked.)

——

[deepdaleducks]

Embers (Slow Burn 3/Fire Series) - Dele

Author’s Note - again a massive thank you to everyone for reading this series. I’m gonna write three more chapters so keep an eye out for those! Before you read this make sure to read part one and two otherwise nothing will make sense. Hope you enjoy feedback is more than welcome (it makes me so happy so PLEASE give it)

Part One - Slow Burn

Part Two - Flicker

There’s not much thought that goes into the decision to ignore every single one of his texts and calls. Your text chat a one-way stream of baby please call me, I’m sorry, please just let me explain, if you let me explain it’ll all be okay, can we talk about this, you can’t ignore me forever, baby please, I love you, I’m sorry. His name appearing multiple times in your call log, each one with the red phone next to it to show it went unanswered. The flowers he sent to your office on Thursday on your colleague’s desk instead, after you had tried to throw them in the bin and she’d insisted they were too pretty to go to waste. The week goes by easily, your friends coming over for dinner to distract you from the thoughts in your mind. Another half a series of Grey’s Anatomy finished and three empty bottles of red wine in the recycling bin.

On Saturday, Chloe calls, claiming her week has been busy and she’s been dying to here about how things with Dele are going. You laugh aloud at her wording, telling her that things aren’t going anywhere at all and if anything things have back pedalled so far that you might as well pretend you have never met. Explaining the situation to her helps you to mull it all over in your head clearly. For five days you’d been thinking over it all in a million different ways. So with her, you start again from the beginning, like sifting through a freshly opened jigsaw and finally putting pieces together. You discuss how you met, how he tried to kiss you that first night, how you became friends because you were dating someone else, him meeting Ruby, your break up, him trying to set you up with other people. She listens to your every word and by the time you even get on to talking about his break up you’re forty-five minutes into the phone call.

“I just don’t get why he was constantly going back to her.” She says, huffing in annoyance. “Like, if he knew you were in love with him, and that’s why their relationship ended, why on earth was he still sleeping with her? Actually, more importantly why was she still sleeping with him?”

“Have you seen him? That’s why,” you reply, attempting to laugh whilst you do so.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be hating him right now? God, he’s such a fucking dick…”

And you continue with your story, everything he said in the kitchen last Saturday night, how things could have gone in the living room on Sunday night. When you get on to the events of Monday night she starts yelling, screaming that she’s going to come and ‘punch him to France and back’. After a while, her doorbell rings and she says that she has to go as Marcus’ girlfriend has arrived and they’re having a sleepover before going to watch the game tomorrow. She hangs up and you absentmindedly turn on the TV, Match of the Day immediately coming on. Reaching for the remote, you go to turn it off when they begin to show the highlight of Spurs’ game against Burnley. Your heart aches at their 2-1 loss, knowing how angry he will still be at his injury, how he would be grumbling at the tv saying what he would have done differently if he’d been able to play. The battle in your mind begins again. Your thoughts once again torn between the love found in years of friendship and the hurt caused by his actions. Your complete lack of trust acting as the canyon between the two feelings.

  Your doorbell rings early on Sunday morning and you’re pleased to find your best friend, Amy, stood on the porch. She takes you for brunch, refusing to let a Sunday tradition die, even though you had to change your brunch partner. Afterwards you go window shopping and browse various furniture stores, planning your dream houses of the future. She tells you about her date last night and gives you gossip about her sisters, trying everything to not let you think about your own love life. The darkness begins to settle in after your early dinner and you both head to your cars to go home. For the first time all week, your phone doesn’t light up with his name, and you think that maybe he’s given up. Maybe he’s gone back to her again, and maybe he’s happy.

But when you arrive home, there he is, sat at the breakfast bar, back facing you and head hung low. He doesn’t turn around when he hears you come in, only lifting his head slightly to acknowledge your presence, planning to let you speak first. You move closer warily, a whole list of questions forming in your mind. You’d ask how he got in, why he’s here, what he wants. But you already know the answers. He’s here because you’ve been ignoring his calls for a week. He’s here to talk; to plead his case. And he’s here because of a small, carved piece of metal that you had given him once, back when he was the person you trusted most in the world. You notice it sitting on the counter in front of him, single and alone, not even attached to a ring or a chain. Walking past him, you tilt your head to look at the key, not bothering to glance up at his face.

“I gave you that for emergencies…” You trail off in a harsh and cold tone. “And for watering my plants when I’m away.”

He finally lifts his eyeline further to gaze up at you on the other side of he breakfast bar. “Well I figured that since you haven’t answered any of my calls and texts all week, maybe you’d dropped off the face of the earth and your plants might need a water,” his voice is spiteful but comes with a humour underlayer that attempts to break through your stone-cold expression.

“My plants are just fine without you. I am just fine without you, thank you very much.” You lie, brave face feeling weaker by the second.

“I’m not.” He replies, lowly. You take a moment to look him over, eyes dull and hollow, hair tousled and messy, skin paler and cheeks a little gaunt. He looks like he hasn’t slept or ate in days, and as bad as it seems, it makes you feel a little better to know he’s been suffering. “I’ve been going out of my mind without you. What you saw on Monday, it wasn’t what you think. I went out and I ran into her.”

“Okay so you ran into her when you were out, how the hell did she end up in your car on your driveway?” You interject, unwilling to hear his spiel.

“How was I supposed to know you’d be there to see that? You told me you were going out with Amy.” He defends, not doing himself any favours in his wording.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Dele? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” you yell back, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation.

“She was there to pick up the rest of her stuff! Okay?” He cries, temper rising to your level. “After what happened on Sunday, I didn’t want that to happen again. And she still had stuff there. I know we’d been broken up for weeks, but she still had some clothes there and make up and some fucking shampoo things in the bathroom. I didn’t want you to have to see that. I was planning to throw it out, but then I saw her, and I figured that she should just come take it instead, rather than throw it out.”

“Oh yes because now was the perfect time to be acting in favour of the environment, congrats, Del.” You retort, flicking on the kettle a little more aggressively than necessary.

“Maybe I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe it wasn’t the most well thought out of ideas. But I wanted that stuff gone, and she was there, and its her stuff. Look I might not have made the most sensible of decisions, but at least I’m not the one who chose to completely misread a situation. And I’m not the one who’s so immature that I ignored your calls and texts all week and didn’t even give you a chance to explain.” Defensively, he pleads his case, moving from his seat by the breakfast bar, to come stand in the centre of the kitchen with you. His words do nothing but rile you up further, but you let your anger show through silence. The air between you falling flat, you stand on opposite sides of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He pauses. “I’m sorry about all of it. I should have texted you, I should have told you that she was coming over. I- I just thought that because you were out, you would go home and that I could just tell you the next day.”

“Actually, I don’t think you were thinking at all.” You take a breath and look him in the eye, smiling slightly to lift the atmosphere, “but when do you ever, right?” Your joke helps to subside some of the anger building inside you. As if on autopilot, you reach into the cupboard and pull out two mugs, making two cups of tea, one with one sugar and one with a splash of milk. He mumbles a thank you when you pass him a steaming hot mug, the two of you now a little closer together.

“Her stuff is gone. She took a taxi home. I haven’t seen or heard from her since Monday.” He says, defeated. You look him in the eyes, trying your best to decipher if he’s telling the truth. “I know you don’t trust me right now. And I know that my actions in the past don’t exactly make it seem like I’m telling the truth. But I promise you, I am. I love you. And I’m so sorry that I might have ruined this. I just really want to work on this with you to fix things, because I know that we can be happy together. I want to be the person making you happy, and it kills me that I’m the one making you hurt right now.” You break eye contact in an attempt not to crack and fall straight into his arms.

“I really want to believe you, Dele. I really do.” You pause and let out a shaky breath. “Just after everything. After hearing you say its over so many times and then watching you fall straight back into her arms. You told me you loved me. How do you think it made me feel to see you with her again? It’s like none of it meant anything. I’ve heard you lie an awful lot, but I never thought you saying you loved me would feel like a lie.”

“It’s not a lie. I do love you” He interrupts.

“Yeah, but it still felt that way and I can’t change that. I wish I could, but I just can’t” You huff, you mug already forgotten on the side. “God, the amount of shit that went through my mind. I’m a worst-case scenario person, you know that. I just kept thinking that you were planning on sleeping with her again. That it was really that easy. That I was nothing to you.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him. “I- I think for now, we need distance. I need to learn to trust you again. You can say you’re sorry and that you love me a million times over, but I think that to move forward from this, and I do want to move forward from this, we need to go back to square one and build something from the ground up.” You give him an earnest look. The thought of losing your best friend outweighing any anger you could harbour. He nods slowing in agreement, choosing not to talk and instead finishing his brew. He moves closer to you, extending a hand out in front of you as if he was greeting his boss. You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion, and he draws your eye line down to his hand. Tentatively, you lift your own and slip your palm into his, shaking his hand lightly.

“Hi, my name is Dele and I’m 99% sure that you’re my entire future. Can I take you out on a date next Friday?” He introduces himself. “Square one, right?” He smirks at you, proud of his ability to worm his way back under your skin.

“How come you’re only 99% sure?” You ask, lips pursed together defiantly.

“Oh no, I’m 1000% sure, I just didn’t want to scare you,” He responds, causing you to laugh out loud. “I’m gonna go. I’ll text you during the week maybe,” He hesitates, nervously. “But you can, erm, you can call me any time – if you want to. And I’ll pick you up at 7 on Friday?”

“Sounds good to me,” You say as he grabs his belongings, noticeably leaving the spare key on the kitchen counter top. You follow him out into the hall, and he opens the front door, before he steps out into the cold, you stop him. “Hey, Del,” you say to get his attention, reaching out for his wrist to pull him back and into a gentle hug. The week of not seeing him and being in his arms making you ache for his touch. When his hands settle round your back and his face rests in your hair, he lets out a sigh, and the both of you relax for a moment. “We’re gonna make it, Del. I know it.” You whisper quietly into his ear, pulling away and brushing a faint kiss on to his cheek. It feels shy and new and reassures you that things will be okay eventually. He lets his hands fall and wishes you a final goodbye, baby before turning and disappearing into the dark of the night.

  You next hear from him two days later through a text message. No hello, how are you just a picture of some paint swatches and the words ‘which of these do you prefer? I’m not good at this’. You might have decided to go back to square one, but he was certainly texting you like you’d been friends for years, which technically you had.

              Me: Are you redecorating?? Which room? My answer definitely depends on the room.

              Del: Whole house. So I’m gonna need a LOT of advice.

              Del: Do you wanna just come over to help?

              Del: I’m sorry that might be too far. It’s okay if you don’t want to.

Across town he sits in his living room, surrounded by paint samples and colour swatches, nerves coursing through his veins, eagerly awaiting your reply. At home, you type a reply, excitement spurring you on.

              Me: No, that’s okay. I’d love to come over. See you in twenty? X

Hitting send, you head off around the house to grab your belongings; car keys, mint gum, jacket from the stairs. You drive the roads to his house without thinking, mind knowing exactly when to turn from completing the journey so many times in the past. He welcomes you at the door, taking your coat and ushering you into the living room, decorating books sprawled out on the floor, small swatches of paint already drying on the walls.

“So, erm. Dare I ask what’s brought this on?” You ask humorously as you slowly make your way around the room looking at his work so far.

“I guess I just wanted a fresh start you know. I don’t want to move because I love this house, but I feel that it’s just a bit dead. Like it could use a bit of life breathing into it.” He replies, joining you on the floor to look over colour samples. A thought forms in the back of your mind that maybe he’s doing this for you. Maybe he’s erasing every trace of her in this house. Maybe he’s really serious about starting from square one. But then you mentally slap yourself for thinking that he’s changing the world for you, when you never asked him to; for thinking more of this than just a man repainting his house.

The two of you sit there on the floor for a while, mulling over colour samples and interior design magazines. Discussing which colour would look best in the kitchen and the dining room. He says he’s already settled on a light blue for the master bedroom, showing you a sample of the paint that he’d picked up at B&Q earlier. The sample being the exact colour of your favourite dress and flower. You smile at the idea of him painting your favourite shade of blue in his house – in his bedroom – and you let yourself dream of a future here, with him, for a minute.

Your conversation drifts from decorating to friends and work. You ask him how his recovery is going, confessing that you’ve still been worrying about him all week. He tells you that he’s still not able to play and that he’ll be attending tomorrow’s game as a fan once more. The idea of him sitting there alone in the stands, dying to be on the pitch, saddens you and before you can stop yourself, you’re letting yourself open up to him again.

“I could come with you? If you wanted, that is. I haven’t been to a Spurs game in ages.”

  He picks you up right on time, as promised. On the drive into the city you discuss the game, who he thinks will be playing, how he thinks it will go. He asks about your day at work and you tease him saying that your colleague appreciated the flowers he had sent her last week. Pulling into the car park, you open the car door to be hit with an unseasonably warm February evening. Feeling a little hot, you stop to tug off your jacket, forgetting about the shirt you picked out earlier that sits underneath. Turning back to grab your bag from inside the car, he notices the name emblazoned across your shoulders. His name. His old shirt, actually. Gifted to you after the first game of the season. When you realise what he’s seen a blush slowly creeps on to your cheek as he smirks at you.

You sit there in the stands together, cheering and yelling, both enthralled by the game. He throws his hands in the air in frustration when the ref blows his whistle for a foul, claiming that it wasn’t a foul at all. His passion for the game distracts you and you find yourself watching less of the game and more of him.

After the game ends, he takes you down to see the rest of the team, all the guys greeting you with hugs and hellos, some of them mentioning that its good to see you. Eric pulls you into a hug, dragging you off down the corridor away from the group.

“You know he’s really sorry, right?” He says lowly, trying not to be overhead by the crowd of people congregating down the corridor. “He should have explained sooner, he fucked up, but he’s been going crazy and he really loves you.”

“Eric,” You cut in, “I know. We’ve talked it all over, and its going to take us a while and a lot of work to get to where we want to be, where we should be. I know you’re his best friend, but you don’t have to plead his case for him.” You nod at him reassuringly.  He smiles back at you, his eyes still boring it to yours worryingly.

“Are you okay? He’s my best friend, and you’re his best friend, so I wanna look out for you,”

“I’m on the way to being okay,” You reply to his question, swinging an arm around his waist and walking back to the group with him.

  Dele drives you home, conversation sparse between songs coming through the radio. His company feeling comfortable the way it used to. He pulls into your driveway, tyres rattling over the gravel. Killing the engine, he turns to look at you.

“About Friday, I want it to be a surprise, but don’t dress too fancy, dress practical.” He says, looking you in the eyes seriously. You crack a smile at him, confused by his statement.

“Dress practical? What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, imagining a whole series of activities he could have planned for you.

“It’s a surprise!” He insists, “just wear like jeans and some trainers or something. I like you like that.”

And so you agree, laughing slightly at how ridiculous he is. “I’ll see you Friday,” you say sweetly, reaching over to kiss his cheek, as a way to reassure him that this is working; that you’re making progress together. He waits in the driveway till get in your house, turning around for one last wave before entering. A blush creeps onto your cheeks making you feel like a teenager again, cursing yourself for being so weak to his charm.

  Friday rolls around once more and you find yourself standing in front of your wardrobe, attempting to find an outfit that was suitable enough to meet his practical dress code. You settled for a classic ‘jeans and a nice top’ look with dark blue jeans and a white blouse, paired with white converse. Hair curled and make up natural, you head to the door when he rings the bell. He stands there in the doorway with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, dressed neat but casually. You invite him in, heading into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. He refuses to shed any clues as to where he’s taking you and its still unclear as he drives you into the city. He pulls into a parking garage off Brick Lane and together you walk down the street, still unaware of your destination. You stop in front of a mini golf club and you turn to look at him in disbelief.

“Seriously?” You ask, a little in shock that he would plan something like this; that he would remember something like this.

“First time we ever met, we snuck off from that fancy dinner and went to all night arcade. And you were gutted when we found out that the mini golf was shut.” He states, looking at you with a proud grin on his face. “I promised that I’d take you some other time and I never did.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” You beam at him, “I’m going to be so happy when I completely wipe the floor with you. You do realise you’re about to get absolutely hammered, right?” You mock, heading through the door with him.

He leads you over to the counter where he collects two balls and clubs, ordering two beers to go along with it. Handing you a beer, the both of you cheers your glasses.

“To starting again,” He says, looking you in the eyes.

“To winning at mini golf,” You say, and he looks away as he laughs before taking a sip. “Oh! You broke eye contact, that’s seven years bad sex for you, mister!”

He looks at you in shock. “That’s not a thing,” he protests, but you adamantly insist that it is; that your German friends from university had taught you the tradition. He smirks at you, “Besides, I don’t think I’m going to be having any bad sex any time soon,”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not going to be having any sex any time soon,” You retort, walking away from him towards the first hole. He feigns hurt as he follows.

The two of you take turns attempting each course. You perform a lot worse than you had expected, your competitive nature with yourself causing extreme disappointment. He misses the easiest of shots, racking up his points to be higher than yours. And when you finish, your score is 9 points lower than his, making you winner. You brag about the win over French fries and milkshakes, laughing at his defeat. His competitive nature fails to make a show, as he shows pride in your success, beaming at you as you lift the plastic trophy provided for you when you handed in your clubs.

The night drifts on and the dark sky calls you home. Your hand finds his over the console, the touch helping to mend the bridge between you, fingers laces together as he drives. He walks you to your door, asking if you want to go to the game with him in the morning. Instead of answering you reach up a lightly brush your lips over his, timidly, a little bit more of your heart open to him. He’s taken aback initially, allowing you to take the lead. Your hands wind our way around his neck, deepening the kiss. Shocks flow down your veins, only encouraging you further. It feels good be to back in his arms, connected once more. Your fingers weave their way into his hair in an attempt to pull him closer, not wanting to be apart from him anymore. Mind wandering, you forget everything that has happened last week, every shred of self-restraint you once had gone with the wind. With no intentions of stopping it, you open up further to him and he immediately pulls away. Shocked and hurt by the action, you pull back, unwinding your hands from his hair and brushing your hair out of your eyes. Despite it being your decision to take things slowly, his hesitation stings.

“Breakfast tomorrow at half nine before the game, I’ll pick you up.” He says, leaning down to kiss you softly again. It’s quick and leaves no time for you to attempt to pick things up again. You watch as he turns and heads back to his car, shaking your head as a you see him go to attempt to stop thoughts of him from running around your brain.

“God, that boy,” You whisper to yourself, stepping through the door. His charm and gravity pulling your closer back towards being his again with such ease. You could make him grovel all you liked but it wouldn’t take long for him to soon be in your arms again.

Let me know what you thought in my ask box or in the comments and what you wanna see happen next. I have an idea but suggestions are welcome x

[kariachi]

Okay, because I’m proud of what I’ve got so far and don’t know when or if it’ll get finished- have 3400 words of WIP.

Kevin is getting married off, they’re still working on the ‘to whom’ portion.

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

It all began, as these things do, with dinner at his mother’s. Nothing special, just Kevin, his mother, his girl, which really, he supposed, was why this was when things started getting serious.

“So,” his mother had said, midway through the meal, “I’ve been thinking that we should try for Looma.” It hadn’t come out of nowhere- fuck, his last birthday had included the line ‘there’s applications by the door, if you want to marry him get yours back to me by the end of the week’- but still Kevin paused in his eating, going so far as to set down his fork. Gwen paused at his side, eyes narrowing.

“Mom, I’d have to fight Looma to get her. And win.”

“You could win easy.” She, meanwhile, had not stopped eating and took a moment to finish a bite of stew before turning to Gwen. “You’d like her, she’s a good kid, competitive.”

“Looma is intense to say the least,” Kevin countered, “with a short fuse and strong ego.” His mother shrugged.

“Okay, she’d learn to like her.” Glancing Gwen’s way, Kevin rolled his eyes and groaned in the traditional ‘mothers, can’t live with ‘em, invested too much money to kill ‘em’ manner. Gwen just looked confused, face scrunched like she thought someone was up to something. Which was probably true, but that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

“Can I just clarify,” she asked, glancing between them, “what are we talking about?”

“Marriage candidates, Gwendolyn, keep up.”

“Mom, be nice.” One of the greatest remaining issues of his life, somehow his family liked Gwen less than Gwen’s mother liked him- and he’d set her son up with Argit! As if to prove this fact, his mother rolled her eyes much like he just had.

“Alright. We’re discussing who Kevin’s marrying.” And attention back to Kevin. “Looma’s a catch, even Luka and your cousins agree.” Kevin huffed.

“What if we don’t want to move to Khoros? You know she’d expect it.”

“It’s a great planet, wonderful food.”

“Lots of sand.”

“Rich culture.”

“Also giant spiders.”

“Stop! Stop.” Hands held between the two, palms outward, Gwen looked between them, eyes still narrowed and lips set in a frown. Eventually her gaze settled on Kevin’s mother. “What am I, chopped liver?” There was an opening there, and Kevin glared at his mother before she could take advantage of it. She continued on like she’d never planned to.

“You didn’t get an application in,” she said simply. “If Kevin wants to marry you it’ll have to be on his own time. Meanwhile, we’re getting him some good spouses.” Now Gwen was the one huffing.

“You can’t really have expected me to fill that out, it was over Christmas, and my birthday right after!” And foot, mouth, the snowball of disapproval ever grew. Kevin’s face fell into his hands as his mother finally set her spoon down with a glower.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my son not worth wasting two hours of your precious holiday time-”

~~~

“I cannot believe your mother, and you just went along with it!” This was the struggle he faced when it came to spending time with Gwen and his relatives together- in the end, he had to deal with all of them.

“Babe, I’ve been expecting my family to be involved in my love life my entire life. If anything the fact they’re looking to get me multiple spouses this young says a lot about my desirability. At my age Kay had like five offers. And she included you in the conversation! Forward progress!” Kevin flashed a grin that was met with nothing but pure scowl.

“And you were going to discuss this with me, when?” Wait, stop, what? Huh? Kevin’s face scrunched in confusion.

“I have? Multiple times?” Gwen continued to scowl. “When we started dating I told you my family was going to arrange at least one marriage for me and you’d have to share, you were cool. I told you when they started getting offers, you were cool. You were there while three of my siblings got married off, you were cool. My family passed out marriage applications at my last birthday. You were cool. Excuse me for assuming, you know, you were cool. We need to hash out details, but that wasn’t really a priority until now and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we’re busy people.” The scowl remained, but she stopped aiming it directly at the side of his head. Instead she leaned back in her seat and turned it out the passenger window.

“I wasn’t even on her damn list.” It took effort for Kevin not to sigh, something he was half sure would get him killed.

“You can’t be surprised,” he said, “my family doesn’t like you and you didn’t fill out an application.” The scowl deepened and came for him again.

“It was due over Christmas!” This time he didn’t even bother trying to hide the groan.

“Gwen, please, you just finished arguing with my mother over this.”

“It’s true! I was set up to fail!”

“G. Babe.” He was this close. “I swear to Zak, if you try to have this argument again I will drop you off at Feli’s. She will gladly spend the next three hours telling you how big a fuck-up you are and how you don’t deserve me.”

“Kevin…”

“She’ll gloat.” Gwen scowled at him for another long minute, then turned back to the window.

“Have I mentioned how much of a bitch she is?”

“Nearly as often as she says that about you.”

~~~

“So, your ma made a very nice offer-”

“Oh fuck.” Kevin groaned, going limp under his car. “Don’t tell Gwen.”

“Aw, but Earthboy, I was hoping to rent a billboard and everything. ‘Kevin Ethan Levin-Jones’s mother offered him to me’ in big bold print. Was down to choosing the color.”

“Do not,” he repeated, sticking a pointing finger out in Argit’s direction, “tell Gwen. She’s already in enough of a mood about this whole thing. Surprised I haven’t heard from Ben yet.”

“Give them time.” Kevin returned to his tinkering with another groan.

“What’d you say? When she offered?”

“I told her I was flattered- I mean look at you- but I’d have to talk to Ken about it before I made a decision.”

“Okay,” Kevin said, nodding, “that makes sense. Things going good with him?”

“Great.” He couldn’t see it, but he could hear and practically feel the smile on his old friend’s face. “He might say yes you know. Feels guilty about it ‘cause you’re dating his sister but he does think you’re a nice piece.” Chuckling, Kevin shook his head.

“Of course he does. Fuck that’d make it worse- not only does my family like you more than her, but her brother gets a chance at a hunk of me via you?”

“Well in your family’s defense, I don’t like Red either.”

“Yeah, because you’re incompatible brands of asshole.”

“Come on, Kev, you can’t blame them. If nothing else this is the girl whose immediate reaction to Feli was passive-aggressive implications of attempted boyfriend snatching.” Fuck, if there was a moment he never wanted to remember.

“You don’t know pain until you’re trying to get a word in edgewise for introductions, and your girlfriend is unwittingly accusing your sister of incest, and your sister is just letting her dig her own grave.” He heaved a short, tired laugh. “You shoulda been there though, the look on Gwen’s face when I finally got to tell her who she was talking to- Priceless.” Argit chuckled.

“Oh I know, Feli has described it to me in detail. She’s described it to a lot of us in detail. I think she’s gonna get a painting done of it, hang it above her mantle.” That, sounded like something just about any of his sisters would do, and a few of his brothers. Kevin silently vowed to keep an eye out for such things.

“Just, give me a heads up when you two come to a decision, before you talk to anyone.”

“Sure thing, Kev.”

~~~

Alan appeared to be having some sort’ve crisis, laying on his couch, staring up at the ceiling. He’d been like this since before Kevin’d showed up, looking forward to an afternoon with his niblings, and the only sign he’d moved in the hours since was the half a sandwich he knew nobody else had made for him. In true younger sibling fashion his brothers and sister didn’t seem to much notice, just rolling their eyes when they saw he was still there and dispersing through the house.

Kevin was so proud.

“Alright, Shortstack,” he asked, leaning over the back of the couch, “what’s eating you?” It took a moment for Alan to respond.

“I’m next.”

“Next?”

“Once you’re married off.” Ah. Okay. That explained that. Kevin purred at him.

“You’ve got time you know. Not like wedding bells are ringing tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s just…” Alan sighed. “The future. It looms. College and marriage and kids-” Finally he moved, hauling himself up on his elbows just enough to have to crane his neck to look Kevin in the eye “-do I even want kids?” Kevin shrugged.

“Do you?”

“I don’t even know right now.” And there he went, collapsing back down. “Guess I should figure that out.”

“Don’t rush yourself. Like I said, you’ve got time.” What had been a soft smile turned toothy. “Don’t think Cooper’s figured that out either.” Alan looked at him, lips tugging into a smile.

“You guys are going to try to get Cooper for me? He’s not exactly…” He gave a little half shrug, which Kevin mirrored.

“Oh we’re gonna have much higher standards for everyone else, trust me, but the kid’s going places, he gets on with the family, and the two of you have been practically melting every time you’re around each other for over a year.”

“What can I say,” Alan said, smile morphing into a grin, “he lights a fire in me.”

“Boooo.” Kevin gave the pun a solid two thumbs down, followed by a quick exchange of raspberries. Puns or no, it was always nice to see one of his niblings smiling. “At least make puns based on each other, damn.” Alan blew another raspberry and shook his head.

“How are you not freaking out?”

“Honestly, Shortstack,” Kevin answered with a shrug, “I think I might just be numb to change at this point.”

~~~

He wasn’t really. Numb to change. He just had a million different ways to distract himself from the potential negatives of a situation, especially when the situation was like this, where he knew those negatives were unlikely to come to pass. After all, his family loved him, was maybe a little too overprotective if he was honest, and even if they did mess up and get him somebody awful, he’d have other spouses to turn to and also eviscerating would probably happen.

His mom was really good at eviscerating.

She was where he got it from.

But one’s brain never listened to logic if it could try to panic, especially not if you were mentally ill, so distractions it was. Such as, for instance, baking, his favorite form of cooking for it’s more exacting, technical requirements. Today he had Manny keeping him company while he worked. Ostensibly he was there to taste test things, make sure they weren’t poisoned, which Kevin had warned him was a bad move because he had various breads and pastries with long proofing times planned, but he’d insisted.

In the end Kevin had made a batch of maple blondies for him to munch on, something Manny was doing with gusto while watching him force bagel dough to submit to his will.

“‘ey ‘ev?”

“I know it’s good, dude, but swallow before you choke.” He couldn’t see the man sat behind him, but he heard him swallow and blow a raspberry at him before continuing.

“How’s the marriage arranging going?” And there went plans of distractions.

“It goes. Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing much, just, heard there was some drama going on.”

“What? No. There’s some Tennyson Drama trying to horn in on Levin Drama territory, but I have five older sisters hovering, there will be drama only over their dead bodies.” Manny chuckled.

“Thank fuck, was worried for a minute there. I, uh, may have filled out an application, so...” He didn’t stop kneading, not immediately, but Kevin turned that information over in his head. Manny had filled out an application. Manny, who had known him since they were babies and so really should’ve known better, had applied for a position as his husband. His girlfriend had not.

Kevin half-collapsed over the counter, shoulders shaking as he struggled not to laugh.

“Hey!” He was glowering at him when Kevin turned to look at him, and the Ossy raised his hands in surrender.

“Not laughing at you, promise!” he said. “Wasn’t expecting you to be the only person I know of who put in an application.” Though in thinking about it he certainly wasn’t against the idea. He just, hadn’t known there was any interest there. And his siblings and parents liked him, especial Val, so maybe he was in with a shot…

Manny shrugged.

“You’re smart, you cook, and sometimes, if you squint, you’re almost cute. Figured I may as well give it a shot.” He bit into another blondie, pointedly chewing and swallowing before he continued. “Who else is on the list?”

“Don’t know.” Kevin shrugged as he spoke and returned to his work. “Right now I know of three people who’ve been options, including you, and to hear some of my family speak it’s a long list. Family’ll pick out who they think are the top candidates, then I’ll get to say which ones I like the sound of, and then they’ll see about making final choices and getting things arranged based on that. Unless of course you’re Argit or Looma, at which point you apparently just get handed me on a plate.”

“Argit’s my competition? I’m a shoe-in.”

“Argit and Princess Looma.”

“…well fuck.” Grinning toothily, Kevin looked over his shoulder at him.

“Luckily, you’re almost cute too, that’s gonna earn you some points.”

Manny proceeded to drown himself in the blondies.

~~~

“Alright, all your options, ready to go!” To say Kevin was nervous, sitting there watching Luka reenter the kitchen with a stack of files, would’ve been a serious understatement.

Today of all days he was keenly aware of where he was- in a home he’d seen more of, when his father was alive, then he’d seen his mother’s, talking to a man who’d had more a role in his early raising than anyone related by blood. Luka was his father’s longest standing spouse, the only one who had followed him to Earth, and it was no secret that half his siblings had been given the information on their potential spouses right where he sat now. Right where things felt most like home. At an old, old table stained, scorched, scratched by the use of every child from his eldest brother to his youngest nephew, files were placed down by the same clawed hand that carded through so many’s hair.

Kevin tamped down his nerves to exchange a smile with him.

There were a lot of files. Some traitor part of his brain said it wasn’t that many, but he shut it down before it could give him a number. It was more than four, it was too damn many.

“I take it I’m popular,” he half-asked half-nervously chuckled, fidgeting with them. Luka took a seat next to him, tail resting supportively against his leg.

“Well, you know a God, you hang out with a Hero, your father was a High Prince and a Hero, you’re a Hero and also one of the most powerful members of our species even at your young age. So, yeah.” He nodded. “You could say you’re a little popular. We narrowed it down to the best prospects and the ones we thought you’d enjoy the most.”

“Huh.” Kevin nodded back. Letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, he began to sort through the pile.

“Remember, you don’t need to make a decision today. Take some time, weigh your options.”

“I know…” He did not recognize the majority of these people, though he supposed that was to be expected. Despite not having his attention, Luka carried on in the calm tone of someone who had been through this ten times counting his own experience in Kevin’s shoes.

“We haven’t heard back from Argit, so we’ve kept him in there just in case. And that one, Prince Hunter Alba Rhon, very well bred, supposedly has a great sense of humor, loves to read.” More nodding from Kevin.

“Looma and Manny are still in, huh?” Luka chuckled, not unkindly, and leaned back in his chair.

“He doesn’t have much to his name, but he’s a good kid from some good families, and he’d complement you well. Looma, well she’s just you with a shorter fuse, more limbs, and an inheritance.” Taking a moment to blow a raspberry at his, fuck what number was it at this point? at his not-first-father, Kevin set Looma’s file off to the side. Whether that was his keep or discard pile he didn’t know yet.

“I really don’t want to move to Khoros. All my stuff is here.” With a fond look, Luka ruffled his hair.

“We don’t want you to move to Khoros either, but Eva will do what she can to get you the kingdom she thinks you deserve. Plus, your father is proof enough that long distance marriages can work.”

“Dad was a fucking miracle.”

“Language.” Kevin opened his mouth- “Don’t you dare.” -and closed it again. He took and released another deep breath.

“How am I supposed to do this, anyway,” he asked. The pile of files felt… daunting.

“Listen, Little Monster-” Kevin rolled his eyes at the old nickname, it’d bothered him for a while, but he’d mellowed back into it. “-don’t worry about anything to do with their clans, breeding, connections. That’s for the rest of us to worry about. All you have to do, is read the files and pick the ones you think you would get along best with.” The look Luka got was suspicious, but he smiled on.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

There were too damn many files there. Kevin had time, but he didn’t feel like he did and there were too damn many files there. For a third time, he sighed, and moved Argit and Manny’s files onto Looma’s.

“Alright, where should I start?”

 ~~~

He’d gone through the files. It’d taken him five thousand years (two weeks) but he’d done it.

“Managed to cut the list down by seventy-four percent!” Helen raised a brow at him, then looked back at the stack of files on his desk. Kevin could see her doing the math in her head.

“You had twenty-three options?” Her tone was incredulous, like she couldn’t believe her math. Kevin didn’t blame her.

“Yeah. But! I have it down to six now!”

“Damn.” In a flash Helen had stood up, grabbed the files, and returned to her spot on his bed. “How many are you supposed to narrow it down to?” With a shrug, Kevin flopped onto his back.

“There’s not really a set number. One to three to start with, maybe? And I should probably run them by Gwen.”

“I think,” Helen said, “she would toss all of them.” It was a good bet. “She feeling any better about all this?”

“I, really don’t think so? She keeps changing the topic when I bring it up, but she’s been moodier than normal. And I haven’t heard anything from Ben about it.” That was the scary part. He’d expected Ben to call him and bitch him out on his cousin’s behalf weeks ago, but no. Things had been, not really normal but there’d been less ‘you’re being an asshole’ then he normally got when Gwen was upset about something involving him.

He’d have to ask Argit if Ken talked to them.

Either way, Helen did not look enthused by his answer.

“Yeah, that can’t be a good sign.” Kevin tossed her a shaky grin.

“Cross your fingers for me?”

“Gladly.”

[bakugou-tm]

Anti-Hero Bakugou Fic

Sooooo instead of finishing my requests like I s h o u l d be doing my kinky ass decided to write one of the many villain/anti hero Bakugou fics I have in mind. This one didn’t exactly turn out as great as I liked but it took forever so I might as well post it, expect another one soon that will be just as juicy as this one ;) ((Sorry if this one makes no sense, halfway through I was just lie wtf am I even writing))

After being dragged out of your home the week before exams, you were beginning to regret saying yes to your begging friends.

They had all assumed you preferred to stay inside since you were new to UA, but in reality you were just stressing about final exams, how were they not?

But after multiple pleads and threats to drag you out of the house, you reluctantly said yes since they did promise food at the end.

Now here you stood in the middle of a popular mall in Musutafu, walking around some popular clothing store while Ochako and Momo led the way. You were beginning to feel grateful that you decided to wear your stripped long sleeve shirt and mini skirt to match rather than you sweatpants and tank top, seeing that your friends decided to dress to impress as well.

Looking through the racks of designer clothes you let out an exhausted sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy shopping but you had been low on money ever since you moved here now that you were jobless.

Deciding not to look to hard or else you would fall in love with something, you quickly tapped on your brunette friend’s shoulder with a smile,

“I’m just gonna use the bathroom really quickly, it’s only a few stores down.”

Ochako tilted her head as if examining to see if you were lying before she shrugged offering you her trademark bubbly smile, “Alright (L/n)-chan! How about we meet you at the Italian restaurant we planned to eat at?”

Letting out a mental sigh of relief at the mention of tonight’s dinner plans you offered a grateful nod of the head before heading out towards the entrance of the store.

Upon arriving to the bathrooms you realized that you didn’t actually have to go to the bathroom, your lips suddenly forming into a pout as you realized this. Obviously you had to stay here for at least a few minutes to make it believable that you used the bathroom, so you decided to walk toward the length mirror above the multiple porcelain sinks.

Observing your tiresome stricken face you began to brush your fingers against your eyebrows, letting the hairs fall back into place before your digits began to run through your tangled (h/c) locks, huffing at how easily frizzed your hair could get.

Soon one minute turned to five minutes, your annoyed foot tapping against the marble floors finally coming to a stop once you check the time on your phone.

“If five minutes isn’t long enough to take a pee, then I don’t know what is.” You mumbled to yourself, shoving your phone back into the small bag you were carrying before making your way down the long hallway back to the stores.

The sound of your boots clicking against the ground didn’t make it too far down the hallway until the dim lights illuminating the hallway flickered to complete darkness, the only source of light coming from the bright exit signs.

While in any normal situation you would have assumed the power went out, something about this seemed off... almost as if you felt someone or something watching you. The goosebumps on your arm betraying your trust of the situation.

Inhaling deeply you slowly made your way down the hallway, cautious to see if you could see anyone else in the mall, but as you made your way back to the main hallway of the stores your (e/c) eyes widened to find complete darkness.

Your breath suddenly hitched at this, a shiver finding its way up your spine while you looked over the balcony to the floor below you to find not a person in sight.

"Hello?” You called out, beginning to realize that maybe making yourself noticeable in an empty mall wasn’t the greatest idea, but the fear drove you to do so anyway.

When no response came your hands clenched into fists, knowing some sort of evil must be behind this. Coming to your senses and thinking back on your hero training, you looked all around the mall with narrowed eyes.

In order to use your quirk for defense, you would need to find some source of water since your quirk was to manipulate the element. The closest exit was a good walks distance, but if you could pass the large water fountain in the middle of the mall you could have some ammo to use if anyone tried to attack you on your way out.

Looking down to your phone you weren’t surprised to see no service, only confirming that this had to be a planned attack. 

Ignoring the obvious reasons of the situation, you quickly walked down the hallway toward the center of the mall, cursing that today of all days you choose to wear your boot heels that echoed throughout the mall every time they clicked on the marble floors.

Multiple questions were buzzing through your head as you walked: Was this caused by a villain group? How did all of the people suddenly disappear without a sound? Where did your friends go?

It was quite suspicious as well that nobody was in the bathroom when you came in since this was such a busy mall, could this have all been a planned attack? 

Squeezing your eyes shut you kept walking, deciding to ask those questions once you were back to safety. Once the waterfall came into sigh a small sigh of relief escaped your lips, while it was turned off most likely because the power was off, there was still enough water at the bottom for you to use.

Instead of using the elevator since that was a trap waiting to happen, you quickly and as silently as you could used the escalator to run down the stairs and to the first floor.

Even around the center of the mall there was not a person in sight, seeing the large area so dark and empty was quite scarier than you could have imagined.

Making your way to the water fountain you began to lift your hands up, a stream of water follow after your movements until a scoff was heard behind you.

“And what do you think you’re doing huh?”

The sudden dull voice filling your ears caused you to jump in the air, whipping your hands around to send the stream of water towards the voice only to find nothing.

All you could hear was the sound of shoes clicking against the marble floors, a ‘tsk’ sound coming from the man as his shadow came into view, “How did we miss you little one, we thermo-scanned the whole building...”

“You obviously messed up.” You hissed, running towards the man with a stream of water following after you until his shadowed form disappeared causing you to come to a halt.

Looking around the area with narrowed eyes you saw the shadow now standing above you on the second floor, wasting no time in launching the stream of water up to the man only to see his shadow washed away once more.

“Reveal yourself!” You growled angrily, your hands balling into fists angrily until you felt a warm hand squeeze against your neck.

A loud gasp escaped your lips at the heat of the hand, your eyes viciously looking around for your attacker only to see nothing, “Careful what you wish for dollface.”

Biting your tongue your lifted your arms up quickly, hoping you could wash the man away before he ignited his quirk but the both of you were too slow for the next sudden attack.

“This one’s mine staple face.” A husky voice growled followed by an explosion knocking the two of you back.

Your frail body clashed against one of the metal tables causing it to knock over while you shakily used your arm to push yourself up. The man that originally was holding you was now knocked unconscious in one of the flower beds.

Blinking up to the new figure standing a few feet away from you, you forced your legs to lift you up, holding on to one of the knocked over chairs to catch your balance before looking to the figure.

“W..What do you mean I’m yours-aH!” Your questioning was cut off when the figure slammed his fist into the ground, an explosion igniting beneath your feet sending you flying into the nearest shop window.

The sound of breaking glass entered your ears while your body slid against the cool tiled floor. Letting out a whimper of pain you sat up enough to pick the pieces of glass from your arm before sitting up to see the figure slowly walking toward you with smoking hands.

“Stay away you creep!” You screamed cautiously, moving your arms up to activate your quirk until you realized you were no longer by the fountain.

A dark chuckle escaped the mans lips, his fists clenching when he moved into the small shop, “You’ve run out of water idiot, what now?”

Narrowing your eyes you looked around for some source of water before you noticed a large metal pipe used to hold up clothing racks. While hand to hand combat wasn’t your specialty, it was all you had at this point.

“Don’t count me out just yet!” You hissed, quickly grabbing the pipe before swinging it as hard as you could at the man. Luckily you scored a hit on his side, but when the pole only banged off his chest as if it were a brick wall you began to realize this wasn’t someone to be messed with.

When the man visibly got knocked back a few feet, your eyes widened in horror when his face lifted up just enough for you to see two glowing crimson eyes. 

Now trying to find a way to escape you realized there was no time as the man lunged at you, his fists cracking up while you backed up. Gritting your teeth you swung the metal pole at the man once more, only for him to catch it this time and whip the pole the opposite direction causing you to fly that direction as well, your body rolling across one of the tables before you fell to the floor.

Whoever this man was, he had incredible strength. He didn’t even need to use his quirk to launch you across the room effortlessly.

Letting out a groan you weakly lifted yourself up, bring yourself to your feet somehow before you looked up to see him running at you. Before you could process what to do next the man slammed you against the wall behind you, keeping the bar up against your neck while keeping a firm glare with you.

In the quick moment you were finally able to get a glimpse of your attacker, your mouth falling agape at his look. While you were expecting some creepy looking man, instead you were met with a young pale looking face. All of his features were sharply chiseled to the T as if some sort of god made him, his spiked ash blond locks perfectly coinciding with his almost glowing crimson eyes.

Something about his expression had mischief and power written all over it. A dark shadow from his hair fell over his eyes while he glared down to you with almost a curious look in them. 

The ash blond must have noticed your shocked expression when his scowl turned into a smirk, his eyes narrowing down to you while he pressed the bar against your neck.

“Well aren’t you much more fiesty than I’ve imagined.”

Just the sound of his dark masculine voice sent chills down your spine, your (e/c) orbs blinking rapidly before you opened your mouth in reply, “W..Who are you?”

The man narrowed his eyes down to you, looking your form up and down as if to see if you were lying before letting out a chuckle, tilting his head to the side.

“You don’t know who I am? That’s hard to believe I’m pretty fucking famous across the media and that school of yours.” The boy sneered.

Furrowing your brows you looked him up and down once more, trying to imagine why he would be well known at UA unless...

Unless he was the boy you replaced...

“Bakugou Katsuki?”

“So they have told you about their mistake of a student!” Bakugou boomed, his lips curling into a skin crawling smirk before he moved his face closer to your own, “Damn does my name sound good coming from your lips.”

Freezing under the ash blond’s intense stare you shifted your head to the side, your face growing warmer by the second before you slowly looked back to his stare.

“W..What happened to you? I heard you were number one in the class, a..and you even won the sports festival! You were basically the number one hero!”

Bakugou scoffed down to you, the pole’s grip against your neck loosening while he rolled his eyes, “You’re fucking right I was the best one there, and when I tried to become even better they held me back. I had to much power and those assholes couldn’t handle it! It was time I did things my own fucking way.”

“So you became a villain.” You muttered bitterly, your eyes narrowing up to his challengingly.

Your challenging tone only seemed to humor the boy, his own eyes narrowing to mirror your own, “I wouldn’t go as extreme to call me a villain, more like a hero who wants to have fun and power!”

“Don’t go twisting the truth for your own pleasure, you are a villain plain and simple.” You hissed out in a venomous tone, shooting a glare up to him.

The ash blond seemed to react negatively to this, his eyes narrowing down while he pressed the pole up against your neck once more,

“Listen here Miss I Know Everything, I’m not murdering anyone, I’m not even threatening your precious fucking city, I’m just living my life the way I want.”

Biting your lip you winced at the sudden pain against your throat before you wrapped your fingers around the metal, trying to alleviate the pressure before looking up at the man once more, “S..So are you here to get revenge on me for taking your spot?”

This seemed to shock the young man, his eyes widening for a moment wonder as to why you would come to this conclusion before he let out a chuckle, the pole suddenly dropping to the ground with a loud clank.

“Quite the opposite actually, I’ve been watching you recently..” Bakugou admitted, his hands now pressing against either side of your head effectively caging you against the wall.

“That’s not creepy at all.” You muttered under your breath, attempting to hide the flush against your cheeks at the sudden proximity of the man.

This made Bakugou chuckle, his crimson eyes narrowing back down to you, “Well of course I had to check out my replacement, I didn’t plan on being so intrigued with you.”

“I..Intrigued?” You whispered out, your (e/c) orbs flicking up to his in confusion while he looked down to your form intensely.

“How could I not be, you became UA’s sweetheart in the first week of arriving, and you know exactly what I’m talking about don’t you?” 

Suddenly you froze at this, a pit growing in your stomach especially since you knew he was right. Ever since you arrived at UA everyone seemed to be all over you, not that you minded but the introverted side of you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

“You come off sweet and bubbly but I know there’s something more to you (L/n) (F/n)...” Bakugou hissed, his hand coming up to grasp your chin causing your plump lips to open up in a gasp while he smirked down to you, “You’re different, beyond your beauty and radiance you crave something more to life...”

Now you couldn’t help but feel your whole face flush in shock, this man’s flirtatious words causing your heart to speed up just a bit but for some reason, fear wasn’t the reason your heart was beginning to beat just a bit faster..

“And hell... with those looks of yours I’m willing to give you that something you crave so desperately.” Bakugou finished, his lips curling into a grin when he saw the flustered state he left you in.

Initially your mind told you to smack him, to push him back while he was distracted and run away as far as you could, but some strange force was keeping you back.

“I...I’m not interested in villains like you...” You growled, shoving the boy back while getting ready to leave until one of his warm palms grabbed your waist and slammed you back against the wall, a small yelp escaping your lips.

Bakugou kept a firm grip on your waist, his other hand caging you back into the wall while he tilted his head, “You can look at me with that fear struck face all you want, but if I knew you weren’t fucking interested you would’ve left by now..” His crimson eyes narrowing while he smirked down to you, “Wouldn’t you?”

His sudden words made your mouth fall in shock, your breathing beginning to pick up while you got ready to rebuttal before he cut you off once more, “You can’t tell me you aren’t enjoying this when those (s/c) cheeks of yours are flushed like that.”

Biting at your lower lip you began to feel your core heating up, especially upon feeling the boy’s toned body press up against yours.

“I..I...”

Your words were suddenly cut off when you felt his calloused hands run up your back side, giving you a firm squeeze causing you to squeak in surprise while you held onto his shoulders so you didn’t totally fall to the ground.

“If you want me to stop...” The ash blond whispered, his lips moving up against your neck, his warm breath dancing against your skin causing goosebumps to travel all along your body, “Just say so.”

Why weren’t you doing anything?! Inside, your brain was screaming at you to run. To kick him in the gut and run toward the exit as fast as you could, but the heating feeling in your core was saying otherwise. Without even noticing your head seemed to burry itself in the crook of his neck, a gasp escaping your lips when his own warm ones left smooth kisses along your neck.

It wasn’t long until his calloused palm reached under your chin once more, moving your flushed face to meet his while he wore a smug smirk across his lips, drinking in your flustered form as if he were going to devour you in one gulp.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” The ash blond growled down to you before he smashed his lips up against yours. Without leaving room to debate his lips already took control of your own, as if already knowing you wouldn’t back away from the kiss.

At first your (e/c) orbs remained wide open in shock, every last bit of common sense in your brain screaming for you to get away from this man while you still could, but another part of your brain shoved this voice behind, letting your heart take the reigns for once.

In a matter of seconds you melted yourself into his form, your arms wrapped around his neck while you kissed him back with enough vigor to match his own.

While the ash blond didn’t mind your pleasurable response, he still needed to make sure you knew who was in charge here. Biting down on your lower lip harshly you let out a loud gasp, your lips parting just enough for him to slither his tongue inside your mouth to take full control of you.

The lewd noises escaping your lips shocked you enough, but it only pushed Bakugou to go even further now realizing how much you were enjoying yourself.

Lifting your right leg up to bring him closer to you, the ash blond held onto your tight with one hand while his other was pressed against the wall to keep you both balanced.

If the two of you only had a few more minutes, it was quite clear where the kiss was going, but when a pair of sirens began to echo from outside it broke you both from this imaginary trance the ash blond seemed to put you in.

“Fuck..” Bakugou hissed under his breath when his eyes flicked to the outside of the shop before he looked back to you, his scowl turning into a smirk when your lips leaned up after his as if desperate to re-latch onto his own, “I know princess, I had to cut it early thanks to your fucking friends out there.”

Opening your eyes you looked up to see the ash blond smugly looking your form up and down before slowly walking away from you, “I’ll catch you around shitty girl.”

And with that, he blasted himself out of the shop and disappeared into the mall. Just in time as police officials flooded into the doors with flashlights aimed everywhere.

Just leaving you in the small shop, your face flustered as one question played on repeat in your mind...

What just happened?

[slythergirlimagines]

Because I Love You Part 7

Summary: The reader is kidnapped and tortured by Ben. Sawyer comes to her rescue, causing a certain doctor to be jealous.

Jack Shephard x Reader  

Sawyer Ford x Reader

Requested: yes! Thank you so much for pushing me to write this as a series. You really got me into writing again and I thank you so much for it. I hope this story lived up to your expectations!

Warnings: the same as the other parts. Probably fluffier than most of the others.

Well this is it!! The last part. I’m sad to end this, but I feel like it’s come to its natural conclusion. I hope this conclusion does the story justice. I’m always up for requests of any kind and length. Without further ado here’s the story and a gif for your reading pleasure!!

Because I Love You Part 7

        Setting the record straight with Sawyer had been surprisingly easy. Figuring out how to tell Jack that you loved him, and have him believe you, was tough. You had tried multiple times throughout the week to get him alone, but of course, something interrupted you every time.

          Walking out of the hatch gave you a renewed sense of purpose. You were gonna grab the metaphorical bull by the metaphorical horns. Telling Jack you loved him would be a piece of cake. You would just barge in and declare your feelings, take him in your arms and kiss him senseless.

           When you got to the medical tent, you found a sight completely disturbing. Hurley had his foot, a cut open and mangled foot, in Jack’s face. Blood was dripping everywhere, and you were sure your expression matched Jack’s disgusted face perfectly. Of course, if Hurley’s foot alone wasn’t enough to ruin the mood, the blood spurting out of it definitely pushed the mood right off a cliff. You left with an apologetic expression on your face, and promised yourself you’d catch him later. After he had washed his hands.

          That hadn’t been your only attempt however.

      You hadn’t been able to catch Jack yesterday, so you had decided to sleep on it, and adjust your plan. Maybe barging into the medical tent wasn’t a good plan. Make a grand gesture of some kind would work better. You could tell him in front of a bunch of people. That always worked in the movies. The lead always got embarrassed and kissed the other to shut up, or ended up being so touched that they confessed back. Yes, that was a perfect plan.

        You had thought all day about a good time to catch Jack in front of people. You decided your best bet was at dinner. Jack usually ate with everyone, so it was perfect. You tried your best to look nice as you waited for dinner. When it was around time to go, you strutted out of your tent, feeling empowered. Yesterday may have gone bad, but there was no way you could fail twice.

        Just as everyone was gathering, the heavens broke apart and rain poured down. Everyone scrambled back to their tents, leaving you standing on the beach getting soaked. You stood longer than you should have, just blinking water out of your eyes. Defeated, you had retreated to your tent, determined to come up with a fool proof plan.

       The next day had gone just as well.

         You could feel it in your bones that today was the day. The rain hadn’t let up, but you weren’t concerned. Rain was romantic. It might help you set the mood, and besides, you’d always wanted to get kissed in the rain. You knew eventually that Jack would have to go to the medical tent, so you found some cover by a tree within eyesight of the tent. You waited long enough that your teeth were chattering and your muscles were stiff. When you could sit no longer, and Jack had still not shown up, you gave up.

        All of your failures had persuaded you to tell Claire. She always had the best plans, and so far her advice had worked perfectly.

        The rain had let up finally, and everyone was spending as much time as they could outside. Claire was sitting by the water with Aaron. She smiled and waved as you approached, and made little Aaron’s fist wave at you. The image warmed your heart, but also made you feel a stab of envy. You could only hope to have that with Jack one day.

      “Hey y/n!” Claire greeted you.

     “Hey Claire, little turnip.” You teased Aaron, who cooed at you. Claire passed him to you, and you gladly held him. He was so cute.

      “So, how are things with you and Jack?” She asked, a sly grin on her face. You blushed, but proceeded to fill her in on your failed attempts at telling Jack you loved him. She listened intently, and when you were finished she sat in thought for a minute. You sat in nervous anticipation, waiting for her response.

       “I’ve got a plan.” She smirked, and filled you in on the details.

                   ****************

        Turns out Claire’s marvelous plan was getting you to ask Jack to take a walk with you. She told you a specific path to take, and that at a certain point she’d have a little romantic setup. She said it would be the perfect place to confess your feelings to one another.

      You were nervous this time, more so than the others. You were starting to think that all the failures were a sign from the universe. As you approached Jack’s tent, you thought about running away. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Before you could truly decide, Jack emerged from his tent. With Kate.

      Your heart stopped. Your flight or fight instinct was kicking in, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. Jack, once again, made a decision for you without knowing it. He said bye to Kate, and turned toward you with a serious expression.

        “Hey, y/n. What’s up?” He said. You noticed his voice was a little off, which made you feel better about your breathless response.

       “I um was just going to see if you wanted to take a walk, but I can see that your busy so I’ll just...” You said while backing up. Jack put a and on your shoulder to keep you from moving any further.

        “I’m not busy.” He said, looking at you with a strange expression.

        “Um, ok, alright. Good!” You said, mentally kicking yourself for sounding like such an idiot. You started walking, leaving him to catch up with you. You tried not to be super obvious that you had a particular destination in mind.

         You walked in silence for a long time. Too long. It was really starting to get awkward, when you broke up the silence with small talk.

          “Nice that it finally rained, huh?” You asked. He hummed in response, and then it was silent again. The silence stretched a few more minutes when Jack broke it.

           “I’m glad we have some water now, we don’t have to make any more trips for a while.” You responded with a “yep.” And that was that. You were wondering when you would get to Claire’s set up when Jack started to talk again.

           “Look, y/n..” but his sentence was cut off by the two of you getting caught in a trap.

            At first you were super confused. Your body was pressed tight against Jack’s, and it was immensely distracting. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you realized what Claire’s ‘set up’ was. The more you and Jack thrashed the closer together you were pushed. This would be great, if it weren’t for the fact that you were trying to come up with coherent sentences.

           Jack was seemingly oblivious to your lack of struggle, as he tried to think through the situation. “It must be one of Rousseau’s traps.” He said, trying to figure out a way to escape. You remained silent as you tried to figure out the best way to tell him this was your fault.

            “God damnit Rousseau.” He cursed. You winced, but decided now was as good a time as any to come clean. After all, you’d be stuck up here until Claire came to let you down. Maybe you could put it to good use if this went well.

        “Um, Jack? This isn’t Rousseau’s.” You said timidly. He stopped fighting the net and looked at you, luckily you had been caught face to face. Well more like your face to his chest, but that was beside the point.

         “This is actually my fault.” You confessed. And then it all came out, word vomit was your specialty. “I asked Claire to help me come up with a way to tell you how I feel about you. Of course when she said she’d make a little set up I envisioned a picnic. I had no idea she was going to put up a net. I mean, how’d she even do that? I don’t even know how she could...” Your rambling was cut off by Jack’s question.

           “How do you feel about me?” His voice was tender, and his eyes were soft. You swallowed audibly. If this went wrong, you’d lose Jack forever. But how could it go wrong when he was looking at you like that?

          “I miss you when you aren’t around. When we fight, I’m constantly miserable, and nothing can distract me. When you are around, I’m so happy I feel like I could fly. When you kiss me I feel like a teenager, like I’m in love for the first time. When you said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, I was elated, because I feel the same about you. I’ve never loved or cared about someone as much as I love and care about you. You mean the world to me Jack, and I’m sorry about everything with Sawyer, but I was just confused and scared. I know what I want, who I want. And it’s not Sawyer. It’s never been. It’s always been you Jack, ever since I first saw you on the beach in your suit.” You finished, you had actually tested up halfway through your confession.

          “You really don’t feel anything for Sawyer?” He asked, and you kinda thought he sounded scared.

          “Nothing more than mild annoyance.” You said shaking your head.

           “That’s good. That’s really good.” You heard him sigh in relief.

            “And Kate, you don’t.. there’s nothing with her?” You asked biting your lip.

             “No! Absolutely nothing.” He said, his voice had regained some strength.

            “That’s good. Really good.” It was quite for a minute as you two both processed what the other had said.

            “Jack?” You finally spoke up.

             “Yes?” He asked.

             “Will you kiss me now?” And true to Jack Shephard form, he didn’t need to be asked twice. After some maneuvering and quite a few laughs, your lips finally touched. Somewhere in the trees you heard laughing and something that sounded suspiciously like a high five.

           You pulled away from Jack, but left you foreheads touching. “You know, I think everything will finally be ok now.” You said  

          “Why’s that?” He asked you with a grin.

          “Because I love you.”

      A/n: Sorry if the ending was a little cheesy, but I thought it was fitting. Also apologies on the length. It always seems like they are longer when I type them than they really are. Thank you for sticking with this story, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. As always, I’m sorry for any mistakes spelling or otherwise, and please send in requests if you got em!

Tags: @flowercrowns-goodvibes